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lovifie · 30 days

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Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 12: Finale

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

“You are not listening!” You shout, frustrated with the man.

In the couple of weeks that you have known and lived with them, you never expected that you would end up arguing with them. Even less with Price.

“No, Birdie. You are the one that needs to listen!” The man argued back.

“You got me fired, John! What else do you want me to hear?” You ask, running your hands through your hair.

It finally set in, the reality that the idyllic life of living with the four of them without a worry was just an illusion. You were here because you were hiding, and they were here because they were hiding you.

“I didn't get you fired, Birdie. Your boss did.” Price says, crossing his arms.

“Don't get sassy with me! He told you that they needed to know if I could get back to work any soon or they would be forced to fire me and you told them to do so!” You shout again, feeling like Price is lying to your face. “Why would you do that?!”

“Because you hate that job!” He shouts back. “And you don't need to work!”

“Yes, I do, Price! Yes, I do!” You say, a dry laugh leaving your throat. “Like everyone! I can't just live sponging off of you guys!”

“That's not what's happening and you know it, birdie!” He exclaims. “Don't manipulate the situation into making it look like a bloody transaction!”

“I'm manipulating the situation?!” You ask, pointing to yourself.

“Yes! You are making it look like we are paying you to stay with us, birdie!” He explains, moving his hands to his hips.

“Oh, for god's sake, Price!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “Why don't you exaggerate it a bit more?! I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about my job!”

“Neither do I?! Because I think it is pretty much settled!” He says, walking away towards the kitchen.

“IT IS NOT SETTLE!” You scream, shocked by his response. “The reason why I don't know why we are arguing is because I don't know who gave you the right to choose over me!”

That makes him turn around, looking at you like you grow a second head. “Well, excuse me. For believing I have a say in your life, I just assumed I could since we bloody love each other and all that!”

“Don't pull that shit on me, Price! This has nothing to do with love!” You say, crossing your arms. “I don't have a say on your work! So why should you have it on me!”

“It's not the bloody same!” He says, rubbing his face.

“It's not for you because it doesn't benefit you!” You scream, looking back when you hear the door open as Gaz, Soap and Ghost enter the house. The three of them having left the house not too long ago to buy breakfast.

“What's going on? We could hear the shouts from outside.” Gaz asks, entering first and looking between Price and you, seeing the wide cliff between the two of you.

“Nothing!” Price barks, crossing his arms again.

You ignore the looks on everyone's face, instead walking to the door.

“Where are you going now?!” Price asks, moving to be able to see you.

“Out! So I can fucking breathe without feeling I'm choking!” You say, opening the door after the boys closed it.

“Don't go far!” Price says, still caring under all his bad mood

“I KNOW I CAN'T GO FAR!” You say, slamming the door on your way out.

You hate screaming, hate shouting, hate raising your voice and even more if it is at Price or any of the men inside. It's not their fault and screaming at each other is not the way to fix it. But you can't help it, tired of being pushed around at everyone's mercy without asking what's your choice.

Sitting down on the step right outside the house, not wanting or needing to go any further, you hide your face behind your hands, letting your palms get wet with your tears.

“Hey, you alright?” A man's voice says, making you look up, to come face to face with an unfamiliar face.

You don't have time to answer, because something hits the back of your head and everything blends to black.

Price updates the boys once you are out, he tells them your ex-boss called, told him you needed to get back to work the next day or he would fire you, he tells them how he told him to go ahead since you couldn't go back to work jet, he tells them about how he wasn't able to tell you about the empty position at base that you could filled to work with them because you started screaming, he tells them about how he lost his cool and just screamed back instead of explaining.

He tells them everything, feeling like the worst person in the world for making you leave the house with tears on your face. It's Gaz the first one to stand up. “I'll check on her.” He mumbles, as he walks outside to an empty staircase. He walks down, checking both sides of the street only to find it just as empty.

An anxious feeling starts to brew on his stomach, entering back to the house with a worried expression on his face. “She's gone.” He says almost casually, as if not voicing one of the biggest fears the men around him have had for the last month.

“What do you mean she's gone?” Soap asks. “She must be around the block, she'll be back in a bit, mate.”

No one believes him, not even himself. You wouldn't have walked out of his sight like that, not without dragging them with you, not without a phone, not without telling them.

There is a beat of silence, each debating whether it is plausible that you simply left, all of them feeling that the most possible chance is that something happened to you.

“I'll check the car camera, it is parked right in front of the door.” Ghost says, taking his phone out to check it.

They all check the screen, seeing the door open and close. They see you sit down, body shaking as you cry, Price feeling his heart shrunk at the sight knowing it was his doing.

They then see the two men walking in front of you, how one of them takes advantage that you have your face covered to stand behind you, how the other calls your attention to look at your face, and how once he knows it's you he nods to the other man, who knocks you out hitting you with a bat at the back of your head.

The wave of all the different emotions hitting them at once keeps them in place for a second, paralyzed on their chair. Soap jumps first, talking about checking the cameras on the street, checking the cars, their licence place, anything.

But it doesn't reach Price's ears, the only thing he can hear is the voices in his head telling him that he has failed twice now. The first one he wasn't able to keep you close enough when you left in the middle of the night, and now he was the one that pushed you away.

You were just on the other side of the door a moment ago and now… now he didn't know where you were. All because he didn't explain himself and let his emotions take control of him.

“Price!” It's Ghost's voice that wakes him up, standing beside the sergeants. “Move.”

That's all he says, and that's all Price needs.

They'll get you back, whatever it takes.

Two weeks.

That is what it takes them to finally find a trail.

That is what it takes Price to breathe again.

That's what it takes Simon to let be seen outside the office.

That's what it takes Soap to let himself be embraced by any of the others.

That's what it takes Gaz to stop baring his teeth to everyone.

They have a trail.

And god knows that's all they need.

What you need, is a doctor. A shower. A glass of water. A nap. Anything that is not forced or thrown at you.

Two weeks of torture.

Two weeks of just getting hurt, insulted, humiliated, all of it just for the purpose of causing you pain.

The henchmen of the man you used to say good morning to were the ones that have stolen you away.

The ones that have thrown you into an empty dark room.

The ones that have “interrogated” you about who you worked for.

The ones that have “interrogated” you about how much they paid you.

You didn't say a word, which usually resulted in a punch to the face or a kick to the ribs.

You want to believe that they will find you.

That they will take you back home.

That Price will forgive you for shouting at him.

Hell, if you die and the last thing you did was shout at him.

You'll live.

They'll find you.

Two weeks.

Of fighting with yourself.

The side that says you'll live.

And the side that tells you to give up already.

The second one usually wins.

Like today, when the man that enters the room every day walks up to you, limping and with a knife in his hand.

He yanks your hair, pulling you up on your feet and pressing the knife on your throat. “Make a sound and it'll be the last thing you do.”

He moves you into a chokehold, pushing you in front of him as he walks down the hall. There is shouting and the sound of guns inside the building.

The moment he sees the car where they push you in, the one they saw on the cameras; Price almost needs to pull Simon back from running inside the building.

This is it.

This is the headquarters they couldn't find for so long.

The headquarters where all the important information and the guns they have looked for so long are at.

The headquarters where everything that matters is.

The headquarters where they kept you at.

Price sends Ghost to the building on the other side of the road, not trusting the man in face to face with what they can find inside.

And he obliges, hating the rank differences.

They move in, clearing room after room.

No sign of you.

The move to the second floor.

You are not there.

More and more people that hit the ground when they found them.

You are still missing.

Until you see it.

The unmistakable blue cap on Gaz's head.

And you shout.

You shout louder than you shout at Price.

You shout louder than when Soap scared you hiding behind the door.

You shout louder than when you called for Ghost when you thought he fell on the shower but it was just the shampoo bottle.

You have never shouted at Gaz.

Until now.

And the moment you do you feel the blade dig into your skin, moving your hand between the knife and your neck.

The three of them turn to you, immediately updating Ghost and telling him to move.

The window behind you is almost like a target for a perfect shot.

But Ghost can't shoot.

Not when he can see your head.

Not when there is a possibility that he may hit you.

But he can when you move.

When you grab the blade, breaking the skin of your fingers, and you pull back just enough to squish yourself down.

You are still against his chest, the man still holding you. But Ghost can now see your head, lower than before. And the arms around you quickly go limp, falling forward taking you with him.

A ringing in your ear keeps you from Price's voice calling your name. Everything is dizzy for a moment, there is a warm sensation on your elbow and when you look back a red pool of blood is bleeding onto your clothes.

You liked that t-shirt.

You'll need to try with peroxide, see if you can take the stain out.

Your brain ignores the corpse lying next to you, but for some reason you can't stop looking at the blood on your elbow.

It isn't until Price cups your face, your grimey, bloody and sunken face. And you look up to him, his blue eyes.

And you let yourself cry.

After two weeks.

You cry.

So hard you can't see nor hear anything.

You cling onto Price, hiding your face on his neck, digging your nails on his back needing to feel him under your skin.

Apologies fly from one to the other.

For shouting, for pushing away, for failing to protect, for not shouting, for being taken away.

You feel two more pairs of arms around you, feeling the fourth person only when you start to leave the building.

Not much longer an ambulance arrives, finally taking you to safety.

The four men in the car right behind.

Recovery is just as slow.

No permanent physical damage.

But not all the wounds are on the skin.

Those heal quite fast.

And soon you are back on your feet.

On your scared, wobbly feet.

The boys are back around, always one of them close.

“I'm never leaving you out of my sight again.” Price says, cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “I don't care if I sound like a madman.”

They make it easy to get back.

Price finally tells you about the job at base, which you gladly apply for.

Surprisingly you got it, and started working soon.

It was easy.

You got a better flat, easy to pay when four more people chime in for the bills.

You got a better job, with better pay and a better boss.

You got, not only one, but four lovers.

And you have all the time of your life to heal everything that's left.

You still wonder how you managed to get into your garage that night.

But now you're glad you did.

And with this, ladies and gentlemen.

Lift Me Off My Feet comes to an end ❤️.

Thanks for joining along, for all the support that you have given me the last couple of months, for the patience between chapters, special thanks to @darkangel4121 for listening to me complain so much and to everyone who has joined and will join the blog.

I love you, my lovelies 💗

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souliebird · 3 months

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[[and then I met you || ch. 14]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Words: 3.8k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

A loud, angry voice wakes Minnie from her sleep.

It takes her a few moments to process the change, but once she does, she focuses on finding the source of the bad noise. It's coming from below her, a few floors down. She can't understand the words - Mommy says people speak lots of different languages so this must be one of them - but she knows it is Mister Chavez. He's a nice man who helps Mommy with the trash, sometimes. Minnie likes him.

She lets her ears open up more and quickly finds out why he is so grumpy - he is watching television. She recognizes the sounds as some sort of sport. Mommy says sometimes people yell at their television when watching sports because they love their team and get excited - but they aren't really angry. That makes her feel better - she doesn't like it when people are angry. It's scary.

But he is still being loud, and even though she knows he's not really mad, she doesn't want to hear him. Minnie wants to listen to good noises when she sleeps.

Her favorite noise to sleep to is her Mommy's heart and it can make all the bad noises go away and right now, she wants to be extra close so it's really loud.

So, Minnie reaches up and pulls her sleep headband down so it's around her neck and rolls out of bed.

Mommy went to sleep the same time she did, which is weird because Mommy also took a nap with her after they came back from the park. Mommy doesn't take naps - she's an Adult, but all day she's been sleepy. She doesn't understand why - they didn't do anything Big, like go somewhere special or do lots of things.

Minnie crosses the short distance between her bed and her Mommy's and quickly climbs up the bigger one. Mommy is on her back and under her covers, still asleep. The loud noises don't bother her because she can't hear them like Minnie and Daddy can. That makes Minnie happy - Mommy needs lots of sleep.

But she's hogging all the blankets and Minnie wants to get under them, too, so she shakes her shoulder, “Mommy, share the blankie.”

Nothing happens.

Minnie pouts and shakes her again, just a little harder, “Mommy, I'm cold, too.”

Mommy makes an upset noise in her throat, but she doesn't wake up or give up any of the blanket. Minnie frowns and looks back to her bed - she could get her blanket if Mommy doesn't want to share, but she likes Mommy’s blanket more. It smells like her.

Maybe she can crawl in from the bottom, near Mommy's feet.

As she considers this option, something new catches her attention.

Something smells stinky.

It doesn't smell stinky like the train or the monster her Daddy chased away a few nights ago - she doesn't know this smell, but she quickly decides she doesn't like it. It smells like wet and dirty and it's really close. It is inside the bedroom. She turns to start looking around, trying to find where it is coming from. Nothing in the room looks different and she knows things don't just get stinky. Something has to happen to make it stinky. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth a little like Daddy taught her, and breaths in through her nose. The smell is stronger behind her, so she tries to follow it, crawling closer.

She runs right into Mommy.

The bad smell is coming from her.

Minnie doesn't understand. Mommy never smells bad, ever, and she didn't smell bad before they went to sleep. Why does Mommy smell bad now?

She tries to wake her up again, shaking her shoulder hard, but Mommy just scrunches up her face. She doesn't wake up.

Minnie is starting to get scared.

“Mommy, wake up!” She tries tugging the blanket next, but it is wrapped tight. Her next idea is to start patting her face and that is when Minnie gets her next clue.

Mommy's skin is really warm, like she's been in the sun, and she's sweaty. Did Mommy go outside when Minnie was sleeping?

But that doesn't make sense, the sun isn't up. It's night time and Mommy wouldn't leave her alone during the night. Mommy never leaves her alone - she always has a babysitter.

Why would Mommy be hot and sweaty and stinky and not wake up?

She sticks her fingers in her mouth and starts to suck on them as she thinks hard - like she's trying to figure out a puzzle.

Minnie gasps when she realizes it - Mommy is sick!

Mommy has never been sick before, not that Minnie can remember, and if she's sick, she needs a doctor. Minnie knows how to be a doctor!

No longer as scared now that she knows what is wrong, Minnie slides off the bed and hurries to her toy chest. She has a whole doctor kit full of all sorts of things - it even has a doctor's coat and glasses. She takes the big bag out and sets it on the ground so she can pull out the costume and put it on. She has to push up the sleeves because they are too long, but it doesn't matter.

Now she's Doctor Minnie and can help her Mommy.

She hikes the bag up on her shoulder and brings it back to the bed. It takes her a few tries to get it up beside her Mommy - the bed is high up and the bag is heavy - but once it is, she climbs up too and starts looking through her supplies.

She pulls out the step-scope first and puts the plugs into her ears. She doesn't need it to listen to Mommy's heart, but doctor's do, so she's going to use it. She puts the end-circle on Mommy's chest and listens Hard. Her heart doesn't sound any different than normal. It is a little faster, like she's been walking around a lot, but that isn't weird. Minnie is used to that sound - so it's not why Mommy is sick. She puts her step-scope back into her bag and takes out the next tool.

She knows the little hammer is supposed to be used to hit her Mommy's knees, but they are under the covers, so she isn't sure if it will work. She tries anyway. She bonks where she thinks her knees are and absolutely nothing happens. She isn't surprised - Mommy's head smells stinky, not her legs. That is not why she is sick.

Her next toy is the therm-o-meter. She puts it against her Mommy's forehead and presses the button. The toy lights up, the screen flashing red a few times before becoming solid. She brings it closer to her face to examine. She doesn't know what the numbers mean, but she guesses it says her Mommy is sick.

She turns off that toy then starts digging in the bag again, looking at what she has to help. She finds the band-aida first, which won't help at all. That is for boo-boos and Mommy doesn't have one of those. She finds what she needs at the bottom of the bag and removes it carefully. She doesn't know what it is called but it gives shots - and shots help people not be sick. Mommy told her that - that's why she has to go get them from the doctor.

Shots go in the arm, so Minnie needs to move the blanket out of the way. Mommy wrapped herself up tight, so it is hard, but she manages to pull it enough so her shoulder is out. That is part of the arm, so it counts. She doesn't want to mess up, so Minnie takes her time picking up the shot-giver and pulling back the pusher. She places it in the middle of Mommy's arm, as low as she can get it, then pushes the pusher back down slowly. Once it's all the way down, she sets the toy aside. She remembers that shots do get a band aid, so she takes one out of the box and opens it. It's pink, to match the rest of the set, and it goes over where Minnie gave her Mommy the shot.

To make sure it works extra well, Minnie adds a kiss, then sits back to wait.

