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inkedreverie · 1 year

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𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bucky barnes x female reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: bucky being a flirt, fluff, fluff, fluff, very little use of y/n

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k+

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A day of pumpkin carving and bonding brings Bucky and Y/N closer together, with Alpine as the perfect observer.

𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅:

𝐀/𝐍: I haven't written for Bucky for a while and it was so fun to write for him again. Thank you for requesting this, Brandy!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 (𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧) | 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky grinned as he strolled through the fallen leaves, relishing the satisfying crunch beneath his feet. The chilly wind brushed against his skin, but with her presence by his side, he hardly noticed. His arm encircled her waist as they meandered through Jimmy's Pumpkin Patch. Sensing her gaze upon him, he turned his head to find her lips curved into a knowing grin. Matching her smile, he let out a soft chuckle. "What's on your mind, doll?" he inquired, giving her side a gentle squeeze.

He came to a sudden stop, pulling her close, as if it were possible to be any closer. Her cheeks heated at the endearing nickname. They'd been dating for a few months, but he always managed to make her feel like she was seeing him for the first time.

"Oh, nothing really," she said with a hint of happiness in her voice. "I'm just so glad we're finally doing this. Being with you feels so normal, you know? Like we're actually getting a chance to be regular people." She paused, her eyes scanning the field, a mischievous smirk gracing her lips.

She cast her eyes downward, a hint of shyness in her voice as she continued, "And, um, seeing you out here, in the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air... it's really nice. You look handsome today, you know? It takes me back to the day I first laid eyes on you." Bucky blinked in surprise, his mind flooded with a rush of memories from their initial encounter.

The recollection left his mouth feeling dry, as if he were reliving the moment all over again. She was an absolute vision in his mind, that day and every day, morning and night. Her figure was accentuated by the snug black skinny jeans, hugging her curves just right. The cropped black and white long-sleeve Henley she wore revealed a glimpse of her midriff, exposed to the invigorating autumn breeze.

She tilted her head slightly, and pursed her lips a bit before releasing the kiss into the air, her hand a ghostly memory. This kiss sent his skin ablaze.

The sly little minx, Bucky thought and his lips upturned as if she had planted a kiss directly upon his lips instead. He bent to brush his nose lightly against hers, teasing and testing, his voice barely a murmur. "Meeting you has got to be one of my favorite things."

His forehead pressed against hers. "Always will be, beautiful." Her mouth slacked slightly at his confession. Bucky took full advantage and used his thumb and finger on her chin to pull her even closer so that they were kissing properly.

He found himself drawn deeper into the sweet innocence that lingered on his lips, reminiscent of the taste of apple cider. It was a craving he couldn't resist, a forbidden desire that seemed to seep into his very bones. The longer her softness grazed against him, the more he felt like an addict, yearning for more. His fingers instinctively tangled in the curls of her soft hair, while his other hand wrapped around her waist.

Her grip tightened on the front of his flannel, a sign of her own desire. As her hand trailed up, it traced the contours of his exposed jawline, sending a delightful shiver down Bucky's spine.

Cupping his face, her touch set his skin on fire, a tingling sensation that electrified him. Their lips moved together slowly, yet with an urgent passion, unable to be denied. Her eyes fluttered open slightly, intoxicated by his scent.

"How is it that every time we're out, it feels like we're constantly making out?" she remarked, her laughter dancing playfully against his lips.

He responded with a devilish smirk, his hand mischievously cupping her backside before caressing upwards, tracing the curve of her right breast. "Well, that's a pretty clear indication that I can't stop thinking about kissing you. It's always on my mind," he playfully whispered into her ear, pulling her body even closer to his.

"Guess we're a modern-day Edward and Bella, huh, big boy?" she murmured, a teasing tone in her voice. She glanced over him, her eyes lingering on his attire. "Well, maybe if you swapped those denim or dress pants for some skinny jeans, we'd be right on track."

Bucky couldn't help but snort, his laughter shaking his body. "Smart-ass."

His eyes briefly flickered towards something beyond her shoulder, causing him to shift his stance. He tugged her along, pulling her closer as they made their way towards their destination. "You know I only wear those skinny jeans for you," he confessed. "I may be super-human, but I'm definitely not a vampire."

She couldn't help but nearly roll her eyes at the mention of his super-human abilities, unsure if he had winked at her. "Although, there's one thing I don't quite get," he continued, shaking his head slightly.

"So why are we going on a hayride? We're already outside, sweetheart. We can do anything that involves the outdoors." Her brows furrowed and she scrunched her face adorably, which made Bucky lean over and press a kiss on the bridge of her nose.

"Why are you acting as if we are limited in activities?" She scoffed as they waited in the line for the next hayride to start. "Buck, can you believe this is going to be your first hayride ever? Trust me, it's going to be a lot of fun!"

He nervously chewed on the inside of his bottom lip before releasing a deep breath. He pressed his lips together firmly, his expression determined. Suddenly, a playful smirk formed on his face, accompanied by a wink. He took her hand in his, showing his eagerness to embrace the upcoming adventure.

His warm palms gently grasped her smaller hand, lacing their fingers together as their fingers naturally curled together. The fact that he did that was comforting and never failed to make her weak in the knees. He turned back toward the field, taking a small step up onto the trailer and shifting her in front of him.

He liked shielding her like this. The familiar way his larger frame settled against her was calming and put his mind at ease. While she fit perfectly against him, the size difference was always amusing to see. Her shoulders fit easily beneath his broad ones and he towered over her form quite a bit.

The position also afforded the perfect opportunity to hold her hips, something he quickly did once they got settled on the hay bale and began the journey around the large pumpkin patch.

As their trailer pulled along, his strong hands seemed to ground her, and the moment they picked a pumpkin, a grin crept on her face. As they searched the patch for the right pumpkin for them, her fingertips brushed the spiky sides of a rather large orange and brown squash and Bucky chuckled behind her.

"You look adorable doing that." Her boyfriend came into view, bending to pick the gourd out of the hay, he placed the large round ball between his pectoral muscle and raised it like a volleyball. "This is huge." His left arm kept it steady. "I feel like it will take a day for this guy to get picked." She shifted her weight onto her other foot, twisting the ankle out and leaned back to keep balance.

"What do you think about him?" Bucky questioned, raising a dark eyebrow and the woman found that she wanted him to hold her in his arms instead of the pumpkin but shrugged.

He held the pumpkin out in her direction, angling it in various ways to show off different angles of its rounded bulbous shape and elongated stem. Bucky twisted his wrist so he could turn the gourd, poking his bottom lip outward, his eyes crinkled in the corners and his head tilted to the side as if in deep concentration.

She squinted and tilted her own head to the side in return before the two burst into fits of chuckles.

Bucky could watch the way her eyes twinkle. His free hand stretched, capturing hers, and gently tugged her forward, allowing the round melon to fall onto a pile with the other pumpkins before guiding her body fully into his own embrace.

"Hey," He leaned down and gave her a quick, hard kiss, causing her to giggle, "I bet Steve and Sam will flip when they find out that we're choosing our very first pumpkin today!"

Her small fingers grabbed at the front of his shirt before clenching in it, and her digits pulled forward slightly, coaxing Bucky down to her. Their noses brushed together tenderly, a second later, before he ducked his head to place a chaste but solid kiss on her waiting lips.

The smooth, salty caramel from the candied apple Bucky bought earlier from the carnival booth still lingers there, sweetening the flavor.

He pulls away, albeit slowly, before returning his palm to the swell of her hip and nodding forward as he shifts the pair of them over to another pumpkin patch. "W-we better choose carefully," Her voice is breathy. The way the low, rumbled timber of his laughter rasped along the shell of her ear did wonders to her willpower to remain focused.

Bucky had a knack for getting under her skin, always managing to make her flustered. She took a few steps ahead, scanning the assortment of pumpkins on display. Pausing for a moment, she placed her hands on her hips and looked up at him.

"Should we go for a big one or a couple of smaller ones?" she inquired, her lips slightly pursed. Bucky couldn't help but smirk down at her, a playful glimmer in his eyes.

Seeing his reaction, she crossed her arms and demanded, "What's so amusing?" She teased, a playful glint in her eyes, and couldn't help but notice the alluring, crooked grin that adorned Bucky's face.

It was a grin that looked irresistibly kissable. Bucky shook his head, his laughter soft and warm. "We've been standing here, mesmerized by pumpkins for the past five minutes. Every time we move, you spot a new batch," he chuckled. She playfully punched him in the arm, expressing her desire for something special. She shrugged, a slight pout forming on her lips.

"Alright, alright, fine," Bucky relented, reaching out to gently pat her head. Her pout slowly transformed into an adorable smile. "Tell you what, I'll step back and let you take the lead," he offered, his trust evident in his words. "I believe in you, doll."

Her eyes widened in playful defiance as she walked over to him. "Oh no, you're not getting away that easily! You're going to help me pick those pumpkins, or else no more kisses for you." He raised both eyebrows, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Oh, how dire the situation has become! Threatening to withhold your kisses, huh?" he chuckled, reaching out to hold her hands in his own.

She smiled smugly, feeling the warmth of his touch. "Oh, trust me, I can get by without them," she teased, her fingers tracing a path up his arms before curling around his strong, sculpted muscles.

Bucky couldn't help but scoff, his eyes narrowing playfully. "If I were to believe that, you'd have a hard time convincing me, little missy." Y/N pulled away from him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh really? Well, someone's getting a bit too confident. I can resist your advances," she retorted.

He mirrored her tone, a smirk playing on his lips. "That won't be possible, Y/N," he shrugged nonchalantly. "You always want me, anyway."

"Yeah? And what makes you say that, Barnes?"

"Your lips tend to be a little," he reaches up and taps her cupid's bow with a single metal finger, "Pouty when you want me, and you tend to-"

"Tease." Y/N scoffed once more. "Bullshit." She quickly glanced around, ensuring that they were alone amidst the vast rows of pumpkins, hidden from prying eyes. Satisfied that no one was nearby, she felt a sense of relief.

Bucky, sensing her momentary unease, lifted both hands and delicately cradled her face. The pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks and traced along her jawline, gliding over her cupid's bow in gentle, ticklish movements.

She could have sworn that she heard a faint growling rumble in Bucky’s chest. But before she could ask, she felt herself being spun and pinned by her waist to the body of him. She giggled in response to the playfulness.

He leaned forward to breathe along her exposed collarbone. Y/N looked around briefly and tried to figure out whether he intended to ravish her in the middle of this pumpkin patch in view of the crowd of people.

The trailers filled with people made their way by the pair and the volume of their conversation decreased but the roar of the carnival and hayride riders continued. His hands grabbed hers from her sides and squeezed them as his teeth gently graze the curve of her neck and along her exposed collarbone and collar area, sending waves of heat and pleasure coursing through her.

“Bucky, we’re in public.” She breathed, goosebumps now covering her arms.

He responded in the form of a groan of approval. She pushed on his chest gently but enough for him to respond with a barely audible and sharp inhale. She hoped that her teasing him with no kisses wouldn't escalate to a make out session in a public place.

"You like driving me crazy." his grip on her arms lessened slightly before they dipped low at the bend of her elbow and slid slowly towards her hands. Y/N couldn't see much, just a blurred smidge of red and gold.

Bucky's metal arm is braced behind her while the flesh one continues its upward trail. This is really not a good idea in a pumpkin patch, she thought. He continued, his touch slow, reverent and tender. As his hand ghosted over the valley of her breasts, tracing circles and caresses, a sense of calmness washed over her.

His pace is deliberate, loving, and thorough. His lips continued their assault, kissing her tender neck, biting and nibbling along the way, his lips kissed and teased the hollow of her throat where her pulse lay dormant until he kissed his name into it, waking her heart to its rhythm, causing her pulse to race.

"So sensitive, Doll. You taste so delicious," His voice rumbled in her ear before nipping gently.

“Are you trying to prove a point or something?” She teased before pulling away. "Besides, this wasn't the plan."

Bucky smirked. "Maybe. Are we not in the mood?" His teasing was ridiculous. He had no idea how difficult it was for her to refrain from jumping his bones all of the time.

She grinned at his questions and mumbled something under her breath as he tugged her closer to him again and pressed his lips to her own, then promptly released her mouth.

"Now, if you keep touching me like that, you won't stop my next course of action," Her voice trailed off towards the end, and he felt her shiver ever so slightly.

"Really, I don't intend on letting you go so soon," his left hand rubbed small soothing circles along her hips while the right ran along her neck and trailed slowly upward before threading through her hair.

She inhaled slowly and turned to him, their eyes met. Her bottom lip quivered at the promise he had etched on her body, his desire to ravish her burning low and constant like an untended fire, ready to flare when needed.

"Can we just do this in a pumpkin patch?" Bucky suggested, his eyebrow quirking in an amusing manner. She pushed against his chest while stifling a laugh. "God, no, you nut-case.”

She giggled, feeling the heat travel down her neck, despite the chilly weather. She looked at the rows of pumpkins before she spotted the biggest one she could find. “This one! This is it.” He gave her a sly smile, his blue eyes glinting with delight, and walked with her to pick up the large gourd.

They moved past the smaller jack-o-lanterns and several other gourds before exiting the patch and waiting to board one of the hay wagons.

Three days before Halloween, Bucky and Y/N sat on the floor of the back deck with all of the tools beside them. "Okay, let's start with cleaning its guts out."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn. Remind me not to get on your bad side." he stuck his hand into the pumpkin, fishing out the pulp and seeds before scooping them into a plastic grocery bag. Y/N pulled out the last pulpy bits and then poked the tarp on the floor of the table beside them, indicating that that was where Bucky needed to put the guts, which he proceeded to.

She cleared her throat, watching as he got comfortable with carving a jack-o'lantern, a ritual that they both found satisfying. They had the radio playing on a pop station as a soundtrack. It played songs that ranged from Katy Perry to John Legend to Usher, even Eminem. She decided to tease him while carving the pumpkin by shaking her shoulders along to the music.

She reached up to get the candles from her box of Halloween decoration and pulled out a tiny pumpkin-carved candle and tossed it over her shoulder without looking, knowing that her soldier boyfriend was just going to grab it.

She dug into the orange gourd, reaching far with her hand, "Can you pull out the edges, I can't feel them all?" He nodded, moving her hand out of the pumpkin. He held it from the inside.

"So...Is it weird that we're talking like this or..?" her lips tugged in a smirk.

Y/N felt his metal fingers start pulling gently at the insides, his warm hands pressing and shifting against hers. She smirked, seeing his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. "See. Not too bad."

"Ah, here's one," his voice rumbled with that tone that he knew got her all worked up.

She felt the pads of his fingers rubbing along the sensitive area of the pad of her thumb, "Think that's all of it. I'll clean it up with a damp paper towel." He removed his hand, his other holding out her candle.

She grinned, taking the small candle and dropping it back into the box of decorative items, grabbing one of the large round candles and sitting down on one of the steps. Bucky got up and entered the house. When he returned, she was standing in front of her carefully carved gourd.

"When's the last time you carve a pumpkin, Y/N?" Bucky said, joining her side, handing her the warm damp paper towel she requested and a dry one. "Probably when I was seventeen. Before I moved out. What about you?"

Bucky pondered her words and glanced between her pumpkin and his. She sat on the stair leading onto the back porch, holding a spooky jack-o'-lantern to the light while he was still sitting out with a gutted inside that needed carving.

"Huh. When I was younger with Stevie. We carve 'em every year. But after I joined the military, it stopped. Been years." Bucky crossed his legs in a meditation-esque pose. "Steve likes this kinda of stuff."

He proceeded to clean the pumpkin as she taught, squeezing her small body through the crack of the door. She saw the cat scratching posts that she just bought this week.

"You think Alpine will love the new Halloween-themed scratching posts?" she asks, sitting down next to him. Bucky smiled, nodding to the window. There was the kitten, rolling over lazily. The afternoon sun from their kitchen window is illuminating its fur like stardust. "That little creature has done a lot."

"Yeah. Ever since I got that adoption letter," The former assassin crossed his legs and bent over the now gaping gourd, brushing his long locks to the side, "it was the happiest day."

She rubbed the fur over the belly of a now happy-looking Alpine. The cat purrs loudly and with vigor. "Good boy," her boyfriend says, half-aloud as he chuckles, wiping his wrist on his forehead, and brushing his bangs backward.

Y/N couldn't help but feel her heart warm at the sight of Alpine rubbing up against his arm. "Sometimes I think you love that cat more than me." she teased, her lips curved up into a smile. "Y/N, you know that's a lie."

"I love you both very dearly."

"Bucky..." she rolled her eyes playfully. He sighed dramatically and lifted himself from his seat to stand beside her. "I'm teasing. I know you do." her free arm slung over his shoulders, pulling him in, as she coaxed his lips toward hers and planted a small kiss on his cheek. Bucky chuckled before resting his hand on her shoulder and giving her another sweet kiss.

"Okay, you gotta let me go so I can finish this," Bucky said, pulling away from her with a smile. She pouted, looking up at him with pleading eyes, but Bucky shook his head and placed his hand on her chin. "Doll, you gotta let me go," he repeated, his voice husky. Y/N stuck her tongue out at him playfully before removing her arm from his shoulders.

Bucky grabbed one of the small candles from the box and pulled out the small lighter from his pocket, lighting the candle inside of the pumpkin and placing it on the porch railing. "There we go." he turned back towards his girlfriend, smiling when he saw her staring at him. "What? Did I spill some pumpkin guts on myself?" he asked, looking down at his shirt.

She shook her head, laughing softly. "No. You look really handsome in this light. I'm just admiring my boyfriend," she smiled, her heart warming as she gazed into his eyes.

He laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Well, thank you, doll. That means a lot," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N hummed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, tugging gently.

She felt his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance which she granted immediately. His tongue explored her mouth, tasting every inch of her. She moaned softly, feeling his hands roam her body.

His hands moved down to her ass, squeezing it gently. She gasped softly, feeling his erection press against her stomach. He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and husky. Her cheeks heated, biting her lip. "I love you, Bucky."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

They kissed again, their tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace. They stayed like that for a while, kissing and touching each other, lost in their own world. That was until Alpine started nudging his head against their legs and softly purred.

Bucky broke the kiss, chuckling softly. "I think someone's hungry."

"Yeah, I think so too," she agreed, smiling. "Let's go inside and get something to eat."

divider credit: @.saradika

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot.#mywriting

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strangerqueerthings · 1 year

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The first thing Eddie notices when he and Billy move in together is how quiet Billy is.

He moves through the house with most of his weight on his toes, making his movements practically silent. He's seemingly materialized out of thin air many times behind Eddie, scaring the shit out of him every time.

Eddie jokes - once- that he needs to put a bell on Billy so he knows when he's coming. The brief flash of panic on Billy's face has Eddie reassuring him that he won't.

When Billy cooks, Eddie never has to clean up after him. In fact, Eddie was worried for a time that Billy simply wasn't eating, because he never saw evidence of it.

It isn't until he wakes up at three in morning to use the bathroom, does he see that Billy in his underwear at the stove, making himself something to eat.

He makes himself a decent meal in the dead of night when no one is awake. He cleans up after himself immediately, and eats his meal at the sink, wolfing it down like he's on a timer, and he washes, dries, and puts his dishes away.

Aside from his things in the bedroom, and his car outside, Billy takes up very little space, and leaves very little evidence he even lives there.

"You can live here, too, you know," Eddie says nonchalantly after Billy finishes cleaning his dishes.

"I do," Billy says, not looking at Eddie. Eddie doesn't ask how Billy knew he was there. He probably knew Eddie was awake as soon as he sat up in bed.

Billy's hypervigilance makes him sad sometimes.

"You don't. You exist here, and that's not living."

Eddie pads across the kitchen to stand behind Billy, wrapping his arms around his waist. He rests his chin on Billy's shoulder.

"I'm never gonna yell at you for living here, Billy."

"I don't want to make a mess, is all."

"Make a mess, Billy. Leave your underwear on the floor, your dishes in the sink. Drop your boots by the door and just let your socks lay where they fall. I sure as fuck do."

"I don't want you to have to clean up after me. I don't want to mess up your home, or be a burden. I'm an adult, I should act like one."

Billy's voice is soft, defeated, and has a tone he's rarely used with Eddie. It's the voice he's adapted to placate his old man, and it makes Eddie sad and angry all at once.

"I'm an adult and I'm a mess, and this is our home, babe. Not just mine. You live here. You're not a guest, or a prisoner, you're home, and you have the right to do more than just exist here."

Billy turns around in Eddie's arms, and his eyes are glassy, his lower lip raw from being bitten.

"I'm not gonna get mad if you cook during the day like a normal person. I don't care if you forget to replace the toilet paper, or accidentally track mud in the house. This is our home, and I feel like I live here alone, and you're a ghost."

Billy looks away, and Eddie nuzzles under his chin, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"This is your home, too, Billy. Stop haunting it, and live in it with me."

The next few days are almost the same. Billy is still quiet when he moves through the house, but when Eddie comes home from work a week later, he's delighted by the scene in front of him.

Billy's at the stove, cooking something that smells delicious. He's wearing just a pair of briefs and an apron, and he's not being quiet with his cooking. He's not being loud, either, but it's a start.

His boots are by the door. His pants are draped over the back of the couch, and his shirt is folded up beside it.

Eddie smiles at Billy as he comes into the kitchen. The counters haven't been cleaned as he cooks - Eddie can see the work he's put into this meal so far.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, babe," Eddie says warmly, moving in to kiss Billy's cheek.

Billy smiles. It's small, shy, almost embarrassed, but it's genuine, and Eddie knows he's fighting so hard against his desire to be human, and his instinct to be a ghost.

