#this motherfucker keeps dropping dead on me
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did adrian die again
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mmm can we do: “Open your mouth,” before spitting into it. With ghoul x reader?
18+ ghoul x reader. you have a mighty bounty on your head with an order to be returned alive, but that doesn't mean your captor can't have a little fun with you along the way. kidnapping, deprivation, bribery, folks getting horny over water.
Fucked.
You're so completely fucked.
The worst of it all was that you'd been so close to making it out. You'd gotten far enough that you'd paid your weight in stolen caps to get safe passage away from your dead end life. You didn't have a cent left to your name when he found you.
The Ghoul.
Running didn't get you far. You couldn't bribe him. Begging only made him laugh.
He's got you bound thoroughly in coarse lithe rope. Your hands are clasped over your chest as if in prayer, and your elbows are tucked snugly to your ribs. The rope job makes for an excellent harness, and he hasn't been shy about yanking you by it.
It's been almost two days of this slog back towards the shithole you fled from. You fought hard at first, mouthing off at every opportunity, but the heat has worn you ragged, and this son of a bitch hasn't given you so much as a drop of water.
You collapse to your knees. Your throat is so dry, even breathing hurts.
"Trust me when I say you do not want me t'drag you the rest of the way, darlin'," he tells you, giving the rope a jerk. You barely manage not to fall flat on your face.
"At this rate you'll be dragging a corpse," you hiss, voice hoarse. "I need water."
The earth crunches beneath his boots as he approaches, crouching down near you. Roughly, he grabs hold of your chin, tilting your head up to look you over. He pinches your cheek with a thoughtful hum.
"Yeah, y'might just be right. Awfully dehydrated," he muses. You could swear he's enjoying your slow decline.
"Water," you repeat tersely.
"Y'know, for such a sweet face, you're a real sourpuss," he says, drawing his canteen from his satchel. You swallow dryly, too thirsty to even salivate. "I haven't heard a single 'please' outta that mouth of yours."
"I'm not going to beg for the life you're selling," you spit right back. This is the closest he's been to you since your capture. If you could gather wetness enough on your tongue, you'd be weighing the pros and cons of spitting that in his face instead.
He chuckles, unscrewing the lid. You can already smell the wetness of it. Your jaw aches. "Y'got chutzpah, I'll give y'that."
You lean forward, opening your mouth instinctively when he lifts the canteen. Please, please, please, please...
The Ghoul brings the canteen to his own gnarled lips, holding your gaze as he gulps once, twice, three times before drawing away with a satisfied aahh, humming like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Your heart falls into your stomach.
"Oh," he says, looking from your dejected expressing to the canteen and back. "I'm sorry, did you want some?"
"You son of a-" you start, but he interrupts you with a sharp yank of the rope.
"Ah, ah. I've had just about enough of hearin' your gutter mouth," he says, but he doesn't sound it. His smile is downright chuffed. "Now, if you want so much as a drop of this, y'gonna say please."
You grit your teeth. Your pride is all you have left in this world, and apparently this motherfucker is determined to take that away, too. Your gaze drops to his mouth, where a rivulet of water rolls out from the corner. You're so desperate you almost lurch forward to lick the drop before it drips from his chin.
Steeling yourself, you drag your eyes back up to his. "Please," you say tightly.
The corner of his smile tics upwards. "Please what?"
You inhale a steadying breath. "Can I please have water?"
"That's much better," he says, lifting the canteen once more. "Open your mouth."
With a flood of tentative relief, still wary of his sincerity, you tip your head back and do as you're told, ignoring the wicked flicker of pleasure you see light in his black eyes.
"Now, if y'want a sip, keep that mouth open," he says, taking a long swig from the canteen. You stare in disbelief, beginning to protest, but he holds up a single gloved finger to silence you, humming sharply.
He swishes the water loudly in his mouth, and understanding dawns on you. Heat that rivals the arid desert sweeps through you in a hot rush of humiliation, but you refuse to let him see it. You refuse to back down.
Steadily, you open your mouth once again, chin jutting out defiantly.
He quirks a hairless brow beneath his hat, rolling the water from one side of his mouth to the other, as if daring you.
You push your tongue out, expression expectant.
He grabs hold of your chin and yanks you forward, fountaining the water into your open mouth, spitting to finish it off. You choke it down, trying not to cough for the amount of it that hit the back of your throat, your head hanging forward.
It feels like bliss on your tongue, soothing the burning dryness, but the relief of it is gone far too soon. You could easily guzzle a full bottle to yourself.
It's not enough.
After a beat, you lift your head, mouth once again open, tongue pushed forward.
The Ghoul laughs. You can feel his breath on what little moisture is left on your lips.
"Well now, don't you paint a pretty picture," he says, catching your chin in his grip again, pulling you forward. Resolutely, you keep your mouth open, waiting. His eyes flicker down to the sight of it, darkening. He licks his own lips as if he's the one deprived.
"Maybe you're worth the caps they're payin' for you after all," he says, drinking from the canteen. He moves even closer this time, tilting your head all the way back. His lips nearly brush yours while the water spills into your mouth.
You swallow it back greedily, little noises leaving your throat unbidden for the sheer relief of it. You swear you can feel the water rushing to your temples, soothing your pounding headache.
His thumb moves up your chin, collecting water you'd dribbled in your haste. He pushes it up over your bottom lip and into your mouth. Without thinking, you close your lips around the intrusion and suck, greedy for every last drop. His hold on you tenses.
You meet his gaze and in it you see dark prowling hunger. How much of his predator nature is he holding back right now? Would he sacrifice the caps if he thought you looked good enough to eat?
"Thanks," you say, voice little more than a rasp.
His jaw shifts like he's biting his tongue, and then he screws the lid back onto his canteen, hauling you up with him as he stands. He's rough with you, but not overly so.
If beggin' and cussin' don't work on the big bad Ghoul, you suppose you've got nothing to lose in trying to use good ol' fashioned manners to wriggle your way out of this.
Ghoul or not, what you just witnessed was a man's hunger, and that's something you can work with.
#oop this went in a direction i didn't expect#hope you like it!#my writing#prompt#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#x reader#fallout fanfic#cooper howard#the ghoul#ask tag
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A Little Injury
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Summary: You get shot at during a mission but after seeing Soap getting injured too you decide to keep yours a secret. Until your lieutenant catches on.
Warning: Guns, violence, serious-ish injury, reader shoots someone, blood, you're in a ton of pain, swearing, crying?, reader gets shot, yelling/shouting, Ghost is a bit of a jerk but not really because he basically patches you up in the end <3
A/N: I'm so sorry if I messed anything up plot-wise mainly because I'm not too familiar with MW2 and how the military work. I only know some parts...
(I'm sorry that you don't have a cool nickname to go by, I was struggling on a name anyway)
"Motherfucker!" You yell, quickly grabbing your gun again before you pulled the trigger, (attempting) shooting the guy in front of you. Ten bullets drop at your feet as you continue to unload at the man in front of you. Stopping suddenly as your arms tremble, you reload and shoot the guy again, just to be sure. The adrenaline wears off quickly as you drop your gun in agony, groaning and gripping your leg in pain as you tried to breathe in and out slowly.
Looking up your eyes scanned the now-dead man in front of you, his body slouched over on the wall with his gun in his lap. His hand was unresponsive and lifeless, you could barely see through your squinting how you just barely missed his heart. Your mind was racing the second he shot you and you had no time to perfect it.
A loud screech came through the walkie-talkie you had strapped to your chest armour, your ears ringed and your vision blurred as you mentally cursed yourself. "Y/N come in!" You recognised John's booming and aggressive voice, "Y/N Do you copy-" "Yes, yes I copy." A relieved sigh could be heard from the other side, "Status?" You looked around you, your eyes inspected and examined the room ignoring the voice in the back of your head to state your injury.
"I'm alright, do you need me?" Gunshots could be heard from outside the building, and streets were littered with violence and war. "Soap is down, injured badly we need everyone grouped up now!" Before you could reply John left, a static screeching out from the walkie-talkie just as you let your finger go of the button. But you pulled through, giving yourself a pep talk before grabbing your gun. Aiming it before leaving, your leg getting worse with every step.
♡ ♡ ♡
Limping around the corner you were met with your task force, John, Gaz, Soap and Ghost, their heads all turning to look at you. Soap was in the backseat of one of the military cars, bandages wrapped around his arm as he smirked at you. "Took your bloody time." Ghost mumbled roughly behind his mask, watching as you laugh before opening one of the doors. "Yeah yeah"
Getting in the backseat you were squished against the window, Soap leaning on the other side while Ghost sat in the middle. John and Gaz swearing about what you guessed to be themselves or arguing over another safehouse to stay for the night. Looking out the window you tried your hardest to focus on the horrible environment rather than your arching leg, the sounds of echoing shouting only died down once you got further away.
"Fuckin' battlefield out there" Soap spat, your head turning towards him, "How'd you get injured anyway? Tripped over?" Your teasing tone only made Soap feel better, his ruff chuckling made you smile as he pointed over to Ghost sitting in between you both. "Asshole doesn't know when to move." Ghost eyed him, giving him that jokingly shit-eating look before he continued, "Always in my damn' way." Your eyes drifted between the two of them, the thick tension could be felt between the three of you.
The agony of your leg coming back to ruin the moment, you huffed in frustration as you tried to catch a quick (Sneaky) glance down at your leg. Your heavy cargo pants felt wet when your fingers glided along the fabric. Looking at your fingers more you could spot your blood sliding down them before quickly wiping it away. Unknlowly catching the attention of Ghost.
♡ ♡ ♡
"Fuck I need to take a piss," Gaz said before disappearing into the bathroom. After what seemed like hours of torture from riding in the car ignoring your leg you guys came to a stop at a dingy motel. A more suspicious owner who glared at all of you when you tried to reason with him to get a room. Only the room was not clean and had a weird vibe, looking around you spotted a small TV sitting on a stand with 2 bunkbeds facing the opposite side.
Soap seemed to already claim the bottom bed with his blood and clothes as he tried to quickly discard them to unravel his bandages. You instead took the opportunity of claiming yourself on the top bunk - even though you did want the bottom - you took your time to slowly get up the ladder, hissing under your breath when you put too much weight on your other foot.
You stare at the ceiling, the beige colour was all you could think about as you drowned out everything around you. Your mind raced with thoughts, "Am I going to die?" "It hurts so much" "No one wants to patch you up" "No one cares" The thoughts were the only thing polluting you, they screamed and shouted at you as you tugged yourself to sleep. Telling yourself it'll heal in the morning and no one will know a thing.
The noises of the TV blurred in the background, the sounds of laughing and talking could be heard from below you but you paid no attention. Slowly and painfully drifting to sleep.
♡ ♡ ♡
You sniffled, shutting the door quietly behind you as if the guys would hear you through the loud TV playing an advertisement that no one was paying attention to. Turning on the light a quiet humming filled the bathroom, the uncomfortable, plain beige wallpaper followed into the bathroom as the white tiles fell hard against your boots.
Gripping onto the cold and slippery sink you had no intention of using the bathroom only the thought of weeping silently to yourself. You could have taken some of Soap's bandages or alcohol-free wipes but your mind was only focused on getting to the bathroom you didn't have time to think.
A loud knock shook you out of your struggling state, you nervously looked towards the door before preparing yourself to act normal. "Yes?" You questioned, your happy and normal voice didn't get past Ghost as he replied. "Open up." His British accent was demanding and serious as he waited for you to open up, "Go back to bed, Ghost-" "Open this fuckin' door. Y/N." He interrupted you this time more demanding than before as he knocked more forcefully.
You opened the door after what seemed like forever to him, you were met with his usual mask and muscular body. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, raking over your puffy eyes and left leg that was lifted off the ground. He pushed his way into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot as he signalled you to sit on the sink. You watched as he dropped the first-aid kit next to you, scavenging through it before he pulled out some cotton swobs and some alcohol-free wipes.
His eyes were met with yours as he stared deeply at you, he didn't say anything but he didn't need to. His pupils told a thousand words, like how wanted to ask you if it was okay to touch your leg, his hand hovering over your injury waiting for you to answer. And when you did he slowly pushed your cargo pants higher up your leg, giving him full access to your bare leg and bloody injury.
"Why didn't ya' tell me." He cursed at you, his fingers gently patting the cotton swab on your leg, soaking up and cleaning all the dripping and dried blood away from your leg. But you only shrugged your shoulders in response, "I can take care of myself" Your low, soft voice replied sounding determined but failed to get through Ghost as he stood between your legs.
"Clearly not." His husky voice only made you feel guilty, the long painful sensation felt sweet against his touch. "You not only failed me but the rest of the team" His stern and disappointed voice affected you, not only did you blame yourself before but now it only felt worse. "I'm-" You hissed feeling the throbbing and piercing sting of what could only be described as hell but instead it was Ghost trying his best to slowly and softly wipe the alcohol-free wipe across your injury.
"I'm sorry..." You huffed out, your gentle and drowsy voice pleaded and sounded genuine to Ghost. He hummed in reply, his clothed fingers dancing and massaging your leg, sometimes you swore he could squeeze or go higher up your thigh. His low and husky breath could be heard through the low humming of the bright bathroom light, leaning against the mirror you felt relaxed now that there was no pain.
"Don't try that shit again, you hear me?" Ghost wrapped your leg up and let go of your leg now he only stood between your man-spread legs. Arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you, "I'd hate to see you hurt again." His dreadfully quiet tone was possessive and penetrating, you swore he grinned once you smiled in return.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#mw2 ghost x reader#ghost#ghost mw2#mw2 x reader#fanfiction#my little meow meow#simon riley#cod ghost#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you
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Taco Tuesday: Hazbin Hotel
Angel: (busts into the hotel with five bags of Taco Hell) Bitches, prepare your guts! It's Taco Tuesday!
Husker: Motherfucker, it's fuckin' Thursday.
Angel: To-may-to, po-tay-to, you gonna help me demolish $100 hellbucks worth of bad fast food Mexican or not?
Husker: .......Put me in.
Angel: (tosses bag to Husk) Here, go!
Cherri: I'm all in, dickhead! Toss me a bag!
Angel: (tosses another bag to Cherri) Here ya go!
Charlie: I'll have one or two if you're offering. I've never had Taco Hell before.
Angel: (throws three individual tacos to Charlie) Head's up!
Charlie: Ah! Ouph! (fumbling the tacos) Shit! I got 'em!
Angel: Al, ya in or what?
Alastor: You wouldn't catch me double dead eating that garbage.
Angel: What? You can eat rotten deer, but Taco Hell is too gross for ya? Hmph! (drops a bag in Vaggie's lap) Here ya go, Vags.
Vaggie: Wow, way to just assume I would want my own bag. Is that you being sexist or racist?
Angel: Realist. I've seen you demolish a whole pot of taco meat during monthly taco nights here when you think no one's lookin'.
Vaggie: And I fully intend to obliterate this bag, which doesn't change my initial statement. (unwraps a taco and practically inhales it)
Angel: Yeah, that's what I thought. Big Daddy Luci want in?
Charlie: (slowly eating her first taco and shakes her head) Mm-mm. Dad doesn't do well with spices or hispanic cuisine in general.... or fast food....
Angel: Alright, well, we got a spare bag for anyone who wants more. (digs into his own bag)
Husker: (unwraps a taco and tilts his head left and right to figure out how he wants to eat) Hmmmm.... When you guys eat a taco, do you tilt your head left or right?
Vaggie: (already halfway through her bag) Neither, the thighs typically keep my head firmly in place.
-Record Screech-
Hazbins: (absolutely shocked)
Charlie: (beet red and horns out as she hides behind a taco wrapper)
Vaggie: .......I said that out loud, didn't I?
Angel: Yeah, you did! Hahahahahahaha!!! Playing up that stereotype, ain'tcha, bitch?! This is almost as good as Selma Hayek playing the lesbian taco in "Sausage Party"!!!
#hazbin hotel#incorrect quotes#hazbin crack#taco hell#cherri bomb#husker#angel#alastor#vaggie#charlie#chaggie#lets hit all the lesbian jokes#lesbian#joke#pilot joke is still funny#lucifer and alastor are smart
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little mcr things in songs that i would drop to my knees for
THE GUITAR AT THE BEGINNING OF DISENCHANTED
ITS SO SWEET
'GET. UP. COWARD.'
'run run bunny run' in scarecrow and how it gradually gets louder until gerard is yelling
UHM?? MIKEYS LITTLE 'FUCKIN READY' IN VAMPIRE MONEY?? LIKE BBG PLEASE GIVE US MORE??
the start of kiss the ring?? like?? perfection??
the sweet little guitar part in demolition lovers at the start like go ray! play your silly little riff!
the bassline to planetary(go!)(i have never once called this song just 'planetary'. its always been planetary go to me) is super funky and i absolitely love it. and i remember mikey saying how that was the hardest bassline that hes played or stage or smt like that<3
THE SILLY LITTLE COWBOY THEME AT THE START OF HANG EM HIGH?? LIKE?? I LOVE IT BUT WHY??
that silly riff during dead! that sounds like woody the woodpecker
8 bitter years - 9 bitter years - 10 FUCKING YEARS
romance. all of it. fuck you if you dont like romance. i would die for this little thing
'dO YOU HAVE THE KEYS TO THE HOTEL-'
the peppy little drums at the start of cemetery drive
'sosendmyresignationtothebrideandthegroom'
'hair bACK, MOTHERFUCKER'
THE INTRO TO GIVE EM HELL KID WHERE ITS JUST MIKEY PLAYING AND YOU CAN REALLY HEAR THE BASSLINE. SHIVERS, BRO
also the bassline to headfirst for halos?? and the guitar at the start?? like i love this song too much??
at this point just bullets. all of it. the entire album. so underrated tbh. fuck anyone who doesnt like bullets
'YOU SHOULDVE RAISED A BABYGIRL I SHOULDVE BEEN A BETTER SON' absolute trans anthem right here, folks
the piano throughout blood is just so happy for no reason like hun, this is not the song for this-
the little 'oooooooooss' in all the angels
the howling in house of wolves??? like it fits so perfectly, guys
'so shut your eyyyyess kiss me goodbyeeee and SLEEEEEEEEEEEPP' 10/10
i will never not love the guitar at the start of na na na and it sucks that the only version you can hear it alone and more isolated is the version off of mdnsy but thank god we at least have that version. i love the lil riff at the start<3
the kids from yesterday. all of it. the electro-themed start and then the sNARE- PHMYGOD GUYS. PLEASE DO NOT OVERLOOK THIS SONG
'from the earth to the morgue morgue morgue MOOOOOOOORRRRRRRGUE WELL TONIIIIGHT WILL IT EVER COOOME?'
ray and franks backing vocals during planetary!! the little wooahs! i love them!<3
the drums at the beginning of burn bright??
the way gerard sings television in boy division like 'teLAviSION'
'well it better be BLACK and it better be TIGHT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE. - well it better be WHITE and it better be CUT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE.'
WE DONT NEED ANOTHER SONG ABOUT CALIFORNIA. ALL OF IT. I LOVE THAT SONG AND NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT.
'STOP AND STARE AT THE ACCIDENTS AND STARS THAT BORE YOU'
THATS MY FAVORITE MCR LYRIC GUYS
'louder than gods revolver and TWICE AS SHINY'
okay wait this list was longer than i intended but reblog with your favorite little snippets of mcr songs!!(i keep updating this i need to stop)(i updated it again help)
#mcr#my chemical romance#gerard way#emo#mikey way#ray toro#frank iero#silly little things#i love mcr#please tour again#i need you guys#idk autism maybe
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Incredible things from the london D20 live show in no particular order (straight from memory so may not be totally accurate or have much context at all):
First of all the line up was incredible. Kugrash, Pete, Sundry Sydney, Skip, Fabian and Adaine. What a terrible combination of personalities, it was so funny
Btw everyone looked so good. They looked really good, those fits <3. Murph striped button up/polo? shirt and Lou grandpa sweater you will always be famous
When Siobhan rolled Adaine everyone was so excited. Lou (who had already rolled for Fabian) hugged her, picked her up and spun her around on stage ❤️
Everyone was so excited to have a buddy ❤️
The setting was rolled as a crown of candy, after Brennan literally said “wow we happened to have a few people from the same place, wouldn’t it be hilarious if we got a crown of candy or neverafter or something?”