She starts sucking on her fingers again, not to help her think, but because it helps her not be scared - and she's scared her Mommy isn't going to wake up. She doesn't know how long she is supposed to wait for medicine to work - when she plays Doctor with her toys it is always right away. But Mommy isn't a toy. She sits and waits for what feels like at least thirty-two minutes before she tries shaking her Mommy again, “Wake up. Mommy, wake up, please. You gotta wake up.”

She doesn't wake up. She doesn't stop being stinky. She stays asleep and sick.

Minnie doesn't like this. She wants her Mommy to wake up and hug her and tell her it is okay. She doesn't understand why she won't wake up.

Minnie gave her a shot - that should have made her better, right?

Does she need to go to the real doctor? She can't go to the real doctor if she is asleep and Minnie doesn't know how to call the doctor to tell him to come.

Minnie sniffles, trying to hold back from crying. She has to be a big girl, she can't be a baby - being a baby won't help Mommy. She wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of her doctor's coat and tries her bestest to think.

What did Mommy say in their last Big Girl Talk?

They talked about what it means to have a Daddy now. Mommy had told her that meant he was like Mommy, but a boy, and anything that Minnie went to her for, she could also talk to Daddy about.

Maybe Daddy can help Mommy, like he helped with the Monster.

But Daddy isn't here. He doesn't live with them.

But maybe he can hear her? He has really good hearing like Minnie does.

With a new plan in mind, Minnie climbs off the bed and leaves the bedroom. The fan and a/c make lots of noise and he might not hear her over them. The living room is quiet, though, and she gets up onto the couch before looking straight up at the ceiling. Daddy was up there last time.

“Daddy?” She asks, “Daddy, are you there?”

She waits, but there is no answer. Maybe she needs to be louder? So, she tries again, speaking in her Outside Voice.

“Daddy, it's Minnie. Daddy? Can you hear me? I need you, please, thank you.”

The only response she gets is the city. It's not as loud as normal, there's not as many cars or people because it's night - people sleep at night. Maybe he is asleep and can't hear her? Or he is too far away and his hearing can't reach her.

If he is too far away to hear with his ears, she has to find another way for him to hear her. Mommy talks to him on her phone when he is far away, so she has to try that next.

Mommy keeps her phone next to her bed, so Minnie goes back into the bedroom. She's not supposed to play with the phone, but this isn't playing - this is an Emergency. She's allowed to use it for emergencies - even though she never has before. She knows how to unlock it - the numbers are her birthday - and the screen lights up. She looks from the bright phone back to her Mommy sleeping on the bed. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping, so back out to the living room and the couch she goes.

She settles into the cushions then stares at the phone. She knows how to bring up YouTube but not how to call someone, but she can talk to the phone and tell it what to do. She's done that before and Mommy does it all the time. She just has to say the magic words.

“Hey, Siri, call Daddy, please, thank you.”

The phone lights up as it thinks, then the robot-lady in the phone says, “Uh-oh, I do not have a phone number for Daddy.”

Minnie pouts at the phone - she knows that isn't true. Mommy calls Daddy all the time. Then it occurs to her Mommy doesn't call him Daddy. She has to use his grown up name. She tries again, “Siri, please call Mister Matt, please, thank you.”

“Calling Matt Murdock,” the robot-lady says and a moment later, ringing starts coming through the phone. Minnie quickly holds it up to her ear and waits for him to answer.

He doesn't answer. It just rings and rings until another robot-lady starts talking instead, but Minnie doesn't want to talk to her, so she presses the big red button to end the call.

She doesn't know why he didn't answer. His hearing is extra good, so if he was sleeping, he should have heard it - like Minnie heard Mister Chavez. She tries to think of why he wouldn't answer and decides he must not have his phone - Mommy does that sometimes. She forgets her phone places, like she'll leave it in the bathroom.

Maybe he left his phone in the bathroom.

She makes another attempt, telling the phone again to call her Daddy but nothing changes. Only the robot-lady talks to her.

Minnie glares at the phone as she tries to figure out what to do. Mommy needs a doctor and Daddy isn't answering.

Her conclusion is she needs another Adult. She doesn't know many Adults. She knows Miss Apple, who runs Daycare, and Miss Linda, but Minnie doesn't think she is supposed to call them. Mommy never talks to them on the phone, even if they are Adults.

Daddy's friends are Adults, though, and she heard Miss Karen and Froggy tell Mommy to call if she ever needs anything, so maybe it is okay to call them? Minnie hopes so.

Froggy is Daddy’s bestest friend, so that is who she decides to call. If he doesn't answer, she will call Miss Karen. She wipes at her face again, clearing away any tears, then asks the robot-lady, “Hey Siri, call Froggy, please, thank you.”

The phone starts to ring and, to her great delight and relief, is answered after only a few moments. It sounds like he almost drops it before she can hear him breathing directly into her ear.

“‘lo?” A very tired sounding Froggy asks.

“Froggy!” She tries her best to not yell, but she is so happy he answered the phone and now she can help Mommy. Part of her wants to cry because she is happy, but she still needs to be a Big Girl.

She can hear lots of movement on the other end of the call before he answers her, “Minnie, is that you?” He sounds very Worried.

“Yes,” is her response, because it is her. She knows she is supposed to wait for more questions, but she can't help herself. She does her best to not rush out her words.“I need help, please, thank you. Mommy is sick and she won't wake up and she needs to go to the doctor.”

Froggy says a Bad Word, then, “where are you, Minnie?”

“I'm on the couch. It's rude to talk on the phone when someone is sleeping,” she explains, then adds, “Mommy is in bed.”

“Okay. Okay. Did you try to call your Daddy?” He asks. She can hear him moving around a lot more now and that makes her happy. He's going to come help her and she doesn't need to be scared. Froggy is an Adult and can take Mommy to the doctor and she can get better.

“He didn't answer. I tried two times and he's not outside. I can't hears him outside,” she tells him. Froggy knows she and Daddy can hear everything, so that is important to let him know that.

“Of course, he didn't answer,” Froggy says, then he says another Bad Word in a grumpy voice, before his voice gets Nice again, “Okay, sweetie, can you listen to me?”

“I'm listening!” She can listen really good and follow directions. She's a Big Girl.

“I'm going to call your Daddy. He has a…different phone he uses at night. I'm going to call that phone and tell him he needs to come over, okay? And I'm going to come over, too,” he explains.

“A different phone…?” She doesn't understand why he would have more than one but maybe it is an Adult thing.

“Yeah, sweetie, a different phone. But to call it, I need to not be on the phone with you. Is that okay?” Froggy asks.

“You're both gonna come?”

“We're both gonna come,” he promises, “I'll keep calling him until he answers, and we're gonna come over and take care of you and your Mommy. Okay?”

Minnie starts to suck on her finger as she thinks over what he said. She wants to stay on the phone with Froggy - she’s scared and she doesn't want to be alone while her Mommy is sick, but he needs to call her Daddy. Mommy needs Daddy more than Minnie needs Froggy. Part of being a Big Girl is being brave when things are scary and she needs to be brave for her Mommy. She drops her hand to her lap and mumbles, “Okay.”

“Okay, Minnie,” Froggy says, then he gets a nice voice again and she can tell he is smiling, “You did a really good job calling me. I'm proud of you.”

The words make her smile, too, and she tells him, “I'm being a Big Girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he agrees, “You are being such a big girl right now. Your Mommy and Daddy are going to be proud, too. Now, I'm going to hang up and call your Daddy. He might get there before me, but I'm on my way, too. If anything happens, you can call me back, and I'll answer. Understand?”

“I understand,” she says, because she does. Froggy will answer his phone if Minnie calls him. Even if it is night time and everyone else is sleeping.

“Okay, good girl. I'm hanging up now, okay?”

“Okay. Bye-bye,” she says because that is how Mommy says to end a call. She lowers the phone from her face and hits the big red button.

She decides to keep the phone with her and slides off the couch, putting it into her doctor's coat pocket.

Now that she has called an Adult to help, Minnie doesn't know what she's supposed to do, but she does know she wants something to hug to make her feel better. She goes back to the bedroom and grabs Pig and Scooby off her bed before squeezing them tightly to her. They are soft and smell like Mommy and Daddy and make things less scary. Everything will be okay if she has them.

She looks over to where Mommy is sleeping and frowns. She hasn't moved at all since Minnie went to try to call Daddy. Minnie sucks on her lip since her hands are busy holding her toys and tries to figure out what to do next, but all she can think about is how sad Mommy looks in bed.

Does Mommy know she's sick and that's why she won't wake up? Is she scared like Minnie is?

Minnie doesn't want her to be scared.

She rocks side to side for a moment as she thinks over how to make her Mommy not be scared, then slowly makes her way to the bed. She sets Pig down in the ground then, with Scooby Doo in her arms, crawls up to be next to her Mommy. With great care, she places him next to the pillow, then leans in to whisper, “Scooby, you need to watch over, Mommy, okay? I gotta go wait for Daddy and Froggy.”

She pats Scooby on his big head before slowly bending over to give her Mommy a kiss on the cheek, “Don't be scared, Mommy, Scooby knows a lot about being brave when you're scared…and he'll keep you safe, okay?”

Mommy doesn't respond.

Her doctor glasses fall off as she slides back to the floor and she knows she should pick them up, but she doesn't. Instead, she picks up Pig and goes back out to the living room. She opens up her ears again as she does - Mister Chavez is still watching his sports but the rest of the building is quiet. Everyone else is sleeping, even the doggies and kitties.

She tries to listen for Daddy and Froggy as she sits down in front of the television. She closes her eyes and remembers what Daddy said about looking for things. She has to Turn Off the sounds she doesn't want, like turning off the television. She squeezes Pig tight to her and tries really really hard.

Daddy isn't an animal, so she can turn off the doggies barking and the rats getting their dinners. There are no birdies or alleycats around to send away.

“Bye-bye,” she mumbles and closes her ears to them. Her little section of the world slowly gets quieter until she's pretty sure there are no more animals left to distract her.

Next is city noises.

There aren't many cars out on her block - just a taxi man listening to music. He's not Daddy, so she says goodbye to him, too, before he goes away. His car disappears around with him, since there is no one else in there with the taxi man.

Her head is really starting to hurt from all the loud noises she hasn't turned off yet. It's making her dizzy because it's coming from all over and it's hard to understand what it all is. Everything is starting to just become one big scream and she can't tell what is what.

“MINNIE!”

She hears her Daddy’s voice through all the other noises loud and clear and she can't be a Big Girl anymore.

She bursts into tears and begins crying loudly.

She doesn't want to be brave anymore. She's scared. She wants her Mommy to wake up and not be sick. She wants to get into bed and cuddle and watch cartoons on the StarkPad.

She wants her Mommy.

She wants her Daddy.

She turns off her ears and sobs and sobs until two strong arms wrap around her and she is crushed into her Daddy's chest. She clings to him, burying her face into his neck and lets him overwhelm her senses until she can't cry anymore.

Little Doctor Minnie passes out from sheer exhaustion, cradled in the arms of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

-----

a/n: everyone tell Doctor Minnie how proud of her you are

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

@two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 23 days

Text

✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ✦.˳·˖✶.⋆. ✧̣̇⋆

「 ✦ bucky barnes 2 ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all bucky barnes stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

★ part one bucky recs

★ @kinanabinks

☼ jealousy and flirtation

☁︎There's nothing you want more than Bucky Barnes - but you and his best friend, Juniper, seem to have that in common.

☼ sesame and the sweetheart

☁︎ You've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer.

★ @bucksangel

☼ beneath the milky twilight

☁︎ Being Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant has been tough, balancing a full time job while taking care of your younger brothers has you running yourself thin. Then, things take a sharp turn after a dinner with your boss when you disclose your financial situation.

☼ give me a minute

☼ the spark

☁︎James Barnes, the bane of your existence, the man you swore to stay away from. Though his naturally good looks and charming smile may fool many of the women around you, you refuse to fall into his trap. It gets harder to do with every interaction you have with him, and when Bucky gets taken by Hydra, you're forced to face your feelings or risk losing him forever.

☼ until we meet again

☁︎ The Blip changed everything and everyone. With Bucky now gone, and a toddler to raise, you find yourself leaning on Steve for support, as he does with you. What happens when, five years later, Bucky returns to find his best friend and best girl raising a kid? His kid.

★ @adrinktostopyourthirst

☼ sniper

☁︎ Reluctantly, you get thrown into an assignment with Bucky and Yelena, but Bucky doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you. When he's proven to be correct, it turns out you're still a hell of a good team.

☼ pride and privacy

☁︎Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

★ @lives-in-midgard

☼ don’t tell bucky

☁︎ After a night out with Natasha and Wanda reader gets drunk and tells someone about her secret crush on Bucky.

★ @thestarkinternship

☼ mine

☁︎When you went out for drinks with the team one Friday, you had no idea that this was how the night would end: with your back pressed flush against your bedroom door, a shaking thigh hitched over your boyfriend's shoulder and his pretty mouth daring you to completely let go for everyone to hear.

★ @winterarmyy

☼ welcome home…soldat? pt2 pt3 pt4

☁︎ Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

★ @amathslutsguidetofandom

☼ guess i’m just good with them

☼ big, strong man

★ @scoonsalicious

☼ unwanted

☁︎ When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

★ @lanadelreyscokewhor3

☼ sleepwalking

☁︎when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

★ @wkemeup

☼ masterlist

☁︎ all their works <3

★ @seventven

☼ masterlist

☁︎ all bucky works

★ @allyouneedisbuck

☼ i’m begging for you (take my hand)

☁︎ bucky doesn’t do love, you love bucky. being friends with benefits makes sense, right?

★ @jurassicbarnes

☼ please thy neighbor

☼ what a night

☁︎ Bucky Barnes is out in the new world, navigating through everyday life and its trials and tribulations. His therapist insists he tries new things. He has collected a few new hobbies. But when it comes to making new acquaintances, what’s a better way to meet new people than a little dating site called Tinder.

★ @watchmegetobsessed

☼ paper thin walls

★ @onceuponastory

☼ upstairs

☁︎Bucky Barnes is constantly annoyed by his cat Alpine going to visit his upstairs neighbour for treats. That is however, until Bucky meets his new upstairs neighbour Y/N. Who Bucky definitely isn’t in love with. Not at all.

Turns out that a 106 year old man might know more about love than he first thought. And that cats can make excellent wingmen.

★ @dreamwritesimagines

☼ burn the witch

☁︎ There’s a thin line between mission and love, and spies aren’t allowed to cross that line.

★ @bccky

☼ unrequited

☁︎ you realise that you are in love with your best friend, only for him to confess that he loves someone else.

★ @buckysboobs

☼ raw

☁︎ she just wants bucky to fucking destroy her insides and rearrange her guts, but bucky's scared so he rejects her before another one of their love making sessions. she gets mad so making him jealous is the only way left to get him to fulfill her fantasies.

★ @bucksfucks

☼ after hours

☁︎ it’s hard to focus on your PhD when your supervisor is none other than Professor Barnes.

★ @bucky-bucket-barnes

☼ the two of us

☁︎ You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

★ @honeybunchesofbucky

☼ crawling back to you

☁︎ After your breakup with Steve Rogers left you heartbroken and lonely, a night in with a bottle of wine gets interrupted by a familiar face; Bucky Barnes, who’s on a mission to show you what you’ve been missing out on.

★ @samingtonwilson

☼ little boy blue pt2 pt3 pt4

★ @inkedbybarnes

☼ his baby

☁︎ bucky won't call you by your name.

★ @lanabuckybarnes

☼ damn bear

☁︎ Sgt Barnes wins you a bear at a carnival. What he doesn’t expect nor like is when you give it more attention, Bucky shows you that he’s better than the bear.

★ @imyourbratzdoll

☼ angst request

☁︎ bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

★ @buckys-wintersoldier

☼ home is where you are

☁︎ when you hear someone talking about Bucky you offer them your help to find him.

★ @duuhrayliegh

☼ fondue

☁︎ bucky and steve’s daughter have been dating secretly for over half a year, this is how steve finds out.

★ @veltana

☼ unleashed

☁︎ During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

★ @thevillainswhore

☼ a forbidden invitation

☁︎You think a one night stand from the summer, the best fuck of your life, is a done deal — a single, heated encounter that now lives vividly in your memories. But you learn that your actions have consequences when you befriend a new student, starting in the new term, and she invites you over to meet her Dad.