"It's a work in progress," Billy says softly.

"And we'll work on it together," Eddie agrees.

"I'm just glad you're trying to live with me, in our home, instead of haunting the house."

#sqt drabble #mungrove

311 notes · View notes

obxone · 1 year

Text

Pogue Like Me (Part Six)

Edited-ish. ~2.2k words.

**So I'm not 100% sure about this part. I may change it later, but for now here it is! This was one of my favorite minis to write.**

Tag list: @gillybear17 @i-love-rafe @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @nomorespahgetti @lmg-stilinski24 @f4ll-for-you @user3737338292 @iheqrtaustin @jayblackpanther @calmoistorm @paintygirl @honeynicoole @iheqrtaustin @existential-echo

Master Page

The house is quiet as you slip out of Rafe's bed. His touch falls away, and you turn back to see him still asleep, undisturbed by your slipping away. He looks peaceful, at ease, and a smile tugs at your lips for him. You lean down, lips pressing to his cheek and then brushing his lips before you collect his pullover from the chair and slip out of the room to go downstairs. The kitchen is empty, but you spot Sarah through one of the glass doors while you are pulling the sweatshirt on over your pajamas. She is trekking toward the dock with a paper bag and cup holder in hand.

Hurrying after her, you glance back to see if John B is there, but he is not. He is likely still asleep or already back at the Chateau.

"Morning," you yawn, pulling the sleeves of Rafe's pullover down over your hands. Sarah smiles up at you from her task of spreading the blanket out.

"Good morning."

Once she has the blanket spread out at the end of the dock, she pats the empty spot beside her. "Have a seat."

You do, crisscrossing your legs. The peace you feel over the crisp summer morning has your anxiety tapering off. The slight breeze blowing off the water is cool enough that you are glad you grabbed the pullover but not cold enough to make you uncomfortable. The warm glow of the sun helps ease some of the chill.

Sarah opens the paper bag after passing over your standard order of iced coffee from the local coffee shop in town. You take a generous sip and hum in delight. The perfect mix of syrup, sweet cream, and coffee. She smiles, passing you the wrapped chocolate croissant, and you beam.

"Thanks, Sarah."

"Of course!" She pulls her own out, and you both quietly eat them and admire the peaceful morning.

This is your favorite part of the day when you are awake in time to see it. It is before everyone starts coming outside and going to the beach or out on the water to enjoy another summer day. The island awakens slowly, stretching from her slumber while all the kooks, pogues, and tourists alike are still asleep, enjoying a quiet cup of coffee or prepping for their day.

"What did you want to talk about?" You ask, halfway through the croissant. You do not look at her and instead focus on the seagulls swooping in for their morning catch.

"Umm…" She chews her bite before clearing her throat. "I feel terrible about what happened. I hate that we aren't friends right now. All of us do."

You frown, looking down at your lap. "Not all of you."

She frowns. "JJ too."

"JJ and I are not anywhere near ever being friends again, Sarah." You turn your face to look at her. "He said some really shitty things. And for him to be the one that I was closest to out of everyone. It's unacceptable."

She nods. "I get it."

"Do you?" You question your disappointment in them getting the best of you. They all seemed to ignore JJ's behavior and verbal attack on you and Rafe. "Because it hasn't felt like that."

She looks away, and you notice the shine in her eyes. "Rafe…"

"Nope." You immediately cut her off. "This isn't about your brother. If this is just another bash Rafe session, I'm leaving."

"Please don't." She grasps your wrist, squeezing it in desperation. "We don't have to talk about him."

"We aren't going to."

She nods before letting you go and huffing. "So it's serious?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." Her lips press together in a firm line. She does not like it, but it is not for her like. It is your life, your decision.

You look back out at the water and sigh. "I love Rafe."

A smile tugs at her lips before she sighs. The silence stretches for a few moments while she turns over what to say in her head. Her chin lifts, and she looks out at the water. "As your friend, I can say that if you are happy, then I think it is great." You pause mid-bite to stare at her. She laughs, shaking her head. "I can be happy for my best friend even if she's dating my brother."

You laugh softly before taking a bite and humming in appreciation at the taste of flaky pastry and chocolate again.

"But as his sister, I'm worried."

You look away from her because you do understand it. She grew up with your boyfriend, and she knows much more about him than you do. "Sarah-"

"No," she interrupts you. "That is all I have to say, and I believe you. I can tell you love Rafe."

You smile then, sipping your coffee. "Probably too much."

She shrugs, laughing. "So? He needs someone to love him."

You smile brighter, blushing a little. The atmosphere shifts as Sarah adjusts her position to face you more.

"Will you talk to JJ?"

"No."

She frowns, and you shake your head at her.

"No, Sarah, not right now. I'm really happy where I am right now with Rafe. I will not ruin my happiness because of JJ's selfishness."

She exhales, tossing her empty wrapper into the bag and stretching out. Her toes dip into the water.

"So, do we have to be friends with my brother now?"

You laugh, tossing your wrapper in the bag too. "No, but the fighting needs to stop. On both ends."

She agrees, and you know it as she shifts to look back at the house.

"He's different with you."

"I know."

She smiles as she watches you before she shakes her head. "I think he loves you too."

You smile, looking back at the house too. Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the thought of those three words coming from him. You are not sure what you will do if he turns out to be using you to get what he wants.

"God, I hope so."

You laugh, shoving Kelce's shoulder as he teases you about your close-call tumble this morning when the tiled floor in one of the breakfast rooms was still wet. Your cheeks heat at the reminder and a flashback of how you managed to save yourself by using an older gentleman as a shield replays in your head.

"I could've been seriously injured," you complain, and he shakes his head, still laughing over your misfortune. "Mr. Corrine could have been too!"

Kelce braces his hand against his stomach as he laughs louder. He is likely picturing the same image as you. He braces his other hand on the bar to steady himself.

"You are ridiculous!" You smack him with your ticket holder. "Why are we friends again?"

"Because you love me."

"Right," you retort, smacking him again for good measure.

His laughter fades when he glances over your shoulder. You follow his line of sight to see JJ lingering by the end of the bar. Ocean eyes flickering to you and away. He is waiting for you. You huff, tightening your hand on the serving tray you have tucked against your side.

"I should go."

"Text me or Rafe, okay?" Kelce attempts to soothe you, his voice quiet before he winks at you and strides back into the sunshine to find your boyfriend for their round of drinks post-golf game.

Your shift ends in thirty minutes, and Rafe would take you home so you could get cleaned up and ready for date night together. A promise of an evening alone together after spending copious amounts with Kelce and his new girlfriend has caused you to smile all day. You are ready to have one on one time and kiss him silly after his subtle teasing when he first arrived.

You collect the closed ticket from their drinks and start to the kitchen. You needed to do some culinary prep and help clean the bar up before you could leave. JJ steps into your path before you can pass him. You frown at him, not surprised or pleased with his choice to corner you.

"It's been over a month, y/n."

"I'm aware."

He frowns back at you. "Please."

You stare at him, debating whether to finally cave into his request or not. "Why?"

"I miss you."

You roll your eyes. Sarcasm drips from your words because you know what he has been up to in your absence. "I'm sure."

He reaches out. His fingertips touch the lone braided rope bracelet you wear now. It is the one you and Sarah share. Your other wrist is decorated with a gold charm bracelet. A cursive R, a cresting wave, and a heart all in gold dangle from the bracelet—Rafe's one-month gift for you.

"I still have ours."

You hum, moving your arm away from him. "JJ, I have to get back to work."

"Come by the Chateau tonight?"

You shake your head, stepping away. "No."

"Why not?"

"And be insulted over and over again?"

He groans, looking away, and his jaw clenches. "So, you can forgive Sarah, John B, and Pope, but not me or Kie?"

"Yes."

He shakes his head. "Real mature."

You glare at him, your anger rising. "First off, they didn't call me a slut or an easy lay." His eyes widen at you referencing his hurtful words again, but you continue. "You called me a kook's slut, a liar, a kook princess, and you said some awful things about Rafe, like accusing him of wanting cocaine more than me." You breathe through your nose to calm yourself as best you can. "You never even apologized. So, no, I can't forgive you. And second, Kiara is too far shoved up your ass now to even reach out to me. Has she told you that?" You look at him, waiting for an answer, but he stays silent. "Thought so. It's a two-way street. I'm tired of always being there for you guys, and the one fucking time I needed you, you failed me. You hurt me and do not even have the decency to man up and apologize." You take a step back, shaking your head. "And I won't even get into the birthday party fiasco. So no, JJ, I won't just forgive you."

You leave him standing there and push your way through the kitchen doors. Cass's perfectly red-manicured hand touches your face, and you exhale the breath you have been holding.

"You okay?"

"I'm so tired of this."

"I know," she murmurs before hugging you.

You hug her back, glancing as Ralph rounds the shelves to hug you both. You laugh, and he presses a quick kiss to your temple before pulling Cass into his chest. They had finally agreed to date, and both seemed so happy that it made you smile. After a few moments of admiring the positive changes this summer, you return to work and try to stay away from JJ as best you can.

The last half hour passes in a blur, and you feel two strong arms loop around your waist as you clock out.

"Ready to get out of here?" He asks, nuzzling his face into your neck. You hum, patting his hands as they press against your stomach. "Maybe some alone time."

You laugh, spinning in his arms to drape your arms over his shoulders. "What is with you and this skirt, huh?"

"You've got very sexy legs."

You laugh before pecking his lips. "Yeah. Alone time sounds good."

He frowns, reading you like the back of his hand. His hands rub up and down your back. "JJ?"

You nod, closing your eyes and dropping your face into his chest. He sighs, glancing around for the blond pogue. "What happened?"

"He still has not apologized and is angry that I've forgiven everyone but him and Kie."

He nods, licking his bottom lip before shrugging. "Fuck him."

You shake your head with a tired smile. "I'm so furious at him for making me feel this way. He is being incredibly selfish even now."

"He is."

You grasp his hand and begin to tug him away and out to the parking lot. The farther you got away from the Island Club, the better you would feel.

"Yours or mine?" You ask, swinging your hands between you.

"Mine."

You smile, looking at him as you near his bike. "Then can we take a long hot bubble bath? My calves are killing me."

He grins, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Anything you want."

"You're spoiling me, Cameron."

"You are worth it."

You laugh, taking the helmet that he brings for you every time he picks you up. "Is this because of my skirt?"

He laughs before leaning in to peck your lips. You slide the helmet on to hide the blush blooming across your face. His eyes crinkle in the corners from how much he is smiling.

"Maybe."

"I knew it!"

He pulls his helmet on after buckling yours. "You trust me, right?"

"You ask me this every time I get on your bike."

"Because it's your life in my hands."

"Of course I trust you." You reach for him and wrap your arms around his waist as you press yourself against him. "More than anything."

He straddles his bike, and you climb on behind him, sliding into position with ease and familiarity as he turns the bike on. His large hand is warm on your bare thigh when he touches you to be sure you are ready before he drives out of the Island Club parking lot. You glance over your shoulder to see JJ watching from his bike. The bike you used to catch rides on before everything happened.

A sharp burst of pain strikes through your heart as the realization that you will never have what you had before ever again. P4L is not really P4L anymore. Too many rules broken, and hurtful words exchanged between the lot of you.

The End.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 1 year

Note

omg yES I'd love a part two to the Captain Rex headcanons with an anxious reader with the relationship part since you offered! ;u; I loved the first part so much (and that you included more from the 501st!) tytytyty 💙💙💙

Aw anon I'm so glad! Thank you for coming back as well, and continuing to fuel my feelings for our fine captain. 💙

Warnings and Information: Largely the same as part one. Undescribed fem!Reader with unspecified anxiety/anxious tendencies. Lots of fluff and other good feelings, primarily. Follows bullet point format. No Mando'a used this time. Reader is given different "nicknames" from the Clones to by-pass the use of a name in some cases.

Word count: 2,458

The set-up

The first time he goes to ask you if you'd like to grab some caf together, or go check out that little corner store not too far from the base by speederbike that one of your coworkers mentioned to you in passing, Rex puts in the effort to clean up his armor a bit. Now he doesn't go so far as to polish and repaint all the parts, but he doesn't want to look fresh off a battlefield either where he's caked in mud and dirt and ash. He wants to show you he cares by looking nice when he goes to lay out his offer. You're past the probationary period following your transfer, and he thinks it'd be nice to sort of celebrate that.

You're in your jumpsuit, cheerfully strutting around the hangar to complete the necessary work a little earlier than usual this morning when he first sees you. "Good morning, Captain Rex!" You're all bright-eyed and sunny smiles for so early in the day. Must be in a really good mood now that you feel the weight that comes with being fresh blood in the "office" has been lifted from your shoulders. Can breathe a little easier when there are less eyes scrutinizing your every move. "You're in a good mood today." Rex replies, careful to keep the right balance of being personable and professional within earshot of other civilian staff, as always, "Is there a special reason?" Your grin and your body language tells him everything he needs to know.

"Oh, no reason. Reasons, on the other hand…" you suggest, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from giggling within earshot of those same workers that you've seen him eyeing out of caution. You can afford to be a little braver now, but you should still be cautious. Rex smiles, delighted to hear and see that you're not feeling quite so anxious as you once were. You still have your nervous, self-soothing quirks like fiddling with the wrist-strap of your time device whenever you wear one, or twirling a stylus between your nimble fingers or rocking softly on the balls of your feet. Rex doesn't see you utilize them quite as often these days now that you're off probation, and it makes him feel so much better to see you more relaxed and comfortable here.

He still asks his brothers to keep an eye on you or give you any help in his stead if he senses you becoming overly anxious about anything. Dogma still offers to take any paperwork down to General Skywalker for you (and is certain to remember to knock, now). Fives and Echo still hang out around your desk and your workspace whenever they get the chance. Tup drops by with small snacks or drinks from the mess if you can't spare a moment to get away from your work (and he'll never say no to an offer to help fix up his hair, either). Kix has been by a few times to come sit with you when the anxiety gets really bad, coaching you through your grounding exercises, or acting as a GAR medic (who has authority to treat civilian staff in non-emergency situations) he can administer something to take the edge off. And Jesse has made plausible excuses for you to your boss's face if you've needed to step away and collect yourself, if it's really severe.

They all figure if the captain likes you, and on occasion asks them to check in with you for his "peace of mind" ("Captain Rex has a cruuuuush~" "Hardcase stop before you get yourself in troub-" "It's not just the Captain, Fives. She does too.") they shouldn't be afraid to cement their friendships with you anymore.

“Oh, by the way, Captain,” you call over your shoulder as you walk off to where you’d been summoned, “your armor looks very nice today.” Unfortunately, you were called away to take care of something just as he plucks up his nerve to ask if you’d like to grab a cup of caf with him before the day really gears up, but he doesn’t have to wait much longer for another opportunity.

The first "date"

It comes as a rather impromptu and unofficial thing, with one of the mechanics shouting across the hangar as he wraps up his welding kit that the repairs have been finished on a LAAT that had taken a heavy beating. "Captain! Gunship's good to go!" These guys are good. You get to the gunship before Rex does, admiring the handiwork of the repairmen in awe. "Wow… almost looks brand new, doesn't it?" He agrees with a chuckle, elbow to elbow with you. "What's it like to fly in one of these?" you ask, turning to him with earnest curiosity. It surprises him. "Weren't you transferred to the base in one of these?"

You shake your head, the datapad cradled a little tighter against your chest. "No, I got here by passenger shuttle."

Stay here, he tells you, he has an idea. He just needs to go find where Hawk is.

Hawk takes little time to get kitted-up in order to go take the LAAT for a test flight. Rex boards the gunship first, taking hold of one of the handles overhead before offering a hand out to you to help you up.

You regard the offered hand with mild apprehension, unclear if this is even allowed. "A-are you certain I can be up there? I'm just a civilian. I don't know that I can-" A simple smile is all he needs to calm you, quell your fraying nerves. “I’ll think of some clever excuse if anyone asks.” Rex promises you with one of his charming smiles and playful lift of his brow. He allows you to stand beside him so you feel more secure, showing you where best to grip the support handles as Hawk gears everything up. “Best hold on,” he warns you before you’d feel that lurch in your stomach as the ground falls away fast.

He tells Hawk to take it pretty easy, just a few test laps around the base and not too fast, and Rex keeps his eye on you as Hawk climbs the gunship high enough for his liking. Any sign from you that this was getting to be too much, and he would call it off. But you’re all giddy smiles and awed murmurings as you bravely peek at the ground far below from time to time.

“Beginning aerial test laps, Captain. I promise to go easy, ma’am!” Hawk calls back to the pair of you, beginning to maneuver and swing the gunship out to the right, making you bump hips with the Captain, unprepared to brace for the movement with your legs in addition to your upper body. You go to apologize, but he puts his hand on your opposite hip without a word (at first) to hold you a little closer to him to help you feel secure and steady. Rex apologizes to you for not warning you about the nature of the turns. “Flown in these things more times than I can count; it’s all just second nature to me.” You suppose that makes a lot of sense, surely a little flushed in the face, being so close. On the next turn, you know to anticipate it this time, but you still lean pretty heavily against him.

What happens next however is absolutely not your fault. Hawk purposefully takes a much sharper turn as he completes one of his last laps, and with the centrifugal force you’re really pushed up against Captain Rex, practically chest to chest with him now, and then laughs apologetically from the cockpit. “Whoops, sorry sweetheart! Got a little carried away on that one. You alright?” You’re fine, you answer just loud enough for Hawk to hear, finding yourself still so close against Rex, his hand still on your hip to hold you steady. You and Rex look at each other for one long moment, almost missing what Hawk says about taking you in for a landing, feeling a little lost in the other’s eye��

Once you’re back on the ground, you thank Hawk for letting you come along on the test flight for the repaired LAAT. “Oh, you’re welcome! I hope it was nice despite that one turn. Just got a little ahead of myself and forgot you’re not used to those kinds of ships.” You promise it’s okay, and thank him again. You should probably get back to work now, you explain, a little color in your cheeks after smiling at Rex and bidding him goodbye next.

He makes no mention of the transfer-smear of lip product found on his Captain’s face, one that looks an awful lot like the color you’re wearing this morning, until he’s certain you’re out of earshot. “That’s a nice color on you, Captain.” Rex takes a moment to clean his cheek of the evidence, a gentle pout playing across his features, his broad nose creasing as he responds to Hawk’s compliment. “You swung too wide on that last turn before we landed…”

As partners

It’s not long after that that things kick off. Secretly. There’s no official code or regulation against this (you’d know: Echo and Dogma checked for one extensively, separately and together) relationship taking place, but you’re going to keep it on the down-low for the most part. Rex has a professional image to maintain as a captain of the GAR, and you risk being transferred out should any of your higher-ups feel this partnership of sorts comes as a hindrance or serious detriment to your job as a civilian. (“Do you know how many want to be in your shoes? Do you have any idea just how sought-after this position is?” “A-A very good idea, actually. That’s why I’m here, sir. I promise, I’m not going to make any trouble.” (Oh how Fives and Jesse had wanted to give the civilian staff member you reported to a piece of their minds for talking to you like that.)) You and Rex find a way to make it work, with a little help from his brothers.

He visits you during work. Often as he can. Sometimes it's planned out in advance, where the two of you have lots of time alone. He makes sure that you're doing okay, and that you're taking care of yourself, of course, but primarily these opportunities to see you are just to spend time with you. Take his mind off of the war. Take your mind off of your job, or whatever troubles you. Sometimes it's discreet, spur of the moment little meetings in empty offices… or secluded corners his brothers have told him about.

"There's a blind spot in the cameras around here," Hardcase explains, unprompted, one afternoon over nutrimush in the mess hall, "You can get away with a lot of stuff right there behind the shelving." He's not sure if he's about to reprimand Hardcase as his Captain or to thank him as a brother for this insight for a long moment. "What do you mean by get away with a lot of stuff, 'Case?" There's quite a few options it turns out. Stash some contraband, (re)paint your armor without being bothered too much, or just… y'know. Have a nap? (Damn, okay, aside from whatever Hardcase means by contraband that sounds like a pretty great spot.) "Maybe I'll… check it out." Rex agrees with a simple shrug.

Oh and if he does, he has to be careful about a certain box on the shelves. Can't put empty snack wrappers back in it otherwise it'll attract ants again, Hardcase says he learned that one the hard way and it took a while to get it back under control just short of throwing away his whole collection of snacks. Two of them are welcome to just about anything they find in the box if Rex takes you there, but the energy drinks are off limits.

"Or just leave Hardcase five credits if you do take one." Echo calls from a little further down the table, pouring over some section of the regulation manual related to your job that you were having trouble understanding. (They used a lot of unnecessary and complicated words because it was translated into Basic from another galactic language.) "Fives and I do it all the time." A few more brothers confirm that they do the same since being let in on Hardcase's little secret. Dogma insists he does not. "I don't like these crazy energy drinks they come up with. 'Trotting Tauntaun' and 'Hyperspace Rush'? Makes me feel sick to my stomach and my heart race…" (It's probably all the caffeine, Kix calls back to him from Rex's left. Dogma might have a low tolerance for it and that's why he doesn't like it.)

This little nook within the hangar becomes the perfect place to decompress whenever Captain Rex notices you are looking more anxious than typical. One of his men has stashed away an old GAR-issue blanket that's stained with various smears of cobalt blue - 501st's Blue - but still plenty warm and comfortable to wrap up in. You can tell that it's Fives who added a little stack of flimsi scraps to write notes on the first time you come back here to this corner of the hangar with the Captain. Rex can see from a mile away that Kix is to thank for the healthier options within the box of Hardcase's snacks.