Everyone arrives and are doing introductions and the first thing Fabian says is “[tearfully] Adaine is that a giant rat?” Cue the whole atrium losing it.
Sydney then proceeds to minor illusion Kugrash as “sexy.” After some deliberation and when prompted by Brennan, Murph decided this means he looks exactly the same except for giant veneers
Beardsley: Can I distract the guard?
Brennan [flabbergasted, as the rest of the party was doing INSANE shit around this]: Sure, the DC is 500.
Beardsley: If I crit will you let it happen
Brennan [indulgently]: sure
Beardsley: [rolls a nat 20]
Brennan: [despair], cast: [running around in circles on stage and jumping], fans: [losing it]
And that’s how they accidentally start a revolt in Candia within minutes of arrival by Pete the Chosen Outsider with the peppermint tooth and prophesied king of candia. But it’s cool because in the next few minutes Kugrash teaches them about democracy.
So many little references to past campaigns and character one liners. Way too many for me to list but the cast was clearly enjoying dropping them
Sundry Sydney hitting King Calroy with 3 grenades ON SIGHT
A Hasted Kugrash doing an opposed athletics against Calroy and Brennan rolls a Nat 1. The dice wanted that motherfucker DEAD.
Kugrash to Calroy: “I eat from the trash, and I’ve never seen a cake as shitty as you!’ And then proceeds to 300-style kick him off the castle wall (as acted out by human man Murph)
Sooo much PVP though really most of that was between Pete and Fabian as they fought over the crown of candia
Sundry Sydney successfully seduced and awakens personhood in Adaine’s identify spell. His name is ANUS now. (Another use…)
Skip is quangled out and replaced by Lapin (played by Zac) and tries to keep the party on track. He fails many times. He takes up smoking from the stress. Adaine does as well.
At some point Pete’s wild magic turns his hands into rock candy, which he uses to deal 2d20 damage to Fabian during a fight
Emily as Sydney, whenever crazy shit happens: this is canon! [raises cannon arm]
All of them (except Pete) have some bad baby milk and do kublacaine. Cue a small detour for more pvp between Pete and Fabian
Arthur Aguefort is released from captivity in a castle full of/made from eggs. He and Lapin may or may not know each other biblically. They met on an app for old magical men, don’t worry about it.
Bill Seacaster is the pirate prince of the dairy lands and has the quangle. They get into his castle with Operation Fancy Perfume Part 2 except Emily rolled a nat 1 for her assist, so first poisonous perfume takes out most of the party and everyone inside the castle. I think Emily may have been crying she was laughing so hard.
They sort of defeat Bill by giving him pleasure putty (which he USES behind a curtain in front of EVERYONE) and then has to go take a nap, so they sneak into the rest of the castle to find the quangle. I am never going to forgive Brennan for making it canon that he goes “yar har har YO HO HO” when he gets off. I WILL NEVER UNHEAR THIS.
Pete Conlan somehow gains the power of flight from Bambi LeRoux (Sydney brought her) singing the Reading Rainbow theme song. He does a flying ribbon dance out the window, where she stops singing and he falls and takes max fall damage. He’s still up, so Fabian jumps out the window with Feather Fall and shoots him with a laser gun until he actually dies lmao. He gets injured too somehow but I forgot how. They both get healed and everyone continues on like nothing happened.
Emily took her dice that rolled a Nat 1, kissed it, and threw it into audience with a cheeky expression. I’m in love with her I fear
The time quangle is an entire pool of lemon yogurt. At the bottom of the pool is a completely naked Gilear Faeth
Kugrash eats all the yogurt despite knowing it will kill him in order to end the quangle. His farewell speech has as a backdrop Gilear’s giant hog (played by Brennan’s arm, as he got out of his chair to stand behind Murph the ENTIRE time he was talking). Kugrash then ascends to the big bodega in the sky.
Sydney also seduces Annabelle Cheddar (EDIT: fuck it was like 12 AM forgive me) Primsy Coldbottle, who is explicitly 29 in this version of time. Both her and Anus join Sydney in returning to AnarchEra. I cannot emphasize enough how horny this live show was
Everyone gets sent back to their respective universes, except Arthur. He’s going to hang out in Candia for a bit to be Lapin’s “roommate.”
Fabian’s last line is that he has to call his banker because he has a new nemesis
Lapin: “That was the worst group of people I have ever met.”
God that was so funny, I really hope these live shows are getting recorded and will be released somewhere later. I need everyone to experience the epic highs and lows of this d20 session.
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Hot Ghouls in Your Area 8
Chapter 8
Masterpost
“You're just now going to campus?” Jazz said. Danny scowled ahead at the sidewalk. Her tone wasn't judgmental so much as mildly surprised. He still hated it. “That's a lot later than usual. Is everything alright?” Danny hunched his shoulders up and consciously reminded himself not to get defensive. He wasn't slacking. He'd gotten home after his class and slept 13 hours. He still felt wiped out.
“Ghost stuff,” he said cryptically. “Ruined my night.” He dodged someone on the sidewalk without thinking about it, used to the crowds by now.
Jazz inhaled sharply into his ear. “They're supposed to leave you alone to focus on your education,” she hissed. “Just so you know, I do have the venomous Fenton electric creep stick-”
“Yeah, I know,” Danny cut her off. She was probably holding it up right now, thumb on the trigger. He couldn't fight off the rueful smile. She had his back, didn't she? Always did. With that in mind… “I think I need help,” he admitted. Oof. Felt bad. Not as bad as failing his classes, though, which was the danger if he got pulled too deep into more Ghost bull honkey.
“Of course!” Jazz enthused. He stepped off the curb and then quick-stepped backwards to avoid getting hit by some asshole running the red light. Danny lifted up his free hand to flip them off as he hung on his heels on the edge of the pavement drop. He dropped lightly back onto the balls of his feet and jogged across the street.
Jazz was still talking, voice clear over the morning meld of honking and running engines. “How about you come over to my place after your classes tonight? My roommate is out for a conference.”
“You just don't want to come to Crime Alley,” Danny accused her. “Even for me, your beloved baby brother.” He dodged a car that was parked on the cross walk and made an ugly face at the driver. “Despite your professed love for crime, when it counts, it's all talk.”
“I don't love crime,” Jazz reiterated with her inhuman patience. She didn't take the bait of his deliberate mischaracterization of her career plans. “But I am exquisitely stabbable." Her tone went lofty with the brag. "So yes, I avoid Crime Alley.”
Danny blew an unimpressed raspberry to show what he thought of that.
He hadn't met anyone in Gotham yet who he thought would really throw Jazz for a loop. She was a 6ft 2 judo black belt, and she was liminally spooky as fuck. “No one would stab you,” he said, making it sound like an insult. His janky ass was more likely to get held up. "But fine, I'll haul my poor broken corpse all the way over there to do you a favor-”
“So I can do you a favor,” Jazz corrected wryly.
“My poor broken corpse,” Danny cut back in, because that was a really relevant factor to him. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned a little. He felt like he'd been in a tumble dryer. Missing a full night of sleep was an insufferable insult to his desperate shoe-string construction of a healthy routine.
“I would so get robbed if I came there,” Jazz argued. “Maybe even kidnapped.” He could all but hear her flip her hair.
He snorted but let her keep her delicate feminine delusions about not being one of the scariest motherfuckers in the crime capital of the country. He wasn't actually worried about her interning at Arkham Asylum. Maybe he'd freaked out a little when she'd moved here, but that wasn't why he was here. No matter what anyone said.
“There's no immediate danger, right?” Jazz checked. “No reason I need to be concerned today?”
“Nah,” Danny reassured her, as the campus came into sight. He had about an hour before class to spend in the lab before his lecture. “It's not that kind of problem.” He felt his face arranged itself into a wry smile. “You might like this one.”
“Oh?” Jazz asked, intrigued. “Do tell.”
“Only after I've sworn you to perfect silence,” Danny shot back instantly. “I mean it, for real, you can't tell a soul living or dead or nonliving or-”
“I think I get it,” she cut him off. Jazz huffed. “As if I can't keep a secret. You think I can't keep secrets? I know the most incredible things that you could never dream up.”
“...Big if true,” Danny snarked, pretending that he wasn't extremely interested.
“You never knew what happened to the Robinsons,” Jazz said airily. “And you never will.”
“...that doesn't bother me at all,” Danny lied. He stopped walking.
“Ahuh,” Jazz said knowingly. “Hey, remember the neon cheese incident?”
Danny gritted his teeth. “Can't say I do,” he said. It was bullshit, and even he knew it wasn't convincing Jazz. He was dying to know the truth. It had been the talk of the town for weeks and was still occasionally featured on unsolved mystery podcasts. He'd gone far enough to ask the Dairy King, but even the dead wouldn't speak on it.
“Have a good day of classes, little brother,” Jazz said sweetly. She ended the call.
He rubbed at his temples. Ancients, she gave him a headache. She was fantastic. She was killing him and absolutely ruining his unlife. He couldn't even beg her for answers about the neon cheese, because if he managed to badger it out of her, it would prove she could be manipulated into telling secrets. That would be a loss anyway. It was more likely that either she didn't know anything or that she knew and her lips would stay sealed: Danny didn't have any to waste his breath.
He did a few calming rounds of breathing, now that he was thinking about it, and then went on with his day a bit invigorated by the familial aggravation.
Danny felt a little better about focusing on class now that he knew he could count on Jazz in his corner. She was the smartest person he knew. She could probably get him divorced by the end of the day. Hell, she probably already had a contingency plan for getting him a divorce. She was so ready for him to have a relationship so that he would have relationship problems to ask her about.
When he finished up on campus, Danny cut across town to pick up takeout food as an offering. He presented it to Jazz as soon as she opened the door, head bowed and food theatrically high.
“Oh, come in,” Jazz said, exasperated. She grabbed him by the back of his collar and bodily pulled him inside. “My neighbors are going to think I'm so weird, Danny!”
“My liege,” he intoned seriously. “I come bearing- ow! Stop hitting my- hey, my face!” Danny wrestled away from the horrible pinching grip his terrible sister had on his cheeks, scowling. “That hurt,” he complained. “Have you ever thought that you're getting caught up in the cycle of violence?”
“I don't lose sleep over it.” Jazz lowered herself delicately onto one of the weird puffs she had instead of chairs and made grabby hands at the takeout. “What did you get me?”
“Coal,” Danny snarked. But he handed over the bag without a fight and plopped himself onto the closest poof thing. He fully laid out and let his head flop past the edge to hang upside down.
“Inversion therapy, so chic,” Jazz said absently.
He considered flipping her off, but his balance was really off in this position and it would be hard to defend himself if she lunged at him. Hell, if she picked up his legs he'd probably tip over onto the floor. Danny dug his heels into the side of the poof in defensive preparation. He kept her in his peripheral vision.
“Oh, Malaysian,” Jazz enthused. “I wanted to have this!” She sounded a little too surprised.
He shot her a thumbs up. Two days ago, she'd sent him a screenshot of a text landing from someone else that had shown most of her screen was the active map app she was using to get to an appointment. The Malaysian restaurant had the star mark that she put on the places that she wanted to try.
He'd gambled that she hadn't gone yet because she hadn't had a late night at work. Jazz only got takeout with company or if she got home too late to cook.
“Cool,” Danny said, because he didn't want his rotten sister to think he cared about her interests. “It was on the way and it smelled good.”
Jazz hummed and put the food on the side table. “So I see.” She folded her fingers in front of her face and peered at him over the steeple. “What happened? What ghost do I need to soup with a fragrant combination of turmeric and saffron?”
“Please don't waste that, ghosts taste fine on their own,” Danny said.
Jazz grimaced. “Ew, Danny,” she enunciated carefully. She paused. “Ew.”
He shrugged and accidentally slipped a little closer to the floor. “Just saying. But actually, no one dead was involved, unless we count-”
“We don't count,” Jazz cut him off, serenely unbothered by his attempts to score empathy points off his death. She was a cold customer.
“Boo,” Danny said, because he knew his brand and respected ghost tradition. “Anyway, Jeremy Waters. Remember -”
“How could I forget,” Jazz muttered. She put her hands on her face.
“Hey,” Danny said, offended that Jeremy got that reaction and he got a big fat impassive nothing no matter how annoying he was.
“What’s Jeremy done?” Jazz sounded exhausted by the concept.
“Well… He uh.” Danny stared at the ceiling. He couldn't look at her directly. “Well. You know how he wants the good favor of the god of the underworld?”
“Yup.” Jazz hit the ‘p’ sound hard.
“He uh, hit the idea that uh. Maybe a Persephone of sorts was just the thing to suck up.”
He heard fabric rustle as Jazz sat up. “He did?”
Wow, she had one of the most fascinating ceilings in the world. Danny stared intently up at a splotch that looked vaguely malign. She ought to get that checked out by an expert before it possessed somebody. “Yeah, so he's been trying to vault people into the Ghost Zone as bridal sacrifices.”
“Ahuh.” Jazz sounded a little bit choked up. She wasn't laughing, so he couldn't complain.
“I had Dani get Vlad look into it-” because Dad or Mom would have been mortifying- “and apparently, he told her the odds of some hack wizard managing to send a living human to the ghost zone was laughable.”
He paused. He couldn't go on.
“And Vlad would know,” Jazz said leadingly.
Danny put a hand over his face. “Yeah, see, the thing is that I'm now very concerned that Vlad might not know.” His words came out muffled.
Jazz was so intent on him. He pretended even harder not to know she was leaning in towards him. “Does- does the ghost king have a bride, Danny?” She somehow managed in a professional tone.
He nodded miserably.
She promptly lost her shit laughing at his misfortune.
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god knows I’ve tried // yuki tsunoda
summary: stranded at her publishers office after the battery in her car dies, there’s only one person she wants to call for a jumpstart.
pairing: yuki tsunoda x lawson!reader
warnings: self-deprecating humor, y/n is very self critical, yuki is her night in shining armour, total lack of christmas spirit, anxiety.
author's note: this resonates so personally with me and i feel so fricking attached to this story and all the people in it. please treat it kindly :)
so go on judge me by my cover, and no I’ll never have another. baby I’ve been bad, but god knows I’ve tried to be good
it's too early for damn christmas lights, she huffed to herself as she left the office, juggling the volkswagen keys that dangled from her fingertips with the large cardboard box between her arms, staring at the lights and tinsel hung up on the light poles. cursing to herself and trying not to drop anything, she fumbled for the unlock button, ready to ditch the box in her trunk.
her volkswagen golf stood solitary and alone in the parking lot, no other cars for miles. if liam was here, he'd be asking where her pepper spray was, god forbid anything happen to his baby sister.
there was only a year between them, but sometimes she swore that liam acted as if there were five.
the cold dug into her skin as she hobbled through the parking lot, trying to keep her head on a swivel as she once again asked herself why she had parked so far away from any other car. she fumbled with the trunk button (which was unresponsive a lot more than it actually opened the trunk), unceremoniously dumping the box so hard that the small red car started to shake.
she slammed the trunk shut, frowning as she ran a fingertip over the small spot of rust that had begun to form where the silver letters proclaimed to the world what kind of car she drove met the painted trunk door.
she opened the car door, slipping into the driver's seat and staring at the overhead door lights, which had not illuminated as they were intended to when the door opens.
"motherfucker." she mumbled. "i'm gonna have to replace the latch, aren't i?" this was not new. she'd had multiple issues with the car, buying it from a dealership that advertised mostly on facebook.
never again, the next car she buys will be certified pre-owned from a volkswagen dealer, not a used car lot.
the latch would need replacing eventually: it had already locked up the door and prevented her from opening her car, even after smashing the unlock button on her keys five times. she rolled her eyes, closing the door and sliding the key into the ignition.
the key turned, but the car didn't start. growing increasingly panicked, she turned the key a few more times, the same ministrations that normally started up the ten year old car.
"fuck!" she howled, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel as the engine refused to turn over again. she reached for the headlight button, feeling her stomach drop to the floor when there was no response from the headlights.
the engine battery was dead.
she was stranded, alone, in a dark parking lot at night.
it didn't get more fucked than that.
she reached for her phone, the screen providing the only light source as she fumbled for the lock button, and making sure her finger hovered steadily over the panic alarm on her keys. just in case.
who was she going to call, she wondered, scrolling through her contacts. definitely not liam, she couldn't trouble him like that. remind him that she'd always need protecting. she could call her best friend, but the likelihood that margot would know what to do was slim. besides, she was probably out with her boyfriend if she wasn't at work.
her finger hovered over a name, and she debated long and hard if it was worth it, if she was really desperate enough to ask him for help. would he come? would he consider it strange that his best friend's baby sister was calling in the middle of the night because she was dumb enough to drain her car battery?
right now, it didn't look like she really had a choice. unless she wanted to call a tow truck and be out a couple hundred bucks.
"hello?"
"yuki, it's y/n. i need your help."
when the headlights of yuki's honda civic type r lit up the parking lot, she could have cried from relief. the dead battery also meant no heat, and she was chilled to the bone, teeth chattering together as she clutched her phone in one hand and her keys in the other.
"thank god you're here!" she blurted, scrambling out of the car as yuki pulled into the parking space on her passenger side. "i didn't know who else to call!"
ah, yes. yuki tusnoda. backlit by his headlights, he looked like a guardian angel. he'd been close with the lawsons since he came to england, being practically adopted when he moved in with liam at milton keynes, like some fucked up version of a college roommate scheme.
not to mention that he was funny, hot as hell, and she never knew if his cheerful, gentle ribbing meant he looked at her as more than a friend. every time he gifted her a casserole dish of something he had cooked, or invited her out when he and liam went somewhere, she couldn't help but think that maybe he liked her the way that she liked him.
in a way that was anything but just friendly.
"didn't you just get something fixed on your car?" yuki frowned popping his car hood open and digging around in his glove box for the jumper cables.
"i changed a headlight last week. the last major thing was the driveshaft, i couldn't fix that myself, had to take it in." she frowned, lifting up the hood of her own car, using her phone light to find the battery cover. "the car is a piece of shit, but at least it's reliable. and the driveshaft was covered by the dealership since it should have been on the safety certification and wasn't."
yuki frowned, untangling the cables before he dropped them to the pavement, peeling off his puffer jacket. "your lips are blue. take my jacket. i doubt liam would like it if let his little sister get hypothermia"
"pneumonia."
"same difference."
"not really." she laughed, pulling yuki's jacket over her own thin flannel trench coat. she hated wearing a thick winter coat when she drove, relying almost entirely on her car's heated seats to keep warm without suffocating.
"if i get sick because i sacrificed my jacket for you, i should hope that you'd be the one to take care of me. you know, since it was your own fault." yuki chuckled, hooking up the cables as y/n tried to keep warm
"fuck you. i could have stayed in the car."
"the car doesn't have heat either."
oh. yeah. she forgot about that one.
"well, i could have stayed in your fancy ass sports car." it didn't matter how she phrased it, she was just trying to butter him up. on a normal day, she made fun of him for driving a honda civic, calling it a 'mom-mobile'.
with the jumper cables fully connected, they both settled into the honda to wait it out. usually, the rule of thumb was fifteen minutes, but she wasn;t sure that she could stand to be in a car with yuki for that long without doing something reckless.
she slipped out of his jacket, moving to pass it to him before he gestured vaguely to the backseat. the heated seats were on, but she could still see the puffs of air leaving her body as she breathed heavily.