•MASTERLIST

•MARVEL MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes fic rec

373 notes · View notes

vamossainz55 · 9 months

Note

hi, nik! fellow carlos enthusiast here hoping you could write a kiss to shut him up. he’s come home from the gym (post sweaty thirst trap selfie) and is venting about pierre. reader smooches him to stop, reassuring him that he could never do wrong in her eyes 🤫😘

a/n: hi anon, i love love loved writing this. carlos doesn't necessarily vent but reader does smooch him to shut him up. slight jealous carlos, i couldn't help myself sorry. i hope you enjoy <3

(+ insta au at the end w the infamous photo)

let's sweat it out, - cs55

it started as a joke, and it wasn’t meant to be taken as anything beyond that. you didn’t think he’d take it too seriously either as his ‘pobrecito’ comment hinted that the spanish driver hadn’t even taken pierre’s comment to heart. but here you were, watching carlos putting on his shoes on with his back turned towards you.

five years of being together meant you didn’t need to look at carlos’ face to know he’s not in the best mood. you can tell by the way he tightens his shoelaces, the little huff he lets out before he gets up.

“amor,” you say, rolling your eyes when he responds with dime before saying your name. he always did this when he was annoyed, refusing to use any pet name.

“i was joking,” you say for the nth time. you know carlos isn’t upset with you, the frustration of it all probably culminating into him being put into a bad mood.

“maybe you shouldn’t have squeezed him carlos,” he says, voice high pitched with a scrunch of his nose. you roll your eyes at his childish response, crossing your arms over your chest.

“are you mocking me carlos?” your voice is sharp this time, a warning for him not to push it.

he hears it loud and clear since he instantly turns to look at you. “sorry, i know you were joking.” he murmurs before sighing. “i’m gonna go for a run and workout. i’ll be back in a few. do you mind waiting for a late lunch?” he comes over, resta his knee on the edge of the bed to kiss your forehead.

“mhm, thought you were sorry.” you murmur but smile small at the offer anyways. his hand gently squeezes your elbow before he pulls away. “okay, i’ll wait for you for lunch.”

you figure lunch will be… interesting. a few minutes after carlos had left you had seen pierre’s instagram story, a replay of when carlos had supposedly squeezed him.

‘don’t be mad but,’ you had texted him along with a screenshot of the post. it took an hour for him to answer, and what he had sent was one of the last things you had expected to see.

he replies with a photo and nothing else. you open the chat to see what it exactly is and you feel your cheeks burn red as soon as you see it.

the photo is… something. you can see the droplets of sweat forming at almost every strand of hair he has. his locks are disheveled, lips parted as if in the midst of panting. your eyes trail to his collarbones, down to his chest and you have to cover your face, suddenly embarassed as your blush travels down your chest.

before you even muster the courage to reply the notification comes in, carlossainz55 posted on their story.

you’re bright red when you see the photo appear on your screen again. ‘carlos’ you text, 'what is this!! delete!!!!’. it’s technically not explicit, the caption of it saying gym time but it looks so intimate, reminds you of late nights or early mornings that has you feeling antsy.

he doesn’t answer though, not after two texts or five, and you end up hiding your phone inside the closet to stop yourself from looking at that photo. he knows how much waiting drives you crazy.

so he’s not surprised when he gets home to find you in the kitchen, lunch barely started even though he had texted you thirty minutes ago saying he was on the way.

“you didn’t text me back, lost your phone?” carlos asks, smiling innocently at you when you turn over to look at him.

he’s still wearing his gym clothes, the change of clothes left in the bag he had dropped by the door. the fabric clings onto his body and he doesn’t miss the way you eye him.

“left it to charge upstairs,” you murmur, red when you realise carlos fully knows your ogling him.

“oh?” he says before coming closer to you. “but what if you miss one of pierre’s post?” carlos asks, raising his brow.

“huh?” you ask, almost surprised by his words. carlos shrugs, hooks his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans. he pulls you close, loves the way you move towards him without question.

“maybe he releases another statement hm?” his lips hover over yours. “i mean… i shouldn’t have squeezed him after all. my fault hm,” you lean close to kiss him, already riled up from earlier but he doesn’t let you, leans back. “isn’t that what you said this morning?”

“carlos,” you whine, the ingredients on the counter well forgotten.

“you’re so busy with what pierre has to say, giving him all the attention in the world. he must be right hm?” your lips come close again, wanting to interrupt him but he still doesn’t let you.

“everybody knows you didn’t do anything carlos,” you say, antsy for a kiss already.

“mhm, everybody but my girlfriend.” he says, raising his brow.

that’s exactly the moment you realize what all of this is really about. carlos wasn’t mad at pierre, he was jealous of your attention on him.

“god, you’re annoying,” you say, and carlos knows you’ve finally gotten it. “i was joking.”

carlos hums. “are you sure?”

“yes, carlos.” his hands grip your waist.

“really sure?”

“carlos,”

“were you re-“ the words are taken from his lips when you press yourself against him. you cup your face and his hands go to squeeze your waist, lifting you to the counter to let you sit there. he smiles against your lips, lets a soft sigh of satisfaction once you both pull away.

"you know i'll always back you first right?" you ask, raising your brow and carlos nods, pressing his lips against yours again.

"mhm, i know." he says, pressing kisses to your neck. you let your eyes flutter shut but you're quick to remember the story he had posted earlier, and you have to ask.

“so… the photo?” you question, hands already roaming under his shirt.

“well, needed to make sure pierre was the last thing on your mind,” he says smugly. “did it work?”

you wait for a moment, watch as carlos tries to kiss you but this time you lean back, making him regret doing the same earlier. he pouts, blinks when you tap his nose with his finger.

“hmm, i don’t know. maybe.” you say against his lips before kissing him again.

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 293,758 others

yourusername dont worry about him guys. i'll let him squeeze me all he wants 😏 🤫 1 hour ago

charles_leclerc: ... oh 😦 54m ago

fan1: who wants to bet it took charles more than ten minutes to get what yn meant 28m ago liked by carlossainz55

fan2: WHY IS NOBODY SAYING ANYTHING ABOUT THE MEME 26m ago

fan1: no bc the mouth froth is so real. 25m ago

carlossainz55: coming home rn 🏃🏻‍♂️ 59m ago

yourusername: you're literally right next to me 57m ago

landonorris: NOT INFRONT OF THE KIDS 40m ago

yourusername: what kids? we're making them rn 20m ago

landonorris: i'm gonna throw up 🤢 18m ago liked by charles_leclerc

fan3: not the carlos sainz apologist 10m ago

fan4: LMAO shes his gf ofc she would be??? 6m ago liked by yourusername

yourusername: carlos apologist first, carlos fucker second 3m ago

fan4: girl i-

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #cs55 #a kiss... drabble

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randoimago · 7 months

Note

Hi there! Could you please do headcanons on Astarion, Karlach, Will and Hanson with a significant other who tries to hide their accent, but it slips through every once in a while? Thank you!!

Hearing Their S/O's Accent That's Kept Secret

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Karlack, Halsin, Wyll

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): I'm assuming autocorrect got you with Wyll and Halsin (I was so confused as to who Hanson is in BG3 before my Int check succeeded and I realized who you meant)

Astarion

Kind of side eyes you a bit when he hears your little slip up. It definitely makes him curious. At first, he thought that maybe your mouth was running faster than your brain and that was why you said something a bit differently.

Except the more he listened, the more he could hear the subtle differences in your pronunciation, and it just causes a smug, knowing smile to cross his face. Doesn't bring it up right away since you all have your secrets.

You can bet that if he hears you scolding him or something because he teased or mentioned killing someone, then he'll gladly bring up your accent. He does a ridiculous mimicry of it and waits to see how you react to the fact he figured out the obvious secret you were trying to keep.

Astarion doesn't really care too much about your accent. It was fun for a bit trying to figure it out, but now he just wants to hear you talk to him in your normal voice. Let him hear all the different twangs or different phrases you use cause of the dialect. He won't tease you about it, much.

Halsin

Smiles a tad when he hears you pronounce something just a bit off. He can't help but step in and correct you, or at least say it the way that this region says it.

Rather it embarrasses you or not, Halsin does apologize for the correction, but he figured it'd be good to know how it's pronounced by others just so you know why everyone else is speaking silly.

He's also one that would like to hear you talk in your true tone but understands if you're hiding it for one reason or another. Just know that whenever you're comfortable to speak, that he'll always be happy to listen.

And if you'd like to hear how something is supposed to be pronounced (or typically pronounced in the region) then he'll tell you and smile a bit if you go on a tangent about why it's pronounced a certain way that makes no sense to you.

Karlach

She noticed something was a tad off with how you spoke and she'll pull you aside and ask about it. If you do tell her about your hidden accent, then she gets so excited because she knew your pronunciation was a bit different.

Finds it a tad silly to keep your accent secretive. I mean, you travel with her and she's loud and proud about the way she talks. And you also know Astarion, someone that speaks much differently from her. And then there's Lae'zel... Don't even get her started on Withers!

I mean, look, she gets being self-conscious and having those bad thoughts about yourself, she gets them a lot with how her heart is. But with the group of weirdos that you all are, she hopes that you can learn to be proud of how you speak and where you came from.

So, until you're proud to speak with your normal voice, she's going to be like a little kid and ask you how you pronounce different things. You can bet that she wants to hear you mimicking her voice in your cute accent. Doesn't even care the context or how you say it, she wants to hear you attempt to mimic her voice.

Wyll

He's pretty well traveled so when he hears your little slip up, he knows that it's less of a stumbling of words and more that it is a dialect. He does try to piece where it's from, but it'll take him a few more times of hearing your accent slip out.

When he does piece it together, he gets pretty excited and will approach you in camp about it. He just asks if you're from that specific area and that's the cause of the accent or because you had a parent that spoke that way. Either way, he's curious and wants to hear more of it.

Wyll has hid his birthright from many people, so he understands if you wanted to hide your accent for similar reasons. Or if it was just being embarrassed of how you talk. Either way, he won't pressure or force you to speak if it bothers you.

Does try to keep an ear out for more of your slip ups. Even if you're embarrassed about them, he enjoys getting the few glimpses of your accent as he can. Wyll is also always happy to hand out compliments to you with how your voice is a perfect melody to him.

#baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #halsin x reader #karlach x reader #wyll x reader

884 notes · View notes

thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 22 days

Text

There's an anger in me (I think I learned it from you)

hope here needs a humble hand - series masterlist here

pairing: platonic bruce wayne x reader, platonic dick grayson x reader

length: 1.9k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: reader and dick get into a fight and dick is so mean. reader definitely has trauma and issues but Good Dad Bruce Wayne is here so it's fine and also Big Brother Dick in the end

a/n: I'm not a dick grayson hater but I do think he'd be the biggest bitch and say the meanest shit in a fight. anyway life is kicking my ass so bad rn so idk if this is even any GOOD but you can have it <3

Alfred sighs to himself, a disapproving sort of frown finding its way onto his face as he listens to your raised voice, you and Dick butting heads again. It's not uncommon for you to find reason to argue with the others, but it is tiresome - frustrating to him that you can't seem to lay down this constant fight of yours that you live with.

And Dick? Well, as he spits an insult back and you and you shove at his chest, Alfred idly thinks that maybe he's your worst target so far. Dick Grayson may be kind under typical circumstances, but anger like this brings out the worst in him.

"At least Bruce wanted me," he snaps at you. "You just shoved your way in."

That doesn't just stop you, it stops everyone in their tracks. It especially stops Bruce, who had come into the Cave when he'd gotten word from Alfred about another fight. And there's just… silence at first. You, staring up at Dick with wide, hurt eyes while his anger slowly melts, regret replacing it.

"Hey, I didn't mean -" but you don't stay to listen, fleeing past Bruce and out of the Cave, despite his calls of your name. You don't stick around to hear the way Bruce rips into Dick about it, berating him for even suggesting such a thing, before he follows you up to the Manor.

Alone in your room, with the walls closing in on you and your lungs squeezing painfully, your breath catches as you hear footsteps approaching. Bruce's knocks on your door are as gentle as the way he calls your name, asking you to please open the door.

You don't.

How can you? He's right, he's right, he's right - Bruce didn't want you. How much trouble have you caused since you got here? - too much, your brain supplies. And Dick is right, Bruce didn't want you… he couldn't have. You, with your headstrong determination, pushing your way into anything and everything that you'd ever wanted. You, with your heels always dug in and your arms always crossed and your shoulders always squared. How could he possibly want that?

You pace behind your locked door, pulling on your hair as your breath quickens, words you've heard a million times running through your head.

Spoiled, selfish, stubborn -

Bruce's voice on the other side of the door isn't enough to drown it out, his promises of, "I love you, we all love you. Dick didn't mean that, and he'll apologize to you when you're ready. Please come out, sweetheart… I love you, and you have always been wanted by me. You've always been wanted by this family."

You stare at the door as if glaring hard enough would make it soundproof, your breath still coming out in short little gasps as you clench your fists, nails digging into the skin of your palms. You watch through blurred vision as Bruce's shadow shifts and darkens under the door - you watch as he settles on the other side of the wood, determined not to leave you to do this alone.

"You come out whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he says gently. "I'll be here."

You scoff, turning abruptly away from the door - away from him. He won't stay - he won't, he won't, he won't -

"I won't leave you." Bruce's voice is heard again and you squeeze your eyes shut. It's like he knows, and you can't figure out how, can't fathom the idea that he really has been paying attention all this time, that he knows you and your ticks and your traumas. You curl up on top of your bed, determined to just shut down until it's all over - until he gives up and leaves you be. Maybe then you can leave, too - leave for real. Maybe it would all be better if you slipped out quietly, off into the city, into someone else life and away from this one. Maybe there really wasn't room for you in this family.

When you wake later, the first thing you're forced to notice is the throbbing behind your eyes and the light that streams in through the window, the sun beginning to set and bathing you in a halo-like glow. Sitting up, you notice a shadow still stationed on the other side of your door, having stayed, unmoving, for as long as you'd been hiding.

Getting up slowly, you make your way to it, sitting down with your back against the door and letting your head thump rather loudly against the wood of it. It's only then that Bruce moves, shifting on the other side. You clench your fists on your lap as words get caught on their way out. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for staying.

"Why are you still there?" Is all that ends up coming out, the words harsh as they cut through the air. You flinch at hearing them, your own voice hatefully foreign to you.

"Because I love you," Bruce says simply, like it's such an easy thing. "And I promised I wouldn't leave you." You sit still after that, turning what he's said over in your mind again and again and again before standing abruptly and wrenching your door open, relying on Bruce's reflexes to get himself up and standing by the time you do.

Fortunately, he's always been a little faster than you, always a little better. By the time you're looking at him, he's standing in your doorway, his shoulders slumped as he slouches down to look you in the eye. He's making himself smaller, you realize, something that feels like regret eating away at you. He's making himself small and it's your fault.

But Bruce isn't looking at you like he blames you, and the way he ever so gently puts his hands on your shoulders and presses a kiss to the crown of your head speaks only of love. Only of forgiveness. You stand straighter when he does, a silent urge for him to do this same - for him to be tall for you. Maybe then, you wouldn't have to be.

"It's true, though, isn't it? You ask, something pained in your voice that you can't quite hide.

"It's not." There's a way he says it, like it's written in some holy text somewhere and he's promising it now because faith demands it. "You are always wanted here. And you always will be."

"What if I never believe that?"

"Then we'll keep telling you." You shoot Bruce a look at his assuredness, one that just makes him smile down at you.

"Even Dick?" You ask, uneasiness finding its home in you despite your clenched fists and set jaw.

"Especially Dick, he answers easily. "I'm sure he'll spend a very long time trying to make up for this. He never means it, you know - there's this anger in him that he can't quite shake sometimes." Your shoulders slump at his words and you drop your chin, eyes trained on the floor.

"Yea," your voice is bitter. "That, I understand."

You find, later that night, that you wish Dick didn't care quite so much. Your mask covers your face, the hard set of your jaw and the annoyance that pulls down your brows, but in the faint moonlight of the docks, you're sure Dick can see the taught pull of your shoulders.

Thank god it's a slow night, you find yourself thinking as you perch on the edge of a rooftop, kicking your legs over the edge. You know he's around, watching and waiting and trying to find a moment to approach you. You think you'll have to find the moment for him when Nightwing finally sits next to you, his movements silent and slow. He looks at you long and hard, his own eyes hidden behind his mask as you stare out at the water, waiting for him to decide how this will all go.