You're both not sure who scribbled your name along with his under the list of people who were "invited" here, but it makes you cry, in a happy way. To welcome their brother here would be one thing - all Clones had come up with secret, secluded spaces for themselves to have their privacy and establish stealthy boundaries for themselves and their well-being - but they were inviting you too. None of your other colleagues know about this sequestered space. They trusted you to keep their secrets. They liked you. Really liked you.

"To our Captain and his girl" the note begins, waiting for you both on top of the neatly folded blanket when Rex first helped you here, trying to help you settle your nerves after you were badly frightened by a speederbike backfiring outside the base as it whizzed past, "Welcome to our cozy little corner! We hope you like it here and trust that you'll keep it a better secret than General Skywalker and Senator Amidala being a "thing". Speaking of, figured it was time to let the loth-cat out of the bag now that you're both getting as serious as this war allows~. - The 501st"

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being, but I'll likely start one soon if I can figure out how to make those fancy forms some people have since I write a variety of stuff. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Part one] [Masterlist] [Reqests: OPEN]

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daydream-cement · 2 years

Text

Back Again

Larissa Weems x Reader (Light NSFW)

Synopsis: Reader returns back to Nevermore to talk to the student body about their profession. What you didn’t expect was Principal Weems interest in how you have changed since you went to school together.

Authors Note: This is based off a request from anon. The request was a little long so for formatting purposes I made this into a separate post.

You stood before Principal Weems' desk as she commended your performance speaking before the student body about your profession, "If we are speaking freely, I never quite expected architecture as a career path for you... It looks good on you."

Her words make you cock your head. Did you sense some flirtation here? Back in school, Larissa and you always enjoyed teasing and flirting with one another, but you weren't expecting it from her now.

"It was different seeing you so full of confidence. I remember when we would do group projects, you would just get so nervous." Larissa was leaning against her desk in front of you. She chuckled as she continued reminiscing about your past together.

You had to chime in your own memory of your days being so timid at Nevermore, "That presentation for World Literature almost killed me."

"I thought you were about to pass out!" Larissa let out a loud laugh, her hand reaching out to lightly smack your arm. Her touch lingered for a moment, "I'm glad to see you so confident now..."

"Thank you. It's really nice to see you again, Larissa." You couldn't hide your smile as you look in her eyes. There was a bit of silence that fell between the two of you as you both wondered who should speak next.

"I remember how we always used to compliment one another in the most ridiculous way in the mornings before class..." Her eyes looked to the floor as the memories ran through her mind, "Oh, Morticia was convinced that I had such a crush on you."

You studied her face. You wanted to tell her that you always had a crush on her, "You were easy to compliment. It's hard not to find things that are wonderful about you."

You felt the tension in the room rising, almost like there were many words that were going unsaid. Silence fell between you once again. You glance up into her face, seeing that she was already staring at you.

You began speaking once again, feeling like now was as good a time than ever to share how you always felt, "I used to sketch you. That's how I became good with a pencil and paper. You are the perfect muse."

Larissa noticed the tense of your words. You still thought she was absolutely beautiful.

"You think too much of me." Larissa tried brushing off the compliment.

"I don't think that's possible." You felt emboldened, taking a step closer. Larissa raised a brow at you, probably shocked at your change in confidence compared to when you were in your youth, "You should give yourself more credit."

Larissa stood up straight, moving away from her desk and closing the gap between the two of you. You stare up into her eyes. She is smirking as she towers over you. You decide to take the power back from her, pulling her hand to your face to kiss her palm and her smile quickly fades.

You hear her suck in a breath and you finally speak, "You certainly are beautiful."

Her lips crash down upon yours. You place a hand on the back of her neck, holding the kiss as you back her up to her desk. Larissa pushes herself up so she is sitting on the desk as she kisses you. Your hands come to now rest on her hips, gripping them tight which elicits a growl from Larissa's throat.

You pull away, your voice a harsh whisper, "Perhaps I can show you just how much I have changed since we were in school."

Larissa only hummed in delight at your words, her lips attaching themselves to yours once again. The kiss deepens with the opening of your mouth. Larissa slides her tongue against yours and you couldn't help but moan in response. Your hands grip at the fabric of her dress, pulling gently. She shifts back and forth helping you pull it up so it bunches around her hips.

"Want me to fuck you?" You mumble against her lips and you hear her whine in response. When you pull your lips away from hers, Larissa's teeth bite your bottom lip causing you to groan in pain.

She releases you and whines, "Please fuck me..."

#larissa weems #wednesday netflix #fanfic #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #oneshot #light smut #smut #larissa weems smut

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year

Text

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 4

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | AO3 | playlist

icymi, i retcon-ed the last little bit of chap 3 (what steve's entry to Be My Baby said from Eddie to Teddy!)

@steddie-week prompt for today: first kiss/Kiss on My List - Hall & Oates (though the part before that got a away from me a little 😅)

-------

Staying away for a bit seemed to be the best thing to do, so Steve goes back to the hospital a couple days later, coming back in the early morning this time to try avoiding stepping on Wayne Munson’s toes.

He looks in on Max first. She’s still asleep, so he quietly sneaks around the room, straightening things up, and picking up discarded popsicle sticks and cotton balls from whatever game the party’s made up as an excuse to throw them around.

He straightens her blankets, pulling them up a bit higher to make sure she stays comfortable, and sneaks back out the open door.

Steve really wants to check in on Eddie too, but doesn’t want to incur the wrath of the older Munson if he catches wind of him being there.

“I’ll just look in, make sure he’s okay, and leave.” Steve rationalizes, mumbling to himself as he walks the familiar path from Max’s room to Eddie’s.

He hears music playing softly as he approaches, the tail end of one song and the beginning of another that is definitely not something he would’ve associated with the bold and brash metalhead currently laid up there.

Steve peeks around the doorframe and finds Wayne there already, sitting beside the tapedeck Steve had brought for them to play music for Eddie.

He’s got a pair of glasses sitting low on his nose, scowling down at a small worn book in his lap. Steve recognizes the cover immediately. It’s the copy of The Hobbit Dustin had left there.

“Damn it Ed, you couldn’t’ve had an easier favorite to read?” Wayne grumbles aloud.

Steve laughs without thinking, and Wayne’s sharp gaze snaps up to him in an instant.

“Oh shit, sorry, Mr. Munson.” he steps into the doorway a little more, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll just…yeah.”

He’s turned to leave when Wayne’s voice stops him. “Harrington.”

Oh boy.

“Yes sir?”

“Lemme talk t’ya a second.”

Steve enters the room; the itch to immediately go to Eddie’s side is strong, but he stops himself short a few steps away from the foot of Eddie’s bed.

Glancing down at his friend, he’s shocked and delighted to find Eddie’s breathing tube is gone.

“His tu—” Steve starts, but stops himself. He’s there to hear what Wayne wants to say.

“Came out last night, actually.”

He nods gratefully at the offered information, but when Wayne doesn’t say anything, Steve starts, “Mr. Munson–”

“Wayne.” Wayne cuts him off. “I need to apologize.”

Steve blinks at him in shock.

“That loud curly-haired kid of yours really gave me a what-for this morning.”

“Dustin?” Steve whispers.

“That’s the one.” Wayne nods.

“Mr. Mun–Wayne, I’m so sorry, Dustin can be a bit much, whatever he said to you I promise was just said because he cares about Eddie so much..”

“I know that,” Wayne nods, “Really cares about you too, y’know. Nearly tore my head off for darin’ t’say somethin’ bad about your family.”

“To be fair to Dustin, my family deserves it.” Steve jokes, but immediately kicks himself for interrupting.

Wayne nods, “That they do. I’m glad you know this already.”

There’s a weighty pause while Wayne stands, Steve stays frozen waiting for Wayne to continue.

“Your kiddo told me you were the one to get Eddie out of there. Back here to the hospital.” He continues after Steve nods, “Now I realize that was you there in the next bed over when they first called me, but t’be fair, I wasn’t worried ‘bout much else but Eddie.”

“I understand.” Steve nods.

Wayne takes one long step forward to place his hand on Steve’s shoulder and Steve looks up to meet his eyes.

“M’sorry I snapped at you, son.” Steve’s stomach clenches. “Thank you fer bringin’ my boy back to me.”

“You’re we–OOF.” The rest of his response is cut off when his face is suddenly pressed into Wayne’s shoulder. The elder Munson smells like asphalt and cigarettes, the sharp smell of grease stings the back of Steve’s nose

He chooses to blame that for the tears that spill over onto the man’s jacket, and if Wayne notices the wet spot, or the tears that stain Steve’s face after releasing him, he doesn’t say anything.

They sit and talk a bit, Wayne explaining his modified visiting hours due to his work schedule was likely why they hadn’t really crossed paths until Steve accidentally stayed late (“Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?” Steve asks him, “Probably, but this is more important.”), he tells Wayne what he’d taken to doing for Eddie while he was there in return (“I thought chapstick would be a bit too far for me,” he says as he hands Wayne the new tube of chapstick that’s been haunting the front pocket of his jeans, “but I couldn’t stand watching his wrist get rubbed raw by that damn cuff.”), then move on to Wayne’s personal mixtape he’d been playing whenever he’d visit.

“Even you know it’s not Ed’s particular brand of tunes, but this is our…default tape. Always got it playin’ when we clean the trailer, or while he’s paintin’ somethin’ in the living room while I read the paper.” Wayne shrugs, “Thought it’d bring him some comfort.”

They both fall quiet after that. It’s still relatively early in the morning, and they’ll have a few more hours before the party (sans Dustin, who was off to a previously scheduled, school-sponsored trip as of this morning, hence why he was in so early to say goodbye to Eddie and and to berate his uncle) descends, so they sit in the comforting lull of the day to the Munson Background Music. Wayne moving onto his paper, Steve picking up and attempting (once again) to get into The Hobbit.

He’s gotten through a whole five pages (Five! A new personal best!) when Wayne clears his throat, trying to grab Steve’s attention.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way son, but I gotta ask; it seems t’me you’ve got some…extra feelings for my Eddie.”

Steve freezes.

“No, no, none of that, Steve. I’m asking you both as a concerned uncle, and as a protective one.”

Steve gulps audibly. “How do you mean?”

“C’mon son, you see anyone else here for ‘im as much? Believe you me, your curly-haired number one fan really handed it to me today. You’ve been here with Eddie more than I have.”

Steve feels his face burn in embarrassment, both for Dustin’s antics on his behalf, and for the current path this conversation is taking.

“Not to be cliché, but I gotta ask, What’re your intentions with my nephew?” Wayne’s eyes crinkle heavily in tandem with his warm smile.

Because the universe hates him, the chorus of the song currently playing cuts through the brief silence between his question and Steve’s not-yet-formulated response.

“ So won’t you, please (Be my, be my baby)? My one and only baby? ” Ronnie and her Ronettes croon, much to Steve’s dismay.

Steve chuckles, half humorously, “Ronnie said it best, Mr. Munson.”

After Wayne’s good-natured laughing fit is over, he says “Best of luck t’ya, Harrington. Just know I’ve got a shotgun in my closet back home.”

“Don’t worry, if I ever hurt your nephew, Dustin will sick Nancy on me. And she’s got a few.”

They fall into conversation again after that, and Steve finds out a bit more about the man, the myth, the legend that lays unconscious in the bed between him and Wayne. Eddie’s favorite color is either black or navy blue, he loves cinnamon-sugar on toast, about half the mugs in the Munson trailer are ones he’s collected, and (possibly the most important piece of information Steve’s ever known) Eddie’s full name is Theodore Wayne Munson.

“No way, Theodore??” Steve can’t contain his grin.

“Theodore.” Wayne nods with a smirk. “His dad hated it, started calling him Eddie basically from when he was born. Rationalized it bein’ short for Theodore, like a Ted to Teddy to Eddie type thing.

“Was his mom that named ‘im that, after her dad. She died when Ed was real young, so he’s been ‘Eddie’ all his life.” Wayne shrugs.

Steve goes to say something else, but is interrupted.

“Oh good, you’re both here.” Hopper grunts, stepping into Eddie’s room.

“Hop? What are you doing here?” Steve asks.

“You here to take that damn cuff off, Chief?”

Hopper comes up to the foot of Eddie’s bed and leans onto the plastic footboard, speaking low to only the two of them. “We’ve got a plan. We’re going to officially clear him today to the public, so yes, the cuff will be off later today but…” he pauses, looking between the two of them.

“Owens figures Eddie’ll be waking up sooner than later and when he does, he’ll need a place to lay low. You both know exactly how this’ll play out with the public, so Steve, we were hoping you’d be willing to take Eddie in in the meantime. If Wayne’s alright with that.”

“You don’t want him to be easy to track down.”

“Most folks wouldn’t expect him to be staying with Steve...” Wayne says in understanding.

“Exactly.” Hopper nods, “But what about your parents?” he directs back to Steve.

“Honestly? No worries there. They haven’t been around much at all in the last year; I think they are about to cut their losses and just sign the house over to me.” he shrugs.

He ignores both Wayne and Hopper's concerned looks and continues. “What will I need to do to help him? Is he going to do physical therapy? Do his bandages need to be wrapped any different than mine?”

Dr. Owens comes in then, “We’ll know more after he wakes up, Steve, but yes, physical therapy appointments are likely in order to build back up his abdominal strength.”

“Honestly don’t think there was much there t’begin with, doc.” Wayne says, poking fun at his nephew as easy as breathing.

-----

A few more days pass, and Steve goes back to work. Having taken time to heal himself, and make sure his people were safe and sound after taking care of Vecna.

This is about when he gets the idea in his head about making a mixtape for Eddie himself. Music is such an important thing in Eddie’s life, and Steve wants to be sappy, okay? Mixtapes are a romance cliché he hasn’t delved into before and what better person to create one for?

Steve gets the call Eddie’s awake on a Wednesday. Family Video’s least busy day.

“Family Video, this is Steve, How can I help you?” He drones.

“G’morning son, y’able to get to the hospital?” Wayne sounds like he’s smiling, but his stomach turns to lead anyway.

“Wayne?”

“Eddie’s awake. He’s ask–”

Steve doesn’t let him finish. “I’m on my way!”

He slams the phone down on the receiver, yells “Gotta go, Ryan!” to his coworker in the back office and books it out the door without waiting for a response.

Breaking multiple speed limits on his way, Steve arrives at the hospital in record time. Deciding the elevator was a waste of time, he sprints up the two flights of stairs to Eddie’s room.

Wayne’s outside the door talking to Hopper when he finally skids to a stop.

“He’s awake? Did someone tell Dustin? Gotta ask Will to help, he should be able to operate their crazy radio–Cerebro!” He snaps his fingers when the name comes to him. “Or maybe El can reach out an–”

“Steve, calm down.” Hopper shushes him, “Yes, Eddie’s awake but still kinda loopy from the drugs. He’s been in and out for the last couple hours. And yes, I’ve called Claudia, she’s contacting Dustin’s camp to give him the news.”

He smiles, sagging in relief. “Can I see him?”

“Sure, go on in,” Wayne chuckles, stepping back from the door for Steve to pass.

Rushing forward to Eddie’s side, Steve sees the other man shifting; stirring as if waking up from a nap, not a coma.

“Hey Eds,” he chuckles after a particularly funny-looking stretch. “You good, man?”

“Stevie! Steviesteviestevie’s here! Wayne, Steve’s here!”

“I see that, now stop wriggling around. You’ll pull yer stitches.” Wayne calls, then goes back to his conversation with Hopper.

“Ohyeah, I’m Frankenstein now.” Eddie tells him with all the confidence in the world.

“You are, are you?”

“Yeah I got all new skin and stitches.”

“...Are you talking about your skin grafts?”

“Uh, ya. Pay ‘tention Steve-o.” Eddie attempts to poke the end of Steve’s nose, but misses completely, poking a cold finger into his eye instead.

“Ow??”

“Steve? You okay?” Eddie looks like he’s about to cry, none the wiser to the bruised eyelid he just caused.

“Yeah, yeah, hon, I’m fine. You just poked me is all. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie breathes, sagging into the pillows under his shoulders with a sigh and a smile. “You called me ‘hon’.”

“That I did,” Steve says with a chuckle, “That okay?”

Eddie’s still smiling, closes his eyes and says, “No.” then promptly falls asleep.

“...What?”

-------

“You told Steve my full name?” Eddie accuses Wayne as soon as he steps through the door later that night (early that morning? Whatever..).

“Why’re you up?”

“Answer the question, old man!”

“Yeah, I did. Seemed pleased as punch t’have learned that lil’ bit of information.”

“I can’t believe this. He called me Teddy!” Eddie waves the scanned page in his uncle’s face.

“That’s cute.” Wayne toes off his boots and wanders into the kitchen for coffee. His bedtime staple.

“Cute?! You’re giving away my secrets!”

“You just now finding out about the Teddy thing? That was weeks ago, Eds, did he not call you that the whole time you were stayin’ there?”

“No??”

Wayne just shrugs in response.

“Wait…” Eddie scans through the one memory he tries to keep wrapped up tight, lest he agonize over it 24/7, “He did once; he was running late for work one day…”

-------

Eddie is packed up and ferried off to Steve’s a couple days later; he’s still sore, still recovering, but at least now he can be out of the hospital and he’s past the biggest threat of infection.

He’s got a schedule of PT appointments he’ll have to make; a schedule of which Steve made sure to get into Keith’s hands before Eddie came home and ensuring he’d get Steve’s work schedule swapped around to accommodate (He did, after a thorough berating by Robin).

“This’ll be fun, huh Stevie?” Eddie asks, gesturing to the re-dressing instructions for his various wounds in his hand.

“Oh yeah, loads.” he responds sarcastically at first, but gives him a smile immediately after. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, Eds.”

He reaches over and pats the top of Eddie’s leg, then turns back to the road, pulling away from the curb none the wiser to Eddie’s burning red face.

They ride along in comfortable silence, the radio playing the local rock station at a low volume.

“You ready for the chaos when Henderson gets back?”

Eddie scoffs, “I’m surprised he didn't manage to convince Claudia to pick him up, honestly.”

“Maybe he’s planning his escape to the bus station as we speak.” Steve laughs.

Eddie’s quiet long enough for Steve to look away from the road over at him. The sun through Eddie’s open window makes his dark brown, almost black curls glow gold at the edges; Steve finds himself wanting to kiss him more than anything.

But his face is contorted in worry, and he’s chewing on his already stubby fingernails.

“Eds? You alright?”

“Huh? Yeahyeah I’m just…panicking.”

Steve glances back to the road briefly, “About what?”

“He’s going to hate me.” Eddie blurts as soon as the ‘t’ leaves Steve’s mouth.

“No he’s not, Ed–”

“Why shouldn’t he? With what I put him through down there?”

“Hey, no, none of that.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. His fingers are going to start to bleed if he doesn’t stop.

“Eddie, look at me.” Steve grabs his hand away from his mouth, ignoring the feeling of wet fingertips as he laces their fingers together.

“Gross, man–”

“Eddie, that boy loves you so goddamn much. He may be a little passive aggressive about it for a while, but I know he’s glad you made it out of there. That you’re here with us.”

He lets himself smile at Steve’s words. “I’m only here ‘cause of you.” he says in a small voice.

“I just didn’t want Dustin to be sad.” Steve states, matter-of-factly and turns all his attention back to the road.

Eddie snorts in laughter at that, and Steve’s face pulls up into a smirk.

He’s still holding Eddie’s hand.

-----

The plan is for Eddie to lay low for a couple weeks at minimum.

Luckily for them, Hopper coming back lent credence to the claim that he was trying to help track down the Creel Murder copycat killer, being as the original killer was from Hawkins and all.

The government pulled their strings, declaring Eddie a free man and a hero for saving a young Mr. Henderson when, while being held hostage at the Creel House, he’d taken a majority of the killer’s wrath and kept Dustin safe from the crumbling rubble when the earthquake hit.

It was flimsy at best if you looked at it too hard, but luckily for them, it seemed like the people of Hawkins would much rather ignore their shortcomings when it came to the witch hunt than face them.

It only ended up taking about those two weeks for Eddie to get much stronger, and for things to blow over enough for him to go home.

But damn does Steve wish it was longer.

Not the…hiding from a mob thing, or healing from horrible wounds thing.. But the ‘having Eddie that close’ thing, the ‘comforting presence after a particularly bad nightmare’ thing.

Steve was falling harder and harder every day. Doing his damndest to make Eddie blush just a bit pinker every time his hand lingered on Eddie’s just a bit too long, every pretend need to brush his hair away from his face, and the particularly great ‘Oh, don’t worry if you can’t reach up enough to wash your hair, Eddie, I’ll help. I won’t look anywhere else, promise…unless you want me to’ he’d said (in much more eloquent terms) with a flirty wink

It was sickeningly domestic, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

Even in the times they’d get frustrated with one another; Eddie sick of having to be helped with every little thing and having to deal with the constant pain, or Steve also dealing with his own wounds and having to deal with a couple of Eddie’s fits of anger at having to be helped.

Kudos to Eddie though, he really pushed through his PT, did everything right, listened to what Steve and his doctors told him, he was healing fast.

On the second to last day of Eddie staying with him (though he didn’t know it at the time), Eddie was up before him. He’d snuck easily past the open door to the living room from the hall under the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Steve woke up to the smell of eggs and toast and wandered groggily into the kitchen himself.

Eddie had stretched the toaster from its usual spot in the corner of the counter to right next to the stove and had perched himself on a stool from the island so he could cook.

“Eddie?”