"thanks for coming. i didn't know who to call."
yuki turned to look at her, turning down the volume on the radio. it was a shame, too. she was quite enjoying 'teenage dirtbag'. "why didn't you call liam?"
"pride, i think. he's always been the favourite, the one that stuck with it, the one that made something of himself. i don't need to admit to him that i need help, that i don't know things. because i do, it just sometimes takes me a little longer to get it, or i give up too quickly."
yuki frowned. "liam worries about you, you know. he doesn't like seeing you upset. and he's always been proud of you, so have your parents."
she shivered, pulling her sleeves over her hands. "it's just always been more upfront with liam. they keep telling me that i give up on things too quickly. you know, i realized the other day that i don't really have any hobbies any more. outside of paint nights with the girls, i don't paint anymore. i don't do any sports. reading is really all i do any more."
"that doesn't define your worth, you know. you've got other things going on right now that are taking up your time." yuki encouraged, fiddling with the heating dial. "hey, speaking of which, what are you doing here so late at night?"
she groaned, tilting her head back. "god, this is embarrassing." she hid her head in her hands before turning back to yuki. "promise not to laugh too hard?"
"why would i laugh at you?"
"i was picking up advance copies of my first book." she turned and looked out the window, at the empty parking lot illuminated solely by yuki's headlights. "i've spent the better part of the last two years working on it, and i'm scared i'm going to fail at it like i failed at everything else."
she felt a warm hand overtop of hers. "that's incredible. that's such a major accomplishment, y/n. why are you doubting yourself? you've made it this far."
she smiled, turning to face him. "yeah, but how many people want to read about a detective in small-town new zealand who lives in a haunted house?"
yuki raised an eyebrow. "you already have my interest."
and what great author could resist going on and on about their latest endeavor?
"okay, so it's about this detective in new zealand, she's just moved to this small town as part of a so-called promotion, but really she was desperate and only took the job because she wanted out of the city, a nice change of scenery and whatever. but after she moves in, she finds out the house is haunted and the ghosts actually end up helping her solve her first big case."
she left out the part about how there were three ghosts: one was a dead rockstar, one was a nineteen-thirties midwife and the other was a dead nun. the witty banter between the group of them was a joy to write.
"she also has a crush on this guy who lives across the street. he's an autobody mechanic, with a collection of classic cars."
who totally wasn't inspired by yuki and his gorgeous brown eyes or luscious black hair. well, her one argument was that book guy was about a foot taller than yuki was.
"hell yeah, i'd read that." yuki laughed. "or i'd watch the movie, depending on how long the book was."
y/n laughed, and it felt good. it felt like it had bene forever since she laughed. "it's a cozy mystery series, so it's supposed to make you laugh, be predictable. i took notes from agatha christie, the best of the best. i just hope that the general consumer market also sees it that way."
"i'm sure you'll do fine. as long as it's not like, five hundred pages long, i can't see why anybody wouldn't want to read it."
catching y/n's eye, yuki snickered. "it's not that long, is it?"
"no, it's just under three hundred. they made me cut the sex scenes out."
she watched yuki's eyes go wide, before she burst out laughing as well.
"i'm kidding!" she giggled. "i'm kidding, there aren't any sex scenes in cozy mysteries."
despite how warm the car was, a shiver went down yukis spine at the thought that the innocent, angelic young woman sitting next him, separated only only by the center console, had written numerous sex scenes.
“would you read it? now that you know how many pages it has?”
“yes.” yuki insisted. “of course I would. Liam’s shown me some of your novellas. you are such a good writer. a real talent.”
she yawned, leaning back against the leather seat with a yawn and a shake of her head. “if this book crashes and burns, I’ll remind you you said that. hey, would you be willing to give me a starred review to print on the back cover?”
yuki hummed for a minute, looking up at the sunroof and then back at the girl sitting next to him. “hmm, great mystery, lovely author, not enough sex and could use more descriptions of food.” he joked, playfully gripping her shoulder.
“yeah, yeah. you think you’re so funny.” she laughed, pushing his arm off her shoulder. “but I’m glad that you’re here. you make much better company than my brother does.”
yukis hand dropped to her thigh, thumb gently rubbing along her jeans. “always. any time you need me, you know I’m a phone call away.”
yeah, bust she wished he was closer than even that. and if she kept staring into his dark ocean eyes, she feared she’d do something she’d regret. something impulsive and reckless and foolish but god damn would it have felt fucking good.
“y/n, you good? you’re kind of staring into space there.” yuki frowned, waving a nimble hand in front of her face, trying to capture her attention.
she chuckled. “not space, just the dashboard lights.”
“isn’t that a meat loaf song?”
she laughed, the sound coming from so deep in her chest as she turned to look at yuki. really, it shouldn’t have been that funny. all she knew was that she really, really wanted to kiss him.
she didn’t wait, lunging across the center console, hands shaking nervously as she rested them on either side of his face, pressing her chapped lips to his.
she had to hold herself back from moaning as yuki kissed her back, his warm hand caressing her sides under her open trench coat.
his touch was soft, safe, and comforting. but it was also electric, and left her wanting more when he finally pulled away for air.
“your car is probably charged”. he said nervously, blushing pink as he wiped away the saliva from his mouth. “I’d hate to kiss and run, but you probably want to get home.”
she rested her forehead against his, laughing softly as he rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “at least take me out to dinner before you kiss me and leave me hanging.”
“it’s a little late for dinner, but how does a late night caramel sundae sound?” he suggested weakly, shrugging his shoulders. mcdonalds was hardly first date material, but he knew he didn’t want this night to end, didn’t want to risk losing this magical moment.
“you drive and I’ll follow?”
“sounds good.” yuki grinned, kissing her again. “but just let me kiss you for a few more minutes to make sure that battery is well and truly charged.”
TAGS:
@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @cartierre @sidcrosbyspuck @userlando @httpiastri @love4lando @oconso @thatsdemko @monzabee
#yuki tsunoda#yuki tsunoda x reader#the christmas collection 2023#formula one x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#yuki tsunoda imagine#yuki tsunoda x you#Spotify#lovelytsunodas eclectic music taste
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Shh J let it happen˖ ࣪⊹
summary; Haikyuu guys as moments me n my man have had that tickle my brain.
characters; tanaka, hinata , kageyama, tsukishima xblk reader!
warnings: uhh wierd ig, cursing, beating eachother(romanticly),insults(big back,kys), chaos, Hinata(bc he has braces it’s a hc! Relax guys geez), not proofread!
.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.
TANAKA
☆ Sharing food but your both absolutely starving because y’all both broke. Like he’ll text you ‘bby wanna go get food😝’ And of course you say yes bc who are you to say no to some big back action with your man. Y’all head to a nice little wing place, “oh ight let’s fuck up some boneless get 30 for us to share 15 fo’ yo Fatass and 15 for me gotta keep the gut healthy!” You say with a smile over at him.
This motherfucker looks you dead in the eye “you only get 10, can’t let that big back get to ya already hallin’ enough back there.” He spoke his eyes looking down at your ass his hand GRABBING A HAND FULL.
Your jaw dropped “nigga.” Speechless. IN PUBLIC, HAVE SOME DECENCY LORD. He had a fat smile on his face to. How he gonna low key fat shame you but complement you at the same time.
Him leaning in whispering “your ass, fat.“ He spoke sticking his tongue out at you his hand holding a space indicating it as your butt in a ‘this big’ his hands far apart from echo other. You hand going over your mouth.
Your eyes traveling away for him meeting some ladies with a horrific look and a frown on her face. You couldn’t help your self letting out as muffled laugh quickly turning back to him. Your hand grabbing his bicep, as you fall forward laughing “HELP ME.” You hollered.
HINATA
☆ What’s a couple to do when they’re bored, make out! Why not! It’s fun!
You and him getting as it. It was all cute at first then him not paying attention to where his hand go touching your sides tickling you. You yelping because it fucking tickled, you face smashed against his, both out y’all pulling back your head dropping as you held yourself. Hinata poor baby leaned forward going to kiss the back of you head as an apology him talking into your hair.
His braces get CAUGHT IN YOUR CURLS. YUPPPP that’s the cherry on the mf cake! Now your both panicked, him trying to pull back but your scalp is sensitive rn bc you just took your hair out. And HES PULLING.
“BABY PLEASE WAIT.” You begged.
“IM SORRY!”
Only a few strands came out, to be fair y’all were just being dramatic. Smh.
KAGEYAMA
☆ He hated it when you would wear a nice lip combo with a sitcky gloss. No no no, not because it looked bad but because he couldn’t kiss you. Walking together holding your hand as you walked him to morning practice he was just glaring at you.
Mind you you don’t know what the fuck his attitude if for, “what is your problem.” You scoff stoping in that hall way, pulling your hand back to cross your arms. His expression changing a bit cause how dare you pull your hand from him!
His eyes narrowed “nothing. No problem do YOU? have a problem.” He sassed his hands landing on his hip.
Oh you wanted to pop him in the mouth “Why do you act like this.” You spoke your index finger pointing at him in a dramatic manner.
He scoffed throwing his head to the side “you just hate me that all.”
Oh BROTHERR. “boy, it you don’t-“
“I wanna kiss you but your face is done.”
Face done? OH! “My gloss? Baby I just don’t want you having to walk around with the sticky feeling plus it will leave marks.” Because truthfully you don’t mind fixing it if need be you just don’t want him to go crazy bc his face was sticky.
His eyes met yours “umm okay?”
You grinned his sassiness making you giggle now “then come here,” you said your hands grabbing his face kissing him one the lips.
Pulling back a little “don’t hold out on me women.” He said, alright! You kisses him a few more times then his cheek, your lip combo all over his lips and smudge on the side of his face. He pulled back a prideful smile on his face.
“Ouuu okay baby! I fear you ate this combo better than I do.” You teased.
He walked into practice like that.
TSUKISHIMA
☆ Ahh yes it’s a nice little hang out session peaceful laying together, Kei watching his phone his other hand rubbing small circles into your back. Your face was on his chest as you watched his phone with him.
You back was starting to hurt so you adjusted your self his hand now on your stomach as you faced away from him your head in between his bicep and chest. This fucker, HANDFULL, and I mean a HANDFULL OF YOUR GUT.
“Absolutely not.” You started.
“Shut up.” He responded immediately, his tone flat.
“Kei let go of my fat.” You groan
“Die. I like holding on to it.” Not an ounce of emotion leaving his lips.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Needless to say he didn’t let go, his large hand kneading your stomach. He was pleased with himself ignoring your dramatic sighs.
So you just laid there dying in silence as he played with your rolls, he loved them, a lot. For not good reason but he genuinely loved them but you(I) HATED, them just being played with sometimes but you gotta just take it sometimes.
Laying there you let your mouth latch on to his bicep. “You leave a hickey im pushing you on the floor.”
“The voices say I have to.” You whispered latching onto him just sucking in his arm.
“I’m gonna lose my mind.”

#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios#tsukishima kei#x black fem reader#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu tsukki#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu tsukishima#haikyuu tobio#tobio x reader#kegayama tobio#kageyama x black reader#hq kageyama#hinata x reader#hinata shoyo#hinata shoyo x reader#tanaka x fem!reader#tanaka ryunosuke x reader#tanaka ryuunosuke#tanaka x reader#haikyuu imagines
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do you think we could get one where reader proposes?
Yes, yes you can. I was actually already in the process of writing this!
Fire in My Heart- pt 5 (Can be read on it's own!!)
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
wc: ~4.1k
You don’t really know who to ask, but you want someone’s blessing to propose to Melissa. You can’t ask her mother… she isn’t around anymore. Her beloved Nonna isn’t around anymore. Her dad is alive, but as she so eloquently put it, “That motherfucker is dead to me.”
So you really don’t know who to ask.
“Yeah, Barb,” Melissa comes wandering in. “Yeah. Hey, I just got home, so I have to make sure Y/N is alright and start dinner, but we can definitely talk about this tomorrow morning? …Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay, bye.”
And then it hits you. You can ask Barbara for her blessing. The kindergarten teacher is like a sister to your girlfriend. That’s perfect.
The redhead saunters over to you, and while you’re pretty much fully healed from your injuries, Melissa still dotes on you like she did the first week. “Hey, babe,” she leans forward and kisses you softly. She pulls back, and you have a perfect view of her cleavage. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” you tell her. “I’m sick of desk duty though. I can’t wait to get back out into the field.”
“Until the doctor clears you, you ain’t heading back into another burning building,” she tells you sternly. “I ain’t riskin’ nothin’. Did you ice your ribs today at work?”
“No,” you roll your eyes. “I’m really doing okay, Mel.”
She clicks her tongue in a disapproving manner before walking into the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later with an ice pack. “Ice.”
“Mel,” you sigh.
“Ice,” she says again and holds out the ice pack even more aggressively. You snatch it out of her hands and press it to your rib cage, sucking in a breath as you hold it to your skin. She settles next to you before nudging you. She has you sit in between her legs and pulls you to her chest. She kisses your cheek as you relax against her.
“How was your day, love?” you ask softly as you crane your neck to look at those striking green eyes.
“Those kids sure do keep me on my toes,” she chuckles lowly. “Aiden snuck his hamster into his backpack, and then he lost it in my classroom… I found the fucking rodent in my purse.”
“Good lord,” you laugh weakly. “I don’t know how you do it, some days.”
“I don’t know how I do it some days,” she retorts back.
You ice until the timer on her phone goes off, and she gently maneuvers around you to head into the kitchen.
“I just picked up some stuff to make chili, are you good with that?” she calls to you from the other room.
You smile. Chili is one of your favorite dishes of hers. “I’m good with that. Mind if I join you?”
“As long as you take it easy,” she tells you. “You’ll sit at the island and look pretty.”
“I can help chop up some vegetables,” you roll your eyes as you stand from your place on the couch and hobble into the next room.
“You’ll sit. You’re still injured,” she points the knife that she’s holding at you.
“My ribs are all but healed, and I don’t have to do anything with my ankle to chop vegetables,” you roll your eyes as you gesture to the boot your foot is still in.
“I gotta take care of my girl,” she rolls her eyes as she starts to chop them while staring at you. You have no idea how she does that- not looking at the vegetables and still not clipping her knuckles with the knife.
You sigh as you pull out your phone and start scrolling through it. You shoot Randy a text.
I’m gonna be in late tomorrow, you tell him.
Oh?
I have some business I have to take care of. Hold down the fort for me?
How late are we talking?
I have to drop off Melissa’s lunch at the school and talk to a few people, but then I’ll be in for my dreaded desk duty.
I gotcha covered.
Thanks.
No problem, Chief.
You grin as you read that last text. Now you know you can grab the septa, a taxi, or an Uber down to Abbott to speak with Barbara. You know her prep is in the morning, so you’ll be able to track her down.
The next morning, you wake up with your girlfriend, chuckling as she makes her lunch. You know you’ll be able to distract her enough that she’ll forget her Tupperware on the counter and you’ll be able to make your way into the school without it seeming fishy. You do everything you can to seduce her, and with the way she’s looking at you, you know you’ve won her over.
“Baby, I’m fine,” you roll your eyes as she makes sure that you’re okay for the fifth time. “Can we just…?”
Finally, she relents. By the time the two of you are finished, she’s running late, and she dashes out the door, leaving her meal on the island. Perfect.
You know Barb has her prep earlier on in the day, so you can time taking Melissa’s lunch out with her schedule. You’ll arrive a bit earlier so you can drop off the redhead’s lunch and then make your way down to the kindergarten wing.
Your phone buzzes around the twenty minutes later. Melissa’s at school.
Forgot my lunch, and it’s all your fault.
I’m sorry? you text her back.
No you’re not, she replies. You chuckle. You really aren’t sorry. Not in the slightest.
You attempt to take the bus, but it rattles your ribs too much, and you have to get off a stop after you got on. You can practically hear Melissa telling you that she told you so. So you stop into the coffee shop that the two of you frequent quite often, pick up her favorite, and call an Uber.
As you make your way into the school, Ava sees you.
“Hey girl,” she looks you up and down. “Damn.”
“I’m just here to drop off Mel’s lunch and talk to Barb,” you tell her with a playful roll of the eyes. “I don’ need you flirtin’ with me or nothin’.”
“Girl, I ain’t flirting,” she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I know when someone can kick my ass for hitting on their girl, and Schemmenti is one of those someones. G’head.”
You make your way down to the second grade wing and grin as you appear in the doorway.
“Miss Y/N!” one of the kids shouts and points over at you. Almost immediately, your girlfriend looks up and over in your direction. The kids all leap up to give you hugs.
“Ah,” the teacher tuts. “No huggin’ her. She’s still recovering from her injuries.”
“From the building jump?!” Jade asks with wide eyes.
“From the building jump… a true hero,” Melissa tells her kids with a sparkle in her eyes. She knows how much the kids idolize you and love you. When she finally returned to school, the next day, she came home with about a hundred cards from her kids for you.
“I was just doing my job,” you rolls your eyes playfully, although you do toss your hair playfully. “Anyway, I’m just here to drop off Miss Schemmenti’s lunch and a coffee. I have to run to work now.”
She takes the tupperware container and the to-go cup of coffee from your hands, gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek, and you’re on your way. You head down towards the kindergarten wing, and there is Mrs. Howard lining her kids up for gym.
“Oh, Y/N,” she smiles at you. “Here for Melissa?… Omari, stand in line quietly please.”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to you,” you tell her. “Mind if I come in?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “I just have to walk my class down to the gym, but then I’ll be back. Feel free to step inside.”
It’s only a few minutes before the kindergarten teacher returns and takes a seat at her desk. She gestures for you to sit in the rocking chair, which you do.
“What brings you around?” she asks.
“I have something I want to ask you,” you sigh softly.
“And that would be?”
You take a deep breath, rubbing nervously at your collarbone as you do. “It’s going to sound a bit silly considering you already are somewhat clued in from our first get together at the house… but… I don’t necessarily have anyone in Melissa’s family that can bless us getting engaged.”
The older woman hasn’t quite put it together yet, so she furrows her brows. “Okay?”
“Melissa’s mother has passed, so has her Nonna. And her father is still alive, but she hasn’t spoken to him since she was twenty-three. I could ask Kristen Marie, but I don’t know how close they are, even having reconciled now. You’re like a sister to Mel. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… Barb, is it okay if I ask Mel-”
“Sweetheart,” Barbara cuts you off. “Are you asking me for my stamp of approval?”
You bite your lip and nod nervously.
Her eyes well with tears. “Honey, of course I approve. I’ve approved of you since the day we all gathered at your house.”
You break out into a grin. “Really?”
“Of course, dear,” she chuckles through her tears and stands to give you a hug. “And it means so much to me that you would ask me for my approval.”
“Well, you are the closest person to Mel,” you shrug as you return the gesture, patting her back gently.
“When are you planning on asking her?”
“I have a follow up appointment in two weeks to get cleared from the boot, and then I should be cleared by then to go back into the field,” you tell her. “Mel and I were planning on having a celebration with the boys at our house, and we’ve been talking about inviting the Abbott group over for that too.”
“We’ll all be there,” the teacher assures you. “Anything for our favorite firefighter.”
So, two weeks later, you and your girlfriend are sitting in the doctors office waiting for them to come in and give you the go ahead to continue life as normal.
“It seems like you actually took this healing process seriously,” the doctor quips. “Change of pace from your usual road to recovery.”
“She didn’t want to,” the redhead snorts. “I practically forced her to stay bedridden for the first month.”