"I don't always say the right thing," is what he ends up confessing. "And it wasn't fair for you to be on the receiving end of that. I'm… sorry."

"I started it," you say simply. "You shouldn't apologize for biting back."

"No," Dick says carefully, tapping his finger on his thigh. "But I should apologize for how I did it." You look at him, then, eyes searching his face and cursing the masks you both wear, layers of protection against anyone who would try to know you.

"Did you mean it?" You finally ask. "Is it true? Because if it is… if it is, then you should only apologize for lying to me up till now."

"It's not," Dick answers, and there's something in the clear ring of his voice that reminds you of Bruce. Your lips twitch into a smile as you think of how unhappy he'd be to find that out. "Things with Bruce and I… well, I'm sure you know they weren't always good."

"I don't actually know everything," you huff back. "Even my eavesdropping has limitations - especially with all of you. You're a lot harder to hide from than everyone else." Dick grins at that, a self-satisfied sort of thing that makes you regret speaking.

"Well, it's lucky, I guess," he goes on. "The Bruce you know now - he's a lot better than he was in the beginning."

"Don't you think we all are?" You ask before you can stop yourself, eyes snapping back out to the water as you desperately try to close yourself off from him, heart hammering at the response you're sure to get. There is no part of you that's getting better. There is no part of you that can be good. But Dick just readjusts how he's sitting, sliding closer so that your shoulders bump and he can tap your hands with his own, a silent chide for the way you twist your fingers nervously.

"You're right," he says plainly, and suddenly you're glad for the masks. You're not sure what would happen if you looked over and saw that big brother, sick-with-pride look he's so fond of. "When Jason came along, it felt a bit too much like being replaced. I know it was a long time ago, but… maybe I still feel it a bit more than I should - whenever anyone new comes along. It's not your fault… it's not your fault and I'm glad you're here."

You sigh at his words, tipping back until you're laying on the rooftop, your legs still kicking over the edge as you pretend to look up at the stars, blinking tears away rapidly behind your mask. You're sure he knows, but you're also sure he's too kind to say anything, laying back with you and interlocking his hands behind his head to lean on.

There's a lot you think you should say right now. I'm sorry, I love you, thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for not leaving me behind. Thank you for not giving up on me.

"What are you hanging around here tonight for, anyway?" Is what comes out instead, but you find you aren't so bothered by it this time.

"Want me to stick around? Finish your patrol with you?" Is his only answer. You huff.

"I don't need help taking care of the docks. I've been doing that longer than I've been involved with you idiots." Dick laughs, loud enough that you groan and roll away from him, standing up and crossing your arms.

"Well, you never know, then," he responds easily as he swings himself to his feet. "Maybe we could learn something from each other."

"Fine," you snipe back, but you can't help the way you bounce on the balls of your feet, a weight you hadn't realized you'd been carrying starting to lift. "Maybe we can."

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yourlocalstranger123 · 7 months

Note

Hello may I request a yandere Imbibitor Lunae (From HSR) with a reader who is a writer and very lazy doesn't mind getting kidnapped as long as the reader (You could pick the gender if u could a male) can write and very flirty and openly affectionate

Take care ❤

I'm not actually sure what you meant, but I'm just guessing that you'd prefer me doing a male so ima do it <3 of course, there isn't much details/words saying out-loud the reader is male so it can still be seen as any gender!

《 I am so sorry if you just wanted full fluff and ur a minor. If you do not feel comfortable with the pictures at the end, I don't mind taking it down!! Again, IM SO SORRY IF U DO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE (つд；*) 》

Warning!: Kidnapping?, ofc yandere theme, broken stuff, stalking, containment, blood, murder, also slight sexual themes under the 2nd set of pictures(aka the mostly sussy one)

MINORS DNI Unless you are okay seeing some slight sexual themes. It's not fully smut, so it's okay rn.

A/N: I will still put gn, female, male reader tags but if you think that the reader is too manly or smt, I'll change it. And sorry if I used wrong tags ALSO ARTIST CREDIT IS AT THE END (except for the official art bc it's og from hsr so)

Info for reader's figure: SORRY IF U DIDN'T WANT THE MALE(or any gender since it doesn't clarify that the reader is a male) READER TO BE TALLER AND IG SLIGHTLY LARGER? IM SORRY. (´д｀|||)

–◇{Imbibitor Lunae}◇–

You simply went out for groceries. Buying some decent ingredients to make food. As you were walking back to your house, you felt someone was watching you. Looking around to see no one's eyes looked at you, you simply shrugged off the feeling and walked home tiredly. (If you had a sharp eye, you would've seen horns and a tail sticking out behind a tree....suprised that no one saw him)

You put the ingredients in the fridge, not feeling like eating dinner today. Yawning as you simply flopped down onto the bed, not even bothering to change clothes. As your eyes finally close as you drift off to sleep, you feel a figure hovering over you. But of course, you didn't get up since it was soooo comfy. Who wants to get off of bed when they FINALLY get a comfortable position to sleep.

So the figure took its advantage and....held your hand-? You feel the figure holding both of their hands to hold yours. You started to feel a bit uneasy. Maybe this is just a dream! Surely it is... you felt the other side of the bed droop as the weight of the person was on it. You can feel them trying to snuggle into your embrace, hearing them hesitantly sigh in delight as they get closer in contact.

This must be a very strange but nice dream..... The next morning, you sat up and stretched out your arms, then remembering that strange "dream" you experienced. Quickly turned your head to the other side of the bed, and you found nothing. Perhaps it was just a realistic dream! Surely no one broke into your house without any traces or not even do anything bad!(yet)

You heard something crashing, quickly running out of your room. You see a bunch of shattered plates, glasses, a broken chair, and....He even dropped the books you hard-workingly wrote on! Is he serious?! You went up to the figure, seeing his eyes widen, but you didn't care. You started lightly scolding him for breaking your books! Now you have to write the whole thing again!(the book wasn't totally a fan fiction, lmao)

His face clearly showed confusion as you continued lightly scolding him. Seeing his tail slightly droop, you stopped and sighed. Forgiving him, you were about to wave him off until you felt his tail wrapping around your leg before he crossed his arms. Frowning(pouting) at you and refused to let you go. You were about to try to get out of his grasp to re-organize the books that fell, but you soon felt dizzy, passing out before you felt him hugging you.

You found yourself in a locked room(his room?) with chains that were tied onto the bed to restrict you going too far. You heard footsteps as you saw a head with horns peeking out of the doorway, then the figure finally showed himself. (why dies he have blood on him?)

You could see him hesitating but soon let himself lay his head on your lap. Tilting his head up to look at you, quietly asking what you want for breakfast. (he's quite cute even though he had blood on him, and the blood is slightly smearing on your shirt and pants) You simply ask for an apple.

He tilted his head in confusion, asking you again, what PROPER breakfast meal do you want. (Yeah, you should get a proper meal. You know who you are) You said again, an apple. He sighed and regrettably had to leave your warmth to give you an apple. (Why weren't you mad at him? Aren't you scared that he kidnapped you?)

Before he left the door, you asked him to give you a pen or pencil and a paper if he could. Which he complied and did, only sitting beside you and watching you write a story down. But as he tried to read it, you covered his face and put away the paper. He tried to move your hands, but when he did, he felt you kiss his forehead. He quickly scooted away, trying to process what had just happened. You kissed him???.....That means you love him, right? It has to be!

You could see the blush forming around his face and neck. Hearing you chuckle made him even blush more. "Oh my, you're red as a tomato!!" You said, slightly laughing. He becomes more embarrassed but so delighted because you love him! Surely, you even kissed him on his forehead! You won't go, you won't leave him or hate him.....right..? He held your hand, hoping for more affection from you. Seeking it, desiring it, needing it

Timeskip:

"Mine..." he mumbles as he snuggles against your palm. He shudders and lets out a soft sigh when you touch his horns. Rubbing the base of his horns, he watches you enjoy touching his horns as you smile. You were about to retract your hand, but he grabbed your wrist and begged for more of your affection and warmth.

Not wanting to let go of you, he wrapped his tail around your body and tightly hugged you in place. He looked so adorable when he frowns(pouts) as he looked up at you. You couldn't resist teasing him,

You held his chin and went closer to his lips. Which in return, his face becomes red as his thoughts explode and are scattered everywhere. He shuts his eyes, waiting for you to kiss him.....but you didn't. He opened his eyes after hearing you chuckle. How mean! You didn't give him a kiss :(

His face was full of shock and disappointment. He desperately tried to get a kiss from you, tugging your sleeve he politely asks for one. He was still satisfied when you smothered his face with kisses(except for the lips, sadly) he flinched when he felt your hands petting his tail. Covering his own mouth from letting out pleasurable sighs.

"You have such beautiful scales." You said, softly picking up the tail closer to your face and kissing it, making him feel flustered. You stared at the fluff on the end of his tail, so you softly pet it too. "It's quite fluffy and soft, I feel like I'm in some sort of paradise," you slightly laughed at the statement you made.

He retracts his tail, and he suddenly rips out a scale from it. He hissed at the pain but soon held both of your hands and put the scale onto it. It was a token of his love. "I would do anything for you to prove my love, even if I have to get my hands dirty, even if I have to injure myself too. So please love me back," He begs. His sanity and life are in your hands. You were still shocked and concerned as he said this. Hearing you sigh, he panicked. Did he do something wrong? He's sorry! Please forgive him, he'll try his best to fix it! :(

He becomes putty in your hands, letting you bandage his tail (although it was a bit hard since his tail was thrashing around as he was very happy for some reason.) You kissed the injury on his tail, making him tilt his head in wonder and blush....

Soon, he lets you out of the room and even outside! Of course not without him. He glares daggers into people. If his stare could kill people, the whole world wouldn't even exist. He was about to kill the merchant that touched your hand! How dare they touch you?! (Poor merchant was trying to give you a sample of food)

And he kills the people who try to flirt with you and dispose of their corpse. He comes home all bloody as you scold him. You had to take HOURS to wash the blood off of him. And it's even worse when it got on the fur of his tail! (One time, he whimpered and moaned by accident when you scrubbed his horns and tail....didn't appear for a whole week unless u were going outside)

But he becomes sooooo flustered when you flirt with him and especially in public. (He thought you were showing people that he was yours....I mean, I can't say it's not true)

He always whines and begs if you don't give him your attention and affection. And of course, all of your love within 2 minutes. And if you don't, you'll have to comfort him that you do love him because he starts over-thinking that you don't anymore or he has done something wrong.

He was getting some empty books for you to write on until he found a book with the exact same writing.....(he may or may have bought it) he definitely bought it. He read the whole context, and whenever you were near him lately, his face turned redder than red itself! (The book was about you and him love life)

Oh, how he loves you.....he wonders how you'll react when he gives you the heart of the person you hate..well, he won't do it now until marriage.

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vanderlesbian · 8 months

Text

husband price + ghost hcs

literally just got into cod and i immediately fell so hard for price and ghost erm.......so enjoy some hcs! if they're slightly ooc i apologize...i'm still really new to their characters

gn reader! no warnings <3

**i use [spouse] so you can insert your preferred term :) husband/wife/spouse/etc

captain john price

- being married to a captain means a lot of nights where price doesn't come home until well after midnight from the amount of work that gets thrown onto him. you try your best to stay up those nights, waiting for his return so you can make him something quick to eat before cleaning him up for bed. though, a lot of the times you get too tired, and price will walk in to see you passed out on the couch. you always wake up in your bed with your husband's arms around your waist and his face buried in your neck.

- because price is always away from home for long periods of time, when he comes back expect to not lift a finger to do anything. he'll feel bad for having you manage the home alone for such long periods of time, so when he is at home he'll do everything for you. cook, clean, run errands—everything. though, sometimes you insist that you help him, saying that it's no fair that he comes home from work just to work some more at home. you find it more enjoyable when the two of you do chores together, anyways.

- he was so outwardly confident with proposing to you, but i know for a fact that he was like a shaking chihuahua on the inside. i definitely think you would date him for quite a long time before finally deciding to get married, so when price takes you to a spot you guys haven't visited since the beginning of your relationship to propose to you, your heart melts realizing that he remembered something from so long ago.

- your wedding was small and simple, with only close friends and family attending. price had more guests with all of the people he knows from work, but you've grown to like them all as much as he does. you have plenty of photos of the 141 boys drunk during the reception, and maybe a few pictures of a drunk, dancing price that he only lets you see out of embarrassment.

- speaking of the 141 boys, they'll often be at your place to watch football or to simply just hang out. you don't mind it in the slightest; they're all very kind to you. gaz is very formal with you because you're his captain's spouse, and you've told him multiple times that it's okay for him to use your first name rather than mr/mrs. price. the others are very casual with you, but know not to cross any boundaries with price watching. of course, i don't think they would do that to begin with, but regardless price is very protective of you.

- you will definitely nag him about his smoking habits. even if you find it attractive, you know it's not good for him. price and laswell will bond over the fact that their spouses hate it.

- price will ignore others to give you his undivided attention. soap would be blowing up his phone with text messages, hearing it buzz in the back pocket of his pants as he has you against the kitchen counter with his hands on your hips and his lips on yours. "john, it sounds important-" "it can wait." he'll mutter in that attractively low voice of his as he swiftly pulls the phone from his pocket and tosses it elsewhere before immediately pulling you back into another kiss.

- breakfast would be your time to catch up with one another. the most peaceful time of day, the both of you are always up early and sitting at the dining table with a hot cup of tea. he loves asking you about any new happenings that he missed while he was gone, and will watch with a soft smile as you enthusiastically tell him about it. you then do the same with him as he tells you about work, and you can always see his body relaxing as he speaks to you. after breakfast, he likes to invite you on his morning walks where you'll continue your conversations.

- i do think price would want kids; maybe one or two. while his job takes him away from home a lot, he'll always make time for his family, even if that means taking time off. he makes sure not to miss any important dates, and if it can't be helped, he'll make sure to spend time with you guys afterwards. seeing the way price smiles and laughs with your kids is something that you will cherish forever.

simon "ghost" riley

- ghost didn't see himself getting married until he met you. even then he was very hesitant for a long time, but as the two of you deepened your relationship, he realized that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

- ghost would need a lot of reassurance not only as a boyfriend, but also as a husband. he does not know how to be a husband in the slightest. he thinks he has to know how to do everything automatically, so you often have to reassure him that you're just as new to this as he is.

- being married to you, ghost trusts you more than anyone on the planet. you're the only one who can lift that mask from his face with your own hands, and he lets you trace your fingers along his scars. it took a long time to get to this point; you didn't judge ghost for not being very touchy while you were dating because you were aware of his circumstances. he also showed his love in other ways, mostly with gifts and acts of service. though, after getting married, ghost made it a point to be more physically affectionate with you. now, he loves resting his head in the crook of your neck and holding you tight and close, especially after a long day or mission.

- he isn't into making things very public, so his proposal was very private and probably took place at home, but made sure to make things as romantic as they can be in simon riley's world. your wedding would also be very small and probably in the backyard, but it would still be cute and magical. you've never seen ghost so full of life until your wedding day.

- he doesn't like to burden you with his work. before he leaves for a mission, he'll make sure everything at home is ready for you. fridge is stocked, clothes are washed, the toilet you've been bothering him about is fixed—he doesn't want you to worry about anything while he's gone. even when he's away from home, he'll text you a simple "you alright?" to check in on you.

- after you got together with ghost, you became his mask maker. when his mask gets torn or stained, you either fix it for him or make him a new one. at this point, you could paint a perfect skull with your eyes closed. when soap teases ghost about the mask, he'll tell him that you made it, which then makes soap feel guilty LOL. "why do you keep that mask on anyway? you scared?" "[spouse] made it."

- oh he is so cold and scary on the battlefield, but the moment he has time to himself and turns on his phone to see a message from you saying "i miss you :(" his entire world explodes. nobody could tell, but he wants nothing more but to be with you when he's away. in all those times he's spacing out while with the other 141 members, he's most likely thinking about you.

- i don't think ghost would want kids, but if you express that you do, he'll reconsider. he would just be scared that he wouldn't make a good dad, but if you do have kids, it's quickly shown otherwise. he definitely treats kids like tiny adults, but he's never harsh with them. imagine his large, scary figure sitting himself in a kindergarten sized chair after your kid pleaded for him to come in for career day.

- what ghost will want though is a dog. if you decide not to have kids, a dog will be your baby. a big ol german shepherd or a rottweiler, you guys will spoil that dog like it's royalty. you think it's cute to watch ghost kneel down to pet the dog, and sometimes you'll find them together taking a nap. you like to tease that he loves the dog more than you.