“Stevie, hey!” Eddie says, turning a bit to smile at him as he enters. “I hope you don’t mind scrambled, I don’t quite have the muscle movements to flip anything yet.

Steve blinks twice. Fuck. He’s in love.

“I’ll take anything you give me, Eds.” Eddie’s face turns fully scarlet at that. “Need any help? I’ll make some cinnamon toast if you’d like?” He asks, already pulling the toaster away from the stove with one hand and reaching for the cinnamon sugar with the other.

“Y-yeah, that’d be great Sweeth–Stevie.”

Steve feels his own face go scarlet at the slip, but doesn’t call attention to it. “Cool.” he says, like an idiot.

Eddie hums as they work, some song Steve doesn’t quite recognize, and soon they have two plates of breakfast.

“Thanks Eddie, this looks great.”

“You’re welcome Steve-o, I put some cheese in there too.” His smile is perfect.

“What’ve you got planned today?”

Eddie launches into the campaign he’s been planning for the party, what he’s still got to figure out, whether or not he’s going to delay starting in order to make them all a figure of their characters, but then if he did that he’d need them all to give him their character sheets well beforehand and Mike is horrible about not making a character till the very last second..

Steve’s so entranced listening to him, he doesn’t realize what time it is until Eddie stops himself.

“Hey, don’t you have the opener today? It’s already 9:30.”

“Aw shit..”

Steve races up the stairs to his room to the tune of Eddie’s cackle, starting the shower first, then grabbing up whatever clothes he can find that’re clean.

He jumps under the warm spray and showers as fast as he possibly can, jumps back out, focuses on drying his hair as much as possible while trying to yank the denim of his jeans over the still-wet skin of his legs, pulls on a polo, shrugs on his vest, grabs up the stupid styling mousse he doesn't like to use all that often (it makes his hair sticky and he hates it, okay?) and whips his hair into shape.

Good enough.

He bolts back down the stairs, pulls on his socks, then shoes, fuck! Where are his keys??

“In here, Stevie!”

He peeks into the kitchen and Eddie’s got both arms outstretched in front of him where he’s still perched on the stool.

In one hand: his keys, in the other: a brown paper bag.

Eddie made him a lunch.

Can you fall more in love with someone that quick after doing it the first time?

“You’re a fuckin’ lifesaver,’ Steve reaches out with both his own hands, enveloping them over Eddie’s.

He pushes them wide, steps between Eddie’s legs, kisses him quickly, then, just as quickly, is gripping onto the bag and his keys, and stepping backwards toward the door.

“Take it easy today, okay Teddy? You already did a lot, so just relax. See you later!” Steve admonishes the other man teasingly and spins out the front door.

It takes hours.

Hours for Steve to realize what he did.

“Oh no…Oh fuck! ” he yells, dropping the tape in his hand and abandoning the returns cart where it stands.

He books it to the front counter and launches himself over it, knocking a whole stack of already organized tapes off it in his wake a la Dustin Henderson.

Old Ms. Wilson turns her nose up at his antics and leaves without any preamble, and he’s mercifully alone in the store.

“C’mon, c’mon, Eddie please pick up…”

“Harrington residence!”

“Eddie! Eddie, I am so so sorry! I swear, I didn't even realize what I did until just about..hm.. 20 seconds ago? It doe–” Well, better now than never. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, we can just forget it ever happened if yo–”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries Harrington,”

“Harrington?”

Eddie continues on like he didn’t hear him “I know it was just a mistake; I should be out of here soon anyway so..”

There’s something off about his voice. “Ed–”

“So just forget it ever happened, ‘kay? Ooh, bring back Star Wars when you’re off, yeah? Thanks, Steve, you’re the best.”

The dial tone sounds in his ear.

Wow.. okay, that’s…fine. He’ll just stick to being hopelessly in love on his own, then.

-------

“You mean to tell me,” Wayne’s got his eyes closed and his thumb and forefinger pinched over the bridge of his nose. “That that boy kissed you full on yer mouth. And you thought he was 100% not in love with you?”

“Well I know now that’s not true.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant child being scolded. “He didn’t exactly sound all that excited about it when he called me.”

“I can’t believe I’m the one t’hafta tell ya this, but from what you said, in your own retelling , was Steve called hours later, ‘cause he didn’t realize he kissed ya, said ‘I’m sorry, it doesn’t have to mean anything.’...and you pushed him away.”

“That’s what I just said Wayne! I know now ‘cause of this tape but–”

“You’re hopeless. Bless that Buckley girl, oth’wise you’d still be…what’s she call ya? A Doofus about him.”

"...shut up.."

-------

Part 5 here!

tagging: @hellomynameismoo and @messrs-weasley 'cause they both asked so nicely!

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starsfic · 11 months

Note

In the drunk red son fic, what on earth did Azure say to red that made him drink himself under the table

And please tell me mk or swk gave him an ear full about it. Like they actually pulled on his ear to be at eye level while they nagged him

Slap!

Azure Lion blinked in shock, reaching up to shakily trace the handprint on his face. Qi Xiaotian couldn't blame him- he had never imagined himself doing what he just did. However, he was too angry to really be horrified. Instead, he reached up and grabbed Azure's ear, yanking him down.

"How fucking dare you."

"What did I do?!" Azure yelped, sounding so clueless that Xiaotian almost believed it.

Except he had Red's quiet request from this morning rolling through his mind. The wedding had been delayed for a week- and he was so fucking glad that Red and his's parents were more than willing after hearing the story- and now he needed to deal with the reason why. Instead, he adjusted his grip, and Azure yowled.

"What the fuck you did is you...you...you..." He hissed. For a moment, his body ached, and he felt a thrill of strange delight at Azure's wide eyes. "Whatever the fuck you said to Red, you damaged his self-confidence that...that..." Once again he stuttered, so angry that he was almost fucking blind. "You hurt him," he chose to hiss. "And the reason Xiaojiao or Wukong isn't here backing me up is because I insisted Red have an emergency therapy session while I deal with you."

Azure's eyes widened even more. "Now, Xiaotian, look..."

"No, you look," Xiaotian gripped his ear even tighter. Faintly he felt something wet, under where his claw dug in. "I am so fucking furious right now. You do not try to ruin my wedding because you have a petty grudge against DBK and Iron Fan because you're fucking jealous that they got to have what you and my mentor couldn't." There were probably more reasons beyond that, but that would hurt the most. Azure opened his mouth and just as quickly shut it as Xiaotian glared. "And don't you dare fucking deny that. You promised me that you would try to fix things with everyone, and that is the only reason I still talk to you at this point." Why he even invited him to his wedding. "So I am giving you one more chance."

"You are?"

"I am," Xiaotian yanked Azure closer. "Fix your fucking attitude. Actually show that you want to make a change. Yellowtusk did it, and I believe you can." He released the ear, slightly. "If you don't, if you try to pull a stunt like that ever again, my mentor will make sure you never see me or any of my children." He eyed the lion. "Got it?"

"Yes," Azure said. Purple eyes met him, and he could see the regret. Whatever he said, he was regretting it. "I'm sorry for being the reason your wedding has been pushed back."

"Thank you." Xiaotian released his ear, and Azure stepped back, reaching up and rubbing his ear. "I don't forgive you. I'll let Red think about it. But thank you for acknowledging your mistake."

Azure managed a stiff nod.

#my writing #LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Azure Lion #Qi Xiaotian #Spicynoodles #Spicynoodleshipping #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #prompt fill #prompt fic

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1-xo-xo-xo-7 · 4 months

Text

The JLA meets The BatFamily gone wrong. ^^

___

Superman : Good morning, Batman -and Agent A! I see you have brought company-

Batman : Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. Robin. Signal. Spoiler. Orphan. Oracle. There, do your meet and greets. Let's go, Agent A. [Very dramatically flaring his cape before exiting with Agent A]

...

Flash : Wait... Did he just call her an orphan-?!

___

Wonder Woman : Hello, children of Batman! I am-

Red Hood : Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman : Ah, I see you already know who I am. Now, I would just like to give my appreciation for agreeing to meet up with us, I know you all have a very hectic schedule-

Red Hood : Wonder Woman.

Wonder Woman : Yes. That is I, my boy. [Is smiling like a ray of sunshine, regally standing with her hands to her hips, and a flutter of her midnight hair]

Red Hood : Wonder Woman.

Nightwing : Please, excuse him. He died once, it's gotten to him.

Flash : WHAT?!

___

Flash : Sooooo... Hi.

Red Robin : [Is practically like a zombie with his eye bags and coffee-stained mouth, nevermind he just got shot but it isn't really relevant right now] Hi.

Flash : Are you ok?

Red Robin : Peachy.

___

Green Lantern :...

Robin :...

Green Lantern : You're scary.

Robin : Good.

___

Aquaman : [Is actually having a great time chatting with Signal, just yapping about his knowledge about different sea creatures before-]

Signal : Can skinwalkers shift into sea creatures too? Since, it is confirmed merpeople are real. [Is looking up at him with eyes filled with genuine and innocent curiosity]

Aquaman : Uh... Uhm, I guess?...

___

Martian Manhunter : *Please... Stop. Speaking...* [ Is about to combust after having to hear about Spoiler's 30th recounting of her latest fight with a goony]

Spoiler : And so I suffocated him with my cape! You can't blame me Mr. Martian Manhunter! I'm just a girl and he was about to hit me with a BAT! Do you get my joke? But seriously, he WAS about to hit me with a bat and-

Martian Manhunter :... I am happy for your victory, Miss Spoiler. [Is practically close to a brain aneurysm]

Spoiler : Awwwww! How sweet, Mr. Martian Manhunter! But you can just call me Spoiler. Anyways-

Martian Manhunter : T<T *Stooooop...*

___

Flash : So, you're not really an orphan? You're just NAMED Orphan?

Orphan : Sure.

Flash : Ha. Ha. Ha. Haaaaa...

___

Green Lantern : So, what's your favorite color?

Orphan : Triangle.

Green Lantern :...

___

Superman : Hello, Nightwing. I am glad to see you again.

Nightwing : Hey, Supes! And me too you.

Superman : Oh, where's Oracle? Wasn't she just here?

Nightwing : That was a hologram. She's with Robin now.

Superman :... [Tweaking...] What?

Nightwing : She's with Robin-

Superman : She was a HOLOGRAM? [He didn't even NOTICE she was a hologram despite him being SUPERMAN]

___

Wonder Woman : I must say, Robin, it is quite rude to not acknowledge a friend who is right in front of you.

Robin : Are you a friend? No. No, you're not. [Is continuing to play online checkers with Oracle on his IPad]

Red Hood : YOU LITTLE SHIT! DON'T TALK TO WONDER WOMAN LIKE THAT-! [Is getting held back by both Nightwing and Red Robin]

___

Red Hood :...

Red Robin :...

Nightwing :...

Red Robin : How?

Nightwing : I don't know, Little Wing.

Red Hood :... [Grumbling] That's unfair...

Robin : [Is being held by Wonder Woman as she snuggles on his head of spiky black but, surprisingly, soft hair, now playing online chess with Oracle] I command you to stop.

Wonder Woman : Aren't you cute, My Little Prince? [Is chuckling, fondly]

Oracle : Your move, Little Prince. [Is, most definitely, smirking in delight at Robin's current predicament]

Robin : Hmph! [Is very much scowling and unamused]

___

Pennyworth : Master Bruce, you are quite cunning.

Bruce : Admit it, Alfred. A day without my children making chaos left and right, is a day filled with rest and relaxation. [Having a spa day and is currently sun-bathing by his football court-length pool]

Pennyworth : Hm. [Is playing golf with his specially made golf clubs and golf balls implemented with an 'A'] Do you want to play with me after your sunbathe, Master Bruce?

Bruce : Sure, Alfred.

___

Basically, Bruce made The JLA babysit his already grown children and I'm here for it. ^^

Btw,

Green Lantern : So, what's your favorite color?

Orphan : Triangle.

Green Lantern :...

This bit was from a JLA meets BatFam Fic on AO3 but I forgot what. T-T

I've read too much fics I can't differentiate anymore...

#The Justice League #Clark Kent #Superman #Diana Prince #Wonder Woman

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pequenaotaku · 4 months

Text

Hot Chocolate

"Sentiments are complicated. Sometimes, I feel like I'm like hot chocolate in a steaming cup. The sweet and the bittersweet mix together with the help of a spoon, becoming a delicious and addictive flavor right after the first sip.

I wish that spoon would spend more time mixing me. I wish it never left the cup."

Versão em português

Headcanon scene from episode 01 after the cut

"So, this is the famous Devenementiel?" I asked aloud, to no one but myself.

The company wasn’t housed in a huge building, one you’d notice from across the city, nor did it make much of a presence in the commercial area, but it was undoubtedly a modern construction. Clear, clean, with many windows surrounding practically the entire building. Small, discreet, yet with a refined appearance. It looked like an interesting place, and I hadn't even seen the inside yet.

I approached the glass door, peeking inside, although I couldn’t see much beyond a very classic and comfortable reception area. It seemed the office was on the first floor. There was no one there; I had arrived too early. I clicked my tongue, crossing my arms. I could have lingered in bed longer, as any good freelancer does when there are no projects to deliver. My shift at the vintage records and knick-knacks store didn't start until the afternoon, after lunchtime. There was no need to go in earlier, and I didn’t have any other plans for that morning, so I’d have to kill time there at the entrance while waiting for one of the employees to arrive.

A few minutes passed with me distractedly looking at the week's recommended playlist on Spotify. If I wasn’t working on a project and wasn’t in a place where I could indulge in being an idle freelancer lounging in pajamas at home all day, seeing what other musicians were up to online was a good pastime. It would never stop being delightful to hear the ideas other artists produced and released with so much passion, to experience a new type of rhythm, seek inspiration and references, be immersed in someone’s vocal or instrumental sound. I took my eyes off my phone screen for a second to look at the company building once more. I felt a tingling sensation all over my body, thinking about the work I could do to contribute to the partnership I was about to finalize. It hadn’t even been a week since I exchanged messages with my only acquaintance there about this, following his strong recommendation.

"You’re early, Collete," the deep, monotonous voice of Thomas resonated behind me. I couldn’t help but smile before turning around.

"Speak of the devil," I joked, watching with amusement as his expression shifted from a slight look of boredom to a curious one. He almost always got lost in his own head during our conversations. I had come to understand that it wasn’t because he found me boring, but rather because he wanted to decipher my words. I seriously wondered what he was thinking at that moment.

"Wouldn't it be 'talking about the devil'?" he raised an eyebrow. It seemed I wouldn’t find out the reason for his silence this time. I just shrugged. "I was put in charge of handling the administrative details for your arrival, including the hiring of another person, which means making two badges along with the identification key so neither of you would have to wait at the door to get in. And since, apparently, we need to be up at the crack of dawn to make them… Here I am, arriving after you," he seemed irritated about having to wake up so early after a long night of work while giving me that explanation that sounded more like a rant escaping his thoughtful mind. I didn’t blame him. It really did seem like a pain.

"I’m glad I’m not the only one who had to drag myself out of bed today."

"More than me, it seems," I saw a hint of a smile light up his face. I winked at him. "Anyway, it won't take long. I’ve already moved things along, so you don’t need to worry. Come on." Without giving me time to add anything, Thomas opened the door, beckoning me to follow him.

So, we took an elevator, and I finally had the pleasure of discovering the open space of the place, which couldn’t be compared to the modern facade. Suddenly, I even started to think that it seemed too cold to accommodate such a warm environment. Inside, it was a complete lively festival of colors, plants, and curious objects. There were no partitions, and amusingly, among the empty desks, I noticed that each table was not only uniquely decorated but also had very different chairs. None were the same. It might have been a small detail, but it showcased the personality of each employee working there. Thomas guided me to the most neutral, organized, and sober desk. It was undoubtedly his.

"You can sit, it won’t take long," he said mechanically as he pulled the chair from the desk next to his for me. It was strangely shaped like a dolphin. It was cute but seemed so uncomfortable and impractical. I began to doubt the sanity of its owner.

"With all due respect, I prefer to stand up, in this case.", I flashed a sly, sarcastic smile, earning another hint of a smile.

"I also don't understand why people here choose anything other than the classic office chair," he commented as he sat in his own chair, turning on the computer. "It's designed for comfort and good lumbar support. In ten years, everyone will be walking with a cane, except for me," I couldn't help but chuckle. I never ceased to find it amusing how, sometimes, he would say such things without a hint of malice. It was just logical and straightforward. "Your desk is this one in front of mine. You’re practically an honorary employee, but the boss thought it would be better if you had one to feel like you belong. You can choose a chair model for yourself later. There's someone who always supplies furniture for us, and his store has everything."

"Far be it from me to give you more work…" I began, with a falsely gentle, sweet voice. "But since you know him, I'll let you handle the negotiations. That said, any model similar to yours is fine by me," he sighed heavily.

"Very well, then I'll take care of it later."

"Don't be like that," I gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Being the IT guy, manager of technology-related events, pressing buttons on a keyboard all day… I didn't give you a more torturous task than those things," I joked. He looked at me quietly for a while.

"You forgot to mention that I also greet new recruits," he simply retorted. I couldn't help but laugh again.

"Ouch," I put my hand on my chest, pretending to have been struck. This time, I really got a smile. Then, he opened a drawer and took out a folder, sighing loudly. "I agree with you, paperwork sucks."

"It's unbelievable how much time we waste on these things. Everyone should have a chip card with all our information registered. We'd scan the card and be done. All the information would be transmitted directly."

"That would be more practical, true," I agreed, shrugging. I had never stopped to think about it. He picked up a pen from a holder on his desk, looking at it with pity.

"Meanwhile, we'll stick with these… archaic methods," I blew air through my nose at his comment, shaking my head. He was incorrigible.

Taking the pen to sign the contract after a quick glance, as I had read it previously via message, I began to remember how we met. Pure coincidence. We both needed to buy a new refracting telescope, better known as a spyglass, as the old one was broken. It was the last one in the store and was on sale. I had my reasons for wanting it, and he had his. We argued for a long time under the weary gaze of the salesman, debating who, in my view, was more deserving to take it. Thomas was steadfast, he had arrived first. As for me, I needed to get it no matter what for personal reasons: to fulfill a tradition of promises made to my late older brother, to observe the showers of celestial bodies that occurred every year while drinking a bottle of hot chocolate in our special spot. It might have been nonsense; he was dead, after all. It's not like he was going to rise from the grave to demand that small promise I decided to make to no one and for no reason at all. But it made me feel closer to him; I didn't want to give up. In the end, somehow, we ended up splitting the cost, the telescope, and, on the night of the meteor shower, two bottles of hot chocolate accompanied by small childhood stories.

Nostalgia. Suddenly, I felt a strong desire to have a cup of that sugary, bittersweet delight.

After making the final curve of my name on the paper, Thomas took a laminated card from the drawer and handed it to me. It was my company badge that served to open the building's door. I stifled a laugh when I noticed that he had ignored the professional photo I sent and opted for my profile picture. Simply me making a face: a wide smile with my tongue out. One of my eyes was closed, and my hands were open beside my face, with my thumbs pressing against my cheeks. I liked it.

"Tom," I called his attention, pointing to the photo. A smile playing on my lips. "Is this really okay?" He just shrugged.

"That sounds more like you. The boss doesn't care so much about traditional professional standards; you'll quickly realize that if you haven't already," he replied simply, making a small gesture with his head to show the company's open space. It really didn't seem very conventional. "He's not the kind of person who evaluates people based on that kind of criterion."

"How funny… I'm starting to feel like I'm going to really enjoy working here."

"I'm glad you think so, because I spent a long time preparing and editing everything for your arrival. On the other hand, I don't understand what's so funny about it…" he commented somewhat reflectively. "It's just a picture of you; we can recognize you, and you look pretty. Traditional or not, it's still office work, not the most exciting thing in the world," I got stuck on his comment.

"Do you think I'm pretty in this photo?" I inquired with one raised eyebrow, exaggeratedly curious about his answer to that question. I had known him for almost a year now; I understood quite well how his little mind worked, modesty aside. But sometimes, I still struggled to differentiate when he was just being logical from when he was being sincere. If there was any difference between the two adjectives.

"It's a statement," he shrugged once again. "Your features are symmetric, your eyes are large, and your teeth are well aligned. These are parameters usually associated with beauty."

This time, I didn't stifle my laughter. Thomas Rheault was, without a doubt, an enigma. One that fascinated me a lot. If that was indeed a compliment, it was surely the least heartfelt one I had ever heard in my life. At the same time, it seemed so typical of him that I couldn't help but take it seriously. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe I was overthinking. It was always like this when it came to him.

"In any case, out of curiosity, what kind of person exactly is this boss?" I inquired, bringing the subject back. It was true that I hadn't had much contact with him. I was recommended by Thomas to work there in organizing one event or another; I liked my professional independence, but all the details involving the boring bureaucracies were solved through messages. My interaction with Devon Okere, the Big Boss, was limited to a brief phone conversation that barely lasted 10 minutes. He seemed like a mystery, or simply too unconcerned. However, being there, I noticed that, in addition to a free and unpretentious environment, there was also a lot of care. As a freelancer, I knew very well how complicated it could be to maintain a small business, let alone a physical office. So, I was quite curious about everything.

"I would say he's the instinctive type. As long as it works for him, he doesn't exactly have a reason to change methods," Thomas nodded, then glanced at the clock, then at the signed contract, and finally at me. "Well, it's done. The others won't take long to arrive. If you want to stay to meet them or take a walk around… Anyway, you have free rein here from now on."

"Uhm…" I pondered for a moment, licking my lips. I really didn't have anything better to do; what harm would it do to explore a little? Besides, a place like that really made you want to linger. "I think I'll take a stroll, yes. But mostly, I'd like to know if there's a kitchen here. I really need to quench my thirst."