“It was torture,” you groan and elbow Melissa.
“Well, maybe you should be thanking her, because you should be all good to head back into the field,” your doctor winks at you.
“Oh thank god,” you sigh with relief. “I’m so sick of desk duty.”
“Just no more jumping out of burning buildings,” the doctor tuts at you. “You hear?”
“Loud and clear, doc,” you grin as you mock salute your doctor.
He hands you the paperwork to turn in to your company so that you can fully document that you’ve been cleared, and the two of you walk out of the office hand in hand.
“Congrats, babe,” Melissa tells you as she kisses your cheek. “Celebratory breakfast? I still have three hours before I have to go to Abbott.”
“I told you you didn’t need to take a half day,” you roll your eyes, but you nod. Breakfast sounds amazing.
Over breakfast, the two of you discuss having everybody over for a barbecue, and by the end of your meal it’s planned. You send a text to your boys, letting them know that it was non-negotiable. She sends a text to her friends, telling them that she couldn’t care less if they showed or not, but the invite was there.
Non-negotiable? Randy texts you separately.
Gonna propose, Tell no one or I’ll fire your ass, you reply back before deleting the texts. There’s no way you’re going to blow this surprise.
You then proceed to have the same conversation with Joe.
Of course, one of them spills the beans to the younger firefighters, but neither is willing to give up the other, and you know you don’t have it in your heart to fire them, so you just threaten the entire squad that if they ruin this for you, there will be hell to pay.
Much to Melissa’s chagrin, all of her crew replies to the group text stating that they will indeed be there. You get a text from Barbara later that she told that crew the invite was non-negotiable- but she didn’t tell them the real reason why. She claimed it’s because the two of you have always shown up for their dinner parties, and this was going to be no different.
So here you are, the two of you cleaning your house up and down. Melissa chuckles to herself as she remembers the nervous wreck she was when her friends came over to meet you for the first time- oh how the tables have turned.
“Amore, they’ve all been here before,” she rolls her eyes as she makes up her charcuterie board.
“Yes, but this is the first time everyone is going to be here and meet each other,” you counter. You shake your hands nervously. She has no idea why you’re this nervous. She has no idea that you currently have her ring in your pocket.
“It’ll be fine,” she tries to comfort you. “They’ll all get along just fine.”
A few hours later, everyone is trickling in. Most of your crew has shown up- Randy and Joe are manning the grills. Jake, Luke, and Zach are shoving as much of your girlfriend’s pasta into their mouths as they can, and the rest are sitting around your lawn and patio chatting with the elementary school teachers. While Melissa is playing perfect hostess, Barbara saunters her way up to you, trying not to look suspicious.
“You doin’ it?” she asks you quietly.
“Yeah,” you grin and look up at her, only to see your girlfriend coming up behind her. “Yeah! The wine is in the fridge, Barb! Do you want me to get you some?”
The kindergarten teacher raises a suspicious brow at you, but with a stern look from her, she nods. “Sure, dear. Thank you.” She hands you the wine glass, and as you pass by your girlfriend, you give her a gentle kiss to the cheek.
“Are you feeling less nervous, hun?” she asks you as she attaches herself to your arm.
“Just fine, babe,” you try to sound as calm as possible. “A little nervous Joe’s gonna catch something on fire… he’s got a habit of doing that while cooking.” Not a lie. It’s happened before, and you’re willing to bet money it’ll happen again. It just better not be here. He can’t ruin tonight for you.
“Well, lucky for us, we have a whole crew of firefighters, and the chief,” she hip checks you gently.
“I suppose you’re right,” you chuckle nervously, hoping she didn’t feel the ring box when she did that. You open the fridge and pour some wine for Barb before turning slightly. “Do you want a glass too?”
“I was thinking beer instead,” she gives a small shrug. “With the burgers and stuff.”
“I’ll grab that then once I get this wine to Barb.”
“I got it,” Melissa takes the glass out of your hand. “You go hang with your boys.” She turns in the direction of her colleague.
So you do. You hover in between both Randy and Joe, who are all grins as they know exactly what is going to happen at some point today. They don’t know when you’re going to do it, and quite frankly, neither do you. But it’s going to happen.
“Hun,” the redhead comes up behind you and snakes her arms around you. In one hand is a bottle of Yuengling for herself, and in the other hand is a can of Vizzy for you.
“Thanks,” you smile as you lean into her a bit. You take the drink and sip on it. She’s warm, and you can’t help but fiddle with one of her rings on her left hand. You subconsciously play with her ring finger- where the ring in your pocket will be later tonight.
Dinner is ready a bit later, and everybody is sitting around outside. You almost do it right then and there, while everyone is humming quietly as they enjoy the wide spread of food. But you stop when you see that Melissa is stuffing her face with food. She’s enjoying her dinner too much for it to be interrupted right now. You chuckle softly as you watch her practically wiggling with glee. She takes another sip of her beer before kissing your cheek gently.
“See? Everything is fine. Joe didn’t catch anything on fire, and the food is delicious,” she tells you as she rests her hand on your thigh. She squeezes it gently, trying to calm your nerves.
“You were right,” you grin back before taking a bite of you burger. “Shit. Joe really does know how to grill when he isn’t catching it on fire.”
“Oi,” the man you were talking about chimes in from across the table. “I’m a damn good cook. It’s how I got my Linda to marry me in the first place.”
“That’s how I got Y/N to go out on a third date with me,” Melissa chuckles. “I made dinner for our second date, and landed myself a hot firefighter.”
“Yeah,” you throw in. “But Mel didn’t catch her kitchen on fire while cookin’ us dinner.”
That gets a good chuckle from your audience.
The Abbott crew takes to cleaning up dinner and putting out the various desserts that people had brought while your gang starts putting together the fire pit.
“When are you gonna do it, Chief?” Zach asks as he practically bounces on his toes.
“I swear, you’re more excited about it than I am,” you chuckle.
“I want you guys to get engaged so Luke and I can be beer boys!”
“Hell yeah,” Luke jumps into the conversation. “Fuck flower girls when you could have beer boys!”
You roll your eyes. “Soon. Don’t blow it.”
You’re all sitting around outside, most eyes on you and Melissa as she tells some ridiculous story. You’re lounging in her lap, her leather jacket draped over you. She’s got a tight hold on you, making sure that you won’t fall off of her.
“It was ridiculous,” she lets go to gesture, and you fall off of her lap and onto the ground. Thankfully, you’re not close enough to the open flame to catch on fire. You chuckle as you dust yourself off, and Melissa looks absolutely mortified that she practically threw you to the ground.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she gasps, hands flying to her face.
“No, no,” you laugh as you continue to dust yourself off. “I had to get on the ground anyway, so you helped me get there.”
“What?” she furrows her brows.
You turn over and stay on one knee as you produce the ring box from your pocket. “Mel,” you start.
She slaps your arm in shock. “Shut up.” Her hands fly up to her mouth again. “Shut up! What are you doing?!”
“Mel, honey,” you open the box. “It’s you. It’s always been you. I’ve just been waiting for the right time, and now is as good a time as any- with us surrounded by the people that mean the most to us. Will you-”
You can’t finish your question because your girlfriend has tackled you to the ground in a hug.
“Will you-”
“Yes! Yes!” she shouts into your ear.
“Jesus, woman,” you joke as you continue to hold her close. “Will you let me finish asking my question?”
“Yes!” is all Melissa can get out before Barbara cuts in.
“Woman, let her ask!”
“Will you marry me?” you can finally ask the full question.
“Yes!” your girlfriend, no fiancee, yells again before crashing your lips together. There are cheers from all around as the two of you embrace on the ground.
You carefully sit up, the redhead still in your lap as you take the ring out of its box and slip it on her finger. She holds out her hand to get a look at it, and you know it’s the perfect one. It looks like it was made to be sitting on her finger.
The boys are all whooping and hollering that “Chief just got engaged!”, the Abbot clan is clapping and cheering right with them, but all you can see is Melissa.
Barbara walks over to her bag and pulls out two giant bottles of champagne. She knows exactly where you keep your champagne flutes, and she’s brought extra- and starts pouring out the sparkling beverage.
Janine and Gregory help pass them out, and then all eyes are on you, as you are apparently being put on the spot to make some sort of speech.
You pull yourself and Melissa off the ground, looping an arm around her waist as you do.
You clear your throat. “I know this was a party to celebrate the fact that I was cleared from my injuries, and I’m able to go back into the field. And luckily for me,” you chuckle. “I had one of the best people by my side to help pick me up while I was down. I had my rock, my star, and the sunshine in my life through every icing time, through the physical therapy… through it all. And although I’ve always known it was Mel, this time has only helped solidify that I couldn’t imagine going through better or worse with anyone else… So, while there have been quite a few times that I’ve almost popped the question-”
“What?” the redhead looks at you with a strange look.
“Like… after you first met the guys, when we went to that nice dinner, when I was on morphine in the hospital… a lot of times during my recovery,” you laugh and kiss the side of her head. “And while there were quite a few times I always popped the question, I knew there were two things I wanted in this proposal: for everyone that we love to be here with us to celebrate the occasion, and… to have someone’s blessing to ask you to marry me.”
“What? You didn’t ask-” you shake your head quickly.
“I asked someone that I know means the world to Mel, and someone who is an extended part of our family,” you grin as you look Barb in the eye. You then turn to your fiancee. “I asked Barbara Howard.”
“And I of course said yes,” the kindergarten teacher says with a smile.
“So, thank you all for coming out to celebrate with us, even if most of you didn’t know it was happening,” you finish as you raise your glass in a toast.
“So that’s why Barb said it was non-negotiable that we were all here,” Mr. Johnson realizes loudly.
After the fire pit died out, your guests made their exits with warm congratulations, and you helped Melissa spiff up a bit, the two of you finally retire to bed. You lay down and allow her to curl into your side. She lays a gentle hand over your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see the sparkling ring on her finger.
“I have one for you too, y’know,” Melissa whispers to you as she stretches to kiss your cheek. “It’s in my drawer at work… I asked Randy if I could propose.”
You sit up partially. “That bastard knew and didn’t say anything?”
She laughs. “I may or may not have threatened his car, his house, and his life.”
“Once an arsonist, always an arsonist,” you sigh as you settle back down. She curls back into your hold, her head resting gently on your shoulder.
“And now you get to marry into an arsonist family, future Mrs. Schemmenti,” she grins against you.
“Good God,” you whisper to yourself. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that you were marrying into a family that loves fire. How that slipped your mind, you’ll never know.
“You love me,” she mumbles, and you can tell she’s starting to drift off.
“You’re right,” you sigh softly as you kiss her temple. “I do love you.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she mutters.
#abbott elementary#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary fanfic#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti
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Not Strong Enough (Chap 4)
Jenna Ortega X Fem!Reader
(pictures not mine)
Summary: Jenna was visiting her mom in the hospital to drop off the food that will be eaten for the hospital party, but she met a resident surgeon and she thought "God forbid I ran into an accident, but I want her to open me and stitch me up." While the surgeon tries her best to keep her fan girling low-key.
Warning: curse words
A/N: 4th chapter, thank you for waiting.
Masterlist
Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3
______________________________________________________________
Chap 4
Aliyah was in the far side of the sofa where Jenna is sitting and the both of them are having a stare off. Jenna is staring at Aliyah for the shit she did in the front door and Aliyah is just staring at Jenna because she wants to tease her.
Natalie saw her daughters in their living room getting weird out by them, because who the hell stares at each other, no conversations, not a sound can be heard but it looks like they are telling each other a tons of words just by their eyes.
"Girls, you got to stop this and talk, it is getting weird." Natalie said before going up to their room.
"Sooo, that was that cute doctor you were talking about huh?" Aliyah broke the silence.
"Yes, she is the cute doctor. Now can you stop staring at me and mind your business?" Jenna answered sasyly.
"Does mom know?" Aliyah asked wigging her eyebrows to tease her sister, a minute of silence, Jenna did not answer. "Oh so mom doesn't know." Aliyah stated and laugh evily "You are so dead Jenna." while getting up from her seat.
But before Aliyah's foot touched the floor, Jenna throws her body towards her sister "You motherfucker, you better keep your mouth shut." Jenna said with her eyes wide "Please."
Aliyah then smiled "Sure, but once you stopped updating me about the two of you, I will go directly to mom, deal?" and holds her pinky up.
With a sigh, Jenna did a pinky promise with her sister promising to update her.
"Okay so tell me what happened?" Aliyah asked.
"I got people hovering me in the mall earlier, then Y/N bolted in and saved me." Jenna said smiling while she remembered how you were so attractive while you saved her and how you blurred out the people surrounded you with your bright smile.
Aliyah looked at her sister with a disgust "That is one of the most fictional shit I have heard, that can happen in real life huh?" and added a chuckle in the end.
"Well no shit Sherlock, I am just saying what happened, I thought you liked an update?" Jenna said with a hurtful voice yet smiled at her sister.
"Yeah, sorry, I just can't believe it." Aliyah pushed her sister that is on top of her and hot situated on their sofa and Jenna followed.
"She also invited me to go to a concert." Jenna said quietly.
"Shit, really? What did you say?" Aliyah asked, "I agreed, of course." Jenna said with a smirk.
"HELL YES, A FUCKING CONCERT DATE!" Aliyah screamed and danced on top of their sofa, "You know who do concert dates?" Aliyah then asked.
Jenna having no idea on who, she just answered "People, I guess?" that made Aliyah laugh "You are partially right, but mostly, GAY PEOPLE DO THAT." and nods at her sister.
"No fucking way, I don't believe that she likes girls." Jenna muttered and her sister answered "The hell you mean not gay? Okay, U bet a hundred dollars that you will be going to the boygenius concert." Aliyah said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah? What even is that?" Jenna asked not knowing who or what boygenius is that made her sister shakes her head in disappointment.
"It doesn't matter, but if you will both go to the boygenius concert this week, you owe me a hundred dollars." Aliyah said.
"No shit, its not like that boygenius is the only artist that will have their concert here this weekend." Jenna said.
"Yeah? You think so? Well then I can't wait for this weekend" Aliyah said with a teasing smile and went up to her room.
---
"Welcome to boygenius concert." Y/N stated with conviction, that damn smile, with her arms presenting the stage to Jenna.
FUCK. Aliyah was right, she was in fact invited to a boygenius concert and there is a big chance Y/N is a girl kisser.
Jenna then cheered with Y/N even if she doesn't know any songs from boygenius or who boygenius is but nevertheless, she is vera happy because she is with Y/N. That got her thinking, if she wasn't with Y/N right now, who the hell would she be with that got Jenna a little bit jealous.
The lights dimmed that results to everyone screaming their hearts out. The melodic voices of the band member can be heard.
give me everything you've got
i'll take what I can get
i want to hear your story and be a part of it
Y/N screamed "FUCKING HELL ITS WITHOUT YOU, WITHOUT THEM." and hollered that made Jenna looked at Y/N. They were side by side of each other and this is the first time that Jenna saw Y/N without any white vest or a stethoscope around her neck. Jenna was so drunk of Y/N, engraving every details that she can get from her view.
Thank your father before you
His mother before him
Who would I be without you, without them?
Y/N sang the next lyrics of the song silently, but Jenna made sure that even if Y/N sang the song silently, she focuses on the voice of the girl beside her. Jenna knows that Y/N have a nice voice, heck she heard her singing inside the car.
Speak to me, speak to me, speak to me
Until your history's no mystery to me
Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me
Until the words run dry, we'll see eye to eye
Jenna was so situated in staring at Y/N's outfit that she did not notice that Y/N was now looking back at her. Their eyes got situated with each other, Jenna getting surprised with Y?N now looking at her, feeling like she got caught while Y/N just feels tingles from her stomach.
Jenna then noticed that Y/N was mouthing the lyrics to her, and heck now it brings her focus to Y/N's lips.
I'll give everything I've got
Please take what I can give
I want you to hear my story and be a part of it
Y/N then nodded her head to the stages that urges Jenna to look at the performers singing their hearts out. When Jenna's eyes were not on Y/N, she lets out a wide smile, feeling like a fucking winner.
Thank my father before me
His mother before him
Who would I be without you, without them?
The first song finished and everyone clapped their hands and shouts at joy.
Jenna then looked at Y/N "I'm sorry."
The next song started to play but it became a background sound because Y/N's focus is now on Jenna.
"What are you sorry for?" Y/N asked not knowing what Jenna is apologising for. Is it because she caught her staring? Heck even if Jenna stares at her non-stop she won't be angry at the girl, she would even be thankful that Jenna spares her a glance.
Jenna then bites her lower lips, "I don't know boygenius and their songs so I can't really sing any of it." Jenna said worriedly because she thinks that she's holding Y/N back from enjoying the night.
Y/N gently grabbed Jenna's arm and looked at her intently "Hey don't be sorry, it is not your fault. I should be the one apologising because I don't know if you enjoy their songs and I just invited you. If you want we can go home." Y/N suggested not wanting to bore Jenna out.
"No no. Seriously, I don't wanna go home. Yes, I might not know them, but what's wrong with listening to these beautiful artist. You love their music, so I bet they will be lovely. We'll stay Y/N, I'll stay." Jenna said wearing the sweetest and tenderest smile that Y/N have ever seen throughout her entire life.
"Okay... Okay, we'll stay." Y/N answered with a nod and smiled at Jenna.
The concert continued, Jenna listening to the songs that were performed and asking Y/N for titles if she ever liked the lyrics and the beat of the played song. While Y/N focused more on Jenna, looking at Jenna trying to take in her favourite music and listening to an artist that she just met today.
None of them talked about it, but Y/N and Jenna situated themselves in thinking that they have both of the things that they love; music and each other.
---
Driving home, there were no music that's playing in the stereo, the windows were down and they are just listening to the music of the city produced.
"I loved them." Jenna said breaking the silence.
That comment made Y/N smile and be filled with joy "Really? Glad you loved it, I hope you enjoyed it too."
"Yeah, for sure. I really enjoyed the music, the fans, and the artist." Jenna then looked at Y/N driving thinking to herself "I enjoyed it because you were also there."
"What's your favourite song then?" Y/N asked.
Jenna answered "That song with a lyrics like 'I never thought you'd happen to me' something like that."
"Oh that would be Leonard Cohen, if I remember it right." Y/N said with a smirk then added " Why? You think I'll like you less that I know you more."
That sentence shocked Jenna and made her think "She fucking likes me? WTF WTF WTF."
"Huh? I mean..." Jenna said still baffled with the fact that Y/N admits that she likes her.
"Oh... I mean, sure I like you as a person, you are a good one, you are a good friend. You even stayed with me for the concert. Knowing you more doesn't make me less like you as a friend." Y/N stated and thought "Good save, she wouldn't think that I have a crush on her, right?"
And that, THAT devasted Jenna.
"Yeah, sure." Jenna answered with a chuckle.
Awkward silence can be felt that is why Y/N started to play song. The drive on the way home was now filled with silence, songs, unsaid feelings, unspoken thoughts, and misdirected words that leads to the both of them confused with each other.
"We're here." Y/N announced, Jenna then looked at Y/N and said "Thank you again, for the drive and the concert, I really loved it." Jenna said with a smile.
Secretly Jenna was hoping that Y/N will open her door and walk her, and after they reached the front door, Jenna will just pray to the heavens and risk it all out and kiss you. Honestly, she didn't know what you did to her, you just have know each other for some weeks but you got a hold of her; the both of you just messaged each other fun stuffs and sometimes you even updated each other, did a few face times. She also got so surprised by herself, because she did not know that she likes women, no scratch that, she just doesn't like any women, she LIKES a woman because it is YOU. Jenna doesn't even know how and when she started to fall for you, yes she knows that she have a crush on you, but not like LIKE you for real to the point that she is so ready to kiss you after tonight.