#need to write them as dads now #call of duty #cod #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley #x reader #headcanons #fluff #domestic #husband #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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euovennia · 1 year

Note

I am yet again requesting headcanons for the 141 (or whoever you want <3) with a reader who has an angry resting face. And to add onto that, they are very expressive with their love but it comes off as aggressive (not on purpose) because they always look, you know, mad. Like when reader says "I love you," it sounds like a threat and really, they look like they wanna kill them, but they don’t.

whew, i'm so sorry for the wait on this! i took a small break from tumblr so i could focus on finishing some assignments i had for my classes, but they're all completed and turned in so i should be good for now! also i wasn't 100% sure if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic, so i tried to write it to where it could be interpreted as both. thank you for requesting and, as always, i hope you enjoy :)

warnings: none other than the fact that i don't know how to stop myself from typing more than i need to

summary: the 141 learns to adjust to life with their newest recruit; you.

john 'soap' mactavish

when price first introduces you to the group, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong

and honestly no one can really blame him for feeling that way

the expression that paints your face when you make eye contact with him practically screams, "sleep with one eye open"

and while it is mildly terrifying, he only sees it as a challenge

because in his mind, if he can get the mighty ghost to warm up to him, he can get anyone to warm up to him

so as soon as price cuts you loose from the brief introductions, he's already right by your side pestering you with various questions

and while it was a bit off-putting, you weren't really surprised because price had already told you all about soap before he decided he wanted you on his team

so you just kinda stood there and let him fire off his questions while answering them with that angry expression and bored monotone voice that he can't help but love

like you're standing there, arms crossed with perhaps one of the most pissed off expressions he's ever seen in his life but all his mind can think is >:(

needless to say, he doesn't take your prickly exterior too seriously and it's because of this he's able to get closer to you a lot quicker than the other members do

and it's because of this he tends to vouch for you a lot more to the other members when it comes to getting to know you

"they're not that bad, i swear!"

"johnny, they look like they wanna rip your arm off every time you're near them."

"but they don't, that's the funny part!"

best believe this man is fighting for his life whenever your rbf gets brought into the conversation

and i imagine that one day you actually manage to overhear one of these little debates/conversations (tbh they could go either way with how divided they can be over it, especially when it's gaz vs soap)

and you can't just ignore the way your heart warms as you hear soap valiantly defend your honor

it's one of the few times you're genuinely thankful for his big mouth

after listening in to the conversation for a few more minutes you eventually decide to walk away, heart full and the smallest of smiles pulling at the edge of your lips

i think it goes without saying that you go a little sweet on him after that encounter

well

as sweet as you can go when you're the human embodiment of >:(

at least in the opinion of soap

you don't really see the resemblance tbh

anyway

you start doing little things for him

things like offering to take watch for him when you're both on a mission because you noticed that he hadn't really bothered getting any rest

sitting by his side and letting him ramble on about his family, especially how he always begged his parents to let him stay with his nan over the summer because she owned a little family farm that he absolutely loved to run around on

and even the time you learned how to make scotch pie using his mom's recipe he had tucked away in his room

no matter how much he may deny it, that last one had him tearing up as soon as he took a bite

but honestly, can you blame him?

the man barely gets to visit his parents back home because of his work and it crushes him

honestly, it was probably one of the first few things he confided in you when you first started talking

so naturally when price announces that the 141 has been approved for a two week leave, you don't hesitate in logging onto the computer and buying him the first tickets back to scotland

what you do hesitate with is actually giving them to him

so you decide to gloss over that part completely and instead opt for shoving the tickets inside an plain envelope with his name scribbled on the front and a small note that simply reads, "go." before sliding it under his door the night before everyone is scheduled to depart from base

the moment soap gets his hands on those tickets he can't help the way he runs through the halls and bursts into your room to give you the biggest hug you've ever had in your life

unfortunately for you both, you'd already left base by the time he discovered the tickets

and so with a heavy heart, soap makes his way back to his room before packing his bags with a new vigor

the plane leaves in six hours, but he's so excited he can't help but want to arrive early

needless to say those are probably the best two weeks of his life

and while the others are interested in hearing all about his trip, he simply brushes them off in favor watching the door so he can be there for the exact moment you walk in

and after making him wait more than what he felt was necessary, you finally walk in

and this man

the way he shoots up from his seat and runs over to hug you

it's almost enough to send you both flying to the ground

but luckily you've got some stellar balance and manage to save yourselves from being teased by the rest of the team

but with the way soap is squeezing onto you while repeatedly whispering, "thank you," into the nape of your neck, you don't doubt they'll make fun of you for that

even with the mild embarrassment you feel, you simply wrap your arms around the scottish man and offer him a few pats on the back

and as sweet as it is for the other men to witness such a tender scene, they can't help but notice how upset you look

it's almost laughable

and as much as they want to step in and tell soap to back off, they can't help but notice the way you cling onto soap with that soft look in your eyes

so they remain quiet as you and soap hang onto each other, hearts full of warmth

kyle 'gaz' garrick

i'm gonna say it now

out of anyone in the 141, he was probably the one most intimidated by you

he's the youngest out of everyone and so it stands that, naturally, he has less experience than others

it's for this reason i think he's so keen on staying close to price

i mean the man practically plucked him off the streets and said, "you're mine now," so i think it's reasonable that gaz grows a tad more attached to price than the other members

so when he catches a few glimpses of you around base barking orders at the recruits and slamming them into the mats during sparring sessions, he's not exactly dying to meet you

even so, he finds he's not too worried about the possibility

with how often the 141 departs base to go on various missions and how you always seem to be too caught up in whatever you're doing at the time to be bothered to even glance his way, he eventually comes to the conclusion that you'll never meet

until one day price strolls into the common area where he and the rest of the team are minding their own business with you trailing right beside him looking aggravated as ever

he's already a bit uneasy with the fact you now know where the team goes to relax, but that unease slowly shifts to downright horror when price reveals that you're the newest member of the team

now gaz is usually a pretty easygoing and friendly guy so any chance to meet and bond with new people is always bound to be a good time in his book

but he can't help the shiver that crawls up his spine whenever you're around

seriously, who or what made you look so pissed off all the time?

anyway

because he's so hesitant of being around you, he tries his hardest not to bother you

which basically means he tries not to be in the same room as you

and while you may not really notice or care, the rest of the team certainly does

especially price

he's the type of man who prides himself on having a team that knows they can all rely on one another on and off the field and so he'll be damned if you and gaz are the ones to ruin his little streak

so guess who gets assigned to accompany you and the recruits on your morning workouts from now on?

gaz!

and while he's not necessarily thrilled about the idea of being forced into such close proximity to you, especially first thing in the morning, he respects price enough to not question his decision and just ends up going along with it

and at first he doesn't really pay you much attention in an effort to not do anything to accidentally make you even more upset than he already assumes you are

but then he starts to notice something

he notices the way the recruits light up whenever they see you, whether it be during the morning workout sessions or when you're walking around base

and it baffles him because you just look so upset, he can't possibly imagine why they're all so keen on sending you wide smiles or enthusiastic waves

but one day he looks just a little bit closer and he can see the faintest hint of amusement on your face as your lips showcase the ghost of a smile

that's when he really starts to pay attention

and suddenly he can't help but feel a little ashamed of himself

because now he can practically feel his heart melt every time you interact with the recruits

like how you would bring extra ice-cold water bottles to the morning workouts for the recruits who'd forget to bring their own

or the way you wouldn't hesitate to slide them some money if they mentioned being hungry while you were around

and especially how you don't hesitate to lend an ear for them if they seemed to be troubled by something

it's in those few little moments that he can see just the tiniest cracks through your annoyed expression and heated glares

you're not angry at all, he decides, just real shit at expressing yourself

and upon deciding this, he realizes you're not so scary anymore

so now instead of avoiding you like the plague, he actively seeks you out

at first it's to help you out with carrying the extra water bottles for the recruits in the morning and planning the workouts for the week

but then it turns into him asking to sit with you at the mess hall over dinner and keeping each other company in the commons area

and as much as he tries not to, he can't help the giddiness that floods his body when you start to show him that aggressive love he sees you dish out to the recruits

shoving snacks into his hands when you notice he hasn't eaten in a while

quietly sitting with him while he goes through paperwork because you both know he has a tendency to get distracted

and his personal favorite, draping your jacket over him when you walk in on him sleeping anywhere that isn't his room

he always wakes up with a smile tugging on his lips

and despite how cold and distant you may look while doing these things, he doesn't give it much attention anymore

not when he can see the love and care that's reflected in your eyes

simon 'ghost' riley

despite you and ghost having similar exteriors, it becomes more and more apparent to gaz and soap that you're actually quite different

which isn't a bad thing, of course! just a bit unexpected

but it's because of this striking difference that you and simon tend to keep a majority of your interactions on the field

and you both are more than happy to keep it this way

gaz and soap however, are not

so naturally they put together a plan; a plan that consists of soap giving you his most treasured tactical pen so you can use it to write away in that little journal of yours on the ride back from missions just so he can later "confront" ghost and admonish him for stealing said pen

and during all this, gaz simply remains on the sidelines just looking pretty

anyway

after laying into simon for a good ten minutes, soap walks away from the encounter with a small smile before walking up to gaz and saying something like, "now we wait"

and they do wait

patiently

but after a full two weeks pass by and neither gaz or soap can find any evidence of their so called "master plan" working, they can't help but feel a little discouraged

unbeknownst to them, it totally worked

just not in the way they envisioned

you see, by the time soap came up to simon to lecture him about stealing his pen, ghost had already come to notice you scribbling into your notebook with it

so once soap had finally decided to leave him alone, he immediately confronted you about framing him for such a crime

but you just kinda stare up at him with that annoyed look of yours before revealing soap had willingly given it to you

and things just kinda click into place for the two of you; soap wanted to get you talking

and while you and simon had to admit it wasn't a bad plan, you didn't want to give the scotsman the satisfaction of knowing it had actually worked

so whenever you and simon find yourselves in the company of the rest of the team, you decide to remain distant

but when it's just the two of you?

you're straight chilling

especially when you visit him in his room or vice versa

like just imagine the two of you drinking tea that simon was nice enough to make and watching war movies while bashing all the inaccuracies and bad calls the characters make

or when the two of you are out and about on base free from the prying eyes of gaz and soap because they're out doing their own thing

you and simon love finding random groups of rowdy soldiers just to intimidate them

i don't know about you, but i can definitely see simon just standing there with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed while you rest your hands on your hips with your lips pulled into a frown

price definitely gets complaints about the two of you

he does nothing about them

and for a while that's pretty much the gist of how you and simon spend your time together

but i like to imagine that after a particularly rough mission, simon would seek you out just to sit with you

and i can see him as a stress smoker so when he finally does manage to find you and take a seat beside you, you slide him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter

he doesn't ask how you know his cigarette preference, but instead gives you a small nod of approval before pulling up his mask over lips and taking a drag

and that's how you spend your night

just sitting beside each other as you watch the evening sky gradually begin to fill with stars

i think it would depend on how bad the mission went in order to determine exactly how long the two of you stay sitting under the stars, but it doesn't matter because it'll end the same way; you reaching over and giving simon's hand a quick squeeze with a small, "get some sleep, simon. you need it," before you walk away

and he finds himself confused to two reasons

reason one: why did you grab his hand why did he like it?

reason two: how can you say such sweet words but still look so mad?

as much as he wants to play that moment over in his head just to make sure he was remembering things right, he decides against it in favor of heeding your words and getting some sleep

but it's after that moment he can't help but notice how your mannerisms have changed

not only are your words of reassurance more apparent than before, he's also noticed you have a tendency to give his hand/shoulder a reassuring squeeze every now and then

he can't help the small smile that threatens to pull at his lips when you do

but he also can't help but notice how distant and reserved your face looks when you do all of these things

he doesn't really mind it though

but he eventually does bring it up to you one day

it's probably after he tells you one of his god awful dad jokes

like he'll look over at you and notice your sour expression and say something like, "don't look so pissed, they're not that bad."

and you'll respond with a tilt of your head as you tell him, "i'm not pissed. i like your jokes."

then he'll nudge your shoulder before telling you, "with that face? coulda fooled me."

and you'll roll your eyes in faux annoyance as you brush him off with a simple, "that's just my face."

and then he'll look down at you, thankful for his mask so you can't see the small smile making its way onto his face

he might even say something dumb and cheesy like, "i know. i like it."

and you give him one of your rare smiles

and i could end it there and say the two of you are bffs

or i could sprinkle in something about soap running up on the two of you chanting, "my plan worked, my plan worked!"

that's for you to decide

2K notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 6 months

Text

You Can't Go Home Again

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 8.1K Words

Hawkins, Indiana - 2006. Reader and Eddie are both 40. The Reader has a 19 year old daughter that is mentioned.

Summary: You're both in town for a funeral. This is a love story.

Contains smut, death, love, booze, and weed. Just like all the best things in life, you take the good with the bad or your ass misses out.

+18 only. No one under the age of 18 has my consent to interact with anything on my blog. I am old enough to be your mother.

If you like this story, please let me know. Reblogs are strongly encouraged. If it doesn't get passed around, it dies in this spot. Thank you @jo-harrington and @br0ck-eddie for reading this over and telling me it's worth publishing on this blog. I love you both more than words can express.

---

You can’t go home again. Or so you’ve been told. Yet here you are, zooming down the familiar stretch of highway that leads back to that place. You turn the thought over in your mind while your hand surfs against the wind outside of your car window. You aren’t going home, not really. Hawkins isn’t your home anymore. It hasn’t been since you pulled out of your parents’ driveway over a decade ago.

At least he had the common decency to die as the leaves started changing color, you think to yourself while your hand surfs in the wind outside your open window. The view is really spectacular. The trees look like they’re on fire as the sun begins to dip below the canopy. Indiana is flatland, but it’s still pretty in its own way. Wide open, it bares itself to you. It is what it is. There are no hills to hide behind. Not in these parts, anyway.

As you cross the county line, you flip on the radio and tune to the local country station. Might as well acclimate, you think, but really, you’re happy to hear Bonnie Raitt’s bluesy voice as you pull off the highway. She’s singing about how she can’t make someone love her, and you hold up an imaginary glass to toast the sentiment. That’s something you’ve learned the hard way.

I’ll close my eyes, then I won’t see.

The love you don’t feel when you’re holding me.

You don’t realize a tear has escaped your eye until you feel it rolling down your cheek. You wipe it away angrily and wonder when every little thing will stop making the tears come. It doesn’t matter, not right now. Not this week. Tears are appropriate for a funeral, and it’s what everyone will expect to see from you. Even if they’re borrowed tears.

At the stop sign at the corner of Elm and Maple you sit longer than the 3 seconds required by law. It’s not until a BMW pulls up behind that you push up the indicator to hook a right. As you pass by the entrance to Forrest Hills, Deanna Carter is singing about Strawberry Wine and being 17. You can feel heat rising in your cheeks when you let your own memories flit across your mind. It’s true, the hot July moon really did see everything the summer of 1985.

You chuckle at yourself and turn the wheel, left this time. The old motel is up on the right, just at the Hawkins line. You’ve spent too much of your life thinking about a time that only existed for a moment. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because despite all of the daydreams you’ve had about running into him throughout the years, it’s never happened. And you’ve never taken the time to look. You’ve only seen him in your dreams, and what a delight that’s been.

The gravel crunches under your tires, and the feeling that something’s been forgotten rises like a wave. Every couple of hours, it comes unbidden. No, you haven’t forgotten her, she’s in her new apartment on the other side of town from your own. Right now, she’s probably out to dinner with Janey. It’s discount movie night, and that’s something every college student knows to take advantage of. You’re not forgetting her, but her absence leaves a hole that can only be filled with anxiety. It’s something no one really tells you, something that you wouldn’t be able to understand from words alone - your children are a piece of yourself that moves freely in the world. The further you move from them, the deeper the cut.

You’ve already decided you’ll try to call tonight, hoping against hope that she’s still at her place when you ring in. Hearing her voice will fill you a little, and maybe at least make sleep easier. Maddy told you she’d miss you, and you know that’s true. It’s a good thing to hear each other every day, even if it’s only for a moment.