Unexpectedly, he chuckled and stood up from his chair, standing right in front of me, forcing me to raise my head. Thomas was only a little taller than me, but throughout the conversation, I had seen him from above because I was standing and he was sitting. Now, however, and so suddenly, I felt a bit small and destabilized. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even know why I felt that way, as if something should happen. It sounded so cliché.

"Of course, make yourself at home. Actually, I was thinking the same thing," he resumed, snapping me out of my little trance. "If you'd like, I can treat you to a welcome drink," he offered politely.

"Oh, I'd love that, definitely!" I exclaimed, back on track. Better than quenching my thirst was having that desire sponsored by someone.

"The drinks machine is in the pantry; come on," he called as he started to move away, a shadow of a smile floating on his lips. I hurried to follow him. "We can get there by passing through the lounge area."

Just like the open space, that area was enchanting. Large, well-lit, and with vibrant colors catching the eye. Several bean bags, on which I would love to sprawl out, were scattered around along with suspended chairs hanging from the ceiling by chains. Not to mention the beautiful view provided by the large windows from top to bottom. They were just buildings, yes, but I began to imagine a nighttime scene with one or two colored lights still on outside. I couldn't wait to rest there.

"Man, this place looks like a dream!" I exclaimed in wonder.

"Yeah, that's what most people say. But I'll show you something else really cool…" he said simply, piquing my curiosity.

I followed him once again towards the adjacent area, the pantry. At first glance, it looked like some of the hipster cafes I loved to visit. Another very open place, with lots of plants, even on the ceiling, alternating with lamps. In the center, a large round table with a tree in the middle and red swivel chairs around it. Near the windows, small tables with benches followed the same pattern. It was indeed a very beautiful place, but I didn't understand why Thomas found it more impressive until I met the famous drinks machine.

"What would you like?" he asked straight away.

"Let me see what's available first…" I retorted as I quickly glanced at the options the machine offered.

"Don't expect to see anything exotic or innovative."

"No, I know. I'm just saying that to see what I feel like," I shrugged, and then I saw exactly what I needed to see. I loved it when life became so convenient as to combine utility with pleasure. "A hot chocolate, please," the redhead smiled slightly. Maybe he expected that answer from me.

"Good choice…" he took out his phone from his pocket and typed something, then, as if following a command, the machine started working. Thomas looked at me with a proud gleam in his eyes, and immediately I sensed that it was his doing. Finally, he took the full cup and put the lid on to hand it to me. "There you go, a delicious hot chocolate on the house!"

"Thanks!" I gave him a knowing wink, reaching out to get my little indulgence.

When I took the cup, my fingers ended up over his. Our gazes met before he immediately turned away, freezing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground or anywhere but my face. I kept my gaze steady; I wanted so much to unravel him, to know what he was thinking at that moment. Focus. I might not be able to read minds, but I was good at picking up on subtle cues.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, his gaze moved to the cup we both held. His cheeks turned slightly pink, he furrowed his brows. Adorable. I could confidently say that the little crease that appeared on his forehead wasn't from disagreement. Maybe he was just confused, wrestling with himself in thought. His beautiful turquoise irises flickered from our hands to elsewhere in rapid movements.

Oh, I really didn't want to misunderstand things, or worse, jump to conclusions. But looking at him like that, I couldn't help but daydream a little as I observed the red curls falling across his face, adorned with a few charming freckles over his nose, his eyes subtly shifting between intense blues and greens.

Cliché. Cliché. Cliché.

Suddenly, he released the cup into my hands and cleared his throat, composing himself as if waking from a trance, pulling me out of mine as well. Everything suddenly felt awkward, as if we had been trapped in that moment for longer than necessary. I also had to clear my throat.

"Is everything alright, Thomas?" I needed to know, I was eager. He glanced at me once again. Unbelievable how mesmerizing his eyes were. I gave myself a mental shake, seeking concentration. I really needed to control myself better.

"I'm fine, yeah… Everything's okay," he murmured in a thoughtful tone. "It's just that… I wasn't expecting there to be… contact," he really must have been confused even with himself this time.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" I gave a nervous smile, choosing my words carefully. I did mean to. But he didn't need to know that yet.

"It's okay," he interrupted me in a natural way. I smiled more relaxed, and he returned the gesture, also making another request to the machine, a drink that I couldn't see, but he took a sip of as soon as he got it.

"Tom… Thanks a lot," I thanked him, squeezing the warm cup of my drink in my hands, also seeking to change the subject as quickly as possible. "But tell me, do you have an app to control this machine? How does it work?"

"I developed it so I wouldn't have to pay for drinks anymore. The app tricks the machine into thinking I've paid, and it serves me what I ask for," he explained automatically and simply, shrugging as if it were no big deal. I raised an eyebrow. Sometimes, I forgot how crafty he could be.

"And nobody sees a problem with that, clever boy?" I grinned mischievously.

"No," he nodded, shrugging. "Actually, after I developed the app, Devon explained to me that everything was already free. There's the coin slot, but it's… a vestigial structure. I never thought about trying to order without paying. I have plenty of coins in there, by the way. I need to remember to download a lockpicking course. Unless you're an expert at it…"

"I can manage, yes… If you give me half as payment," I negotiated, feeling clever. He judged me with his gaze, and I just shrugged, sticking out my tongue. I'm a freelancer, you don't get if you don't ask. "How would you prefer the job to be done? There's the boring conventional way, using tools, and…" I paused for effect. "The messy way, where I blow up the door. If no one minds, that is."

"It's not the most elegant solution…" he made a minimal, yet very funny, expression of disgust. I had to laugh. "I'd be bothered by the idea of damaging it, so let's stick with the conventional solution this time."

"Agreed, then."

"Well…" he quickly scanned the area after the topic was over. "I need to go start working, or this chocolate break tends to become longer than expected. We'll talk later, enjoy your tour."

Without waiting for a response, he returned to the open space. It took me a few seconds to decide to follow, but not exactly to his desk or mine. Taking a walk around the place might help distract my mind. I was in trouble. And I had known it for a while. I knew very well what those desires for his attention meant. Everyone's tired of seeing this story in movies, series, cartoons, games, and books. It was scary. He, however, would surely classify it as illogical, I was sure.

I sighed heavily, taking another sip of my hot chocolate, hoping that the sweet and bitter flavors would help cleanse my soul, covering up that complicated feeling for a while longer. The brief time until my golden eyes met his turquoise ones and all that cliché resurfaced again.

#Sorry if there are any grammatical errors... I'm not fluent #english version #scene headcanon #headcanon #my oc #my candy love #amor doce #amour sucre #corazon de melón #mcl new gen #mcl ng #my candy love new gen #New Gen episode 01 #Colette Lebarde #Thomas Rheault

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 8 months

Text

Their Song (Killshot, Part 4.)

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came along with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: While Ghost was trying to process the new information during his military duties, Cassie had a different idea on her mind - inviting you both to join the party during the upcoming karaoke session.

A/N: Okay listen, I know we're here for our boy Ghost and his story, but come on - we can not ignore how fine of a specimen Captain John fucking Price is. Like girl, don't even pretend you wouldn't be smitten by this charmer. He's the catch, the moment, the stunner. I wanted to write a chapter that focuses on the relationship between other characters too, so expect some bonding between Johnny, Cass, Nelly, Gaz and Price. Cuz we love good friendships and happy families. The chapter's ending is heavily influenced by Saturn and Turning Page by Sleeping at Last.

Warnings: Strong mentions of anxiety, reader getting hammered, usage of alcohol, and smoking (both mentioned and active), Simon Riley secretly having the voice of an angel. A lot of '...' is used in emotionally heavy moments. Mentions of various pop songs - it's not important, you can imagine singing any song you'd like - the only song I'm adamant about is Meet Me At Our Spot (by the Anxiety) being their song because the entirety of the story is built on it.

Word count: 9.5K (i have no apology)

Tagging: @poohkie90

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

Cassie did as she promised - after Simon texted her the address, she was at your flat within the next 15 minutes. The traffic was usually clogged at this hour, but she did her best. Simon couldn't appreciate it enough. "... And I've cooked some vegetable broth for when she wakes up. Think it's a bit strong, but whatever. It'll get her back on her feet.." - Simon explained to Cassie as he walked through the flat, explaining what went down that evening. The woman listened intently, nodded, and hummed when needed. - "Promised her I'd wake her up when it's done, but she looked miserable the last time I checked on her."

"That's very nice of you." - Cassie smiled, putting her coat away as she was making herself more comfortable - she packed fresh homey clothes and the most basic hygiene she could need in case your flu got even worse than that. Living alone wasn't easy and sometimes, you needed someone to rely on - Cassie, still considering you one of her closest friends, was glad she could be that someone for you. - "She's lucky someone's looking out for her like you do.

"The least I could do, really." - The man grunted, putting his jacket on. No matter how much he liked being around Cass, he wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He was barely containing the urge to beat Billy to a pulp and he didn't want to direct these intense emotions towards Cass or, in the worst case, you. - "Bonnie's also taken care of, took her for a walk, and checked she had enough to drink and to eat. Would be wise to walk her in the morning, though." "Aye aye, captain. Stop worrying - you keep on forgetting that I live with Johnny, I know how to make shit work." - The blonde nodded, smirking at all the concern she could see in Simon's eyes. - "I'm sure both of them will be alive and well tomorrow morning if you'd like to check on them. Or, you could cancel your plans and hang around? I'm sure Y/N would be delighted to see you when she wakes up." "Can't. It's urgent." - Simon dismissed, looking around for the last time. The peaceful image of being able to put his shoes in the same shoe rack was smushed by all the anxiety and hatred he was feeling. It felt as if this image flashed in his head years ago, not a few hours ago.

Cassie was waiting for Simon to make sure everything was okay - it was hard to say what was going on inside his mind, but there had to be something. Yes, she and Johnny caught the wind that your chemistry seemed to be flowing well - especially after you disclosed to her that Ghost visits you nearly every shift, spending your lunch breaks together. She wouldn't have suspected the two of you were at this stage, though. Cassie was... Genuinely happy when she heard Simon was at your place, taking care of you when you got sick. The two of you were one of the best people she had gotten to know - and from what little Johnny told her about L.t., neither of you had the best of luck with the people who hung around you. Cassie wasn't sure who it was when it came to Simon, but in your case, Billy was the prime example. She hated his guts ever since you introduced them on one of your shifts. The guy gave her the chills even though she mostly liked everyone - that was a major red flag.

Therefore, the knowledge of the two of you... Spending time together, getting to know each other... That was something that made Cassie smile. "Hey, Si?" - She asked when Simon finally walked to the front door, ready to leave the apartment. "What is it?" "Hope you didn't forget about next Saturday?" "How could I? You and Johnny keep bugging me off about it. Price also chimed in today." - Ghost reiterated with irony, sending one of his famous wink in Cassie's direction. - "Can't wait." "Take care, big guy."

For the next few hours, Cassie and Bonnie dozed off while watching the Bake Off - the two were splayed on the couch, nuzzling together. Bon usually slept in your bed (you even bought the doggie stairs for her since she was too small to hop onto it), but since your door was shut tight and there was a new strange human friend to hang around, she gladly spent the night with Cass. It could be around four in the morning when you woke up, setting on a journey to take a piss, have some veggie broth, take some painkillers, and then, go to sleep again. As you noticed Cassie messaging her eyes (the creaking of your floorboards woke her up), you thought you'd simply made her up. The last you remembered, Ghost didn't have long blonde hair and a petite figure. She frightened you when you walked back into the living room - the girl was standing in the small kitchenette area, heating up the broth while making you both a cup of tea.

"Mornin', sleeping beauty." - She hummed as she stretched her back, yawning as she did so. "Hi." - You muttered back, coughing right after. - "What are you doing here? When... Did you come?" "Around 8? Ghost had something going on and couldn't stay, unfortunately, so he called for backup. I'm the backup." "Figures. So sorry to bother you, but I'm good, Cass. Bet you'd rather be doing anything else than hanging around with me right now." "Shush, Y/N. I'm glad to be here." - The woman answered, sending you one of her heartfelt, genuine smiles. Damn, she was still the same sunshine you remembered. - "On a different topic, I hope you're hungry. The broth smells so damn good." "He promised to wake me up when it's done. Bet the plans came out of nowhere." - You assumed, putting on a sweater to try to fight off the chills. You were so cold that your teeth kept on clattering.

"Does sound like Ghost to me." - The girl answered, snickering. - "He checked on the flat at least four million times before he left, though, so you can be sure we're safe and sound here." "Were you cleaning up?" - You wondered, noticing the folded clothes - furrowing at the sight of your coat also being neatly folded. Whoever was cleaning up your kitchen was a damn genius. All of the appliances suddenly seemed pristine, even those that you struggled to clean for years. Everything was organized in a way that simply made sense. It was hard to explain, but the newly given order made your kitchen three times nicer. Also, all the mess laying around the flat, that you've been planning on cleaning the entire week, was neatly put on the coffee table for you to organize - along with that fucking photo... And that fucking letter. "No, me and Bon dozed off after McAvoy went on a tangent about his dough being a bit too wet." - Cassie admitted honestly, putting a mug filled with hot tea in front of you. You didn't flinch away from the sight of the photo and the letter lying on the coffee table, your expression devoid of emotion.

Ghost, you realized, your expression slowly drowning in worry and horror. Did Ghost see it? Did Ghost read it? Of course he did, you didn't bother with picking up the photo even though you knew it was lying under the fridge. Why would you? But what about about you now? You were in so much trouble, if Billy gets to know, he'll come and... You had to almost slap yourself. Billy wasn't there to do shit anymore. You were safe. As you sat there, frozen in place, you realized you weren't even mad at Ghost - it felt so freeing for someone to know. To know what you're going through, to see it all on paper. You should've been raging, you should ask Cassie to call Ghost's sorry ass so you could talk with him about who gave him the right to fucking snoop - and instead, you were so fucking grateful. A huge portion of the weight was lifted off your shoulders, realizing there was someone you could confide in regarding what Billy said... You could tell Ghost about everything Billy had done to you.

Sure, most people didn't like Billy, but none of the said people knew how bad the situation truly was. Others could see only how he treated you in public - how he talked about you as if you were a pet, something he had to take care of, something so annoying he hated it with every fiber of his being. What they didn't know? About everything that had happened in your old apartment, about what went down behind the closed doors. None of them knew about the numerous emergency visits, about all the 'stairs you've fallen off', about the holes in the walls, about the broken furniture and dishes. The people around you, except your mum, didn't know. The fact you didn't file a report against his ass was astonishing - you had plenty of chances to do so. The doctor who treated you anytime you came in asked multiple times if you'd like to share something with him - you could see it in his eyes - he knew. But you never did. You were too scared. So scared you fled one day.

You should've burnt both, the photo and the letter, just like you promised your mum. Instead, the evidence lay right there, on your coffee table, and someone whom you trusted dearly was aware of your struggle.

"You alright?" - Cassie wondered, watching your distressed expression. "Hm?" "I'm asking if you're alright, been silent for the past couple of minutes. You're looking like you've seen a ghost." "I'm pretty sure he's asleep by now, but okay." - You answered, your sass making Cassie snicker.

After you've both eaten a bowl of that delicious fucking broth (it was the best you've had in your life), chatting about everything new in your respective lives, Cassie fished out a package of butter biscuits from literally nowhere. Later, she admitted she found them in the pantry - this made you smile. While biscuits weren't your go-to snack, you could appreciate them - Ghost thought of everything. He bought utensils, medicine, actual food and even snacks. If God finally decided to answer your prayers for a guardian angel, Ghost was it. "'s the tea okay?" - Cass wondered, sitting opposite you with a croaked smile. Bonnie was lying by her feet, hoping Cassie would drop at least a crumble of cookies by 'accident'. "Best I've had in years. Poured your heart into making that cuppa, didn't you?" "You bet, love. Anywho, Johnny and I were wondering... What you're up to next Saturday?" "Nothing I can think of. I'll probably have a spa day with my mum. Hadn't taken her out in a month." "Would you like to come to a karaoke with us? It's in the evening, so you'd have plenty of time for your mum and yourself." - Cass asked excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope. - "Everyone's wondering if you'd show up!"

"Uh-uh, they surely are." - You reiterated uncomfortably. It was hard to believe any of the people surrounding Cassie would genuinely want you around - you could say Cass was enthralled by the prospect of having you join their little crew, but the rest? "Not this again, girl. For starters, Johnny is talking my ear off regarding you, constantly asking if I've invited you yet? What did the bonnie say? You hadn't asked her? Shite, hon, pick up the phone and do it right now!" - The way she horridly imitated Johnny's accent made you genuinely laugh. - "Nelly asked countless times if you'd join our brunches and hangouts, she hadn't talked to you in years. Kylie will be there. Gaz promised he'd stop by for a drink, and Price... Girl, you'll love Capt'n Prize. He's easygoing, fun and very easy on the eyes." "Cass! Behave, you have a man at home." - You exclaimed, staring at her in disbelief. "What?! He's one handsome bloke, a high-ranking geezer in the military, too - I won't be denying he's handsome. If you think I'm wicked, you should hear what Johnny says about the guy! You have no idea how many times I've had to listen to Johnny's rambling about John's pecs." - With this, you both giggled until comfortable silence fell over the room.

"So... Are you coming?" "I... I don't think it's appropriate. You guys seem like a good party of friends, I'd be your plus one - the new weirdo on the block. Yannow what I mean?" "Except you wouldn't be, dummy. C'mon, everybody wants you to come. Ghost even said it's his only condition - you wouldn't wanna let the guy rot at home now, would you?" "He said that? You're committing emotional extortion right now, Cassandra." - You tried to circle around, but Cass' knowing smile revealed she was seeing right through your bullshit - she knew well to keep Ghost's wish under wraps until the last moment. It was nice watching you get excited, giddy up and grin a bit. She didn't answer your question, just smiled - "Well... If that's the case, I might drop for a glass or two." "I'm so happy to hear that. Wear whatever bloody hell you want, we don't care, just feel comfy and come in a good mood. The drinks are on us, we'll only need help with the rental. Also - we need to sing a song together." "No way Cass. You remember how bad I am at singing, right?" "Bull-fucking-shit. It's gonna be so epic. God, I can't wait."

Well, no matter how much you tried to resist and how you planned on shutting Cass' request down, by 9 p.m. on the following Saturday, the two were yelling some pop-song lyrics into the microphone with a drink in your hand. Holy fuck it felt wonderful to let all the worries and burdens go, even for one evening.

The week leading up to the karaoke session was a doozie for both you and Simon. He contemplated asking Cassie for your number, to call you, text, check on you - he'd been scheduled to look after rookie training in a boot camp a few miles away from London, unable to make it back even for a small chat. He vanished into thin air at the worst time - he acknowledged but couldn't do anything to let you know. The man wished to let you know he wasn't mad and that he certainly wasn't going anywhere - but opening such a sensitive topic with the victim of domestic abuse was very tricky. Of which he was aware, as he also fell into this bracket. At times, Ghost wished he'd be better at conveying emotions and more approachable to open such topics. Although everything that happened during his life, he'd considered himself a good listener - he highly doubted you'd simply spill the beans about the darkest time of your life when you meet up next time, let alone acknowledge he snooped in your private matters without your permission. Were you mad at him? How much will you tell Ghost off when he makes it back home? Will it lead to a well-deserved argument? It should, right? The thoughts about you and William consumed Simon's brain during each second of the service, turning him into an anxious ball by the end of the week.

Not that you'd be faring better than Simon. If it was possible, you were doing even worse than he was - what was wrong? Where was he? Was he okay? Did the letter make him change his mind? Did Ghost draw false conclusions from it? Each day at work, you hoped to see the man approaching in the distance, carrying two cups - this would be the first sign that everything was okay. You wished he'd drop by for a chat, even if you'd awkwardly sit around in silence. Being unable to see him was killing you - only on Thursday you learned about his minor deployment. It didn't ease the stress much, but at least you knew you weren't the cause of his disappearance.

Cassie and Johnny, thankfully, pulled through. The night Cass stayed over, watching you, rekindled the long-lost friendship and fueled it with a new flame. This one was gentler, not all-consuming - it wasn't the spontaneous friendship of two kids but rather a meaningful adult connection you felt you were missing. Your mum was over the moon hearing that Cass invited you for a karaoke - as you told her about Johnny bringing you breakfast the following morning put a gentle, knowing smile on her face. The two started texting you whenever they felt like it, ranging from 'How you doing' to 'Look what a weird strange thing I found in the store today'. Johnny even came on Friday to have lunch with you - he'd been just dismissed from the base (he had to sign some new payment estimates and take a picture for his personnel folder), sending warmest regards from Ghost. This boosted your mood immensely, turning you into a brand new person.

This led you to Saturday night. Everyone invited to the karaoke was pretty neat, you had to admit. Nelly, just as Cass solemnly swore, was over the moon when she saw you approaching the table, squealed, and immediately pulled you into one of her bear hugs. Kylie, even though you didn't remember her, was easy to be around - she had a nice aura surrounding her as she sipped on her margarita. Gaz, Kyle to you, was another member of Johnny's squad, you've learned on your way to get a drink. The gentleman got on his feet when you announced you'd like something to drink, offering to accompany you. There was something about his careful tone, gentle smirk and slightly narrowed eyes. While you perceived Johnny as an unstoppable force fuelled by sweets and coffee, Gaz seemed calmer, like cold gauze treating a burn or the soothing smell of air after rain. You loved his aura - every bit of energy Kyle offered, you took with a grateful smile.