But her train of thoughts got stopped by an awkward cough coming from Y/N "Oh, I'm sorry are the doors locked?" Y/N asked and unlocked the door "There, you can open the door now."
Jenna's face fell.
Oh.
Maybe, she's just the one who feel those things. She feels so angry at herself for letting herself fall. Maybe she read things wrong.
Jenna went down Y/N's car and they both waived at each other. As Y/N drive away, Jenna stayed where she stands letting a tear fall from her eyes. Not knowing that a tear also fell down Y/N's eyes.
As Y/N took a turn, she parked her car in the side and started bawling. She started bawling because she knows that she likes Jenna, she knows that she will risk anything when it comes to the girl. Jenna started to be a crush to her because she was an actress, but for quite some time that she got to actually know Jenna, the one who brings her food in the hospital, the one who facetime her during her late nights of work and getting bored by being alone in the hospital, the one who bought her a keychain so that she wont lose her keys, the one who gave her stickers just so she could design her big ass hydroflask, and all the other things that just melted her into a puddle.
But Y/N knows, Y/N knows that she is just not strong enough to be Jenna's "man". Y/N thinks that there are so many men that could be Jenna's that would protect her more and be much more than herself. Or maybe Y/N just didn't want Jenna to lower her expectations because of her. Because in Y/N's perspective, for all of her life, she was always the angel, and never the God.
The two of them was now lying down from their own bed, staring at the ceiling fan above them, thinking about things that didn't even happened.
______________________________________________________________
Chap 5
A/N: sorry about the concert, I haven't been to any tour of boygenius. Thanks for waiting for this chapter, hope you enjoyed it! What do y'all think?
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega imagine#fanfic#fiction#tara carpenter x reader
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I have an idea.
Werewolf 141, except Soap who is a Wulver. This does not get discovered until Soap starts leaving fish on Ghosts desk.
Listen... Listen... Wulvers are one of my favorite creatures (ignore that I have a ridiculous amount) and I fucking love this. Also wrote this super sleep deprived and I did not edit so good luck y'all
Ghost stared at the fish on his desk for a stupid amount of time.
Was this a prank? It was a weird prank. Maybe if he was a cat shifter, it would make sense, but this was... odd. He didn't even get the joke.
Slowly, he knocked the fish into the trashcan.
Alright, just gonna... ignore that.
He grabbed the paperwork and went back to work as normal.
The next time, Price was with him. They both just stared at the fish.
"Why is there a fresh caught carp on your desk?"
"I don't know." Ghost was now angry. It was annoying, gross and made the room smell awful. He didn't fucking like fish normally, why the fuck would he want it RAW and WET on his desk. "Do you want it?"
Price grabbed it immediately. "Yeah. I'll give it to the cooks or something... Who did you piss off?"
"A dead man." Ghost growled. Whoever was doing this was going to keep a chunk taken out of them. Maybe lose a leg too. He staked out in his office for a while but caught nothing.
Ghost didn't bring it up to anyone else just yet. The culprit might get skittish and stop.
Instead, Ghost shifted and sat under his desk one day. He was a large wolf, but he had made sure he could fit under his desk when he got it. At the time, it had been for if he wanted to take a break from paperwork, not hide out in an attempt to catch a criminal. His insomnia would keep him up forever anyway.
When he woke up to a fish, now placed right in front of his nose, he almost went ballistic.
The nerve.
The audacity.
How had they managed to not wake him up? He woke up at everything! A FNG sneezed on the other side of the base and he woke up!!
Soap noticed something was wrong. "You alright, Lt?"
"I'm fucking fine." He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Soap.
Soap winced. "Aye..." Ghost shoved down the feeling he got from that. He didn't have time to feel bad!
"Have you seen anyone acting weird lately?"
"How so sir?"
"Coming in with wet hands. Going near where my office is. Lingering."
Soap looked confused. "No. I can't say I have. What's going on?"
"Nothing." Ghost grabbed his tea and escaped into his new room. Luckily, there's no fish to deal with. His room is clear. Thank goodness.
His office... His safe space... No longer safe...
Okay, a touch dramatic there. Ghost drank his tea and told himself that he needed to focus on work, not his tiny mystery.
He woke up again. Head down on his desk. Tea cold. Was there a fucking gas leak? Since when did he sleep so much?
Soap was there.
With a trout.
"You motherfucker." Ghost threw himself over the desk, watching Soap jump back and start sprinting down the halls. He chased after him. Soap tried to shift to get away, but that was ineffective. Ghost slammed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground before he got his arm around his throat.
"I don't care if you look like a mutt, I'll still kick your ass. Now shift back and explain yourself."
Soap did not shift back, instead wiggling to try to get away. Ghost tightened his grip until Soap stopped fighting him. He slowly shifted back, clearly embarrased.
"Hey, Lt. Fancy seeing you here."
"Why? Just why?"
"So... ya see... I am not a werewolf."
"You turned into a wolf, did you fucking not?"
"Actually.... I am a wulver."
"A wulver?"
"I uh... bring people fish."
"Why me?? Why did you bring me fish??" Ghost sounded accusatory.
Soap stuttered.
"Don't wulvers do that for people who are poor? Or can't feed themselves?"
Soap looked panicked.
"Fuck you."
"I'm sorry!" Soap yelped. "I don't know. i just wanted to... do something for you."
Ghost glared but dropped him. "Don't do it again."
Soap shakily gave him a thumbs up.
"I like mugs. Give me those next time."
"Yes, sir."
#cod#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare ii#soap call of duty#johnny soap mactavish#soapghost#ghostsoap#simon ghost riley#simon riley
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Dancing Beneath The Moon | Rhett Abbott x Reader
Word Count: 10,000
Cross Posted on AO3
Brief Summary: How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Ghost!Rhett AU (with a twist! I won't tell you what kind but it's a twist!), friends to lovers, Trevor does not take rejection very well (please be advised that he does yell at the reader and scare them), unprotected sex, mentions of violence, and Rhett's 'murder.' Please refer to the user manual and wash your cowboy before sex.
"I-I'm sorry, I need to leave."
"Trevor, wait!" Your feet patter across the floor, struggling to keep up as he lets himself out the door, "I can explain."
Only on the front porch does he stop, ostrich-skin boots clicking against the old wood with every step, "You don't need to," holding up one hand, as if to ward you off, "I just...forgot my Dad asked me to interview our new ranch hand today."
Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again, gaping like a damn goldfish.
"I'll call you later," and that's all Trevor leaves you with, skittering off the porch and clambering up into that lifted F-150, with its perfect, custom black paint that glimmers a deep blue as he tears down your driveway.
Ugh.
"Rhett!" Your voice echoes throughout the house, punctuated by the slamming of the door behind you. So loud, and yet you can still hear the vicious banging of your beloved cast iron skillet banging on your kitchen tile. A shrill clatter of noise that has you fighting the urge to cover your ears as you storm into the kitchen.
And there he is. The translucent motherfucker, sitting cross-legged beneath your table, peeking out from beneath it. "What?" A big, shit-eating grin lacing his barely there features, so innocent and childlike that you almost don't believe he was the cause of this mayhem.
Almost.
The skillet in his hand provides a pretty damning counterargument.
"I'd kill you if you weren't already dead," fuming, yanking that dented skillet out of his hand; Rhett's grip is strong, but not enough to stop you from taking your cookware back.
"I was playin' with that," he huffs, a cold wind that tickles your ankles.
The skillet lands in the sink with a clatter. "And I was trying to have a date," you hiss, throwing your hands up, "but I'm unfortunate enough to share a house with a ghost who doesn't have any fucking manners!"
"I have manners!" Rhett's up in the air now, a buzzing collection of mist that floats up to the ceiling, no longer human, "I just ain't got 'em for big shots that wanna play cowboy for a day!"
"He is a cowboy," he's not. You know he's not. But god, you are not giving Rhett fucking Abbott the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. "You wouldn't know, being ancient and all that."
The temperature drops. Mist scattering. You can't tell where he is anymore. "I would know 'cause I am a fuckin' cowboy!" His disembodied, roaring voice comes from all directions. "No good-minded cowboy wears a goddamn rolex on a work day, 'cause they know that shits fixin' t'get scuffed!"
"Cowboy or not, you're going to have to get over it," as you reach for the tap, you think you can feel his presence behind you. Some invisible thing that sends your skin prickling, even with the knowledge of how harmless he truly is. "Trevor's coming back, and if you keep scaring him off, I'm phoning a priest."
"Fine!" Booming behind you.
"Fine!"
He's gone for the rest of the night.
The pizza guy scares the hell out of you when he knocks on the door. Not because you had forgotten about your order but because you were waiting on the curtains to peel themselves open. Expecting to hear a deep, half-hearted grumble about how "your date is here" as the fella clambers out of his beat-up sedan.
But it never comes.
Rhett doesn't even bug you about giving him a slice that he knows he can't eat, but you catch yourself putting a plate out for him. You wonder if he's in the room to see you rushing to put it back in the cupboard. Maybe he's out in the field because the television doesn't miraculously change to the Animal Channel like it usually does. You don't catch a glimpse of him lingering in the mirror whilst you brush your teeth.
You're glad.
You didn't want to see his ugly mug anyway.
Strange how such a big presence can vanish so easily, without a trace or hint of where he went, leaving this big farmhouse feeling like a husk of what it usually does. The temperature drops a degree or two when he's around, but without him, it feels like you've set up camp in the Arctic. How can a dead man bring so much life to a place?
But the covers are tucked around you in the morning.
You can't see him, but when you step into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and yawning, you can feel him wisping around you. That invisible presence seeking for anything to get back on your good side.
The toast lifts itself onto a plate before it can be burnt by that old, barely functioning toaster of yours. On the table, the weekly grocery ad flips open to a discount on new toasters, a lazily written note scrawled beneath it. 'They even have the color you were wanting! :)'
He pulls the chair out for you to sit, and when you defiantly head out onto the porch to eat, he pulls the patio chair out for you too. You hate giving him the satisfaction of helping, but it's hard to avoid him when he's free to roam this entire property.
But the one thing you've forgotten is just how hot Wabang can get, even this early in the morning. Birds tiredly chirp from their nests, unwilling to take flight beneath the sweltering sun; the old wind chime is silent, not even the slightest breeze appearing to help it sing its tune. You've been outside for a mere five minutes, and yet sweat already beads on your forehead.
A cold nothingness wisps past you. Round and round your little patio table, stirring up a breeze that doesn't reach the trees.
"You can come out, Rhett," fighting your laugh is futile because it slips out as you speak, dancing through the air in tune with the wind chime.
The opposite chair scoots out on its own, a pale blue mist collecting in the seat; it'll take him a moment to get settled back into form. "Did ya happen to find my headstone yesterday?"
Your head is shaking before he can get his sentence out. "Are you sure you were buried in Wabang?"
"I don't know where else I'd be," Rhett's face isn't fully there yet, but his scowl is, settled deep into his nonexistent features. "Wabang was the only place my folks ever knew."
Your heavy tongue can't be brought to tell him about the graves you did find. Royal and Cecelia buried together, their son Perry right next to them, and their granddaughter Amy buried in the row in front of them, next to a headstone simply titled 'Autumn.'
Rhett should know. He deserves to know where his family rests, but you can't bring yourself to tell Rhett that his killer was given the privilege of being buried next to his parents. Don't know how to tell him that the Amelia County Sherrif dug up an old newspaper declaring Perry Abbott as not guilty of Rhett's murder.
"C'n I bug you to put a cup of coffee out?" Rhett chirps, and that permanently scruffy face almost looks real. His eyes must have been as blue as the ocean deep when he was alive, for even now, they glow with their color. The only thing off about him is his slight transparency and the rays of sunlight that spear through his body.
"You didn't smell it enough this morning?" You ask, but you're getting up anyway; you'd rather not deny his request and risk him making a mess by trying to do it himself.
His boots click across the old wood, in perfect tune with your step, "wasn't here."
"Where did you go?" You're already grabbing his mug out of the cupboard, other hand reaching for the coffee pot.
He's quiet for a moment, and then, "barn." When you turn around, he's no longer there, a plume of mist once more, but you don't need to see him to know that his eyes are transfixed on the ground. "Didn't think y'wanted me in the house after last night."
Most people would love it if their ghosts would leave the residence; let them live in peace without being heckled by the souls who can't move on. You'd know; you were one of them, once upon a time.
"You don't have to leave every time we bicker, Rhett," it feels strange to say, but those words are spoken directly from the heart, "this is your house too."
He manifests again. Back to his favorite spot beneath the edge of the kitchen table, cross-legged, where he can peek out to see what you're doing. A little too big to fit, but he makes it work.
Like clockwork, his right-hand toys with the cracked edge of a linoleum tile, the one he's pulled up numerous times in the past.
"Please don't tear up my tile," you try to say it as gently as you can; you know why he's so drawn to it, but you really don't want to spend an afternoon fixing your beloved floor again. Wordless, he leaves his spot, content to settle down in a kitchen chair and smell his coffee. The closest he can get to enjoying its flavor.
You wind up back in bed early in the afternoon. Downed by a migraine that refuses to pass, settling deep into your skull, brought on by an unknown cause. You think it may be from the obnoxiously strong air freshener you plugged in; Rhett blames it on your cellphone.
"Care for some company?"
You're fortunate that Rhett Abbott is easy on the eyes because it's difficult to open them. There he is, standing near the edge of the bed, in the same spot you met him three years ago.
At least this time, the two of you aren't screaming, startled by each other's sudden presence.
"As long as you don't hog the sheets," comes your conclusion, and the bed is dipping as soon as the last word has left your mouth. A weight that isn't there settles across from you, a human-shaped indent that by all means shouldn't exist.
Rhett's hair falls into his face as his pretty head lands on the pillow, snuggling against it, and you know he's trying his best to remain as solid as he can. He says he's not touch-starved, but you're starting to think that he's lying.
Your hand wanders out on its own, carefully settling against that misty cheek, trying not to go through him. "You look a little more solid than usual."
"Only took a couple years of practice," the corner of his lip rises with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
Oh, why does he have to look so sad when your hand inevitably passes through him?
You don't know if ghosts can cry, but his eyes seem to water as he feels your touch falter. They always do, but it never gets any easier to look at. It never gets easier, watching his smile wobble back into a frown, and his form grow a little more opaque.
Opening your arms to him probably isn't the best move to make. You've both discussed this; roommates is as far as this relationship can ever go because anything more asks for nothing but heartache. Heartache, such as the crushing feeling of feeling him squirm closer and not being able to feel him when you wrap your arms around his waist.
The only sign that he's real is the coldness you feel against your chest as his head settles against there. And, maybe, just maybe, you think you can feel wisps of his hair tickling your skin.
"What the hell is that?"
You haven't even taken it out of the box, and Rhett is already puffing up like a feral cat about it. "What does it look like, Rhett?"
The living room light flickers, his blue mist settling into the corner of the couch, as far as he can get from the box sitting on the floor. Refuses to take any more form than he already has, doesn't know how to react to this new thing that now sits in the same room as him.
"I don't have a clue," he says after a moment.
"It's a video game console," you want to take it out of the box and prove that it's not going to hurt him, but you don't want him getting any more surprised than he already is.
Against all odds, it seems you've got his attention because you can see his face now, head cocked to the side like a puppy. "A huh?"
"It connects to the television," nodding your head toward the flat screen next to you, "you can use it to play games on it."
He perks at that. "You can play checkers on the TV?"
Checkers wasn't what you had in mind, but you're sure it's on there.
There's a lot of fumbling involved. All the various cords and manuals only serve to confuse him more than he already is, and though he tries his best to help, he's not much assistance. There are less than five cords for the system, and he thinks they're all HDMI cables. But he's helpful when it comes to squeezing behind the television, at least.
"So that box...puts the game on the screen?" He asks as soon as you've settled onto the couch together, scooted as close as he can possibly get. "And you use that thing to play?"
For a cowboy who grew up in the days of black-and-white television, he catches on quickly. "For the most part, yes."
You'd won this thing in a raffle held down at the Bison Valley Bank of Wyoming, entered just for the hell out of it while you were down there a couple of months ago. How you won a new gaming console and why it came with a second controller, hot pink in color, you'll never know.
Rhett's simply poking at the joystick, unwilling to pick it up just yet, but you know he'll take to it like he did your television. Later, you'll wish you hadn't, but for now, you'll download one of his favorite board games.
"Monopoly?" He's fighting it, but there's still a twinge of excitement in his tone.
Now he's picking it up.
And within the hour, you regret even bringing the damn console into the house because you lose. Horribly. As soon as Rhett figured out the controls and the slight change in rules, you knew you didn't stand a chance. You can't even be upset about your crippling loss because he's kicking his legs back and forth and giggling.
"One more round?" He pleads, those opaque eyes sparkling with their childlike wonder, and you know he's never going to let this controller go.
"Let me get a drink, and then we'll play another," are you only agreeing because you enjoy the melody of laughter coming from your household ghost?
Absolutely not.
...okay, maybeyou are, but still.
At least he can't see your smile as you head for the kitchen, socked feet pattering across the cold hardwood without much of a sound. Already formulating a plan in your head, the next surprise move that might help you beat Rhett at one of his favorite games. If you can buy all four railroads before Rhett does...
The floor bends beneath your foot. Something crackles.
"Rhett, can you come here for a second?" Frozen in place, afraid to make another move. The lights are off; you can't see what's going on, but something feels wrong.
His presence is there before you can think any further, a chill ghosting over your body as he breezes around you. Circling like he's making an attempt at thwarting your fears before he flicks the light switch on.
And now you see it.
The kitchen floor is beginning to cave in, bowing inwards, right where your kitchen table sits. Beneath your foot, the tile has begun to crack, breaking into smaller pieces that cannot withstand any amount of weight on top of it.
"That floor's fixin' to collapse, doll," comes his voice, seemingly from all directions.
You're moving to step off of it and venture back out into the presumably safe hallway. But the floor crackles even louder. Tiles buckling beneath both of your feet. Sinking lower.
"I don't think I can," your body sways, fighting to remain upright.
Rhett's silently wrapping around you, formless blue mist shaping around you like a hug, tugging you away with a surprising amount of force. Practically takes your feet out from under you as he hauls you out of the kitchen.
"You're stronger than you look," you mutter in the hallway. Where the floor is solid and doesn't threaten to come out from under you.
"Only when I'm wantin' to be," he mutters directly into your ear, and you're suddenly glad that you've never asked how strong he is, as a ghost and all, "Now what kind of drink were you after?"
Rhett's your kitchen boy for the next three days until you can get someone to come and take a look at your floor. Balancing drinks and plastic cups that occasionally end in a tragic spill because he's not as good at balancing small objects. The first person never shows up; the second arrives bright and early in the morning, interrupting your morning conversation with Rhett on the porch.
"Now, like I said before, I don't have my equipment on me, so I can't guarantee you that this is the case," the guy begins, and you really, really hope he doesn't look up and see Rhett's dumbass sitting on the counter, "but my biggest guess is that your foundation has been exposed to too much moisture for too long."
"What's the worst-case scenario for this?" Your attention flickers between him and Rhett; what if it's something that you can't afford to fix?
He pauses to press his foot against the floor one more time, carefully surveying the way it shakes beneath the weight, tile crackling once more, "now it's highly unlikely, but worst case scenario, in my opinion, would be a sinkhole."
Your face drops.
"But that's highly unlikely," and he doesn't seem too concerned as he turns to face you, "I wouldn't worry until we get back out here and tear up the floor this coming Monday."