When you come around a wide curve in the road, you’re pleased to see that the bar next to the motel is still standing, and that the lights are on. You’re getting drunk tonight. Why not? For the first time in a long time, you’re only accountable for yourself. Hawkins can swallow you up for the week, and no one outside of this place will see it. And then you’ll never step foot into Indiana again.

—

It’s stupid, and he knows it. He hasn’t been back here in years, and the only reason he’s doing this is because he liked the old guy. Wayne taught him to respect that. To show up for the family. Always go to the funeral, he’d told him, it eases the pain for the loved ones and makes ‘em remember there were people in the world that gave a shit about ‘em. When Eddie was a kid, he remembered how it felt to look out into the church and see so many faces with tears in their eyes. He remembered thinking that it was important that so many people turned out to say goodbye to his Mama, even if they were people that he never got to know outside of that mourning space. Wayne was right, it does matter. It does help. And he’s showing up, even if the thought of seeing you makes his stomach dip and his heartbeat faster.

It’s not about you, you fucking idiot. The words have been surfacing in his mind over and over this last week. It’s not about him, and he knows that. At least, his brain knows that, but there’s a place deep inside of him that can’t help but think about the possibility of something. Of what? Well, if he thinks too hard about it, his dick takes over. There have been many times over the years that Eddie let his mind wander back to his 18th summer, when the heat of your bodies rivaled the heat of the sun beating down on the two of you. Many times he’s touched himself, trying to find the right way to move his fingers to replicate the way your hands felt on him. He’s ashamed of it. He tries not to think about it, but the news of the funeral seems to have lit that spark inside of him again, just as he thought the old smoldering embers were finally snuffed out.

He told Wayne he’d be driving up for the services, hoping the old guy would be able to bring the rambler to meet him in Hawkins. It would save him the cost of a motel room, and the death of the old man’s friend is an unwelcome reminder that everything comes to an end eventually. But Wayne isn’t going to make it. Eddie should’ve known. As much as Wayne taught him about being there for the family, Wayne was closer to Jim than his blood ever was. Especially you. Wayne would be the first to admit that Jim made his bed, and now he’ll spend his eternal rest in it. Wayne will mourn in his own way, he’ll come down when no one knows he’s there to pour one out on his buddy’s grave. That’s alright. It’s how Jim would want it. The funeral will be a farce. People saying goodbye to an old bastard that no one really liked.

When Eddie passes the southerly Indiana border, his ass really starts to get sore. He should’ve flown in and rented a car. He’s getting too old for these long bike rides, and the Indian’s seat isn’t made for this kind of trip. He’s never seen the need to replace the warehouse installed seat, his daily commutes to the construction trailer are short, and he takes a work truck out to the job sites. Maybe it’s time to think about investing in a vehicle that allows for a little more comfort. His ass is only going to spread more from here on out. Turning 30 was like hitting a brick wall, all the years of fun have finally caught up. Now that he’s passed the 40-year mark, every day is a new opportunity to feel aches in parts of his body he never thought about in his younger years. Sometimes he would swear that he could feel his small intestine groan when he caught a whiff of something greasy. And sometimes he can’t go through the night without having to hop out of bed to take a piss. The most obvious reminder for Eddie is looking in the mirror and seeing the way his old tattoos have turned gray over the years, especially his beloved bats. Working outside in the sun has made them fade, and no amount of touch ups can bring them back to their former glory. Sometimes he thinks about you running your fingers over them, the way you ran them along the outline of the wings.

Time passes, and tattoos fade like memories. He knows too. He got to watch Wayne age, see the lines dig deeper and deeper into his face while he made sure Eddie kept a roof over his head. It’s amazing for him to think about the old guy, not really as old as he used to think. Eddie’s got more years than Wayne did back in those days. Close enough to be brothers more than father and son, but neither of them got a choice when it was time for his own Mama to go into the ground. The only one choosing in those days was Al, and every decision was a wrong one.

Eddie hates coming back to Hawkins, it stirs up the old shit he doesn’t think about anymore. It’s easier to see those times through rose colored glasses when he isn’t smack dab in the middle of the town that cut him so deeply in so many different ways. But he’s showing up. He’s doing this thing because it’s right. It has nothing to do with the minute possibility that he might get to find out how the years have treated you. Especially since he knows how you left Hawkins. But time does heal. Eddie’s proof of that.

—

The roadside motel is in better shape than you expect, so you strike your mental chalkboard on the pro side. At least you have a clean bed to sleep in for the next 6 nights. At least you won’t be forced to sleep on Uncle Jim’s couch. You think about what it will feel like being in his little shack. You think about how his own kids won’t show up to sift through his shit belongings to pull out any hidden treasures before the bank throws it all in the dumpster. You’re doing this thing for your father, because he asked you to. You need to make sure the stuff that ended up with Jim when your grandma died doesn’t get lost forever. No cash value to any of it, but it’s worth something to your dad, and he can’t face the ghost of his brother. Not even for his mother’s wedding band, or the family bible.

Your first thought when you opened the door to your home for the week was that you could still smell the faint scent of bleach hanging in the air. Good. These kinds of places have more personality, but it’s always a roll of the dice about cleanliness. The bed is soft, and the comforter smells of Snuggle. Also good. The scent is nostalgic, you can feel the muscles in your shoulders relax. You’ll be able to sleep here. You think that’s exactly what you’ll do. The heavy shades are drawn, so it’s full dark and quiet. You’ve got the room at that butts against the woods, but it doesn’t matter anyway, your car is the only one in the small parking lot tonight.

You’re sinking deeper into the mattress, and you begin to float away. You sit on the edge of sleep, about to topple over it when your ears begin to register a distant sound growing closer. It’s a purr that grows into a deep growling rumble. You stumble to your feet to peek your head out from behind your curtain. It’s full dark now, but the orange glow of the lights at each door along the row of rooms illuminates the parking lot enough for you to see the bike and its rider. Leather clad, head to toe, he’s wearing a small bucket helmet - the kind your daddy used to say they’d have to scoop your brains out of if you wrecked - and sunglasses. You watch him make his way to the door next to your own and let himself inside.

Well, you can think of a worse neighbor to have. At least you know you’re not alone out here. Maybe you’ll make a friend while you’re stuck in the hell that is Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe he'll let you bum a smoke or two.

—

You think about your call to Maddy while you walk down the street to the Hideout. She’s fine. All good. She got her new set of pots and pans from the big Sears out at the mall, and she didn't even need your help picking them out. Her dad did a good job. You’re happy for her. A girl doesn’t forget her first move away from home, and you suspect she's more nervous than she's been letting on. You can almost feel the butterflies beat in your own belly at the thought of rent checks and overtime while making it to class every morning. You hope she knows she can talk to you about it. You hope she remembers that you promised to help her if she gets into any jams. Maybe. Maybe not. She deserves to keep her secrets if it's how she wants to go about life. You'll be there either way.

Before you even open the door to the bar, you can smell the smoke and booze wafting through the cracks. That’s perfect. It’s why you’re here. You look down at your black jeans and smile. It took a few good jumps to get into, but your ass looks fantastic in them. You think you might even manage to get a drink out of someone, as long as the clientele is the same as it was when you were here last. Tammy Wynette is coming through the speakers of the jukebox, and the old curtains are pulled across the jury-rigged stage at the back. No band tonight. Just a couple of old drunks passing time at the sticky counter. You take the stool at the end, back facing the door, and think about what song you’ll choose for the room.

“Hello, ma'am,” a bright eyed 20 something from behind the bar greets you as you shift your weight to get comfortable on the cracked cushion under your ass. Ma’am. You decide to let that one slide and give him a big smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Oh, I think I’d like a whiskey sour, kind sir.” The words escape your lips without much thought. You haven’t had one in ages. Possibly the last time you had a drink as sweet as a whiskey sour was in this very bar. It wasn’t hard to get served with Big Dave behind the bar, especially when Eddie and the boys played.

The boy nods at you and gets to work on your drink. You see him flip through a rolodex of cards hidden under the bar, cheat sheets. He likely spends his nights pouring pitchers of Budweiser, rarely having to figure out how to make mixed drinks. Especially when the customers are good ole boys between the ages of 35 and 70. Even back in your day, the girls only showed up when there were boys their own age on the stage. You wonder if Bev is around somewhere. If she’s still kicking. The way the place still feels the same as it did back in '84 tells you she's still the owner of this shit stain of an establishment. But it's her shit stain, and good for her.

The bartender sets the glass in front of you with a cocktail napkin under it, fancy, and you feel a draft when the door at your back swings open. The drink isn’t bad, but you wouldn’t know if it was wrong. You don’t do mixed drinks. You’re a neat bourbon drinker. The sweet liquor does what it’s meant to, because you swear you can almost smell something familiar from the past as a figure goes past you. Like smoke and Old Spice with a hint of weed. This place is full of ghosts, you think, returning your focus back to glass coated in ice sweat.

“Hey, man. Three Wise Men and 3 fingers of Jim Beam.” The voice of the newcomer at the bar makes your head snap up. You watch his profile for a second. You see his hand disappear inside his jacket and come out with a pack of Camels. With a flick of his Zippo, his face is illuminated by the glow of the flame. You’ve seen it so many times, but even from this distance you catch sight of the creases that didn’t exist the last time you saw him. You wonder if you really did fall asleep if you’re really back in your motel room having one of your dreams again. The too sweet liquor on your tongue is real, and so must Eddie Munson be real.

You can’t peel your eyes from him, so you don’t try. You keep your gaze fixed to his face and wait for him to notice you. There are no words in you, and you’re afraid your legs will buckle if you try to stand up and walk over to him. You look at his hand, black lines decorate his knuckles. The ring on his left hand is silver, and you’re happy to see it sit on his middle finger. You banish the thought and break your gaze for a second to shake your stupid head.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone looks at him, even the drunk in the corner that can barely keep his head up. “Jesus Christ.”

Blood rushes to your head as he stands and makes his way over to you. Your heart is in your throat. You’d refused to let yourself believe that seeing Eddie this week was anything more than just a fleeting fantasy. The same fantasy that’s been playing through your mind for years. Pinch yourself, you fool. Too late, you’re standing on wobbly legs and giving him the kind of awkward hug reserved for old classmates - and apparently old lovers.

You break apart slowly, and sink down into your barstools, eyes never breaking contact. You think if you look away right now, he might turn into smoke and escape through the air vents. Your hands are on your lap, body still turned towards Eddie, Eddie Munson, and you pinch the skin between your thumb and index finger on your left hand until it hurts. This is real.

You’re both brought out of your shared reverie when the kid behind the bar slides Eddie’s drinks down to his new spot, along with the ashtray holding his still smoldering cigarette. Without a thought in your head, you pick it up and take a long drag before pinching it between your fingers to hand it back to him, filter out.

“So.” You exhale smoke through the word and let it hang for a second while Eddie brings the filter to his lips. The smoke of a kiss between the two of you hangs heavy in the air. “Eddie Munson, what brings you here tonight? Is Corroded Coffing playing a set later?”

Eddie’s crooked grin sits on his lips the same as it ever has, but it’s complemented by more fine lines at the corners of his eyes. You think it would be something to run a finger along them and feel the texture of his skin there.

“You know, I had this-” Eddie shakes his head and makes a noise like a huff of incredulity at what he hasn’t even said yet, “-I had this idea that I might see you here tonight. I’m sorry about Jim.”

“Oh,” you can’t hide the surprise on your face. The sudden presence of Eddie has scrubbed your mind clean of your purpose in Hawkins this week. Uncle Jim is dead. You try for a small frown, but decide against it and say, “yeah. I’m here for the funeral. Also, I promised my dad to go through the house before everything ends up at the dump.”

Eddie nods. His eyes dart across your face and then down to your hands. You’re suddenly very aware of the way your ring finger on your left hand still holds the indent of a band that’s been missing for months now. You think it may never truly leave you. You wonder if he’s seen it.

“Well, I think this is fate.” Eddie slaps his hand down on the bar, still as sticky as ever, and waves over the bartender that’s drying a glass with a bar towel. He turns back to you and says, “We’re drinking to that old bastard tonight.”

—

“Do you remember,” Eddie’s voice is too loud, but the only person left in the bar other than the two of you is a drunk with his head resting on the counter. He doesn’t seem bothered enough to lift his head, “breaking into the abandoned warehouse? Oh god, you were shaking like a leaf ‘Eddie, we should leave. What if someone’s hiding out in here?’” Eddie’s impersonation of your 18-year-old voice is both insulting and wildly inaccurate.

“You fucking asshole, you were the one that hauled ass out of there when a squirrel crawled out from under a desk. The noise you made,” you snort at the memory, “you sounded like my mom that time she found a dead mouse in her sugar dish.”

“That little fucker went straight for me, you can’t deny it.” Eddie’s finger is pointed directly between your eyes in an accusation. On instinct, you grab it with your fist and twist his arm. This is an old routine, one that the two of you had down pat all those years ago. Except now, Eddie’s a lot stronger, and he’s able to twist his arm back. You find your wrist in his strong grip, and you have no idea how it got there.

This is when you notice it. This is Eddie in front of you, but he’s not a boy. It’s not just your body that’s changed since the last time you were together. With his jacket thrown on the stool beside him, his forearms are bare before you. Sinful. Old ink and new, black lines and gray. But right now, it’s the flexed muscle that’s caught your eye. Oh, to be held by him.

The laughter in your chest dies and Eddie releases you. He waves the bartender down before he can call out a last call. One more round for the road, and you’re wishing you had a way to freeze this moment in time and keep him here.

But you can’t, so you take your final shots and hug each other. Jackets are thrown over shoulders, and you make your way side by side to the door.

“I’m staying at the motel on the corner. You should stop by sometime, I’ll be here all week.” You shove your shoulder into Eddie’s playfully and find that the booze has made your feet a little unstable. He puts an arm around you to keep you from stumbling.

“Well, let me walk you home then.” His arm doesn’t leave your side. You’re both hyper aware of the way his thumb strokes against the patch of soft exposed skin at your waist while you wander up the sidewalk, a little zig zag to your movements.

It’s been a night of sharing memories with no talk of the present. No acknowledgement of that indent on your finger where a ring lived for so long. You let yourself drink in the cool autumn air with Eddie’s arms holding you close to him. You let yourself feel held by him. You let yourself imagine that maybe this is real, and you let a sliver of moonlight pierce the darkness you’ve been hiding yourself in for these long months.

“This is my stop.” You pull away and lean your back against the door to your room at the end of rooms that line the facade of the old motel. It’s dark out, and the pale orange glow of the light above the door frame does little more than cast shadows across Eddie’s face. He could be mistaken for that boy if not for the way his shoulders stand wider than you remember. “Will you come in, Eddie?”

He tastes like whisky and smoke, and that’s just how you remember him. Gods, his mouth. His tongue moves swiftly across your lips, and your knees begin to sink. Those strong arms hold you up, they keep you in your spot so he can take his fill. This is the kind of kiss, one that makes you weak in the knees, that you thought was a thing that only existed in your past.

“So, yes?” You break apart from his kiss and rest your head in his chest to catch your breath.

“Yes, please.” Eddie kisses the top of your head and breathes in your hair before spinning you around to face the door. “Open the door, Sweetheart.”

The clicking of the door, and the snap of the deadbolt. Those things are clear, the anticipation of what comes next makes you laser focused on the feel of the metal under your fingers. And then it’s a flurry of mouths and hands. Teeth clicking, noses bumping. A stumble over a shoe in your shared path. You fall to the bed in a heap, it’s surprising how many articles of clothes have been discarded in the short distance between door and mattress.

“Is this real, or am I dreaming?” Eddie whispers into your neck, hot breath on the spot that he remembers makes you keen. His teeth test the skin, and you reward him with a gasp and a roll of your hips. “Fuck, I don’t care if I wake in a mess like a teenager. If this is a dream, I never want to leave it.”

You’d forgotten the way Eddie uses his words, but your body remembers the steps. Fingers waltz along your wider curves, they’re a quick study and map out the places that make you whine. Make you catch your breath. This is what he thinks about so often, the way you get lost under his touch. Your trust in him is still alive, and his need reaches a fever pitch.

“Eddie, please.” It’s all you can say, but it’s enough to snap Eddie out of his reverie. His hands are stroking the valley at your chest while his cock throbs against the cotton fabric of his boxers, hypnotized by the way your skin gives under the pressure of his fingers.