John Price, Capt'n Prize as Cass dubbed him, was every bit like Cass painted him out to be - even more than that. It was hard to believe he was real at first - men like him usually ended up on the cover of Sears. Your eyes were there for Ghost and Ghost only, but damn, John was ridiculously easy on the eyes, charming, and attractive - a fucking stunner at his finest. When you got over his ridiculous attractiveness, there was everything else about John Price. There was something about his sharp wit, rascalous grin and devious jitters in his eyes, something about the way he insisted on joining him on his smoke breaks. The guy was a good listener, sneering and gruffing upon hearing your jokes and stories, his eyes not leaving you for a second. If you weren't smitten with your masked soldier, you'd beg Price to give you his number by the end of the night.

Ghost was running late ('Don't you worry 'bout the boy, lass, he's alright', Price informed), and after Gaz brought you your third drink, singing sounded like a good fucking idea. Not too much later, you and Cassie were jumping on the impromptu stage, dancing to some sort of British electro-pop, grinning from ear to ear - Ghost was standing in the shuffle door of your reserved lounge, watching you two enjoying the moment. He'd imagined how to explain his late arrival and the fact he was gone for a week, but the moment you sent him a smile and waved at him, already a bit tipsy, all the excuses dissipated into thin air.

You looked so beautiful when you were having fun - all the worries and everyday problems disappeared with a wave of a wand (more probably a microphone, that was), and alcohol gave you the long-lost courage and love for life. Ghost had seen you happy before, yes, but he hadn't seen you entirely carefree yet. "Thank you, Lucky Voice, thank you! We'll be here all week!" - Cass cried out drunkenly, bobbing a curtsy to the entire table of drunkards watching you. "The hell we won't, the rental price is insane here, lass!" - Johnny protested, making Cass laugh. Kylie and Gaz got up, preparing to sing Abba's 'Super Trouper' right after your tremendous performance. Even though Ghost would love nothing but listening to them, he couldn't miss how you approached him, your legs unsteady and uncertain.

"Hey there, stranger." "Hey, love." - The man whispered, growing soft upon looking at your flustered face. You were a bit sweaty from all the jumping, but you still looked so fucking good. So fucking good that Ghost had to do his best not to kiss you right off the bat in fact - it was a tough week and you were finally there, in front of him, close enough he could feel your warmth on his skin, close enough to be hugged, kissed and cherished... Your presence felt like a fever dream. He'd been sacked at the boot camp, looking over rookies, and following orders while having you and William on his mind all the fucking time. One moment, he swore he'd kill the guy the next chance he got; when he blinked, memories of you suddenly appeared, plastering yourself all over his brain, smiling sweetly at him. He's been missing your presence, the unmistakable charm you were bringing to the world... It was a week since he'd been under your spell and there was no other place in the entire world he'd rather be than at the karaoke bar, right by your side. "You're looking... Rough." "Am I now?" "Long week?" "Fuckin' tell me about it." "The boys mentioned. Wanna grab a drink and go for a smoke break? I'm fresh out of mine so I'd appreciate both - some booze and fresh air." "Would be my pleasure."

Asking him about all the details he'd been willing to share, the two of you grabbed a drink and ventured in front of the karaoke bar for a bit, lazily shuffling back into the rented lounge. Even though you tried your damnest to prolong the moment you were having with Ghost, Johnny ruined the intimacy the moment he saw you approaching - the guy jolted over to you, grabbing you by your elbow with great care. "We're gonna sign, bonnie lass, me 'n you. Price found the perfect song for us." "Did he now? That sounds menacing." "It'll be in good fun, c'mon. Be a good sport for me, eh?" "I would never turn you down, Johnny. I'm just worried about which tune Price picked out, 's all."

"Give me your drink. I'll fetch it to the table." - Ghost offered silently, melting at the sight of you and Johnny giggling like two little kids. With a sorrowful smile, your glass ended up in Ghost's palm - you wished the moment would've lasted longer, that you'd have longer for listening to him rambling about everything and nothing. You missed him. "'m sorry." - You added, stopping in your tracks. Johnny halted alongside you, watching the two of you ogling back and forth, Simon's eyes boring into you with unmatched intensity. If you'd let him, his eyes would probably devour you whole. Johnny let out a quiet whistle, waiting for you to be done with your small moment. Cassie proclaimed how she's positive Simon is into you and that you might be interested in him... But seeing it unravel in front of his eyes was adorable.

Your eyes never left Simon's face, your palm gently holding onto his forearm. You were standing inappropriately close - Simon could feel your breast bumping into his arm each time you took a breath. If you were anyone else (Nelly, for example), Ghost would've already shown you out of his personal space - but the guy did nothing, even took an almost unnoticeable step closer. The bloody bastard that reached an impressive 6'4 in height seemed to grow smaller and gentler in your presence, his eyes filled to the brim with warmth and adoration - why two you weren't dating yet was beyond Soap, truly. "Nothin' to be sorry about, love. You go and enjoy yourself now, yeah?" "I'll catch you later."

Moments later, you found yourself in a fit of laughter over Johnny's interpretation of 'California Gurls'. You loved everything about it - the false confidence he radiated despite not having any semblance of musical hearing, his inability to match his tone to the note progression and his horrible timing. The chorus, however, was something to behold - neither of you tried to sing, knowing the chorus by heart (thanks to this song being in the radio on a fucking loop), you simply yelled it into each other's faces, bouncing around and hyping each other up. Price didn't even cover the phone - he immortalized each second of your moving performance, sending it to Cassie the moment he ended recording. Cassie and Nelly were crying, losing it the moment you did your best to imitate Snoop Dog - Gaz appeared to be severely traumatized, cracking a grin when the hellish screeching finally stopped.

"Bloody hell, this was one of the best decisions of my life." - Price muttered, drying his cheeks. He meant it, none of them laughed this hard in the last few weeks. Cass was dragging him to sing their rendition of Take Me Out. - "I'm playin' this on your bloody wedding, sarge. Stellar." These two picked out Franz Ferdinand as their band of choice, dramatically portraying each lyric - alcohol and good company always made John pipe down, relax and sometimes, on extremely rare occasions, do rather silly and inappropriate things you wouldn't see a military skipped doing... Just as jumping around to the riff of 'Take Me Out'. "That's my fiancé! I taught my bonnie lass to listen to good fucken' music!" - Johnny explained, listening to the opening chords. You knew it, of course, it was well-known, but Johnny's sudden burst of pride made you stare at him with mouth agape. Thankfully, Kyle and Ghost to the rescue.

"Johnny can get a wee bit patriotic." - Kyle explained as the Scotsman jumped around in the rhythm, making you a bit terrified. "Uh-uh." - Ghost nodded, confirming. - "Hates us 'fucking lunatics', meaning Brits, according to his own words. Everyone except you and Cass according to his latest statement. Love that about the chap, though." "What does patriotism have to do with... Fucking anything?" - At that moment, Johnny started screaming the words with the same "grace" he sang California Gurls with. It looked both scary and funny at the same time. "The band is Scottish, you see?" - Kyle explained. "Heard him swearin' he'd plunk any uncultured swine who'd tarnish their rep." - Ghost added, taking a good swing of his whiskey. "Hillarious..." - Kyle added, clinking his glass with yours, kicking all the remnants in. "Scary." - You hummed, moving out of the way for Kyle to comfortably leave the table.

"On the topic of Johnny... Looked good out there. Didn't know you're such a talented singer." - Ghost murmured as you watched the trio, enchanted with how silly they acted. "You're fucking with me now, aren't you?" "I'm serious - wasn't as bad as I expected. Enjoyed every second of your brilliant performance." "If you enjoyed that, your musical hearing is fucked, buddy, sorry to inform you. Anywho, what will you sing?" "Oh, I'm just here for fun and banter. I don't do singing." "Don't be a party popper. C'mon." "And have you poking fun at me for the rest of my life? No, thank you." - Thankfully, he was saved by Nelly - she was asking for help with moving and assembling some furniture at her new place. Both Gaz and Ghost agreed to take a look at it whenever she needed them to.

His streak of not 'taking part in singing at karaoke' was challenged not even two hours later. The party had moved from drinks to shots - you were more courageous, not taking no for an answer. You, Cass and Nelly even had the first round of ugly crying of the night under your belts, crying about how you should've rekindled the friendship way sooner - at this, all the gentlemen decided to go for a smoke break, leaving Kyle behind as your nanny. As soon as Price got back, you were on his ass - sighing about him being one of the most handsome blokes you've ever met. Price could only choke out an amused: - "Why, thank you, miss." - before laughing his ass off at your drunk expression. You were standing in front of Simon now, your palm extended to him, chin risen ever so slightly. The expression you had was dangerous - determined and cocky.

"You need anythin'?" - Ghost prompted, grinning at the sight. He'd downed two glasses of whiskey by that point, the bourbon delicately burning in his chest. "Yah. You, me, the stage, now." - It wasn't a question nor a wish, it was an order. Simon's eyes narrowed as he smiled, darkening ever so slightly. He liked it when you were bossy. Cass, unbeknownst to your knowledge, bumped Johnny's shoulder, the duo now shamelessly staring at you. The rest of the table was engaged in a conversation as Price and Kyle told the ladies some of the less confidential stories. "I don't do singing, already told you when you asked." "Too bad I'm not asking. Move your ass, I spent ten fuckin' minutes looking for our song." "Our song?" - Simon whispered, all the air suddenly kicked out of his lungs. Of course, he knew what song you had in mind - the one playing when he worked on the chicken broth. Ashamedly, Simon had to admit he memorized each word, each chord because he had it playing on a loop in his headphones before going to sleep. "C'mon, mate. Make an exception, just for once - won't kill ya to sing. Poor lass barely hit the right keys." - Soap chimed in, his strong Scottish accent overwhelming the conversation - everyone's eyes were on you now, waiting for Simon to finally take your fucking hand. "Shit was kinda blurry, 's right." - You admitted, still waiting for Simon to take your hand. It wasn't a shame to admit you barely recognized a from m at this point, the alcohol kicked in big time.

His palm caught yours, slipping around it like a glove... As if your hands were moulded to be held by this, fitting like two pieces of a fucking puzzle. Getting you onto the improvised stage was a task in itself - you've stuttered on your way up and if it wasn't for Simon's hands catching your shoulders, you'd fall square on your face. "Who's singing Willow's part?" - Simon wondered as you offered him his microphone - your eyes darted next to his head as if you were trying to determine which of the Ghosts in front of you was the real one. "You, duh. Bet you're rocking luscious, beautiful curls under that mask 'f yours." "Fuckin' close 'nough, I guess." - The guy laughed, shaking his head at you - your drunk form was absolutely fucking adorable. If he'd have to describe it, you looked like a mischievous little devil. "Hit it, Jack!" - You exclaimed, pointing in Johnny's direction - Cassie was kneeling in front of the table with her phone at the ready, determined to catch every second of what was coming. Fuck, Simon realized, he'll have this on his plate for the foreseeable future. "Ma'am, yes ma'am!" - Soap answered with matching intensity, saluting as he his 'play'. The known base filled the silent lounge, having everyone staring at you with their breaths batted - you were swaying in the rhythm, your moves far from graceful but you were clearly enjoying yourself, lost in the moment.

You didn't know what you were expecting - Simon was a well-built man with 6'3 height under his belt, his voice naturally guttural and gruffly, clouded with a thick British accent. While you braced yourself to hear the most horrible hellish screeching imaginable, Simon's singing almost gave you a heart attack and swept Johnny off his drunk feet. Ghost sounded like an angel. All of you stared at the man in disbelief as he poured his fucking soul into the lyrics, hitting each fucking note perfectly. His interpretation of your favourite song was what you wanted to listen to over and over, selfishly wishing you'd record it. Simon had to poke your shoulder to make you realise it was your turn to sing - hastily, you joined him during the chorus, surprising your small audience even further.

Your singing wasn't bad, but not Grammy-worthy either - and yet, hearing you two harmonize was magical. Soon, you'd forget about your friends at the table, staring at each other while singing your hearts out. His eyes hadn't moved from yours, the man sang each line as if he meant it - it made your heart beat heavily in your chest. For Simon, it wasn't just singing - each line of the song had a meaning. It was one of his silly little wishes it could become your reality where you'd met earlier in your lives. In this universe, you'd be just two young adults falling in love, meeting up so you'd forget all about the stress and anxiety tying you down in each other's arms.

In that reality, Simon could be enough for you and you'd be enough for yourself. You wouldn't feel the need to stick around guys who weren't good for you, you wouldn't receive extortive mail, and you wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't cover his face because he couldn't stand to look himself in the eye, neither because he was protecting his identity. In this reality, William wouldn't exist. You'd have your spot in each others' arms, falling asleep feeling safe. In this reality, you could lead a happy, day-to-day life. There was a small moment when the song finished, a glimpse of a second when Simon almost kissed you. Your expression was adoring, glimmering with happiness and pure, unconditional love - the microphone dropped by your hip, and you were staring into his eyes, taking a small step closer. The whole moment was ruined by Nelly getting up, clapping and whistling cheerfully, others following suit - not bad for Si's karaoke debut, Cassie had to admit.

As you stumbled away from Simon's reach, you stumbled on your feet again, falling flat on the ground this time. - "Fuck." "Aight, missy, 's 'nough for you tonight. I'll take you home, yeah?" "Noooo, Ghoooost..." - You whined dramatically as he helped you over to the table, sitting you down. - "The party just started, man. We can't leave now." "You tell that to your toilet later. Price?" - Ghost called out, catching his skipper's attention. - "Can you look after Miss Diva for a second? Gotta go to the bog." "You got it, kid."

It couldn't have taken more than five minutes to take a piss, Simon rushed the entire process to be back as soon as possible. And yet, you were gone when he made it back - your coat disappeared from the hanger, your purse gone too. Jesus fucking Christ. You were giving him a run for his money. "Where is she?" - Simon demanded, burning a hole in Price's forehead. Five fucking minutes. He was meant to look after you for five fucking minutes. "Y/N got some sort of a text and said she has to leave immediately. Who am I to stop her? She's an adult. Can make her own bloody decisions." "I was just about to walk her home." "Then you should've said so. Hadn't caught that." "Right."- Ghost fumed out, turning to Cassie. - "Can you give me her number?" "Yeah, of course, let me text it to you. Want help with finding her?" "You go and enjoy the rest of the night." "Si!" - Cassie cried out as Simon turned on his heels, following him immediately. - "I'm sorry, but John's right. We weren't listening in and Y/N's a grown-up..." "It's fine, Cass. I'll find her."

You couldn't have made it far - in the state you were in, on your wobbly and unsteady legs? No way in hell you'd make it even around the block. What worried Simon, however, was the park to his right hand. The man hoped you had enough reason not to walk through it. The first thing he heard was a hiccup before you drunkardly mumbled your name, doing your best impression of being sober. "'s me. Where have you fuckin' disappeared to?" "Me? I know a lot of mes, sir. My mum told me not to talk to strangers. S-Stranger fuckin' danger an' all that, yannow?" "It's Ghost, Y/N, you slipped out of the karaoke bar. Where the hell are you, woman?" "Awwww, hiiiii. I didn't know *hiccup* you had my number?" "Got it from Cass. Can you spill the tea?" "'m on my way home." - You explained as if it weren't obvious. - "The mood for partying kinda dropped to zero, decided I gotta go check on my adorable little doggo. I missed my sweet little princess." "That's all sweet. What do you see around you?" - Thankfully, you were drunk enough not to catch onto his plan of finding you and started to talk about your surroundings. For once, Simon was grateful for drunk people being gullible and honest.

"Trees. Lots of 'em. 's kinda dark around but I'm pretty sure some food *hiccup* in the distance. Yep, right up the vein!" "Dearie, don't say this sort'f stuff so loud, yeah?" - Simon asked, turning on his heels towards the park. He could hear you giggle on the other end, the sweet sound making him grin. - "What's that about?" "Dearie is cute 'n all, but I like it when you call me love. Makes me weak in my knees 'n all." - You admitted, stuttering over your words as you tee-heed again as if you told Simon some well-guarded secret. As if Simon didn't already know. "'kay love, tell me more about your surroundings, I'm on my way to get you. Can call you love for the rest of the night if you'd fancy that." "Ohmygod..." - You sighed swiftly, chuckling at the prospect ahead. Ghost tenderly whispering 'love' the whole night sounded like a fucking dream come true. - "You'd *hiccup*... You'd like to do that?" "Wished to do so for the longest time, love."

"I can see a bistro and some... Fuckin' statue. Whatever the fuck that's *hiccup* supposed to be, it's scary." "Any benches in the area?" - Even though your description was far from eloquent, Simon knew the place you had in mind. It was a small takeaway coffee selling baked goods and hot drinks to go. He hadn't visited it, but Cass mentioned it here and there because it wasn't far from her workplace and she enjoyed going there on her lunch break. The statue, if he wasn't mistaken, was representing either Shakespeare or Peter Pan, but Simon was unable to recall it correctly at the moment. As he suspected, you didn't get far at all. "Quite a lot. Fuck, I think it's some sort'f a square or somethin'." "Sit down for me, love, I'll be there soon. Stay with me on the phone for now, yeah?" "But I miss Bonnie soooo much, Ghost, I just wanna..." - He could hear as you struggled to sit down and fell onto the bench beats later. It was hard to make out what you precisely wanted to do to Bonnie, but he could hear some humming and kisses here and there. - "She's home all alone, my poor baby." "Not for long now, I swear, we'll take off as soon as I find you. How you're feelin'?" "Haven't thrown up yet. 's a good sign, no?" "Look at you. Quite impressive given everything you've poured down your throat." "I can handle my *hiccup* fuckin' alcohol." "You sure can..." - Simon answered breathlessly, finally reaching the spot - he could see your silhouette splayed all over the bench, your coat undone, your purse lying right next to you. - "You sure can, love." - He said as he approached, having you sit up straight faster than lightning. Your expression started beaming with blissful happiness the second you laid your eyes on him.

"Hi, Ghost!" - You squealed, shoving the phone into your purse, not caring to end the call. - "You look good tonight. *hiccup* Have I told you that already?" "Not that I can recall, no. Lookin' beautiful yourself." "Now you're just making shit up, I'm fuckin' wasted, dude. Drunk people never look sexy, 's what I always said anyway." "You look amazing all the time, love, without a fail. C'mon now, let's get you home." "You mean that?" - You whispered, your eyes glued to his as he helped you to stand your feet. Without his arm around your waist guiding you forward, you'd be fucked. Everything was blurry and multiplied, you couldn't say which trees were real and which were just a fragment of your imagination. "Never meant anything more in my life. Even in the most worn-out sweatpants you own. Let me take you home now, you sexy beast." "Never say that again. Sexy beast? Love's so much better. Jesus." "Your wish is my command, ma'am." - Ghost muttered sweetly, leading you towards the bus stop. Both of you were laughing, you were right - 'sexy beast' was the most horrid-sounding pet name that ever graced Simon's lips.

As mentioned before, Simon hated being the centre of attention - everything about that made the hair on his arms stand in pure displeasure. He hated when people stared at him, fearing that he was a threat; he just wished to blend into the crowd and remain unseen and unnoticed. Let's just say... That being unnoticed in a packed double-decker in central London with a giggling, drunken mess in his arms was near impossible. For once, however, Simon wouldn't change for the world - it was endearing to feel you grasping his jacket, nuzzling yourself closer so you wouldn't fall on some stranger in such a confined space. Watching and feeling your head leaning to his chest with a confined smile, taking a relaxed breath - smelling him and listening to his heartbeat. He'd imagined this so many times. Even though the circumstances were far from perfect, everything about it made Simon happy. He'd come to rescue you from any party you'd go to just to feel the fuzzy warmth bubbling in his chest again.

When you finally arrived at your flat, the first thing you did was turn into a whiney mess - instantly, you were on your knees, your clothes leaving very little to Simon's imagination. You burrowed your head in Bonnie's fur, sobbing uncontrollably. As he locked the door behind you, Simon simply hoped it was happy, let it be ugly, crying. "She's... She's so perfect." - You sobbed, pulling Bonnie close to your chest as you looked up to Simon, your make-up absolutely ruined by that point. The dog was clueless and didn't know what was happening - it simply licked your chin feverishly, welcoming you home. - "She's the best thing in my life right nooooow..." - And now, you were whaling. Great. Drunk women were the most ferocious and dangerous creatures in the universe - Simon was adamant about that. - "I love her soooo fucking much." "Absolutely correct, love, she's our perfect little girl. How about we clean your face and change you to more comfortable clothes?" Simon whispered, pulling a strand of hair behind your ear.

Seriously, he needed you to change your clothes ASAP - he'd love anything else but watching your figure and curves (the current view alone was bringing Simon many indecent thoughts)... But drunk fucking wasn't something Riley would be interested in - if the two of you were going to have sex, it would be sober and with full consent. The man prayed to whatever gods up there to make you change into the baggiest sweatpants and shirt you had lying around to cool off his libido. As you crawled out of your bedroom in a Bristle Bears jersey with biker shorts under, the crisis was, thankfully, averted.

Twenty minutes later, you splattered over your sofa - the TV was playing in the background as you sat with your face turned to Simon. He gently ran at least the 20th makeup wipe over your face with the utmost gentleness he could muster, concentration knitting his eyebrows together. He even took the liberty of making you a cup of tea, God bless him.