So Monday it is. That will be the day you find out if it's a simple fix or if you'll have no choice but to move out and leave your beloved house ghost all by his lonesome. Rhett seems to catch onto that thought, too. Remarkably quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
You can't blame him. For about forty-five years, this house was occupied by a family of religious folk who used some sort of herb to quite literally render Rhett into a state of unconsciousness. One too many surprise appearances in the mirror doomed him to sleep for all those years, only -reawakening after you moved in and scrubbed this old farmhouse from top to bottom.
He's never known what it's like to be alone. The closest he's come to it is the sporadic vacations you've taken over the past couple of years. None of which have lasted longer than a week, but all of which have ended in him waiting on the porch, tackling you the moment you stepped out of your car.
Unless he can attach himself to you, he'll never be able to wander further than the fields that surround your home.
Rhett doesn't take form again until Sunday night.
You don't know why you've drug these two lawn chairs out into the lawn, past the gravel that eats up the area around the house, but you have. Lounging, gazing up at the moon and stars hanging high above your heads, pointing out all the shapes you find amongst them.
The portable radio drones lowly in between you, stuck on the same old country station, ever since Rhett and his ghostly ways accidentally jammed it last summer.
"Do you wanna dance with me?"
And you don't know if...did you make that up in your head? Or was that just the radio?
"You know I'm not drunk this time, right?" Your head tilts, aiming to get a glimpse of him. He's already looking at you, smiles weakly as you meet his eye. Laying here, cloaked in the silvery light of the moon, he looks...real. If you reached out, you're sure you'd feel the scruff of his cheek scratch at your palm.
He hums, "I know." Pausing, just for a moment, to look up at the stars one more time. Your eyes follow, scanning the speckled sky, delighted to catch the tail end of a shooting star. You should make a wish...but you can't think of anything to wish for. "I just...wanted t' know what kinda dancer you are when you're sober."
"Alright," comes your answer; dry, nothing more to add to it.
And you don't know where it comes from, but Rhett reaches off to the side of his chair and plucks a translucent cowboy hat off the ground. Takes care to dust it off with his scarred palm, even though nothing can possibly dirty it, before carefully placing it atop his head.
He holds his hand out for you to take as if it's something that's become possible all of a sudden, and against better judgment, you do just that. Slipping your palm into the chilly illusion of his, deceiving yourself into believing that you feel his fingers curling around your hand. It's not, but as he leads you out further into the grass, it becomes easy to deceive yourself.
"Whoever taught you to dance, anyway?" You giggle as he spins you around; catches you by the waist when you come to face him once more.
He grins, big and wide, and you think you see his teeth glint in the moonlight. "You give amazin' lessons when you're drunk."
Oh, how easy it is.
Dancing beneath the moon, in nothing but your pajamas, held close by the ghost of a cowboy whose soul fits against your own like a puzzle piece. He doesn't know what he's doing, and if he were human, you're sure he'd be stepping on your feet, but he moves in such wonderous tune with your body that it feels like a daydream. His cold forehead rests against yours, ocean eyes peering deep into the deepest crevices of who you are.
You're drifting away from the grass and into the driveway, feet kicking up loose gravel with each and every step. Sweeping past your car, your shoulder narrowly avoids the passenger side mirror. You should be looking where you're going, you're going to drift too close to the porch and fall, but Rhett's gaze is so captivating that you can't bring yourself to look away.
How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy?
And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?
"You're thinkin' awful hard," the hand that curls around your cheek feels so real, the vague callous of a thumb stroking beneath the corner of your eye.
"Just figuring out how I'm going to pack you up and take you with me," your words are a poorly collected lie; you both know it, but he doesn't call you out on it.
Oh, and he's pushing your noses together with all the boldness of a man who knows what he wants. Your fingers are trying to tangle in his hair, and it's of no use, but you do it anyway, uncaring of how your hands sink through that collection of mist.
"Take me with you, hm?" He's slowing to a stop, the arm around your waist drawing you closer to him. "What happens when y' find someone to settle down with? Y'gonna turn me into the ring bearer at the weddin'?"
"Fortunately," your gaze flickers down his face, and you're so, so sure he's real, "I've already found that someone."
Rhett has no need for oxygen, and yet he sucks in a breath of air anyway, a little reflex remaining even after all this time.
One of you should shut this down right here before it goes too far. But your arms are wrapping around those broad shoulders, precariously balanced upon the thick collection of mist that makes up Rhett Abbott's ghost. The hand on your cheek is dropping to cup your jaw, and the world spins even faster as both of you lean in. His cold breath fans out against your lips, your eyes meet one more time, and...
Kissing him is the only thing you have ever needed.
A heart-stopping boom tears through the silence. Glass shattering in hot pursuit. As your eyes flutter open, the kitchen light goes out.
"What was that?" Your feet are already moving, Rhett's form dissolving into a thin mist, following at your side.
"I don't know," his distant voice rings, "please be careful."
You can hardly heed his warning. Sweeping past the front door, not bothering to take your shoes off, as you head for the kitchen. It's too dark to see, forcing you to fumble for the dining room light that you never use. Your hands graze over the switch, flipping it on, and, and—
The kitchen floor is nearly gone.
Replaced by a deep, cavernous hole that seems to reach deep into the earth. Consumes over half of the floor where your table once sat, reaching from your cabinets to your teetering refrigerator, on the verge of falling in.
"I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to get your spirit to attach to a living person, do you?" You hope Rhett can't pick up on the shake in your tone; there's no way insurance will cover a damn sinkhole.
But your question is met with silence.
"Rhett?" You're turning, and...he's not there. The air is unusually warm, not a speck of mist to be found. "Rhett?" Trying again, louder this time, as you head for the door, because maybe he's outside, maybe he's...
He's not there either. Maybe he's upstairs. Yeah, when he panics, he usually hides out in his old bedroom. He's just upstairs.
The door slams shut.
A second crash follows suit; you don't want to know if that was your refrigerator or if the sinkhole expanded even further.
"Rhett, this isn't funny," shaking the door knob. Locked from the inside. "Rhett, open the door!"
He doesn't.
The windows are all locked down tight. Even the one you intentionally leave unlocked. You find your car keys sitting atop the roof of your car, the paint scratched from where they've been thrown from a distance.
Rhett's chilly presence doesn't visit you when you sleep in the car that night.
He's not there to spook the contractor when he and his crew arrive early in the morning. You don't find him sitting on the couch when they kick the door down, and he's not on your bed when you sneak up the stairs, even after you're warned against going to the second floor. He isn't even there when countless faces enter your home to check out just what is going on in your kitchen.
"I've never seen this before," one of them tells you, her brows furrowed as she looks at her clipboard once more, "but it's not a sinkhole at all."
You don't know if you heard her correctly. "It's not?"
"It's a fifteen-foot hole that must have been dug by a past owner," she pauses to flip through her phone, presenting you with a photo of...just a dirt hole. Nothing special about it in the slightest. "They never refilled it, either; it was only a matter of time before the foundation collapsed into it."
Your mind flickers to your seemingly non-existent ghost. Rhett's never told a lot about his murder, but you know for sure that it happened in the kitchen. "Did you find anything down there?"
That seems to give her pause, ink pen tapping idly against her lips as she rechecks her pages and pages of notes. "Aside from your refrigerator and debris from the collapse...," flicking through another page, "it was completely empty! Nothing to worry about."
Well, at least now you know Rhett's not buried beneath the kitchen floor.
Even worse, his spirit no longer lurks within the paper-thin walls of this century-old farmhouse. You call for him in the fields, disturbing the cattle your neighbor keeps, and you beg for him to be there when you crawl out of bed in the morning. But the house remains warm; the only mist you find is in the fog that settles over your home after it rains, and he doesn't come out to mess with the teen boys employed to carry in bags of dirt, to fill the hole with.
Doesn't even appear when Trevor's F-150, with its irritating color-shifting paint, pulls into the driveway one evening.
"And so there was just a hole under your floor this whole time?" He's sitting in Rhett's favorite spot, cheap beer balanced carelessly between his legs. Has already spilled it once, leaving a stain on your cushion, and you'd tell him off if you weren't hoping it would infuriate Rhett into showing his face.
"The going theory is that one of the past owners dug it," glancing toward the mirror as you speak; still no ghost.
"I bet you more than anything that it's related to that Abbott murder," Trevor says, picking his drink up once more.
Your heart lurches in your chest. "Murder?"
"Did the realtor not tell ya?" Why is he scratching his cheek with the edge of his beer can? "That uh...what's his name? Perry, that's right, got into it with his brother and beat 'em to death in the kitchen."
"They told me someone died, but they never really elaborated," you mutter as he scoots a little closer. "Do you know what the argument was about?"
Trevor's heavy arm slings over your shoulder, drawing you near, musky cologne rudely meeting your nose. This is the same man you've been pursuing for months, so why is it that all of a sudden, your stomach churns at his touch? "Think it was...mmm, I think it was over some broad that went missing a couple of months before. Perry's wife, fiance, or something like that."
The alcohol on his breath has your senses reeling, overwhelmed with a sudden onset of nausea. Rhett didn't have much of a scent, but the little he carried was nothing but leather and honeyed sweetness. Your memory of his touch is brief, can count on one hand the amount of times he wrapped an arm around you, but he never dragged you into his chest like Trevor does.
"I'm sorry," speaking gently, you slide out from under his arm, rising to your feet, "I can't do this."
Trevor's face falls; you already regret speaking up, "what do you mean?"
"I'm sorry, I thought I could, but I just..." shaking your head, eyes landing on the hot pink controller that Rhett once played with, "I can't."
"The fuck do you mean you can't?" He's shooting up from his seat, beer can hitting the floor, the golden liquid splashing across the hardwood.
Your mouth is opening, but you don't get a chance to speak.
"You sure could when you were begging me to stay in this freaky ass house of yours last week!" Roaring, face twinging with red as he tries to close the space between you. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Loud bangings that rattle you so hard the house seems to shake with it. "You put me through all this just to tell me no?"
"I didn't put you through a damn thing!" Your voice echoes through the house, tone fierce, yet your feet timidly take one step back for each one Trevor takes forward. The floor seems to tremble beneath you. An earthquake that only you can feel.
Trevor's quiet at that.
You'd rather if he just yelled.
Because now he's got you creeping backward, and there's only so much space you can back up into. Your voice is caught in your throat. Stifled by something invisible. Mouth opening, but nothing comes out. The light in the kitchen goes out. Glitters of gold flitter past your head like tiny sugar plum fairies.
All of a sudden, Trevor lurches toward you.
Your head smacks against the wall. Jumping away from him.
"You think that little of me," he laughs, incredulous, "you think that fucking little of me?"
"Trevor." Your voice bursts past your lips. Shaky. But there. "Stop."
"Or what, huh?" Spit hits your face. His hand slams next to your head. Breaking through the drywall. "You owe me! I didn't spend all this goddamn time just for you to up and change your little fucking mind!"
"They asked you to stop." That's not your voice.
And it's not Trevor's, either.
Heavy boots thump across the floor. Spurs jingling with every step. Next to your head, a dirt-covered hand takes hold of Trevor's wrist. Muscles flex as it tears Trevor's fist out of the wall. Shoves it into his chest.
Trevor's reddened face has gone stark white. Trips over his own boots as a hulking, dirt-coated figure steps in front of you. Broad shoulders, covered by a vaguely patterned flannel; plaid, it looks like. Dark brown curls rest at his nape, unruly hair flowing freely. Suspiciously similar to...
"Who the fuck is this?" Trevor's still backing up, and this vaguely familiar man eats up every inch of space that's put between them.
"The house ghost." And that's...that's...
Trevor runs for the door before you can finish your thought. Slams it shut behind himself, like it'll keep him from being followed. Truck already rumbling to life. Downright roaring as the vehicle tears out of the driveway, sending gravel clanking against your windows.
But that's not what you're paying attention to.
Truly, you should be concerned about your windows being broken. But all you can do is look towards your kitchen because the light flickers back on. Gives you a momentary glance at a bottomless hole that's returned once more. Leaving behind no trace of the dirt that once filled it. Thin wisps of gold dance through it like an aurora, seemingly alive as they move.
You blink, and it's halfway gone. The edges shrinking inward until the hole is no more. Leaving behind that same freshly packed dirt.
Leaving behind...
"Rhett?"
He jolts at the sound of his name. As if he's surprised you're even speaking to him. Has yet to speak; confirm it's really him, but you already know the answer to that. He turns. Slow. And you can't help but wonder if that really is dirt because it seems to be fading away.
Slow, your hand drifts out from your side, and when your fingers curl around his jaw, you don't know if it's you who sucks in a breath of air or him.
Scruffy. Unshaven face scratching at your soft palm, dirt sticking to your skin as your thumb soothes over a remaining patch stuck to his cheek. Warm. He's warm. And he's hesitantly pushing his head into your hand, and, and—
"Rhett." You say it once more. The only thing you know how to say.
Tears well in those eyes. They're as blue as you ever could have hoped they would be. So, so real, not a shred of translucence to their color. One spills over onto his cheek, rolling until it's caught and wiped away by your thumb.
His arms are moving, hesitant to wrap around you, and you know he's worried about getting dirt on you, but the only thing you care about is stepping into him. Wrapping your trembling arms around that big, warm body of his and feeling him squeeze you into his chest. Where his heart beats heavy, thunking against you with the strength of an ox.
"I don't know how..." he whispers, hot breath tickling your neck, where he's buried his face.
"You're still an ass for locking me out of my own house," you're trying to sound irritated, but it's difficult to feign annoyance when he squeezes you a little tighter.
"Didn't want you bein' sucked in like I was," it's so strange to hear his voice like this, no longer a disembodied sound, "I...it just...kept suckin' me in every time I got out."
You're leaning away, and God, you don't want to leave those strong, trembling arms, but you want to see that face of his even more. The wrinkles beneath his eyes, the wobble of thin, chapped lips as they rise into a meager smile.
The callouses of his fingers drag against the soft skin of your cheek as his big hand settles there. Not the misty, barely there touch you're used to, but just as gentle as it's always been. His nose bumps against yours. Don't know who's leaning in. You shouldn't. You shouldn't do this.
This time, you know for sure that it's you who closes the gap between your bodies. It's you who catches this cowboy's lips in your own, reveling in that surprised gasp of his.
If you thought that kissing his ghost was heaven, then this is something else entirely.
Molding together like you were made just for this, his hand on your cheek and yours delving into his messy hair. Feeling the strength of the arm that curls around your waist and breathing in those faint notes of leather and honey and something warm that you can't quite place.
He pauses for a moment, breaks into a big, dumb smile as you meet his eye once more. And then he leans in to kiss you once more, hands cradling your cheeks, like you're a delicate flower whose petals will fall if he doesn't hold you together. His body shudders with something torn between a giggle and a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks, but he's smiling so much that your teeth clack together.
Your name tumbles off of his lips. Then again and again, like he's trying to memorize the feel of it in his mouth. The way it rolls off his tongue and twists through the air, the sound seeming to kiss your ears when it meets them.
"Rhett," mirroring him, and oh, how he perks at that. Has he always reacted so beautifully to you calling his name?
"Say it again," his nose bumps against yours as he speaks, "Please. Wanna hear you say it again." So eager to hear you that he looks two steps away from a puppy, the tears in his eyes shimmering with wonder as you open your mouth once more.
"Rhett," you whisper, like it's a secret shared on the playground, and then, again, "Rhett."
This time, when your back hits the wall, it's because a bright-eyed cowboy is carefully backing you into it, one hand protecting the back of your head as he dresses his body against yours. Smiling too much to kiss you, can't seem to get over the feeling of your skin against his, the overwhelming reality of whatever this is.
"We probably shouldn't be..." Higher thinking rushes back to your head in a whirlwind, thoughts running wild in the darkest crevices of your mind. What if's and why's and wonderings of how this happened, if it's permanent or temporary. "What if we cross that line, and you go back to being a ghost?"
You don't think you'll ever adjust to the sound of Rhett breathing or the way his eyelashes flutter as he thinks for a moment. He's licking his lips, mouth opening, and, "What if we don't cross that line and spend our whole lives regrettin' it?"
One too many kisses may leave you longing for him for the rest of your life, but one too few may leave you carrying eternal heartache. And that's only if he goes back to being a ghost. But he feels real. When you press your palm to his chest, his warm hand covers it, guiding it to rest over his beating heart. Little thumpings that shouldn't be there, full of life and love and all just for you.
He could have come back to life for anyone. But he came back for you.
To hell with it.
Your bodies collide like galaxies. Blinded by a frantic kiss that promises bruises to your lips. Flecks of gold fall from his body as your hands roam, tugging at a flannel, at his hair, at his hands. Legs tangling because you're moving too quickly, and he's still adjusting to walking rather than floating.
Only break apart long enough to tumble up the stairs; Rhett almost trips over every one of them. Struggling to keep his confidence but boosted along by the kisses you pepper to his reddened cheeks and the gentle tuggings of your hand in his.
Your back hits the bed with all the grace of a newborn fawn, Rhett tumbling right along with you, chuckling into the crook of your neck. Under the dim lighting of your bedroom lamp, it's easy to catch onto the deep bruising that scatters beneath his right eye.
"These are from Perry, aren't they," it's more of an observation than a question, your fingers soothing over the marks as if they can somehow heal them.
Rhett's pressing a kiss to your wrist as it roams past, "Don' wanna think 'bout that son 'f a bitch right now."
You can work with that.
Especially when your bodies squirm further up the bed, his hips settling between your legs, forearms bracing themselves on either side of your head, heaving chests against one another. His lips solid against your own, hungry, urged on by the nails that dig into his shoulders for leverage.
"You'll tell me if I'm goin' too far?" He's speaking into your kiss, unwilling to remove himself any further.
Maybe there's a second ghost in this house because something possesses you to roll your hips up into his. Such a faint pressure, the rough bulge in his jeans rubbing against your soft pajama shorts, but it's so much compared to what used to be. "I will," you're interrupted by his mouth once more, "but I'm sure you'll be the one asking me to stop before the end of the night."
Your hand has a mind of its own, wandering down his chest, flattening out to feel the muscles that ripple along his stomach, hidden from view by his shirt. They flex under your touch, a simple thing that makes your head spin. By some method of madness, that shirt is still tightly tucked into his jeans, the material hard to get ahold of.
Rhett shifts above you, unintentionally moving when you feel for some slack in his shirt, something to get ahold of, and your hand wildly overshoots. Palm splaying out against the front of his jeans instead.
"'m not so sure 'bout that, sweetheart," he groans, a deep, guttural noise escaping him as he reaches down, catches your fleeting hand, and guides you to press against him once more. "I ain't had a dick for the better half of a fuckin' century."
These old jeans are thick, but even so, you can still feel him twitch against your touch. This wasn't what you were aiming for in the slightest, but watching him shiver as you massage over the outline of his bulge is a hell of a sight.
"Sensitive," you're only lightly teasing; any more words and you'll be fumbling with his belt buckle.
"You're one to talk," he mutters, head dropping to press his lips to the meet of your jaw, teeth tugging the skin there.
You think your eyes may pop out of your head. "I thought you promised to stay out of my bedroom when I didn't invite you in."
"Wasn't in the bedroom, baby," he's chuckling, breath tickling your ear as he works his way towards it, "When you're a ghost, you hear everythin'."
Then he's leaning back, leaves you feeling cold as he fumbles with his jeans, boots hitting the floor with two solid thunks. An involuntary whine works its way out of you, reaching aimlessly for him.
"Don't wanna get y'all dirty, sweetheart," he soothes, catching your hand and pressing kisses to your knuckles. Pops open his belt buckle with a pinch of his fingers, and soon those dirty jeans are sliding off, revealing milky white thighs, mottled with bright spots of red and deep purples, a badly bruised knee to match.
...as well as a pair of boxers patterned with bright red hearts.