As above, so below. Hot mouths reach into one another as he spreads your legs and sinks his length into your heat. For a fleeting moment, it's a perfect union of bodies. Two as one. You need your breath as he reaches deeper inside you. He rests his forehead on yours and snaps harder into you. His open mouth takes the groans that leave you as he hits that tender and hard to reach place inside.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You feel so good.” Eddie’s words float around your face as you reach your peak. It’s the words, not the ecstasy, which draw the tears from your eyes. Beautiful. You believe him, how could you not? You want to tell him that he’s beautiful, because he is. Instead you wrap your arms around him and kiss him while he cums. The last rocks of his hips move in rhythm with the languid kisses you share.

—-

You wake in the morning to find crumpled sheets in the space that was occupied by Eddie Munson as you drifted off to sleep. It really was a dream, you think, but the stickiness between your thighs tells you that there was a man in this bed last night. The idea that he’s left without a trace doesn’t even pass your mind, because not Eddie. He doesn’t do that.

You ignore the pounding at your temple and drop your feet to the carpet. A full bladder is an urgent thing that can’t be denied. The freezing tile under your toes jolts you to attention. You map your next steps while you piss, and then wash your hands. You take the time to brush your teeth before heading back into the dark bedroom to find an outfit for the day. It doesn’t matter where Eddie has wandered off to, you need to head over to Jim’s. Eddie can find you later. Eddie will find you later. That’s something you know. Right now? You need coffee. It’s when you go to put your shoes on that you see it. A tiny scrap of paper on the side table next to your keys.

I didn’t want to wake you. I had some business to take care of while I’m in town. Dinner? I’m staying in the room next to yours. I’ll be back by 6.

You shake your head. Your boozy brain missed it last night. Of course it’s Eddie in the room next to yours. The thought of him on that bike makes your head spin. Makes you throb. Dinner, sure. Food is fuel and you’re gonna fucking need it. In the meantime, you have a job to do.

The way to Jim’s house is familiar but strange. Like trying to hold onto a dream as you’re starting to wake. The roads have the same names, but the trees are taller. It feels smaller, the houses closer together. In no time, you’re pulling up the drive to the shack that stands at the far end of Oak Street. It’s easy to forget it, set a little farther back than the other homes, hidden in the shade of the oaks the road is named for.

With a deep breath, you step out of your car and move swiftly to the front door. The smell hits you immediately. It’s not overwhelmingly awful, but it’s not good. Mildew and smoke. It smells empty. So you fill it with the fall air by opening every window. You’re happy to keep your jacket on to replace the smoke with the smell of the dry oak leaves that litter the yard around the house.

The soundtrack to your day digging through the life of your Uncle Jim is provided by the records stacked up by the player in his living room. Bob Dylan, CCR, and Pink Floyd. It could be worse, so you’re grateful. The treasures you discovered hold no true financial value, but they are priceless. Photo albums of long-lost family members, depression glass cake stands and punch bowls, and the piece de resistance - the family bible. You run your fingers across the leather cover and smile. You did good, kid. Grandma’s ring, though. You’ll come back at least one more time and truly tear the place apart before you hit the road. If it’s here, it’s going home with you.

—

Rick’s place is still home for Eddie, more so than the trailer park ever was. Wayne’s home was never Hawkins, and it served him well to be back in the wild mountains of West Virginia from where the Munsons hail. But Rick is a Hawkins institution, and he’s only ever had love for Eddie without the pressure of the constant concern that weighed on Wayne and Eddie’s relationship. That’s how it is with a father and son. Rick is the fun uncle that taught Eddie a way to bring in cash without being under the thumb of some asshole. It’s served him well throughout his life, even now. Eddie can find work anywhere, he carries his skills in his hands.

Rick is expecting Eddie, and he’s sitting out front when the Indian hums up the road that hugs Lovers’ Lake. It’s still pretty out here from Eddie’s perspective, especially with the trees still hanging on to the leaves of various colors. Eddie’s already thinking about getting you to come out here with him before you both leave town at the end of the week. As soon as he caught sight of you last night he had decided to wring out as much as he could from this brief reunion. No time to waste, especially if maybe there’s someone you’re going home to. He’s not going to ask that question. He doesn’t want to know. For now, you’re both here, and that’s more than he thought could ever be possible.

“Eddie! Oh man, it’s been too long, brother.” Rick’s on his feet and meeting Eddie in the driveway for a bear hug. “Sight for sore eyes.”

They sit outside on the back deck for hours, talking about the old days and the new. They watch the sunlight dance along the ripples in the water when the occasional fish comes to the surface for a waterbug. They pass joints back and forth, and sip on the instant coffee that Rick swears is better than that overpriced bullshit the coffee houses try to con people into buying. And then they get down to business for a few minutes over a game of pool. Like the old days. It’s healing to remember there is a place in this godforsaken hellhole that Eddie can feel like himself. It was never all bad, but nothing ever is. Eddie knows this, his own life is a mixed bag. He has to take the bad or else lose out on the potential good.

The sun is starting to sink down below the trees when Eddie swings his leg over the seat of his bike to head back to the other side of town. He’s glad. He’s hoping that you’ve decided to accept his dinner invitation. The memories were fun to relive, but his mind is whirring with questions about who you are now. He’d like to hear it. He’d like to tell you about the bands he plays with on the weekends back in Charleston. Last night was nice, but he’d like to spend some time with you while the lights are on. He let his cock carry him away too quickly last night, he hopes he gets a chance to take his time with you tonight. His thighs vibrate from the hum of the engine while he weaves down the streets. He’s half hard remembering the way you smell and the sound of your voice when you get lost with him.

—

“You’d really like her. She’s a natural musician, like her dad. I’m just glad she’s sticking close to home for college. I worry enough even with her living less than a mile away.” You’re rambling on about Maddy while Eddie watches your lips move. He’d had a feeling there was at least one kid back home, he’s dated enough moms to recognize the signs.

“Oh, a girl after my own heart. I already love her.” Eddie’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, his arm reaching across the table. Your plates are empty, and your glasses are drained. Your concern about telling Eddie you have an adult child is forgotten now, and you’re gushing. Just as it should be.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking about Maddy for a while. She’s the sun my life orbits around.” You tip back your martini glass, searching for any last remnants of gin. No luck.

“Yeah, you’re a good mom.” That thumb rubs again. “Of course you are.” Eddie looks around the restaurant and watches as the servers very purposely place chairs on top of tables, inching ever closer to the one where the two of you are seated. “I think we should probably let them shut it down, head back to the motel.”

Head back to the motel. That sounds really good, because Eddie’s wearing a tight black t-shirt that leaves little to the imagination. You can just make out the farmer’s tan that starts at the middle of his biceps. You hadn’t noticed it as much last night, but Eddie’s skin is sunkissed from years of working outdoors. A contract carpenter, he told you, and you could almost smell the sawdust and varnish when he explained about his special word working projects. You want to see them. You want to touch them. You have no doubt that they’re unique and special pieces. Eddie’s always had the ability to pull beauty out of the mundane.

“Will you drive, Eddie? Take me the long way home?” You’re already handing him your keys before he can answer. Of course he will. He’ll do anything you want, it’s always been that way. He’d stop the world if it would make you smile.

“Let’s go, Love. You can rest your head on my shoulder.” And that’s what you do. The walk to the car is slow, but Eddie’s arms need to stay around you. It’s where they belong.

He does take the long way, hooking a right when he pulls out of Enzo’s parking lot and heading for the back roads. One hand sits on your thigh. Your head can’t reach his shoulder in the car, so you lean it back and close your eyes. Linda Ronstadt’s been cheated and mistreated, she’s wondering when will she be loved? Some day, Linda, even if it’s for just a fleeting time. The idea pricks your chest, and you push it down. We won’t think about the end until it gets here.

“Will you be my date for the funeral, Eddie? I might not go if I have to do it alone.” You keep your eyes closed, and he squeezes your leg. He’ll go with you, you already know that.

“Yep. And then we’ll go back to the bar and get shitfaced. Bev will love it. Give the old gal something to be pissed about.” You snort at the thought of Bev trying to wrangle two 40 somethings trying to relive their youthful dalliances. Poor woman. But she would probably love it.

“I like your plan, Ed. Now tell me, did you smoke it all, or do you have some weed back at the motel?” You turn to face him, you want to see that crooked grin of his. “I’ve gotta call Maddy when we get back, but I think it’d be nice to sit outside and get nice and toasty.”

“Yeah, well, I might have a little. Can I ask you something?” Eddie turns the wheel and you’re looking at downtown Hawkins. You nod, but your mouth is dry thinking about the possibilities of what he wants to know that you haven’t already told him. “What kind of an asshole wouldn’t hold on tight to someone like you when you’re so fucking perfect?”

“Christ, Munson. Are you high already?” You pull a cigarette out of the pack sitting on the dash and light it. Just a drag before handing it back over to him. You’re both giggling, it was too much. “Well, you might have been the first to let me go, but you weren’t the last. But look at us now, hm? I think it’s better like this. Makes you realize that the grass isn’t always greener, ya know?”

Eddie blows smoke out of his nose and quietly mutters, “I was blind.”

“Nah. What I told you back then is still true, I’ll take what I can get from you, Baby. Any time, any place. It doesn’t have to be forever.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek at your words but keeps his response in his mind.

—

Eddie sits in his room rolling joints while you’re on the other side of the wall talking to your daughter. All that talk about the kid, and no mention of the dad. Eddie knows who Maddy’s dad is because word travels fast. He’s never really thought about the guy much, but Eddie’s pretty sure he’s the one responsible for the sadness living behind your smile.

Eddie pulls the comforter off his bed. He’s taking it outside with him to wait for you on the bench that’s at the entrance to the cemetery across the street from the motel. There are no streetlights out here, and the dead won’t mind the company. They never do. The plans he had for this week are fading into one persistent thought - be with you as much as possible before it’s too late. The threat of Sunday coming too fast hangs over every second that ticks past.

It’s harder for Eddie to push those thoughts away than it is for you, because of the regret. He can’t help but feel it, even though he knows that 1984 Eddie is not the same as Eddie today. He’s learned how to spot a good thing, and that’s you. The idea of holding onto you with both hands doesn’t send a lightning bolt of fear through his guts like it did when he was 18. This couldn’t have happened then, whatever this is. It’s a battle in his mind, trying to see through the haze of the memories, how real can it be when everything is shrouded by the past.

The inward battle halts when he sees the door to your room open. He focuses on your form growing larger with each step closer to him. He watches each step of your feet until you’re looming over him, blotting out the weak light from the motel across the street. You have a soft smile on your lips, and he memorizes the way those lips feel on his forehead before you flop down on the bench next to him. He spreads the comforter over your lap, and pulls you into his side.

“This is so romantic, Eddie. You, me, and the sleeping dead.” You sigh and nuzzle your nose into his neck. “You smell nice.” Your lips brush against his skin and the hair stands up in answer.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Eddie asks as he places a joint between your lips. “I’m hoping to wake up next to you again, but I don’t wanna make any assumptions.” Sparks fly out from his Zippo, and you breathe in the weed smoke before answering.

“Baby, as far as I’m concerned, you could cancel your room for the rest of the week and move into mine. You don’t even need to ask what I want. This is it.” You look up at him and place the joint in his mouth. It’s hard to see his features in the dark, but you think his eyes look a little misty. “Hey now, don’t give me sad eyes, Eddie. We’ve talked about this already. I’ll take what I can get.”

“That’s bullshit.” Eddie’s voice is low and you’re already feeling a little lighter. It’s been a long time since you’ve smoked, and you can feel the cloud starting to creep across your thoughts.

“Oh? Well never mind then. Fuck you, Munson.” Your retort, but there’s no bite. You pluck the joint out of his fingers.

“I just mean, you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry.” Eddie kisses the top of your head, an apology of sorts.

“We all deserve better than we get, Baby. You should know that. It’s easier to accept it than to try and demand what other people can’t give.” You think the words came out right and can’t muster the energy to care if they didn’t.

“Yeah, but it’s still not right.”

Right or not, it’s a truth you accepted a long time ago. It doesn’t stop the pain, but it kills the resentment. What more can you do? Life is hard enough.

—

The light stays on in your room tonight. The weed slows down time. It swallows you and Eddie up, and gives you the space to study each other. The rough calluses on his fingertips travel along the lines of your body, creating a roadmap in his memory. He needs to remember how to find you again, even when you’re a thousand miles away. He needs to taste you on his lips.

The hunger is as strong as the previous night, it’s why your center on Eddie’s face. It’s why your nose leads the way down his torso, inhaling the smell trapped in the dark hair at the base of his cock. He tastes how you remember. Your mouth wraps around him while his tongue and fingers make you sing. He keeps one wide palm planted on the fat of your ass, his rip is hard enough to bruise. He keeps you in the spot until hot tears spill down your cheeks with the intense pleasure of it all. He keeps you there until he spills himself inside your mouth. And you drop, head on his hip, looking at his softening cock in front of you. You lean over and kiss its tip.

Eddie’s giggles are music to your ears. He suddenly needs to see your face, but your legs are still spread in front of him. He slaps your ass, hard enough to sting, but it works. You slowly move your legs over to the side, freeing him so he can crawl down to the end of the bed. He can taste himself on your lips and is surprised to feel his cock jump. You need a little more time than that, Bud.

“I need to tell you something.” Eddie’s arms are wrapped around your sweaty body, and he’s peppering kissing along the bridge of your nose. You release a questioning hum, trying to focus on his words. Sleep is calling to you. “I’m going to the funeral with you tomorrow. I’m going to Jim’s with you to finish the scavenger hunt from hell. I’m spending every fucking second with you until we both leave this shithole. But I don’t want that to be the end.”

“Everything ends, Baby.” You mutter into the skin of his chest. You feel his breath hitch and wonder if there are tears to match the stutter. “But it doesn’t have to end so soon if you don’t want it to.”

“I want to hold onto this, Love. I think we both know this -” Eddie points a finger between the two of you, “- is something special. It always has been. I’ll fucking pick my shit up and move to wherever you are. I won’t even complain about the snow. At least not the first year.”

“I’ll complain enough for the both of us. I always do.” You kiss his chest and look up at him. There are tears, You reach up to rub them off his cheek. You look at the hair at his temple and see the way the gray hair threads through his dark curls. You think it would be something, wouldn’t it? To see the gray overtake the black over the years. And you know Eddie doesn’t say anything to you that he doesn’t mean. It’s not something he’s capable of doing. “For Eddie Munson, my door is always open.”

“What about Maddy’s dad?” Eddie chokes on the words a little, but he gets them out along with a fresh tear that leaks from the corner of his eye. That’s something you’ve always loved about Eddie, he’s never hidden the tears when they show up.

“That’s been over for a while, Ed. I should’ve told you that.” You stroke his cheek and smile. “You’re down bad, old man. Wow, that’s really something, ain’t it?”

Eddie’s laugh rumbles through both of you. The years in front of you don’t look so bleak when you picture Eddie’s arm around your waist. The tears won’t sting so much if you have each other to wipe them away. It’s not too late, you’ve got two feet above ground. You’ve got two hands to hold onto this thing, and Eddie’s hands are holding on just as tight now. The memories and the future swirl together, and you thank god for those years apart. It’s so much sweeter this time around.

You fall asleep with Eddie inside of you. I love yous breathed into your mouths. Eddie’s going to have to replace that seat on his bike if he expects you to ride on it with him. He’s adding it to the mental list he has running. Tell Wayne he’s moving closer. Pack his shit up in a Uhaul. Drive a couple hundred miles. Replace the bike seat. Wrap his arms around you and never let go.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #thanatos writes #stranger things smut #wayne munson

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

I got you

How did this happen? I don’t know. I’ve been watching my person play too much MW2, and then went looking for Ghost fics, so now my brain is infected.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley/female reader AO3 - Part one of the Sassy series 3.8k words - one shot Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Blood, violence, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, size difference/kink, creampie, hurt/comfort. Lots of swearing. Everyone is bad at feelings. Notes: EOD = Explosive Ordnance Disposal. He doesn't know your name. You've never seen his face.

It’s fucking hot. Belize is so hot. It’s the kind of hot that clings to every pore of your skin, the sweat slicking across your body until you’re shiny, breath coming in short pants because the air is so god damn thick.

“Sassy. Do you copy.” Soap’s voice rings over the comms, snapping you to attention. Your fingers slip on the button. Belize would probably be better if this was a vacation, and not an Op. A gnat whines next your ear, and you press your chin into your shoulder.

“I’m in position.” You whisper. “All clear.” An affirmative rings back as Price gives command to the others. You sit silent. Gaz spits something over the radio, but it's not directed at you, so it doesn’t register. You sit still.