The window was crooked open, the rest of his cig slowly burning out in an improvised ashtray you crafted for him. That was when Simon noticed yet another wave of tears in your eyes. "What is it, love? Did I poke your eye on accident?" "No, that's not it. Thank you for being so nice to me." - You sobbed, first tears rolling down your cheeks. Simon sighed, doing his best to keep his inner peace balanced - seeing you cry for the millionth time was both soul-crushing and tiring at the same time. "'s nothin', trust me. What's goin' on in that noggin of yours?"

"You." - It was just a whisper, but it made Simon straighten up - his head slightly tilted this shoulder, his eyebrows cocked in confusion. - "Ehm, I meant, your face. You're being so nice to me, take care of me even though you don't have to, spend your free time in that damn flower shop with me even though all I can offer is my company..." "But your company's enough for me, trust..." "... And I don't even know *sob* what you look like." - You whinced, wiggling away from his palm. You were doing your best to stop the childish tantrum, even bent your head backwards and tried pushing the tears back in. - "It just... Doesn't feel fair, yannow? I know you have your reasons for covering your face. I know I'm acting like an absolute asshole over something so minuscule right now. Do you realize how stupid I feel for crushing on someone whose face I hadn't seen? I'd recognize your eyes anywhere, but I'd like to see more. And no matter what, I can't stop wishing to see more, even though I know it won't ever happen. Like... You hadn't told me what your name is, I just got your number because you were pissed at me, you never talk about yourself, or share details... And me crying about it is the stupidest and most selfish thing fucking ever because I'm your friend, and I'm supposed to respect your fucking privacy..."

Simon didn't move for a few beats, tuning out whatever you were ranting about - not that he didn't want to listen, but because the simple confession stole his breath away. What did you just say? Crushing? You had a crush on him? Simon was ready to outright propose if you'd like to, right there on your sofa, to your whiney, drunk ass. Confirming you had true feelings for him was marvellous, stopping his mind from wondering whether just flirted around, making him out to be just a nice little distraction. You weren't. As he processed the information, he couldn't help but chuckle - the sound halted your crying and whining immediately. If you had asked him any other time, Simon would've most likely denied the request outright... But since you were both drunk, the liquid courage was making him less self-aware and more confident. Why not? Why shouldn't he just go for it? Take his chances with you?

"... And I even asked Cassie about you even though I knew I shouldn't... I'm such a fucking prick, bloody hell." "That's what you're cryin' your pretty eyes out about?" - Simon asked, completely detached from whatever you were going about for the last few minutes. "I mean... *sob* I know it's selfish 'n all, but I'd say... Fuck! Yannow, some guys on the telly said that non-verbal communication makes up to 70% of all human interactions." "All you gotta do is ask, pretty girl." - Simon murmured, his breath growing shallow - his heart was beating so fast as if it were to burst out of his fucking chest, pressure raising rapidly as he realized the insanity of what was he was about to do. He'd push the baklava off his face if his palms weren't a sweaty, trembling mess. "Ghost, I beg you - can I see what you look like?" "Take it off yourself, love."

Gently scooping closer to him, you pumped your fingers a few times to stop them from shaking. Your adrenaline shot through the roof, and you started dragging your fingers on his shoulders, slowly working your way to his neck - giving him time to process your touch and get used to the stimuli. His body felt scorching under your touch, his pulse fast under the tips of your fingers. His eyes were closed, breathing unsteady, muscles tensed up unnaturally. You could see Ghost's palm clinging to the back of your couch, his fingers buried in with a force that turned his knuckles white. As you finally started peeling the baklava off, his body shuttered, leaning away from you. As if it was an unconscious reaction, Simon didn't spend any time before sliding back within comfortable reach, already missing the comfort of your touch. "You sure it's okay for you?" "Mhm. Just keep goin'. Don't stop - if you stop, it'll kill me, darling." - Simon muttered, securing himself in place. His leg was lazily thrown over your waist so you'd sit puzzled together, Bonnie sleeping wedged into the small space. He wanted you to see. Simon wished to look you in the eyes without covering his face. He finally wished you to experience and feel all the love and adoration brewing within him. "Okay."

Much to his dismay, you were taking your bloody time, tearing the material off so agonizingly slow - one hand was lifting the fabric, your dominant hand gently caressing every inch of the newly discovered skin. Your eyes tried to memorise it all in case you wouldn't see it again - the dent in his chin, his fawn stubble, the sharp outline of his jaw, sharp contours of his cheeks, his plush and full lips and even the ugly scar reaching from his upper lip to his left nostril. Your caresses worshipped his hooked nose, the sweet dark spots under his eyes, and all the freckles standing out on his upper cheeks thanks to the area being exposed to the sun more than the rest of his place. He could feel your touches moulding his skin gently, dragging your fingers on the ugly scar on his temple, carefully tugging on his soft dirty blonde hair - then, suddenly, the baklava was fully off. Simon felt it coming, but it still surprised him; so much so that he squished his lips into a tight line, as if he tried to hide from your eyes for even a second longer. Your hand discarded the baklava almost carelessly. Knowing you've thrown Simon's most precious shield on the ground left him utterly defenceless in your arms, at the mercy of your words and actions. And yet, there was no other place he'd rather be in the entire world.

"Ghost..." - Your voice grew meek with adoration and emotion, your palms still kneading his face. It was then that he finally allowed himself to peek at you, to see your expression. Your lips were parted slightly, your face flushed with heat, your eyes scanning him adoringly. Tears were dropping on your cheeks again. This time, Simon knew they were the result of the happiness you felt, therefore he didn't comment on them. Fuck, he felt like the luckiest and most handsome man walking the Earth.

"Hey there, dolly." - Gently, his lips brushed over the inner side of your palm before he leaned back into the touch. "You're so fucking beautiful. Bonnie, look." - Picking the dog up, you pointed at Simon's face and giggled, making Simon smirk right back at you. The dog yawned, licking its mouth and shaking its head - it wasn't interested in Simon's face to reveal in the slightest. - "He's perfect. Isn't he perfect? Tell him how fucking flawless he is, come on." "You don't mean that. That's the alcohol talking." - Simon chuckled while looking away from you, his Adam's apple bobbing as he forced a gulp down his throat. Embarrassment painted his cheeks bright pink. You made him blush, you realized, staring at him with your mouth agape. The triumph made you cackle.

The duality of Ghost left you speechless - a confident, 6'4 guy not to be messed around with the mask, snarky humour, and his physical presence overwhelming you every time. This Ghost? Giggly, happy, slightly drunk. You loved how comfortable he looked with legs puzzled around your waist, his right arm leaning into the sofa as he looked everywhere around the room instead of you. You adored every inch of his dark pink blush and the entire universe that exploded, establishing itself behind his eyes. So this was the man you loved, the one you pinned after for the last few months? You loved every inch of him. Even if he'd look utterly different, you'd still be enchanted.

"Piss drunk people are always honest." - You admitted, caressing his upper arm. Were you staring? Probably. Was it making Ghost uncomfortable or flattered? Hard to tell. Could you be stopped? No. When will you get another chance like this, to fawn over his beauty in its full glory? He was everything you imagined... And much more than that.

"... I really like it when you blush." - It was a careful admission, but you meant it. You put Bonnie down on your lap again, leaning your elbow into the couch right next to his arm, so you could stare at him more comfortably. "... And I really like you." - Simon spilt without giving it too much thought, immediately realizing what he'd just said. Well, as Price often said, in for a penny - in for a pound. This was the night of admissions and confessions... At least it was turning out to be. And each little confession felt natural, lifting heaviness off his shoulders. You knew. You must've known by now. And yet, finally admitting to it felt uplifting. "I just want you to know that if I was bold enough, I'd kiss you right now, Ghost..." "Simon." - The man whispered, shutting you off. Hearing his government name lit your face up. An amazed sigh left your lips as you connected his name to his appearance, burning it into the back of your head. - "It's Simon Riley... My name's Simon Riley. I should've told you way sooner."

"Oh, Simon, Simon, Simon, Simon..." - You chanted as if you hadn't heard a more beautiful word before. Biting your lip, your hand has risen to his cheek again, cupping it gently. Hearing his own name falling off your lips like that was heavenly. - "A name for an angel rather than for a Ghost. I like that name. It suits you." "I'm glad to hear that, ma'am." - Simon didn't like it. The name reminded him of his old man way too much, connecting him to a troubled family tree, to the people who turned him into what he was. He wasn't willing to ruin the moment you shared, however. If you said his name's nice... It must've been. "And may I?" - You whispered, staring at his lips. Simon licked his lips expectedly, nodding to let you know it's fine, that he wants it too. He put his hand on your waist, holding you in place as he scooped you closer - you were puzzling himself into his arms as if you belonged there forever, being that one little silly puzzle piece he'd lost before he was born. Your knees wrapped around his waist as you palmed his t-shirt, steadying your position.

You were both taking your time, giggling excitedly, blissed with disbelief. Your breathing was tickling Simon's face, making Simon's smile widen. Your eyes closed as you positioned your elbow around his shoulders, your nails gently scratching his scalp. So close... He was so close. Your noses bumped together, warm skin dragging across each other, your breath finally stabilizing as you got ready for the final stretch. Simon could feel your lips brush against his... But the kiss didn't come. It never came, in fact. The moment Simon opened his eyes to deduce what was wrong, a snore cut through the comfortable silence in your apartment. At first, it shut Simon off. He was staring at you, holding his palms on your shoulder blades, playing with the ends of your hair - until he started laughing quietly.

He wasn't upset, God forbid angry with you. You were trolled, in the end, drinking way more than you should - he half expected to be holding your hair for you by this point of the night. Even though you hadn't really touched the first base, this night turned into everything Simon wished for. This was just his luck - the lady holding his heart in a headlock dozing off before anything happened. "She's knackered." - Simon whispered towards Bonnie lying on the ground. The cutesy dog had no idea what he was saying, but she was excited enough to nuzzle and nibble on his ankle. - "I know, sweet girl, I know. Let me put mommy to bed, and then we'll set out for a walkie, yeah?" - The man ushered as he started folding you into his arms bridal style. Upon the word 'walkie', Bonnie growled and whimpered excitedly, almost wiggling her tail off. - "Hush, you little furry beast."

The duo spent half an hour walking outside on a cold night, Simon taking his bloody time smoking a few cigarettes to calm down. Bonnie was doing her own thing, carrying various sticks to him so they could play fetch. As soon as the door to your flat opened and Bonnie's paws got cleaned, the dog sped into your bedroom, nuzzling to you - all you did in response was throw your hand over her, grunting displeasantly. Before leaving, Simon quickly put together a note.

'Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. Prepared some coffee and painkillers for you on the counter. Text me when you wake up. Love, - Simon'

#simon riley #simon riley x fem!reader #ghost cod #ghost x fem!reader #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john price #141 cod #task force 141 #cod: mw #here we go agaiiin #this one was a struggle to finish #i love how the ending turned out tho #they are such a cute lil mischevious pair

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amaretigris · 1 month

Text

The Possibility of You

Taglist: @luna2034 @notagreekgal28 @hopeisrising @mylittlemermaid221 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @freyagallileaevans @daydreamerwithnohobbies @jonahhauer-kingg @jonahmermaid23

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Ch. 3 | 2.4k words | Fluff & smut suggestions

You strolled into the cafe the next morning feeling quite annoyed that you were up so early without having caffeine yet. You weren't exactly a morning person. You stopped inside the door of the restaurant when you saw Jonah's curls at your table. His back was facing you, so he hadn't seen you just yet, but you felt yourself fluster at the sight of him. What was he doing here already? Quietly walking to your table, you spotted two iced vanilla lattes on the table in front of him.

"Why are you here so early?"

It came out softer than you meant it to. You chalked it up to you not being fully awake yet.

Jonah's bright blue eyes smiled with his lips at the sight of you.

"I wanted to get your coffee for you this morning. I got one for myself to try as well," he slid a cup over to your side of the table as you sat.

You looked to the counter to find Lyle pouting, staring in your direction. The sight made you giggle as you turned back to Jonah.

"Yeah, Lyle wasn't too happy about it," he laughed.

"How was your night?"

Jonah chatted with you while you unpacked your laptop and books. After telling him that your night was fine, you included information that you probably shouldn't have.

"I'm happy that my best friend Vanessa gets back in town today. I've been counting down the days since she left."

Cringe. You sound like a loser.

"Oh, so you're not a total loner?"

Jonah smiled.

"I'm glad that you have someone to confide in. Everyone needs someone like that in their life."

You were getting into the habit of sharing more personal information with Jonah. You needed to get a grip. It hadn't even been a week since you started seeing him daily, and he was already wearing down your defenses.

"Who's your person?"

You were genuinely curious. And maybe if he continued to share information with you it wasn't so bad. It was a mutual exchange.

"My dad," Jonah answered with a soft smile, but it gave way to a frown as he fiddled with the rim of his plastic cup.

"You said he travels for work. I'm sure you must miss him," you watched Jonah's eyes lift to yours again.

"I do, but he should be home soon," he sighed.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to get so personal today."

His statement surprised you.

"Don't apologize," you assured him.

"Thank you for my coffee. You didn't have to do that."

You reached out and brushed your fingers against his knuckles. The sensation instantly sent a surge of goosebumps through your skin, and unbeknownst to you, Jonah experienced the same jolt. You watched his pupils dilate slightly.

"What if one day we could be that for each other?"

You felt your heart hammering in your chest at the question - no, the possibility.

"I can't be your dad if that's what you're asking," you deflected.

That was a classic move of yours. Anytime someone gets close or serious, you have to try to drown it out with humor. Jonah surprised you again when he laughed. A real, genuine laugh, not a polite or mocking one.

"Ah, funny and charming. How delightful," he smiled.

You blushed at his dimples and the sudden compliment. You nervously tucked some stray hairs behind your ear and brought your beverage to your lips with the other hand.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Jonah ducked his head to meet your eyes again.

"I feel as if I've tortured you enough with my presence today. What's your favorite flower?"

"Pink daisies," you admitted.

Jonah nodded, planting his hand on the table.

"I'll get out of your hair," he grabbed his coffee and moved to stand from his seat.

"Wait," you blurted out.

You didn't want him to leave so soon.

"You haven't answered a question for me today. That's the new deal, right?"

Jonah observed you with a smirk, sitting back in his chair.

"Yes, I believe so. Although I thought your question earlier was your one for the day."

You thought back. Shit, that wasn't what you had planned to ask him today. Not that you'd thought about it.

"Oh, no I didn't mean for it to be. Can I have another?"

You tried your best to bat your eyelashes at the stunning man across from you.

"Anything for you, love," Jonah's expression turned more serious.

You fought the new blush creeping up your neck, and spat out your question before you lost the nerve.

"Did you actually sleep with all of the women you took out from campus?"

The idea had admittedly been itching at the back of your brain since you met him. He was charismatic, handsome, and fit. You wouldn't be surprised if he was the playboy you'd heard him described as. All of the easiness dropped from his features at your question, and gave way to a darker expression.

"It seems like someone is trying to get to know me after all," he leaned forward until his face was mere inches from yours.

He then spoke in a low voice only for your ears.

"No, I didn't. I told you that, but no one seems to believe me when I say it. Why do you ask?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat at his proximity. He was even more beautiful up close like this.

"Curiosity, I suppose," you breathed.

He had said that phrase to you before, and you weren't sure that he'd recognize that, but he gave you a knowing smile.

"I welcome the curiosity, but it'd be cruel to give me false hope."

Your eyes bounced between his, then descended to his lips. Jonah's breath hitched in his throat.

"Who said it would be false hope?"

Jonah scrunched his brow as his eyes dipped to your lips as well. He made a tsk sound.

"So many questions today," he whispered.

You didn't know what was happening or how it had happened so quickly, but you felt a magnetic pull to Jonah. You brought your face closer to his, letting your eyes drift back up to his baby blues with a hopeful gleam. Jonah inched his lips closer, and you felt the slightest brush of them when, suddenly, someone loudly cleared their throat next to your table.

The sound startled you and Jonah out of your trance, but Jonah grabbed your upper arms to steady you and keep you from bouncing out of your chair.

"Can we help you?" Jonah snapped at Lyle who stood there with a mischievous grin.

"I just came to see if the lady needed a refill on her drink," Lyle cast a glance to you.

"No, Lyle, I still have over half left," you let out an annoyed sigh at the intrusion.

Lyle nodded.

"Okay, carry on," he left after throwing Jonah another smug smile.

Jonah shoved his hand through his curls.

"Fucking wanker. He's down bad for you."

You wore a sad smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think he'd actually interrupt us like that."

Jonah reached across the table to grab your hand.

"Why are you apologizing? Don't be silly."

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You know, we could meet up somewhere besides the cafe, and that wouldn't be a problem," Jonah suggested.

You pursed your lips in thought. You couldn't imagine being alone with Jonah in private; not after the attraction you'd just experienced. You feared all your inhibitions would fly out the window. You rubbed your thumb across Jonah's knuckles. The skin was shockingly smooth.

"Like where?"

You hated to admit that you were debating it. You felt like your were caving too easily.

"Anywhere. The theater, a restaurant off campus, or my house even," Jonah stroked your wrist.

"Don't give me false hope," you repeated back to him.

"Darling," Jonah chuckled, "I couldn't if I tried."

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You thought about your almost kiss for the rest of the day. Jonah's lips had touched yours ever so slightly, and you tried to memorize the way they felt - soft and pliant. You had to make it through your lectures, and then you could go see Vanessa. The two of you had so much to catch up on.

Later that evening, you swung the door open to your apartment, and put your keys in the bowl by the door.

"Hello?" You called out.

You heard footsteps racing down the hall, and Vanessa came barreling around the corner.

"Hi!" She squealed as she snatched you up in a hug.

You laughed, hugging her back.

"I missed you," you squeezed her extra tight.

"I missed you too," she outstretched her arms to give you a once over.

"I'm sorry you couldn't come on our family trip this year because of that stupid midterm," Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"It's okay," you shrugged. "It hasn't been all bad."

Vanessa gave you a curious look.

"Oh, it hasn't? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?" She joked.

You playfully swatted her arm.

"My early mornings at the campus cafe have gotten more interesting lately. A guy started noticing me and I've been seeing him every day since," you started, ducking your eyes away from Vanessa.

"What?! Why am I just now hearing about this?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes.

"I didn't want to intrude on your family time. I know how much you love the annual trips," you excused.

"Yeah, whatever," Vanessa waved her hands dismissively.

"So who's the guy?"

You bit your lip with a grimace.

"You know the new foreign exchange student, Jonah?"

Another squeal pierced your ears.

"Bitch, shut up. No it's not, is it?"

You reluctantly nodded. This was the real reason you hadn't told your roommate yet. You knew she'd make a big deal out of it.

"It is, but so far it's nothing serious. Nothing may even come of it," you shrugged again.

"What do you mean nothing may come of it? That is one hot piece of ass. If you don't pounce on that, I will," Vanessa fanned herself for dramatic effect.

"Wait," she added. "So have you gotten his number yet?"

You gulped.

"I just got it today. I haven't texted him yet...," you trailed off.

The memory of Jonah typing his number into your phone and sliding it back across the table replayed in your mind.

"There. Now you can text me anytime you like, sweetheart. Or not. You do love to keep me on my toes," he winked at you.

"(Y/N)? Hello?" Vanessa burst your thought bubble as she grabbed your arms and shook you.

"What?"

Vanessa laughed.

"Someone had a dreamy look in their eye thinking about him. I asked you a question. I asked if you guys were planning to go on a date soon."

"Oh, um, maybe," you were getting a little flustered at the thought.

"He mentioned something about that today, but nothing's set in stone yet."

"Well, you need to text him!" Vanessa encouraged.

"I will, but, um," you were almost embarrassed to ask.

"What are the rumors you've heard about him?"

You swore Vanessa's grin almost split her cheeks.

"Oh, they're great. You know all the women he dated on campus?"

You reluctantly nodded.

"Well, supposedly, he only ever took a handful of them home. And when he did take them home, he didn't sleep with them. He only serviced them, then sent them on their way," she snickered.

Your mouth fell open.

"Serviced them?"

Vanessa nodded.

"Yeah, apparently he has a thing for eating women out. But he never wanted it reciprocated, and he never actually had sex with any of them. He sent the two or three chicks he did it for straight home after it was over."

Your heart rate spiked. Why was that so hot?

"What? Why would he do that?"

Vanessa gave a lazy shrug.

"I don't know, but like I said, if you don't hop on that train, I will," she winked at you.

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That night when you got in bed after you and Vanessa had caught up, you stared up at the ceiling trying to process the information you learned earlier. You hadn't texted Jonah yet. You didn't know if you wanted to after that. It had excited you more than it should have. How could he be so selfless, wanting to give pleasure out to others, only to receive none in return? It didn't make sense.

You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to will the mental image of Jonah's curls between your legs out of your mind. You kicked the covers off of you in a huff, wondering why the hell you couldn't force yourself to sleep. You could text Jonah. Maybe he'd still be up. You could ask him about it yourself. The very thought made your adrenaline spike.

You picked up your phone, and pulled up Jonah's contact information. You chewed on your bottom lip, debating your next course of action. You could call him. You wanted to hear him say it. Something about hearing the words come out of his mouth enticed you. You pressed the call button, shakily pressing the phone to your ear.

The phone rang a couple times, and you closed your eyes. Why the hell would he answer a random call at this hour? He didn't even have your number saved yet because he'd given you the option to reach out to him. And now you are because you're sexually frustrated. What an idiot. You sighed, and you were about to hang up when a deep voice answered the call.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" You cringed, biting your thumb nail.

"No, I was just resting my eyes. It's good to hear your voice, (Y/N)."

You smiled.

"I'm sorry I interrupted your rest. I couldn't sleep."

"Stop apologizing. Why can't you sleep, love?"