"Y'ain't gonna believe me," Rhett's staring down at them too, teeth worrying his bottom lip, "but I have no fuckin' memory of wearin' these." The tips of his ears have gone bright red. Another quirk hidden until now.
"We'll get them off soon enough, I'm sure," you say, leaning up to let him peel your shirt over your head.
As soon as it's out of sight, Rhett's lips return to your neck, one wandering hand soothing up your side, not stopping until it reaches your breast. Does nothing more than feel you in his hand, sucking at a soft spot beneath your ear that has you fighting the urge to close your eyes.
Your hands wander, one wrapping around a surprisingly muscled bicep while the other delves between your bodies once more. Feeling down his sturdy chest, past his stomach, and not stopping until you can take hold of him through his boxers.
"Fuck," his body jolts, "'re you sure 'm not dreamin'?"
"I thought ghosts didn't sleep?" You're parroting something you so clearly recall him mentioning in the past, can't place the memory yet. Don't really care to, either. The only thing on your mind is the way your fingers wander past his waistband, wrapping around his cock that jumps at your touch.
He's thicker than you imagined he'd be.
Moans prettier, too, for that matter. A little bit breathy and so Rhett.
"Hands of yours are so fuckin' small," he's muttering in between kisses as he works his way back to your lips. Can't kiss you because a jolted grunt interrupts him, a symphony of sounds as you slowly stroke him. Oversensitive, the first touch he's felt in decades.
His hair drops into his face, acts as a curtain when you look down to where your hand is working him. Can hardly see what you're doing, but you do catch a glimpse of precum beading at his flushed tip, hearing his gasp when your thumb swipes over it.
"Y'need to stop that," he huffs, voice nothing but air, "gonna...fuck, 'm gonna cum if you keep..." And despite asking you to stop, he grumbles when you let go of him.
Hands now free, you reach for your shorts, not sure why you feel so shy when he helps you tug them down your legs; it's not like he hasn't seen you naked before. From you forgetting he's there to him accidentally floating into the shower while you were using it.
But these eyes are not the translucent ones you're used to, with their expression hidden by deviations in his mist. No, these eyes darken as they drink up the sight of you, every little thought in his head spoken through his gaze. But even as he kicks his boxers off, shirt going right along with it, you can't help but feel like hiding under the sheets.
"'ve I ever told you that you're beautiful?" His voice breaks the silence, stroking the inside of your knee as he speaks.
You don't have words for that.
He doesn't need them.
You really don't have words for when he takes hold of your wrist, guiding it up and taking two of your fingers into his mouth. Tongue carefully swirling around each of them, soaking them with a content hum. Your eyebrows furrow, to which he raises his other hand. Dirt beneath his nails and caught in the wrinkles of his hand.
Ah.
Reluctantly, you pull your fingers from his warm mouth, and you're pleasantly surprised to find that there's hardly any resistance when you press them inside. Open and already wet, helped along by a moment of fun you'd had in the morning, hoping a familiar ghost may come to help you along.
"How did you know I kept my lube in the bottom drawer?" You can't help but ask, watching as he fishes around for it.
The tips of his ears are red again. "I learned the hard way not to float through bedside tables."
He's the one who uncaps the container, but it's you who reaches out for him to pour it into your palm. Not because you're concerned with dirt but because you want to feel him in your hand again. Twitching when you take hold of him, a thick vein running along the side of his length. He has to stifle a noise with each stroke, squeezing your knee all the while.
"You're sure you're ready for me?" He asks when you urge him closer.
"I'm sure I'll be fine, cowboy," fighting back a noise as you guide him down, letting him push between your folds, some lazy, teasing thing that has his plush head dragging past your clit. Sensitive, almost has you considering making him fuck you like this instead.
But he's catching against your entrance, and you've daydreamed about this man too many times to pass up the opportunity.
That tentative, forward tilt of his hips is enough to make your head spin. Pressure blooming as he pushes into you, careful, like you'll shatter into a million pieces if he's too quick.
"Rhett," you whisper, don't quite know why.
"'m here," he's coming back down, nose pressing against yours in his own little way of reassurance, "I've got you."
Your earlier rendezvous didn't end well for you, but you're so thankful for it in hindsight because his cock stretches you wide. Blunt head dragging against your walls, massaging past the bundle of nerves you couldn't seem to find with a toy, your thighs squeezing his pale hips.
"So tight for me," he pauses about midway, or what you think is midway, at least, "you're sure 'm not hurtin' you?"
Your head spins, loose on your shoulders, "I'm okay."
With a noise of his own, Rhett starts to move again, draws back a little before pushing further, and you can't help but wonder if he's holding his breath. Your nails bite into his shoulders, hanging on as he finally bottoms out, now flush against you. His mouth moves, but he can't speak. Only capable of releasing a shaky breath, lazily catching your lips in his.
He doesn't need to be asked to move, catching on the moment you grind yourself against him. Withdrawing slow, shallow, before pushing back in, and you're so, so full. Clinging to his shoulders to stay in place, feeling like you'll float away when he brushes against those nerves again.
Fuck, he's just begun to move, and you're already biting your lip. Don't know how you're going to keep yourself quiet because he massages past that little spot every time he moves, never lets it alone.
His thumb pulls your lip out from between your teeth, "Let me hear you, darlin'."
His words alone have your cunt fluttering around him, and you're leaning into the palm that cups your cheek, mouth falling open. "Rhett, fuck."
You don't think you need to reach down between your bodies, but you do anyway, fingers pressing to your long-neglected clit. Working in tandem with Rhett's quickening hips, jolting as his angle shifts.
"There?" He says as if he hasn't already found that damned spot. All you can manage is a nod, a whimpered 'uhuh' escaping you.
And he's doubling down, cock head kissing that oversensitive spot again and again. Grins wickedly when you shudder beneath him, nails dragging down his pale shoulders, panting into his mouth.
"Fuck, this sweet lil' pussy of yours feels so good 'round me," he groans, thrusts becoming harder now that he's remembered the ropes. Heavy balls smacking against you, and you really hope there aren't any more house ghosts who can hear the sinful sounds whistling through the air. "'s this what you've been needin', hm?
"Rhett," you don't know how to speak, his name tumbling off your tongue.
"Bringin' home all those dates that could never make you cum," his voice dropping an octave deeper, damn near growling, but the softness in his eyes suggest he wouldn't hurt a fly. "Wouldn't have terrorized 'em if they woulda treated you better."
That's why he chased them all off? God, how many times did you bring someone home, thinking he was gone? And how many times has he daydreamed about having you beneath him, whimpering his name as he fucks you nice and proper.
You should be mad, but you can't. Not when you're falling apart at the seams, hand sliding from his shoulders, barely clinging to his bicep. Bounced by every heavy thrust, can't keep your fingers on your pulsing clit, tightening around him as something warm blossoms between your legs.
And he must be able to feel it because his eyes flicker into the back of his head, if only for a moment. "You gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart?"
This is new. Fuck, this is so, so new and so much. No longer able to keep your eyes open, tongue lazy in your mouth, words long forgotten as you try to nod your head. Mind clouded with thoughts of Rhett, Rhett, Rhett.
"Shit, y'got me so damn close, baby," he rasps, hair tickling your cheek as he presses kisses there, "You want me to cum on those cute thighs of yours? Or your sweet little tummy?"
You don't have the answer to that question. Distracted by the crumbling of his rhythm, thrusts growing shaky, in perfect tune with the tightening coil in your lower belly. Almost there. Almost there.
He's still talking. "Or would you rather I cum nice 'n deep in this pretty pussy of yours," you regret opening your eyes. All you see is the sweat beading at his forehead and strong hips working you over. Fat cock disappearing into your wet pussy, elicits a dizzying squelch every time. "Pump you nice 'n full of me, just so you'll need me to fuck it out of ya in the mornin'."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Where's your voice? Where's your voice? "I-inside."
Rhett's breathy "yeah?" is all you fucking need. Your back rises up off the mattress, head tilting back with a silent cry as you cum around his cock.
"There you go," Each pump of his length into you only sends your head higher up into the stratosphere. Whimpering, clamping down around him as a shudder washes over you. "Feel so good when you're clampin' 'round me like that."
And he's still fucking going. Fucking you through it, beating against that bundle of nerves even when you begin to tremble, after-shocks still tearing through you.
"Hang on for me, baby," his eyes are bolted shut, chasing his high, biceps shaking, so, so close.
"Please, Rhett," you whisper, your hand soothing over his hardened face. Those deep blues flutter open, softening at the sight of you, like he's just seen an angel "Cum for me."
A whimper tumbles past his lips, a second one follows suit, and then those eyes are closing once more, hips stuttering to a halt as his orgasm hits him. Tiny noises escaping his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck, the familiar tune of your name tumbling off his sweet tongue. Filling you with his cum, making good on his promise, jolting as you involuntarily pulse around him.
For a while, the air is silent.
Until Rhett lifts his head and kisses up your sensitive neck, sending you into a fit of giggles. "C'n we take a bath t'gether?" He murmurs, seemingly shy, unable to meet your eye.
"So long as you agree to bubbles, baby." Baby. You don't think you've ever called him that.
You can't wait to do it again.
For decades, the folks of Wabang, Wyoming, have whispered the tale of two brothers. Gossiping about a murder they presumed to have taken place, for they knew that Perry Abbott was a violent man, and it was only a matter of time before his little brother became the next punching bag.
Never have they whispered about the hole that opened beneath the kitchen floor, swallowing Rhett's near-lifeless body up, escorting him to an unknown safety while leaving his lonely spirit behind. They don't know of the decades he spent forced into an unnatural slumber, only to be awoken by another lonely soul with a heart made of the same glass as his own.
Nobody giggles about how a human scared a ghost or chatters about the adventures they've shared in that century-old farmhouse. They do not know of the arguments, and the boyfriends lost because a ghost wanted the best for his friend, appearing in mirrors and whispering their deepest insecurities into their ears. Worse, they don't roll their eyes over the many tales of him banging a cast iron skillet on the tile just to see them run.
But you do.
Only you know of how Rhett smiles, big and dopey, as you take him into town for the first time in decades. You are the only person who gets to explain what self-driving cars are and roll your eyes as some new thing scares him into jumping behind you. Nobody else gets to take him on a road trip, watch him fight with a GPS for the first time, and introduce him to the ocean and the concept of crabs.
"Why are they shaped like that?" Rhett's stumbling after you; not sure if he likes or hates this little creature, only knows that he wants to follow you. "Why is he following me?"
You wish you could see the little bugger, but it's so dark that you can hardly tell where you're going. The only light you have is a dull light in the parking lot and the silver moon hanging high above your head.
"Probably because you've pissed him off," you laugh, holding your hand out when he reaches for it, "are you going to survive two more nights this close to the beach, or do I need to take you back to the pasture?"
He hums, loud and dramatic as he can manage, scratches his freshly shaved chin for added effect, "I suppose I'll survive, but if that crab kills me, I'm comin' back as a ghost and suin'."
From the moment your feet are on the cool concrete of the parking lot, Rhett's spinning you around. It's still the only thing he knows how to do, and his feet tangle with yours a little more than they should, but oh, is it as magical as that night in your driveway.
"'ve I ever told you that I love you?" He smiles as he speaks; knows he says this every time you wind up dancing beneath the moon.
"Never," feigning surprise, as he pulls you in close, noses bumping together, "but I love you more."
And then you're running. Squealing as Rhett sets hot on your trail. He'll catch you before you so much as reach the hotel doors, trap you in his arms, and insist that no, he loves you more, punctuating every word with a wet, sloppy kiss. And you're so excited for it that you think you may let him catch you early.
Perry took away a lifetime from Rhett.
You're more than happy to give him a life worth waiting centuries for.
Even if he does still refer to himself as the house ghost.
#rhett abbott smut#rhett abbott x y/n#rhett abbott x reader#rhett abbott#oneshot#rhett abbott outer range#outer range fic#outer range#rhett abbott imagine#rhett abbott x you#reader self insert#self insert#reader insert#x reader#afab reader#ghost au#ghost! rhett abbott
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𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑫𝑬
** gif by the amazing @inklore who made this for me, love u bby thank you so much!!!
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
genre: smut, hurt/comfort
word count: 3.5k
summary: a retelling of the third episode but with you in it. Starts with Ellie reading Bill's letter.
warnings: spoilers for episode three, oral (giving), shower sex, piv, lots of emotions, hugging joel because he needs it, soft!joel
a/n: i'm still fucking crying tbh
“August 29, 2023,”
“If you find this please do not come into the bedroom. We left the window open so the house wouldn't smell. It will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this Joel. Because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps hehehehehehe Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you. But still, it's like we're friends. Almost. And I respect you. So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here, we have a job to do. And god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep—”
Ellie’s voice trails off, making you look up from the corner of the wall your eyes were digging a hole in. She presses her lips together, eyes moving away from the heartbreaking letter. Joel’s eyes snap up, and without saying a word he snatches the letter from her hands and reads it for himself. You have the urge to come close and peer at the words as well, but you don’t dare. You zero in on his expression; the crease between his brows deepens, the corner of his lips pulling down. He swallows.
“Stay here,” he croaks, heading to the door.
It slams shut. Leaving you and Ellie inside, you turn to her, “What did it say?” you ask despite having a solid guess of what the answer might be.
Ellie doesn’t look up. Her stance is relaxed but the tension tolling over her shoulders is visible. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and answers, “Tess,” she says. “Bill was telling Joel to keep her safe,”
“Oh shit,” you whisper instinctively. Ellie nods.
“My thoughts exactly,”
You drop your bag, the sudden relief of it being gone making you feel lighter than ever. You know he’ll be mad if you try to talk about it. But you also don’t have it in you to leave him to wallow in his own self-pity. Joel is a protector. And from what you’ve heard, Bill was also one. Protector to protector. The message was abundantly clear and Joel had failed again and again. You hate to word it like that, but you know that’s what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about Sarah, about Tess. About Tommy who might be already dead. Now, he has to deal with you and Ellie. You, he found in Boston with Tess, covered in bruises and cuts, ration cards stolen and beaten to a pulp.
You turn to Ellie one last time, she’s already staring at you, it’s slightly unnerving. “Wait here, don’t touch anything that might kill you. Stock up,”
“Aye Aye Captain.”
And you leave.
The sun is shining, not a single cloud in the sky. Your eyes lock onto Joel as soon as you step over the threshold; his back turned, letter in hand, shoulders slumped. He looks around the neighborhood, then back down to the letter. He repeats the motion a couple of times as if he can’t believe what’s happening around him. You follow the path his eyes draw, looking around and back at him. You wonder if this neighborhood is similar to the one he used to live in.
“Hey,” you finally call out, your voice sounding scratchy. Joel flinches, he crumples the piece of paper and stuffs it in his pocket. “Are you okay?”
“We need to get out of here,” he answers, fingers tightening around the key, he heads to the garage. You follow.
When the two of you are inside, you see his resolve finally starting to crack. He pops the hood open, looks inside, and slams it shut. Pressing his palms into the smooth surface, his head falls, body shaking with his every breath. Your steps are silent as you approach him, your eyes trail over the roundness of his shoulders, the dip of his shirt.
You bite down the inside of your cheek, not stopping until you feel a sharp sting. Holding your breath, you place a hand over his shoulder, gently squeezing.
He flinches, it’s the most minimal reaction, something you only felt because you were physically touching him. “Is this okay?” you ask.
Joel nods, his swallow audible. “Yeah, it’s fine,”
“Can I hug you?”
He tenses under your fingertips. You don’t make a move until you feel the small nod he makes. “Sure,” his voice cracks. “If you want to,”
Some part of you wants to ask ‘do you?’ but of course, you don’t. Of all the months you’ve known him, he’s never once verbally asked anyone for anything. If you give it, he’ll take it. Your hand smooths a path down his arm, the other rounding his waist. You take a deep breath as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades, you feel the steadiness of his heartbeat.
Joel is still tense but less than before. Your fingers curl around his wrist, and your other hand lays right above his heart, nails softly biting into the fabric of his shirt.
Much to your surprise, his hand covers your own, thick fingers lacing into yours. It gives you courage. It gives you hope. You press further into him, hug him with your entire body hoping that the warmth you provide is enough to soothe him, even for a second.
“Sorry,” he grunts out, squeezing your hand, he brings it to his lips. His mustache tickles your skin, and he eases his lips into you, something between a kiss and a press of skin. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so angry all the time, there’s a weight on my chest that never leaves. You understand?” you nod and he continues. “I’m not like Bill. Not in the way he thought that I was. I’ve always been afraid—Even after…”
You feel him shaking his head, and your grip around him tightens. You do understand. You’ve felt it too, but he made it easier, help you lift that weight despite not being a man of many words, his presence gave you strength.
You want to stay like this forever. Holding him, feeling him. He’s incredibly warm.
“I’m not strong enough,” he lastly says, whispering your name right after. “I can’t keep you or Ellie safe,”
You feel the brush of lips over your knuckles. He allows you to cradle his scruffy cheek. It feels like a dream almost, which makes you acutely aware of how much he must be hurting right now. Your heart breaks.
“You are,” you whisper, fingers moving along his beard. “We’re going to stock up, find Tommy, and get Ellie to the fireflies. Then we’re done. Maybe we can even come back here,”
He scoffs, “How are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Hopeful,”
“It’s because I have you.”
You know he’s confused. You can feel it simmering under his skin, face heating up under your hand. He’s confused as to how something positive could be spurred from his existence. But it’s the truth. And he needs to hear it. He needs to know that it’s not only grief, and sadness, that follow his every footstep like a shadow. His strength gives those around him a chance to grow, a chance to be more human. Allowing them to live and relax while he carries the burden.
His methods might be brutal, and the words he says might cut deeper than a knife ever could, but it comes from a place of a twisted sense of love.
“We should head back inside,” he murmurs and pulls at your hand. “I’ll make the truck battery and we grab what we can while it charges,”
“Okay,” you take a step back, already feeling the ache of not feeling him against your person. “I’ll go check on Ellie.”
Joel doesn’t say a word, nor looks at you, he only nods.
You still can’t fucking believe it.
Hot fucking water.
You’re impatiently sitting in one of the guest bedrooms, Ellie is downstairs, already taken her shower and Joel is still inside, a soft slow of steam slithering its way out of the cracks of the door.
You sitting there and waiting for Joel to get out isn’t probably the most efficient thing to do but you can’t help it, you feel giddy. Your leg bobs up and down as you wait. The mere thought of having warm water rolling down your tattered skin makes your heart leap to your throat—
The running water stops and your eyes fly to the door. A couple of minutes later it opens. A wet, clothed, Joel makes his way through the steam. It looks mystical, almost.
He stops when he sees you.
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Waiting to use the shower,” you grin, not shying away from openly raking your eyes up and down his body. “Looking good, Miller,”
He rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back, your pussy bottoms out at the way his biceps bulge from underneath the flannel. “Well, I’m done now. Have fun,”
Joel moves towards the door and you jump up barely in time to catch his wrist. He raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping to meet yours. His skin is still damp, if you were a cat you’d be purring by now.
“Sit down,” you choke out. “I—fuck—This is hard. I want to—”
“Don’t hurt yourself tryin’ to come up with words,” he teases and you look at him completely flabbergasted. Joel Miller actually sounds amused. It’s a goddamn miracle. He twists his hand so it’s him holding you instead, locking the door, he moves towards the bed, urging you to follow him as if this was his idea from the get-go.
“What do you want?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. You’re standing between his spread-out legs, a chill runs up your spine. He reaches out and touches your chin. “Tell me,”
Instead of telling, you slowly sink down to your knees, fingers moving to unbutton his jeans. He spreads his legs wider as you tug them down, you trail your fingers up his thighs, feeling the soft hairs tickling the pads of your fingers. Joel’s breath hitches, muscles tensing under your touch. He’s semi-hard when you take him into your mouth. His hips buck up as you swallow, swirling your tongue around the head.