You always sit still.

“You the demo expert?” The brunette with a Scottish accent and scarred chin looks you up and down.

“I’m a bomb tech.” you dead pan, eyes darting around the tent. There are only 3 others here. You were expecting a whole team. He chuckles.

“Suicide squad. Nice.” Another man, rises from where he’s sitting a few yards away. You recognize him immediately. Price.

“Sassy.” He extends his hand, and you grip it in yours.

“Captain.”

“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” You nod, managing to steal another look at the others. A younger guy sits on a table in the far corner, ball cap sitting on top of his head. A bigger man, broad, stands near an open flap, arms crossed across his chest, eyes watching you from behind the skull mask that’s pulled down his face.

You do a double take. For a second, you think he’s Mace. Your heart pounds in your chest. Price is speaking, but you’re not hearing a word. Your fingers curl into a fist as you shake your memories loose and refocus. The man in the skull mask doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch in reaction to your odd behavior.

That’s not Mace.

So, it must be Ghost.

“I’ve got two making entry, east side.” You whisper into the radio, watching the men push through the door. You’re nowhere near a clean shot. You curse. “Soap. Come in.” The line is silent, and unease pools in your gut. “Captain, do you copy.” You call, the words cutting into the air. What is going on? “SOAP.” The word is a hiss that’s met with uncomfortable silence. Fuck.

“Why does the Captain call ya Sassy?” Soap asks one night. You’re outside under the bug net, sitting on a picnic table with him. Ghost looms ten feet away, a barely touched bottle of beer looking tiny in his massive hand. You smirk at the question.

“I’m a pain in the ass.” You say affectionately, lips curling into a smile. “But I’m also the best.”

“You’ve gotta be next level crazy to run with EOD.” Soap tilts his beer to his lips, polishing the rest off with a burp. “’Scuse me.” He stands, he stumbles, he dips into the dark where he can’t be seen. You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“How long you been a bomb tech?” you whip your head around at the sound of Ghost’s voice, directed towards you. It nearly makes you stutter.

“A few years.”

“That all you do?” The presumption shocks you. Private sector or not, these guys were all the same. If you’re a bomb tech, you must not be able to handle a gun. You whirl on him fully, taking two steps in his direction, your own glass bottle pointed in your hand.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

He cocks his head.

“Can you shoot, Sassy?” your upper lip trembles as it curls in disdain.

“I can shoot your dick off if you’d like.” He’s still ten feet across the way, but you’re shaking with anger. You watch as the impression of the mask shifts, the bottom half of the skull moving with his lips.

He’s fucking smiling at you.

You’re about to let a stream of expletives fall from your mouth when Soap stumbles back under the net, face goofy and carefree. He draws your attention to a specific lightbulb, drunkenly mumbling something about its color that briefly distracts you.

When you look back at Ghost, he’s gone.

The men are setting charges against the exit door that the 141 is planning to use. “Damn it all to hell.” You curse, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making a beeline off the roof. “I’m vacating.” You huff into the comms. “Inspecting demo charges, east side. Does anyone copy?” The radio silence is freaking you out. The 141 is practically a machine, for Christ’s sake. Methodical, clinical, well-practiced. A small infiltration should have been a piece of cake. You’re scurrying down a ladder when the radio crackles. Your diaphragm heaves in relief. Ghost’s voice fills your ears.

“Roger Sass. Keep me informed.” Me, not us. He’s slipping.

The door wasn’t locked.

The door wasn’t locked, and you really had to pee. These guys could piss in the yard, they could piss in a can, they could piss out the window of the truck for all you gave a shit. You needed a toilet.

You shouldered through the door, eyes down until you felt it slam against solid mass.

When you jerk your head up in confusion, all you see is black face paint and blonde eyelashes in the little mirror over the sink. The look in his eyes as he meets your gaze stuns you.

Ghost.

“Shit. Fuck.” You avert your gaze like you’ve seen him naked. Which is ridiculous, honestly. You didn’t even see the man’s whole face. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning on your heel.

“You’re alright, Sass.” He steps away from the sink. “I’m finished.” You stand halfway in the doorway, halfway in the tiny bathroom. You’re not even sure it is tiny, to be honest. It just looks small compared to his giant frame. You eye his bare hand, foreign to you without the glove, and swallow.

“Okay.” You turn to the side to give space for him to squeeze by you. He’s still wearing his tac gear, down to the tight-laced boots and vest. You already shed yours when you crossed the threshold of the tent, depositing it in the corner so you could breathe a bit. You shift when he passes, the roughness of his vest brushing against your thin sports bra and tank top. He’s looking down at you as he pauses in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side, brows lowered, eyes cataloguing your body. He lingers on the gash in your shoulder.

“Get that cleaned up.” It’s an order.

You swallow, even though your mouth is well past dry.

“I’m pushing towards the door.” You cross the street like a cat, slinking against the buildings and sticking to shadows. Soap chirps something over comms, but it’s too garbled to hear. You creep around the corner, ducking your head once to check for all clear before you’re crouched, walking slowly towards where you see the blinking charges. “I’ve got live explosives.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you whisper into the comms. “Repeat. Live charges on east door.” It’s Price that answers you, a gunshot echoing from two floors above.

“Clear it, Sassy.”

“Copy.”

“I knew a guy.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off, but your eyes dart between the three of them.

“That wore a skull mask?” Gaz’s voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe. You nod. Ghost’s eyes watch you from the dark. They pin you down, marking your every move. You push it further.

“His name was Mace. I ran in a private company with him for a minute.” Soap visibly shifts, body angling towards his LT. Ghost’s hand flexes on his thigh. The fidget confirms your suspicions. You sip the last of your beer and beam it towards the rim of the metal trashcan. “It was short lived.”

They’re rudimentary. You’ve seen shit like this before, usually in IEDs, sometimes in homemade Semtex. You can practically hear your dad’s voice as you snip and pull wires. It’s like a dance. Watch your feet, or it’l go hot on ya. The lack of sophistication is laughable, and you’re pulling the first one off the door hinge in record time. You’re nearly congratulating yourself, all cocky and stupid, when you hear the telltale click of a gun.

The end of a barrel presses to the back of your skull.

“Don’t move.” You raise your hands slowly as the voice instructs you. “Turn around.” Your stomach bucks into your throat as you eye the man and his wild eyes. He looks desperate. Not good. “Those your guys up there?” He nods his head upwards. You stay still. You stay silent.

It started as a drinking game. You’d lose a hand; you’d tell a truth.

He’d lose a hand; he’d tell a truth. The half empty bottle of tequila lubricated you both, keeping you loose and easy, little pieces of your lives slipping your from lips without a care.

“You know mine.”

“Everyone knows yours, Simon.” You use it for affect. You can practically see him scowling under the mask.

“That’s what I want Sass, you lost. You spill.” He turns away from you and swipes the bottle from the table, lifting the bottom of the mask to take a swig. You sigh.

“Not going to happen. Pick something else.”

“Come on.. It’s just your name.” the gravel in his voice sends shivers across your skin.

“And it’s just your face.” His head jerks back in surprise, and he puts the bottle down on the table unfolding his giant legs from underneath the picnic table. He’s leaving. “Oh, come on.” You call at his retreat, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back at you.

“Well?” The man steps closer, and you eye the other charge that’s still live. You’re not good in these situations. You’re a bomb tech, not a people person. The gun barrel presses more firmly against your head.

“Ye- yeah. They’re mine.” He leers at you. He’s not the same as the other two, the guys who planted these charges. He’s someone else. Your radio crackles.

“Sass.” It’s Ghost. You close your eyes for a second and try to get a handle on yourself. You’ve been through way worse. Get it together. “Sass. You copy?” The man with the gun studies you for a second, before he’s reaching for your radio, ripping it from your tac vest as hard as he can. You watch as his finger presses on the comm button. You lunge, yelling in warning, hoping it makes it through the static. He spins, trying to dodge you but you reach for his gun, desperate to pull it from his hands before he can fire it. You hear shouting behind you, the heavy thud of familiar footsteps drawing closer as you wrestle over the weapon. You catch a glimpse of Ghost from the corner of your eye before the guy you’re fighting with is turning, barrel pointed right at your chest. Shit.

“How’d you get into bombs?” you laugh at the question, and then tilt your head and study him.

“I like puzzles.” His eyes flick back and forth behind the mask, watching you as you watch him. You decide to test it. “My Dad can’t do a crossword, but he’s got a way with wires. Passed it down to me, I guess.” He nods knowingly. You don’t say anything further. The air between the two of you feels thick, and it’s not just the heat.

“How’d you get into SAS?” he grunts.

“I’ve got a way with guns.”

Your eyes blink open slowly to the feel of your cheek being smashed against someone’s tac vest. The guys are shouting. An engine is roaring. Your abdomen is burning.

“Shit.” You slur, vaguely aware that you’re sitting in someone’s lap, arms supporting your body as the truck careens around a corner. “Shot?” your mouth struggles to form the word and you look down to see a massive hand pressed against your ribcage. Ghost’s hand. Your own fingers crawl over his. They’re wet. Blood.

“Don’t move, Sass.” His voice is low, and he only glances down at you for a second but you know. You can feel it in the way his palm presses into your wound. You can see it in the tick of his jaw. You groan.

“Fucker shot me?” Your tongue weighs a million pounds. Gaz swears nervously next you on the seat.

“You’re alright.” Ghost says, legs flexing as the truck takes another turn, trying to keep you from jostling too much. “You’ll be fine.” You nod your agreement. You feel thick fingers stroke through the hair at the crown of your head as you drift off, the world tinging to black around you.

“LT doesn’t call you Sassy.” Johnny muses. You stretch your arms in the chair, twisting your back in hopes of cracking it a bit.

“He doesn’t.” you confirm. It’s just Sass with Ghost. Always.

“Why?”

“Don’t know.”

You wake again when you get back, your body still pressed the Ghost’s chest as he powers through camp, practically running towards the med tent. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, and at superspeed. You can’t see straight. The fire shooting in your nerves makes you want to gag. There’s someone else, walking next to you. They’re speaking in low tones to Ghost, and they brush their hand along your shoulder like they’re trying to grab you. He barks something at them, curling your body closer to his, and then you’re slipping away again, closing your eyes to fall into darkness.

“Do you ever think about what’d you do, if you didn’t do this?” he shakes his head no, immediately.

“You?” you drink a swig of water, holding the bottle out to him. His fingers wrap around yours as he takes it.

“I think I’d like to work an office job. Something boring, you know. Uneventful.”

“You wanna be bored, Sass?” You shrug, and step closer, your hips brushing between his spread legs. He blows a breath out through his nose.

“I’m sure I could find a way to make it interesting.” You take another sip, letting a single drop slip from your bottom lip and down your throat. Ghost tracks it the entire way.

He doesn’t really speak to anyone for days after you wake from surgery. And when you’re finally moving around, back with the team, he acts like he can’t see you.

It’s weeks later, when you sit next to him at the top of the stairs of the new safehouse you all moved to. The rest of the team is down in the living room, crowded around the smallest TV that Gaz rigged, watching a soccer game.

“You good?” you ask and turn to him. He doesn’t respond, just stares at the peeling paint on the opposite wall. You reach out to him slowly, watching his eyes flicker in case it’s more than just, general brooding Simon. “Ghost?”

“He put a bullet in your ribs.” Oh. Oh.

“Shit happens.” You shrug and try to play it off.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” He turns to look right at you, something wild lurking beneath his skin. His hand shoots out and grips you by your collarbone, five fingers folding over it with ease. He could snap you in half. You swallow thickly.

He jerks your torso, moving you like a ragdoll until he’s leaning down into your face.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” he says again, and you nod. His grip is strong, and his blatant contact with your body heats something alive between your legs. Something the two of you have been dancing around until this point.

“Okay. Okay, Ghost. I got you.” You whisper. His ungloved hand comes up to press a thumb into your bottom lip, sliding it across the skin there. He’s wearing the mask, but you can see the blonde flutter of his eyelashes, eyes heavy as he regards you. You blink once, twice, before he’s hauling you up with both hands, wrapping an arm around your pliable body and pushing you into the shadow of the landing. For a moment, neither of you move, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he pushes you back against the wall, nose pressing into the curve of your jaw, fingers stroking the outside of your pants above your cunt. It stuns you, it thrills you, and you’re immediately trying to strategize how to get your hands inside his pants. He pats you softly and it’s not enough friction, so you push your hips towards him, fingers trying to loosen his belt. He grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. He’s staring at you differently, intensely, like he wants to pull you apart and put you back together. You gulp, and then he snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, down to the seam of your cunt. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and you bite down on your tongue as he strokes over your clit. Your body explodes with tiny little shocks, and you whimper, your lips pressing to the outside of the cloth stretched across his face. “You’re wet.” His voice is rough. “Y-yeah.” You stutter. “That’s what happens.” He growls. “Your mouth” he thrusts a finger upwards inside you, forcing you to gasp. “is annoying.” You lean your head back against the wall give him an open-mouthed smirk. “So shut me up then.” His head tilts, and something dark flashes across his eyes. You grin.

He’s got your pants down around your ankles, your face pressed against the cool stone of the wall, and a hand up your shirt, fingers twisting one of your nipples as the other swirls the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Fuck.” He growls above your ear, his cock breaching you, pushing steadily against your walls, slowly tearing you apart. Your cunt clenches around him, the burn of the stretch too good, and too much at the same time. His shoulders bear over yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

“Ghost.” You whine, palms slapped against the wall. His free hand moves to cover your mouth.

“Hush. You can take it. Hold still.” You freeze because, well, Simon says. You shriek against his hand as his cock pushes into your cervix. He’s so big. It hurts. It feels so good. He thrusts, dragging his cock down and then up, over and over until you’re a teary mess, grunts and whimpers slipping out between the lips you’re trying to keep closed. He pauses, fingertips lightly brushing over where gauze is still wrapped around your body. “Good?” he whispers above your ear, and you nod frantically.

So good. Too good. Don’t stop.

He fucks into you slowly, working you open with a patience that surprises you. His breathing is harsh and unsteady, one arm bracing against you to hold your body in place, the other pressing against your cunt, his fingers finding your clit with ease. It’s too much, and your body jolts backwards, nestling your ass deeper in waiting space between his hips. He holds your there, rubbing circles around your clit and sliding his cock in and out of you, the sounds your bodies are making together probably way too loud considering the team is sitting just downstairs. His hand releases your mouth, and you shove your face against the wall, desperate to find some leverage.

His lips press against the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips without the mask. Your eyes widen as you make the realization, your brain putting it together as you feel his teeth nibble into you, lips sucking blood to the surface of your pores so he can mark you. You can’t turn your head to look, and even if you wanted to, you don’t think you would. He doesn’t even know your name. He groans into your skin, the feeling of his unmasked jaw pressing against you is something you’re going to be holding onto long after Belize. He strokes your clit, pushing and pulling your body towards an orgasm, your walls clenching down on him as he ruts against you.

“F-fuck, Sass. That’s it, good girl, that’s it. Come for me.” The praise electrifies you, and then you explode into a white-hot orgasm, coming with him lodged deep inside of you, his arm holding your twitching body against his. He fucks you through it, steadily, rushing after his own release, and he presses his nose into your hair as he whispers something unintelligible. Your orgasm is still lingering, every one of your nerves alive and on fire, and you’re a whimpering mess against him. The floor creaks under the steady movement of his hips, his body working yours relentlessly as he thrusts up into you until he’s coming, filling you up, shaking with your call sign on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me see your face now?” you’re sitting out back on a half stack of bricks, passing a beer back and forth. He turns every time to adjust the mask when it’s his turn for a sip.

“You gonna tell me your name?” you chew on your lip, and he nods, handing the bottle back to you as he stands. “I don’t need your name Sass. I’ve already got you.” His fingers stroke through your hair, the touch soothing and sweet, and you find yourself speechless.

“You don’t have me.” You rebuff him indignantly.

“That so? We’ll see.” He leaves you sitting outside with the beer, eyes staring daggers at his retreating back. It’s a different thing, to be had, to be known, in a world like this. You don’t know if you can do it. You don’t know if he can either. You glance through the screen door into the back of the house, where he stands leaned against a counter talking to Soap. His head tilts, and he finds you with that same gaze, the one he gave you when he had himself buried in your cunt. You shiver.

Okay, Ghost. I got you.

I’ve already got you.

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