"Vanessa came home today. I was so happy to see her. I asked her to actually tell me what they say about you. The rumors..."

The line was silent for a beat. You almost checked the screen to see that the call was still connected, until you heard a low groan on Jonah's end. He spoke in a dark, dangerous voice.

"What exactly did she tell you?"

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #prince eric #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king smut #jonah hauer king x fem reader #jonah hauer king fanfiction #jonah hauer king x you #my stuff

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stevebabey · 2 years

Note

ruby my angel congratulations on the milestone! very well deserved ilysm 🥺🫶

can i pls request ❤️‍🔥 a stevie blurb with prompt 11. a kiss that says ''we're late for work, but let's be later'' from list 5 pls? thank you so much!! @stvharrngton

kyrie!!! thank u my love!! ugh beloved i'm so glad ur here this was such a sweet prompt and i'm more than delighted to write it for u <3 i hope u enjoy it sweets :)) @stvharrngton

You’re undecided on whether mornings in Steve’s bed are a slice of heaven or a special form of torture.

On one hand, it’s bliss being between the sheets and in his arms. On the other, it has to end at some point. Especially on days you have early shifts, the both of you.

During this time of year, when the days get a bit longer, you wake to the sun more often than not. The bedroom gets drenched in gold, filtering through from a gap in the curtains, soft lines of light that paint you both rich and warm. Steve does it on purpose, some built-in fear about pitch black rooms. You never really mind anyways.

The alarm clock switches on the radio at 7am precisely. The top hits of 1987 melt out of the speakers and wooze over the airwaves, a soundtrack to your boyfriend’s mumbly-grumbly wakeup. He’s on his front, head turned towards you and the moment he’s awake, his brows scrunch together.

You’re feeling lucky to have woken before him, if only to watch his drousy yawns. He lets out a tired groan, snuffles into the pillow closer, and murmurs wordlessly. Your cheek crinkles the pillow as you grin easily, watching him.

Then you laugh a bit when you see him falling back to sleep easily, rocked by the sound of Heaven is a Place on Earth on the radio. You curl your hand over his shoulder, giving it a gentle jostle. Steve stirs, letting out another tired groan.

“How is it...” The beginnings of a sentence trips out his mouth, his eyes still closed. Your fingers start skirting about on his skin, tracing the dozens of freckles on his shoulder. It must be ticklish, shown in Steve’s wrinkled nose and the way he shivers, trying to dust your touch off him. “S’morning?” He asks, voice all gravelly.

“Mmhm,” You affirm, sweeping the hair back from his forehead. Steve finally peeks an eye open, one glimmer of his brown irises. You lend a dainty kiss to his shoulder and wiggle up from under the covers. Steve stares as you climb out of the bed, giving another dramatic huff that has the sheet fluttering around him.

He stretches like a cat in the sun, some deep sound from his throat that has you whipping around — really wondering for a moment if he was going to start the day that way. With an amused smile at his lazy stretches, arms above his head, you begin to putter around to gather everything you need for the shower.

You get two steps into the bathroom before you call out to him. “You coming?”

There’s a shuffle behind you, a couple loud noises, and one muttered swear. You laugh quietly to yourself, knowing he's launched himself out of bed at your proposition.

“Yes! Yep, definitely, I’ll meet you in there!”

It‘s the opposite of a productive shower. Steve tries to wash his hair, yet insists you do it better, and melts under your magic fingers. He soaps up your back, along your shoulders and then makes the mistake of pressing a kiss to the skin — and quickly regrets it with a bleh, spitting out the soap. You laugh, nearly slip on the excess soap he’s managed to use, and the pair of you spend more time goofing off than cleaning.

Time is short by the time you’re out and into your clothes for work. The alarm clock blinks, radio wallowing love ballads now. You click it off and meet Steve down in the kitchen, feet moving with haste.

Steve looks handsome, as he always does. His hair’s still a bit wet, a few droplets on the collar of his shirt and he smiles when you enter, like you’re brought the sun in with you. He’s already fixed a pot of coffee, the smell percolating in the morning air, and he tastes like it when you press up on your toes and kiss him.

You’re late by now, you’re sure of it. Steve’s hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer, humming ever-so-contently against your lips. He kisses like he’s got all the time in the world, his mouth sweet and hot, his love feeling nearly tangible around you. You decide that being more than a little late is entirely worth it if he keeps kissing you like this.

join the celebration!

#the shower scene.... i want him #want him so bad !!!!#part that didn't make it in but definitely happened #steve makes his hair into a crazy mohawk just to make u laugh #it works #ruby writes steve #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #stevie blurb!#ruby's very own tour of hawkins #moots my beloved <3

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foundtherightwords · 13 days

Text

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 3

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

On Monday, Alba armed herself with a mop, a broom, a copious amount of dust cloth, and various cleaning fluids, powders, and waxes, packed into the basket of her bike and strapped along the frame. Papi offered to drive her, but she refused. Mr. Grunauer may not welcome another intrusion. Plus, she had the sneaking suspicion that Papi wished to check out Grunauer, to make sure that she was safe while working there. Grunauer may find that offensive. She didn't want him to feel like he was being scrutinized and have a reason to turn her out even before she could start.

Beatriz had protested having to man the counter alone, of course, but Alba knew, deep down, her sister was glad for a chance to prove herself to Papi. For her part, Alba was only too glad to get out of the hot, cramped bakery. She rode her bike down the lane toward the Grunauer place, delighting in the coolness of the swamp, where the sweltering heat could never quite reach. The message that Frank delivered on Sunday had been a pleasant surprise; then again, she was quite confident in her sandwich. Nobody could resist a Cubano from La Perla del Sur.

As she rounded a corner, Alba almost crashed into Grant's Aston Martin, which was blocking the lane, its red paint incongruous amongst all the greens. Grant himself was lounging on the hood, surveying the swamp with a pair of binoculars. Alba squeezed her brakes, mumbling a curse under her breath. She couldn't turn back now—he had caught sight of her and was lowering the binoculars with his usual arrogant smile, and with all the burden on her bike, she couldn't lift it over his car. She was stuck.

"Fancy meeting you here, Allie," he said. "Out on a morning ride?"

"Not everybody has as much free time on their hands as you do, Mr. Grant," Alba replied. "I'm on my way to work, if you must know."

"Doing what?" Grant eyed her cleaning supplies with distaste. "Cleaning?"

"Yes, I got a job as a housekeeper... at a hotel," she said, to just get him out of her way.

Grant raised an eyebrow. "What hotel made you bring your own cleaning stuff?"

Mierda. Grant may be a heel, but he wasn't a fool. "Would you move your car, please?" she said, trying to change the subject. "I'm late."

Grant didn't move. He looked down the lane, where it merged into the shadows of the swamp, and seemed to put two and two together. "I see that the bakery truck has been going to the Grunauer place quite a lot lately," he said.

"What's the big deal? Mr. Grunauer is our landlord."

"You don't know what he did during the war, do you?"

The last thing Alba wanted was to give Grant more attention, but at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. "I heard he was a medic," she said cautiously.

"He killed someone, you know."

Alba rolled her eyes. "There was a war on, in case you've forgotten, Mr. Grant. People killed each other all the time."

"No, not a Jerry. He killed someone on our side. In his unit."

This stopped Alba in her tracks. She stared at Grant. "Really?"

Grant smiled, smug now that he'd gotten her attention. "Yeah," he said. "It was on D-Day. His whole unit was killed. He was the only survivor. Isn't that suspicious?"

"No, not at all," she managed.

"They said it was friendly fire, though I have my doubts. But again, it was chaos back then. With all that fighting going on, it was easy to lose one's head."

To hear him speak, one would think that Grant had personally stormed the beach at Normandy and liberated every man, woman, and child of France, though Alba knew for a fact that he'd been stationed at Gibraltar at the time, enjoying a cushy assignment at the supply depot.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alba said, narrowing her eyes.

"Just looking out for my girl, that's all." Still leering at her, Grant moved his car an infinitesimal amount, just enough for Alba to squeeze through. She got on her bike and pedaled away without bothering to thank him.

Despite her effort not to let Grant get to her, Alba couldn't put his story out of her head. Could it be true? Was that why Grunauer never went out—not because of his scars, but because of the guilt? She didn't believe he was a stone-cold killer, but he seemed to have a bit of a temper. And if he had killed a fellow soldier, accidentally or not, and he found out that she knew... What would he do? For the first time, she realized the risk she'd put herself in. She was going to spend almost a whole day with a man she knew nothing about, in an isolated house, in a remote part of town.

It was with a certain quiver in her heart that Alba arrived at the Grunauer place. She unloaded the cleaning equipment and supplies and staggered into the house with them. Only Otto's joyful bark and his rough, wet tongue lapping at her arm in greeting jolted her out of her fearful reverie and restored some of her cheerful mood.

"Hola, Otto," she said, scratching his huge head. "I'm happy to see you too."

"Good morning, Miss Reyes," a voice said. Alba looked up to see Grunauer standing at the foot of the staircase. She peered at him, as if she could tell whether he was a killer or not just by looking, but all she could see was that sadly damaged face. At least he'd made an effort to shave today. He started to walk toward her, moving with difficulty—his left leg appeared quite stiff, something she hadn't had a chance to notice in their last two encounters.

She crossed the hall toward him, to save him the trouble. "Good morning, Mr. Grunauer," she said. She wasn't sure if she should shake his hand or not. "Please, call me Alba." He didn't reply. "Thank you for—" She was going to say "for the opportunity", only it sounded too formal, too rehearsed, like she just got interviewed for a job. Well, this was a job, wasn't it? "Thank you for this," she finished lamely. She tried to put on an eager look. "Where do you want me to start?"

Her question seemed to catch him by surprise. "I—I don't know. The whole house is a bit of a mess, as you can see. Everything needs attention." His hesitation made her feel a little better. At least he was as unsure about this as she was.

"How about you show me around and we'll see which room needs to be tackled first?" she suggested.

Grunauer looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I can't get around much," he said, indicating a cane leaning against the banisters. Alba could've kicked herself for being so thoughtless. Of course. If he had been able to get around the house, he wouldn't have let in fall into such a state. The den in the study made sense now.

"It's all right," she said cheerfully. "I'll start from the top and work my way down." She wrapped a scarf around her hair and picked up a broom. "And if I have any question, I'll just ask—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted, raising a hand. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Do what you have to do; there's no need to ask me anything."

"But what if I come across something that I'm not sure if I can throw away or not?"

"Just put them aside. I'll deal with them later." He started to sound irritated, so she simply nodded, and, ducking her head, she went past him and up the stairs, feeling those dark eyes on the back of her neck.

Alba went through the house, followed by Otto. Grunauer was right; it was a mess. Downstairs, there were the study and the kitchen, and a living room and a dining room, neither looking like it was in use. Upstairs was even worse. The air of neglect throughout the house was increased tenfold here. The rooms all seemed frozen in time, as if the inhabitants had just left that morning. Everything looked like it had been put down absently and never picked up again—a yellowing newspaper on a table, with the headline about D-Day splashed across the front page, a palmetto fan on a chair, an unfinished dress still in the machine in the sewing room, with a pair of fabric shears next to it. Only the thick, undisturbed layer of mold and dust over everything revealed the passage of time. This house hadn't been neglected in just the past two years; it had been in a slow decline for much, much longer than that.

The master bedroom and the nursery were the saddest of all. On the dressing table in the master bedroom, all the creams and powders and brushes were still laid out; the creams had gone dried and cracked, the powders becoming one with the dust, the bristles of the brushes missing. A woman's dressing gown was draped over the back of the chair. A pipe and a pair of glasses sat on the bedside table. It appeared that after his wife passed away, Dr. Grunauer had left her side of the room exactly as it had been, and when his son came home and found his father gone, he'd done the same for the other side.

The nursery, which was situated in a large, airy room at the back of the house with a bay window overlooking the swamp, was tidier, the bed showing signs of recent occupancy, but it was no less sad. The shelves were filled with toys—stuffed animals, their fur now patchy, a miniature sailboat with chipped paint and torn sails, a sun-faded globe—and books, hundreds of books. The door of the closet was left ajar, and when Alba opened it, she found the clothes inside were mostly for a boy, with only an open suitcase containing a few adult things. This must be Grunauer's old room. When he came back, he'd simply dropped the suitcase on the floor and gone on living in the same room he had since he was a child. It appeared to have been unchanged since he was ten years old. Where had the boy gone after that, and where had he been since?

But all these melancholy musings would not make the house clean. Alba shook herself free of them, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.

***

Derwin put down his book when he realized he'd read the last five pages or so without retaining a single word. He'd been too busy listening to Miss Reyes. It had been so long since there was a sound in the house not made by him or Otto, that even the most ordinary noise now seemed fascinating to Derwin, and he listened to them as keenly as his father used to listen to the birdcalls and other animal noises of the swamps—the pitter-patter of her feet as she moved from room to room and lugged her cleaning supplies up and down the stairs, the swish-swish of her broom across the floor, the gentle sound of her voice as she talked to Otto while she worked. It was a distraction, but he found that he didn't mind it.

Which was a dangerous mindset to have, of course. He could not allow himself to get used to Miss Reyes. She was not here to stay. Depending on the quality of her work, she might be gone by the end of the week, or, in the best-case scenario—though best for her or for himself, he wasn't sure—she would only be around for a year or so. And then she would leave, just like everybody had left. His mother, his father, his fellow soldiers. Sometimes, Derwin wondered if he was cursed, and anybody who entered his life could only pass through briefly, like ships in the night, before leaving and never to be seen again.

So, yes, it would be dangerous to get used to Miss Reyes's presence.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from listening to her, taking comfort in the noises she made, wondering what she was doing at that moment. Then, to his confusion, he heard the front door open and close, and everything went quiet. After ten minutes of silence, Derwin picked up his cane, went into the hall, and looked out the front door. Miss Reyes's bike had disappeared from the porch.

Where had she gone?

He trudged upstairs. It appeared Miss Reyes had only started cleaning his old bedroom. She had stripped the bedding and the curtains and cleaned the windows. All the toys and books had been put neatly into some cardboard boxes she'd found God knew where, and the shelves had been dusted, though she hadn't swept the floor yet. Perhaps she'd forgotten something and gone to retrieve it—though it seemed unlikely, judging by the pile of supplies she'd brought. Or perhaps she'd found something horrifying amongst his old things and decided to flee.

Sitting down on the bare mattress, he looked over the room as if he was seeing for the first time. Since he came home, he'd slept here out of habit but never noticed how it looked. There were his old toys, the sailboat he and his father used to sail on a pond in the swamp, the stuffed dog he'd carried to bed until he left for boarding school. He flipped through the books, childhood favorites that he hadn't looked at for so long. Defoe, Stevenson, Verne, Dickens, Kipling, Twain. Books of poetry by Carroll, Wordsworth, Frost, and de la Mare, some too complex for his ten-year-old comprehension, but all had sparked a life-long passion. No, there was nothing here that would repulse a person. Perhaps she had simply been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of mess and given up.

As the minutes stretched into an hour, Derwin's bewilderment and anger were replaced by despair. He'd tried to prepare himself for it, but the shortness of her stay was worse than he could have expected. She hadn't lasted even half a day. Had he done something to drive her off? Had he been too short with her, too cold, too irritable? He had no idea how he should've behaved.

He went down into the kitchen, though he knew there was nothing here that could give him a clue about Miss Reyes's departure. Otto was here, gnawing on a bone he'd found somewhere—Derwin prayed that it wasn't from some long-dead animal—and didn't seem too upset about the disappearance of a certain dark-haired young lady. Derwin sat down heavily at the table.

"It's just you and me again, boy," he said. Otto's tail gave a thump in acknowledgment.

Then the tail kept thumping, and Derwin realized Otto wasn't looking at him, but beyond him at the door. He turned around and saw Miss Reyes walking in through the back door, her arms laden with groceries.

At the sight of her, Derwin's heart gave a little jump, almost imperceptible, but any relief he'd felt at her return was immediately drowned out by his annoyance, annoyance at her for swanning off without a word, and most of all, annoyance at himself for caring so much.

"Where were you?" he asked with a scowl.

"I went grocery shopping," she said, like it was the most obvious thing. "I didn't think about it this morning, but when I came down to do the washing, I saw that the pantry and the fridge are kind of empty. There was nothing for lunch..." She trailed off, looking perplexed. "Are you angry with me?"

"You could've said something!" Derwin shouted. "I thought you'd left—I thought the work was too much for you and you'd left—or that you've changed your mind—or I've frightened you off somehow—" He hardly knew what he was saying.

She looked at him almost pityingly. "I'm sorry, but I didn't realize it would matter. You said not to disturb you," she said, and his irritation grew when he remembered that yes, he had indeed told her not to disturb him. She'd done nothing wrong. It wasn't her fault that he was jumpy as a jackrabbit and always came to the worst conclusions.

Without another word, he got to his feet and made his way to the study, where he found a blank notebook and a pencil. When he returned to the kitchen, Miss Reyes was still standing by the groceries, looking mystified and miserable.

"Here," he said, thrusting the notebook and pencil at her. "If you have a question or something to say to me, just put a note through the door of the study." She took them and tucked them into her pocket, still looking uncertain. He eyed the groceries. "And give me the bill. I'll pay you back."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," she said quickly. "It's for me as much as it's for you."

"Miss Reyes, if you're going to work for me, I'm not having you pay for your own lunch."

"So you agree to let me work here?" she said, her face brightening.

He'd spoken too soon. "Not yet," he replied, trying to scowl but failing. For some reason, it was impossible for him to maintain his annoyance when those green eyes were turned upon him.

"OK, I'll give you the bill." She tilted her head, studying him. Derwin suddenly felt like one of his father's reptiles. He looked away, avoiding her eyes.

"And next time, if something's running low, just tell me," he said. "I'll place an order at the store."

"Which store?"

"Wendell's."

She made a face. "They charge you an arm and a leg for delivery. And their produce isn't the freshest."

Derwin sighed. He knew his arrangements weren't ideal, but he had no choice. "What use do I have for fresh produce?" he said glumly. "I can't cook anyway."

"Well, you have me now," she said with a quick but bright smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Grunauer. I'm not going anywhere. The Reyes have never run away from anything, and I will certainly not be the first to do so. I'll have this house spick and span before you know it."

He nodded curtly and limped back to the study. About an hour later, the most mouthwatering smell wafted down the corridor, reaching all the way through the closed door of the study. It took all of Derwin's self-control not to run into the kitchen to see what feast Miss Reyes was cooking up—not that he could actually run. His stomach gurgled loudly. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a note was slipped through the bottom of the door.

Lunch is ready, it said. Would you like it in the dining room or the study?

Her handwriting was very clear and neat, without any unnecessary flourishes. Just like Miss Reyes herself.

The study is fine, he wrote back.

A moment later, there was a soft knock on the door. Derwin opened it to find a dish covered with a silver cloche—really, where does she find these things?—placed on a side table just next to the door.

Stuck to the cloche was another note, which said, ¡Buen Provecho! P/S: Once you finish eating, please put the dish on this table. I don't want an infestation of cockroaches to destroy all the lovely books you have in the study. Derwin's mouth quirked up in amusement, despite himself. Under the cloche, he found a piece of chicken, nicely browned, nestled in a bed of rice and vegetables. The chicken was so tender that it fell apart under his fork, the rice was soft and fluffy, and the vegetables sweet. It was, in short, the best meal he'd ever had.

Derwin was a little embarrassed that he'd scarfed down the chicken and rice in less than fifteen minutes. After waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass, he returned the dish to the table, with a note saying, Thank you. On second thoughts, he added, P/S: I'm sorry I shouted at you.

The response came with the rattling of the dish: It's OK. Those two simple words were enough, and Derwin breathed a little more easily.

The rest of the day was quiet. Miss Reyes continued to work diligently, tirelessly. Otto stuck to her like glue, and often Derwin would hear her footsteps being accompanied by the clicking of the dog's claws. Derwin was glad that the dog had found someone else to hang around with; he was well aware of how tedious his own company could be. Once, a movement in the backyard caught Derwin's attention through the window, and he looked up to see Miss Reyes hanging the washing on the lines, the sheets and curtains blowing about her like clouds. When she reached the end of a line, she lifted her head to look at the frangipani tree planted by his father at the edge of the yard, which was just beginning to put out its fragrant blooms, each looking like a little swirl of cloud containing a miniature sun at its center. A lock of her hair strayed out of her headscarf to dangle over her forehead. After trying to blow it out of her face several times without success, she pushed it back in place with an impatient but well-practiced movement, and returned to the washing. She didn't see him.

As the light outside grew dim and the sky glowed red through the cypresses' trunks, another note was pushed under the door.

I'm done for the day, the note said. There's leftover chicken in the oven for your dinner. Your room is clean, so you can sleep there again. See you tomorrow.

Derwin dragged himself out of the study and went back upstairs. Yes, she had cleaned the room. The bed was made with fresh sheets, smelling of frangipani and sunshine. Every toy, every book was back in its place. For a heartbeat, he was transported fifteen years back in time, when he was ten years old, when his mother was still alive. The only things that had been moved were his clothes—his current clothes, the few shirts and pants, his one good suit, and his dress shoes had been unpacked and hung up in the closet, while his childhood clothes were carefully put away in the suitcase.

Realizing he was still holding Miss Reyes' note in his hand, he contemplated it for a moment. See you tomorrow. Those three words put a smile on his face. Then, without really knowing why, he folded the note carefully and put it in the drawer of his bedside table.

Chapter 4

Taglist: @kitkat80

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grunauer #grunauer overlord #overlord 2018 #grunauer x ofc

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