He grows harder with every lick. Your chin strains as you attempt to swallow him whole. You manage to take only half of him, your eyes squeezing shut at the pressure. Pulling up, you gasp for air. You kiss the side and flatten your tongue against it. Joel cradles your head, thumbs drawing slow circles, he guides you back down to his cock, pushing you further down.
“That’s it,” he breathes out heavily. “Just a bit more, always so fuckin’ good to me,”
He forces your gaze up, and his cock twitches above your tongue. You whimper at the way he caresses your skin, so tender, so gentle. “You are too good to me,” he repeats his words from before. “I want you to know that. I ain’t the best with words but…yeah. I’ll try to make right by you,”
If it wasn’t for his cock in your mouth, you would’ve smiled. Your heart feels so full that it overflows, the muscles of your stomach taut as you sink down, taking him until you feel the soft curls against the base of your nose. Joel holds you there, flush against his pelvis, heavily breathing as you swallow around him again and again. Spit trails down the corner of your lips, nostrils flaring as it gets harder to breathe.
When he releases you, you pull away with a pop, your lungs burning at the sudden influx of oxygen. You wrap your fingers around the shaft and start stroking him, he moans loudly, hips thrusting into your hand.
“I want you to cum down my throat, Joel,” you purr. “Use me,”
And he does.
The more desperate he becomes, the more stifled his groans get. He thrusts into your mouth, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Joel fucks deeper into your mouth, balls heavy on your chin as his thrusts become shallow. Your eyes roll back, your consciousness teetering on the edge of blacking out completely.
With a moment of desperation, you cup your mound, rubbing at your clothed clit. The friction isn’t nearly enough and you let out a moan around his length, the reverberations making his hips stutter.
Joel spills down your throat with a grunt, he presses his molars together, rolling his hips into your mouth. You swallow greedily. He tastes bitter, but that doesn’t stop you from lifting yourself on your knees to push him deeper down. He hisses, cock pulsing between your lips.
“Jesus Christ,” he slurs, head falling back. “Jesus fuckin’ christ,”
He pulls you off with a sharp tug, looking down at you between heavy lids. “You good darlin’?”
You slowly nod, lips parting with a soft sigh. Your mind is in a deep haze of lust, your body aching to be touched, to be filled. You want to say something, anything, but you’re lost for words.
“Shit, alright come on— Up,” he grabs you by the arm, helping you to stand on your feet. You shoot him a confused look, which he answers promptly. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Is it alright if I help?”
It takes you a moment to understand the question and answer, “S-Sure.”
You stand in the bathroom naked with your arms crossed in front of your chest. Joel wraps his arms around you slowly, still hesitant to touch you. He rests his chin above your shoulder, his torso bare, you sigh blissfully at the skin-on-skin contact.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, moving his hand down your stomach. “I thought you were excited,”
“I am,” you shudder when he drags his nose up the column of your neck, his lips following the path back down.
“Do you want me to go?”
You shake your head, “No.”
He murmurs an ‘okay’ into your skin and gently nudges you forward so you get in. The tiles are cool and slippery. It feels absurd being in such a homey-feeling bathroom after so long. It smells like lavender.
You stand there, too stunned to move until Joel joins you. He stands behind you, leaning over, naked body pressing into yours, he turns on the faucet, playing with the degree of the water until it pours warm over your skin.
“How’s that?” he mutters.
“Good,” a giggle falls from your lips. “It feels so fucking good. Unbelievable,”
Joel starts washing your body, the touch of his hands has fear behind them. A fear that you might vanish at any second. His fingers trail over every inch of your skin, exploring every curve and valley. You close your eyes, relishing in the sensation of having him this close. He washes your hair, taking his time, massaging your scalp. He moves down to your back, running his hands over your spine, kneading out the tension from your muscles.
His hands move to your front, lingering over your breasts, sending shivers down your spine. He takes his time, leaving no spot untouched. The water cascades over your bodies, swallowing you and hiding you both from the tainted world outside. Wet lips trail the slope of your shoulders, fingers slipping between your folds. He drags them between your slit, circles your aching clit, and repeats. Your head falls over his shoulder, your soft moans drowned by the sound of water.
Joel holds your chin and turns you until you’re facing him, he closes the distance, molding his lips into yours. His wet tongue follows the seam of your lips and you open up for him, he moves his tongue over yours, licking the inside of your mouth. He swallows your moans and whines as you start to grind down against his palm.
His tongue presses deeper, and your legs tremble. He grinds the heel of his palm into the sensitive bundle of nerves, groaning into your mouth when slick gushes into his hand. His cock lays above the curve of your ass, hot and hard.
He grinds into you, his cock pressing insistently between your cheeks. His hands grab your hips, pulling you closer to him, and his mouth moves across your shoulder and neck. His lips find your ear.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath heavy and hot against your neck.
“It is. I want to feel you Joel, every inch of you,”
His hands reach up, cupping your breasts, massaging gently. His thumbs circle your nipples and they harden beneath his touch, your breath catching in your throat. You roll back into him, your body craving more of his touch— of him.
Joel’s hands move down your body, his fingers tracing every inch. “Turn around for me,”
You move without hesitation. He takes a step back, letting his hands trail over you. You take a step forward, closing the gap between you and he takes you in his arms, his mouth finding yours. His tongue slips between your lips and you moan into his mouth, lost in him.
You allow your own hands to explore his body as well. He’s firm, arms strong and thick, hips narrowing as your fingers trace a path down within the water droplets that cling to his skin.
Affectionately, you caress his stomach. You gently press the pads of your fingers into the soft flesh, loving the way his chest heaves.
The water continues to pour down, creating a soothing background noise. He pushes his cock between your legs, moving through the slickness and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
You move together, bodies entwined and breaths mingling. He lets out a low moan as you press your hips against his. His hands move to your back, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. He pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours again and again and again— He moans as he fucks your thighs. The bulbous head of his cock catching against your clit, the corners of your vision fade to black. Your head buzzes.
Joel continues to roll and grind, cock slipping between your legs with ease. During it, he slips into you, stretching you enough that the pain easily bleeds into the pleasure. He holds you, cock twitching as your flutter around him. You’re dripping and making a mess of him, he feels it. You know that he does by the way he bites into your skin, his growl vibrating across your body.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says, licking the water off your skin. “Feels so good inside—Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough,”
“S-Shit Joel,”
Your breath hitches in your throat, your hips meeting his with each thrust. He holds your gaze, fucking himself deeper, harder into you. Pleasure licks the bottom of your spine, heat rolling in your stomach. The water washes away the sweat but you still burn. Joel’s hand moves up to the back of your neck, his hand big enough to press his fingers into both sides of your throat.
You nearly go limp at his hold, knees bucking at the pressure. But you trust him, and you aren’t at all surprised when he keeps you up, pounding into you as his lips slither down your neck.
He moves his hand lower, skimming down your stomach and cupping your sex. His thumb circles your clit, and you gasp as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.
You’re teetering on the edge, ready to come undone, when Joel suddenly pulls out. His fingers don’t stop, pinching your clit. You cry out his name as your orgasm rips through you, he holds you close as your body jolts. Your body is left confused, empty, yet still clenching as if Joel’s cock is still inside.
It’s so intense that tears roll down your cheeks, pleasure ripples over your skin, unfiltered whimpers falling from your lips. Your gaze drops to his cock, your eagerness to please loud in your mind. You notice that he’d already came, seed mixing with the water.
“I got you don’t worry,” he mutters, lips brushing your forehead. “You’re alright, you’re with me,”
You blink up, eyes finding Joel’s. A lazy smile spreads across your face, the water beating over your skin now cold. “Was that good?” you ask, kissing the bald spot on his chin.
“You know it was,” when you give him a knowing look, he sighs. “It was good, thank you, darlin’”
“I’m glad to hear that,” you grin, hands moving up his arms. “Now let’s get cleaned up one last time and get the hell out of here.”
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#tlou fanfic#hbo the last of us#the last of us hbo#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader
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For the Hell of it - Robin
Characters: jason todd x fem!oc
Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.
Word count: 1,626
Summary: A peaceful evening is interrupted by a visitor through time.
Masterlist
------
They were lounging together in Jason’s apartment, Downton Abbey played in the background while they both focused on their own things.
She was sitting up on the couch, half heartedly reading a new fantasy book. Jason was lying with his head on her lap, on leg swinging over the end while he blithely poked through the GCPD’s servers. A half empty board of snacks sat on the coffee table next to two wine glasses.
She carded her fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. He occasionally moved his head against her hand seeking out scratches in different spots like an overly large cat. She wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it but she sure as hell wasn’t going to call it out.
Her eyes were puzzling through a sentence with too many invented fantasy words, when something in the air shifted. She looked up. Jason arched his neck to look around. Her ears popped.
Then Jason was suddenly gone and the head on her lap was significantly smaller.
She blinked down at a kid in a domino mask. He wore a bright red tunic, a yellow cape bunched up on the couch, bare legs and bright green knee pads and little pixie boots.
He looked about as startled as her.
On the TV Maggie Smith gasped in dignified shock.
He pulled away all at once, backflipping off the coffee table. He landed in a cautious stance in the middle of the room. She half stood, holding up wary hands.
“Jay?” she asked, tentative.
“I’m Robin! Who are you?”
“I’m Andy. Where did you come from, Robin?”
He looked around, taking in their surroundings with no overt reaction. She studied him. His face was round with baby fat, but that was about the only fat he had on him. He had familiar curls on his head, sans a white streak at the front.
“I was fighting a magic guy,” he said. He pursed his lips. “He didn’t really know what he was doing. Lots of purple light flying everywhere.”
“Did you get hit? Is that why you swapped places with Jason? Oh.” She dropped her hands. “That wizard’s day just took a very bad turn.”
“Jason?” he asked, carefully casual.
“Black curly hair, blue eyes, about twice your size. Turns twenty four in a week.”
“Huh.”
He looked at her. She looked at him.
“Do you want me to tell you the year?” she offered.
“Na, I got it, thanks.”
“What happens now? Is there… protocol for this?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, and then trotted off to an empty corner for the illusion of privacy, yellow cape flapping behind him.
What a polite young man, she thought, failing to mentally connect him to Jason in any way. She paused the episode and sank back onto the couch.
Jason had never actually told her he used to be Robin. She suspected, but not enough to ask. It was one of those things about him that everyone seemingly knew and never talked about. She knew he’d died at some point in his teens, and then stopped being dead, carving his life into a distinct before and after.
Seeing the ‘before’ was surreal and heartbreaking.
He was calling someone, and who that was wasn’t a great mystery. His grin was bright and infectious, and utterly foreign to her. His nose was crooked but it had broken in a different place than adult Jason. Weird.
How did this weedy little sprout turn into her absolute unit of a man? Jason was a verified motherfucker extraordinaire.
She watched while Robin described his situation and location to Batman, then recounted everything she had said, word for word.
Well, damn. Batman was probably going to come here then to collect his wayward Robin.
She had never met Bruce and had really been hoping to keep her winning streak going. He was probably fine as a person, but she didn’t want to turn this sweet little boy over to someone she didn’t know. Going by the earnest smile, he had the utmost faith in him. She couldn’t imagine a Jason who had ever been quick to trust people.
He finished his call and drifted back near her.
“So. You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”
“We haven’t met yet.”
“Yeah I figured that.” He looked at her with shrewd eyes. “Are you my– his–” Despite his brashness, his ears turned pink and he looked down at his feet.
“No,” she said gently, ignoring her own cheeks feeling warm. “We’re not… not anything. He and I are just friends.”
He cocked his head. “Riiiight.”
She was suddenly overly aware of the borrowed hoodie she wore, her short shorts and bare feet. This was clearly a man’s apartment, and it was almost eleven at night. It wasn’t the most platonic looking situation.
But she recognised the careful assessment he was giving her, even through the mask. He might be fun sized but he was already sharp as a tack.
“Actually, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you anything,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Something something, preserving the timeline. If you know what’s going to happen it might not happen anymore.”
“Oh yeah.” He puffed out his chest. “No need to worry. Batman and Robin will take care of it.”
“I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” She picked up her book again. She wasn’t really reading, but she made a valiant effort to move her eyes along the lines.
Robin looked around.
“Stop it,” she said.
“Stop what?”
“Hunting for clues.”
He snorted. “I don’t exactly have to go hunting. What’s with the wall of guns and swords?”
Oh yeah. That. She shrugged.
“Ask me again in a decade.”
“So it is my apartment.”
“Don’t touch. He’s very intense about security and I don’t know if your biometrics will line up.”
He looked baffled.
“Why wouldn’t they?”
She stared at the words on the page. She shouldn’t have said that.
“Robin?” a quiet voice called from a dark corner.
She jumped and stood up.
“B!” The kid dashed across the room.
The shadows coalesced into a man, who stepped forwards and wrapped his cape around Robin in an expansive hug. Batman bowed his head.
She looked away. She tried to tune out Robin’s quiet muttering to his dad. She felt like an intruder just being in the same room.
Batman rallied himself, and they turned to the door. Of course, Bats never said goodbye, they just stopped being present.
Batman halted before disappearing though, and looked back at her.
“Andrea.”
“Batman.”
“Good luck on your exam next week.”
She did not roll her eyes. It was a near thing.
“How long do these things usually take to resolve?” she asked.
He looked at Robin with a pain so profound he could not grasp its enormity. Robin looked a little uncomfortable under his stare. Batman didn’t say anything.
The two of them left.
She stood alone in the apartment. She looked around, feeling the size of the place for the first time. She stooped to collect the leftover food and empty plates. Jason would want the food saved, so she wrapped it up and put it in the fridge.
What a precocious little rascal he used to be, she thought, in the silence. No wonder Bruce was so heartbroken.
She stood alone in the empty kitchen.
She wanted her Jason back.
Feeling selfish and ashamed of it, she returned to the couch and sat with her feet pulled up beneath her. She turned the show back on but wasn’t really watching it. Maybe she should turn the heating off. It felt silly to heat the whole place just for her.
Less than a minute later, the door swung open.
Full Size Jason strolled in, with a bent piece of rebar casually resting on one shoulder.
“Hey sweetheart,” he said, tossing the rebar onto his weapons table.
“You’re back!”
“Yup, switched back in the elevator.” He was in the same loose t-shirt and sweatpants as before, and they weren’t even blood splattered.
“What happened on the other side?”
“Beat up a wizard.” He collapsed onto the couch next to her and picked up her half-drunk glass of rosé. He took a sip and put his boot up on the edge of the coffee table. “Real amateur production. I shouldn’t know how to use your magical artefact better than you. How was the kid?”
“Very sweet,” she said, relaxing. “Bit of a snitch.”
“Yeah?”
“Immediately called Batman and reported every word I said.”
He scoffed. “Yeah he would.” He looked morosely into the glass. “How did Batman take it?”
“...He was devastated.”
He frowned at the wine. “He didn’t say a word when we swapped back.”
She frowned at the screen.
“I’m glad to have my Jason back,” she said. She wasn’t brave enough to look at him.
He was watching her though.
“Yours, hm?”
“Yeah.”
He hummed. They settled down again, both looking at the screen. Neither was really watching.
“How was young Batman?” she dared to ask.
He sighed quietly. “Younger than I remembered. Worried about his Robin.”
They watched in silence. What could she say to that? Some things couldn’t be fixed, and platitudes were just bandaids on scars.
That little kid smiled so brightly, and it was a fucking tragedy. But it wasn’t hers.
He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against him.
She relaxed into his side, and he stretched out some more. She snuck an arm around his waist, he nuzzled the side of her head, and neither commented on the desperately tight grasp he held her with.
Next>>
#Jason needs more people in his life who are happy he came back to life#jason todd#red hood#jason todd x oc#red hood x oc#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x reader#for the hell of it#my fanfic#dc#fluff#angst#hurt/comfort#Robin!Jason
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MY FAVORITE WORD EVER
rot
OR!!
gone
you find my corpse on a bright summer morning.
you break into my freezing cabin with a raised eyebrow. unphased. curious. then, a slow smile appears. i am immediately wary.
it has been years since i’ve had visitors in my humble abode and i like it that way. the cold keeps me safe. my body rots like a bruise swells; slow, painful, with withering purples and blues. it stretches the time of my body in this land into an endless limbo that i clutch with my cold, dead hands. my heart is still and i am numb, have been so for a long, long time. i am safe.
you find my corpse on a summer morning and stomp into my home/hell with eyes ablaze and teeth flashing and if i was alive, my heart would’ve seized at the sight. you lug my body to my backyard, unflinching. the sun burns my skin and everything hurts and i want to kick and scream and thrash in your hold because you idiot, you stupid motherfucker, don’t you know the rot sets in faster when life is around?
but dead men don’t scream, don’t move. you drop me on the grass with heaving breaths and all i could do is burn while the cicadas sing of my second demise. then, you start talking.
you tell me about your day and ask me about mine and barrel on when all you’re met with is silence. you tell me of the sky, the wind, and your favourite sundress. you must be insane. out of your fucking mind. don’t you see this rotting vessel of mine? my unseeing gaze and blue lips and cracking skin? don’t you smell the rot, the death? you surely do. then why aren’t you running? no, stop. stop moving closer. you madman, leave me in this wretched place. the warmth of your touch will only make me fester, don’t you see?
but you stay. you tell me how the crisp apple bursts into a delightful sweetness when you sink your teeth into it and pull my head to your lap. you tell me about your mom’s cooking and let my cold seep into your skin. my mouth is sewn shut and you are holding me so gently and i want to scream for mercy, for an ounce of cruelty. give me back my home, you villain. give me back my hell.
ice melts. the heat thaws my flesh and the rot digs into my body with its talons unsheathed and merciless. you pitch a tent next to my body and spend your nights here. night after night, i listen to the lull of your heart and watch the rise and fall of your chest as my body breaks itself down from inside out. i am warm.
and you, stubborn, baffling, ethereal you; you stay. the next day and all the days after that. the stench is getting unbearable now. i can see it in your eyes, in every ragged breath of yours. a corpse will remain a corpse no matter how much it is loved. there are only so many stories you can tell without gagging at the sight of this monstrosity. the sun always sets. stories end. love lives where life does. your kindness never did have a place between my blackened teeth and diseased heart, my dear.
but you come back with a gentle brush of lips against my decaying forehead. your hand cradles my rotten head. my sweet warmth, there you are. won’t you leave?
you won’t, right?
you dig my grave all by yourself. six feet deep, seven feet tall because you want me to be comfortable. what a useless gesture. i learn love feels like the glow of the moon and feather soft touches and a grave dug with bare hands. you lift me in your arms, careful not to jostle me too much, lest i fall apart. kindness feels like a siren’s lullaby and i can feel my eyes droop. it’s dangerous and so very beautiful.
things are different in my new home. numbness feels so far away. there is life thrumming in my veins and eating away at my flesh. you bring me flowers everyday- chrysanthemums, dandelions and tulips- you tell me they remind you of me. how foolish. how very wonderful.
soon, i will bloom into all the flowers you can dream of from this very earth you laid me in. soon, i will rise, petals unfurling, laugh booming. i will weave myself in your braids and take root in your chest and spread down to the very tips of your fingers. my darling, my sun, my rose; i promise i will find you on a bright summer morning.
#yes you guessed it this is about considering yourself unlovable and dead inside and yet#and yet someone barges in your life and takes one look at you and goes#damn bitch you live like this?#and makes you touch some grass#love love love. love is a doing word#it gets worse before it gets better#you rot before you rise#stay.#thanks for the ask cyber <3 hope you like this one#i did a lot of research for this and put none of it to use#my writing#poetry#prose poetry#words#love#writeblr#prose
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