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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

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Until We Found You | Part III

Part III is now up and running! P.S. there are two playlists I listen to while writing these, they don’t necessarily go with reading them but you totally could listen to them as you read! Let me know if you would like the playlists. As usual, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader,NSFW, All characters 18+, P in V, Fingering, Overall smut

Part I Part II Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

The next few days were pretty dull, you spent a few days over at Sidney’s, the first night it was just you two but the third day Tatum, Billy, and Stu all spent the night- it was a group decision to leave Randy out because he would just go on and on about who was the killer and why they were targeting the victims. Ghostface was pretty quiet too, with no killings or attempts since you, you were starting to wonder if you were meant to be the last victim, you also wondered if you had pissed them off by not going home. Luckily today you were returning home, back to see your parents and Irena and your brand new door- no shining scene included this time.

“Need a ride? Me and Stu are going to the movie store,” Billy asked, making you turn to him after you and Sidney had pulled away from a hug. “Sure, my parents haven’t left my aunts yet so I would appreciate it,” you said before turning to Sidney again. “Thanks for letting me crash at yours, I’ll call if I have anything weird going on again,” you promised her, waving bye as you left with the boys.

“You should call us if that creep comes back, me and Billy can put him in his place,” Stu said, giving his signature laugh and smile, making you laugh. “That’s a great idea, Billy can scare him away with his crazy eyes and you can bore him to death by telling him all about horror movies,” you joked, earning annoyed glares from both boys, making you laugh again. “I’ll call if I see them again, okay? Don’t worry about me, I can handle myself,” you promised the boys as you climbed into the back seat, throwing your bag in next to you.

The day passed by smoothly, the boys had taken you to the movie rental store and bought you some candy along with a movie, which Stu insisted you watch and even rented for you. Prom Night, another fucking Jamie movie. You had popped it into your laptop that night once you were home. Irena sat on your lap as you caught up on some homework due the next day, occasionally you glanced at your laptop to watch the movie, not noticing when Irena had moved from your lap and moved to your vanity. She sat down, her tail twitching angrily, your attention finally moved to her when you heard a little growl escape her.

When you got up to see what had angered her you saw the window slide open, the same masked killer from the other day climbing in through your window. You paused, looking at them with wide eyes, wondering if the flirting over the phone had all been a plan to get you off guard, to either kill you or kidnap you so they could set you up for the murders of Casey and Steve. Your nerves didn’t calm down when they motioned you closer after closing the window, still, you walked over slowly to them. Their hand reached up to your face, cupping it gently before gripping it more firmly, holding the knife in their other hand up to your cheek. Your breath hitched, feeling the cool touch of the steel against you, but they made no movements to harm you in any way, not really at least.

The knife ghosted over your skin, not enough to cut but enough for you to feel scared and strangely turned on at the same time. Your eyes studied the mask in front of you, you couldn’t make out their eyes behind the mesh, but you could feel their eyes piercing into yours. They removed their hands from you, pushing you towards the bed, you complied but paused when you sat down on it. “My parents are home…can-can you lock the door at least,” you asked, they tilted their head towards the door and you swore you heard them chuckle as they most likely recalled how they broke the last one. They walked over to the door, locking it before making their way to you. Your legs clenched together, your ever-growing nervousness and excitement now showing to them as you wondered what they were going to do.

They looked over you for a moment before holding the knife right up to your sternum, pressing the knife onto your clothes as they began to drag it down, leaving a trail of torn clothes in their wake. “I kinda liked those…” you murmured, if they hadn’t had the mask on you may have seen the shit-eating grin they had on their lips as they pressed the knife harder against your skin. Your cheeks heated up, taking the hint to shut up as you let them continue. You had already changed into pajamas earlier in the night, your Carrie shirt now tattered and torn, exposing your top half to them. Once they reached your groin, they paused and moved the knife away, pocketing it before pushing you back onto the bed so you were laying down.

They hovered over you, tracing your face again, the rough texture of their glove trailing down your body before their fingers hooked under the waistband of your pj pants, tugging them off slowly. Your skin grew goosebumps all over, the cold air in your room felt like mercy against your warm skin, which was only growing hotter by the second. A small whimper left you as you felt them place their hand over your panties, you hadn’t even noticed until that moment but your arousal had shown even through the fabric, feeling a little embarrassed that you were so needy without much effort.

Your hand flung up to your mouth as you felt them reach into your underwear, you could feel how cold their fingers were even through the gloves as they ghosted over your clit. You bit down on your hand as they pressed on your clit, circling around it as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. The texture of the glove bothered you a little, which they must have noticed as you bucked against their fingers. A whine left your lips as their hand pulled away, opening your eyes to see them reaching into their pocket and pulling out some torn piece of fabric. They spread it out in their hands, showcasing it to you, a blindfold. Another blush rose to your cheeks as you tilted your head up for them to put it on, a silent understanding between you two that they wanted you to stay clueless about who they were. They reached around your head and tied the fabric over your eyes, your heart began to beat faster realizing that you were completely at their mercy now.

They reached back into their pocket, bringing the knife out and making a stabbing motion at you, bringing the knife inches from your forehead. When you didn’t flinch, they felt comfortable knowing you couldn’t see behind the blindfold and began to undress. You heard them shuffling in the outfit, hearing a thud on the floor, wondering if that was the knife or their mask. You received your answer when you felt the knife against your cheek again, you felt yourself grow wetter, partially because of the knife, partially because ghostface was standing right in front of you unmasked and you couldn’t see them. Your hand tried to move to touch them but before you had the chance they pinned you down by your wrist. You whined but they only gripped you tighter, they dropped the knife and instead grabbed your torn t-shirt and tied your wrist together with it.

You didn’t have to wait much longer before their mouth was latched onto your neck and their fingers were tracing over your core. Their fingertips teased you, running over your folds as they carefully placed a hickey on your neck. You could feel a grin on their lips as they bit and licked at your skin, feeling your pulse under their tongue. You did your best to keep your voice down, your heavy breaths bounced off of your bedroom walls as they pushed two fingers into you. A louder whine sounded from you, to which they comforted you by planting a kiss against your lips. You didn’t need to see them to feel the passion in the kiss, they pushed against you with such need, teeth clanking together and making your bones shake as their thumb moved to your clit.

Your thighs opened a little wider to allow them more access, relishing in the pleasure their hands brought you. The familiar tension in your stomach was slowly beginning to build, sweat began to form on your skin from feeling their hot breath against you. You felt their eyes on you, it only made you more turned on knowing they were watching every little reaction you had to their movements. Another finger entered you, hitting a spot inside that made you toss your head back and thank any supernatural being or god there was that they were quick enough to swallow the moan you let out in a kiss. They took the opportunity to snake their tongue into your mouth, making you melt even further as their pace quickened.

Your chest began to rise and fall quickly as that knot in your stomach threatened to break. You moved slightly, your hips bucking and moving against their fingers as you let the pleasure take you over. Before you could tip over the edge they pulled away, which made you whine and squirm in protest. “Not fucking fair,” you breathed out, to which you were met with the cold blade of their knife again pressing against your neck. You pouted, realizing ghostface probably didn’t like your bratty attitude too much but it was all fixed when they kissed you again. Your legs slowly fell open again, allowing them to situate themself in between them. Their hand let go of the knife again and instead took the opportunity to roam over your body, little whines coming from you when they ran over- and teased- all the spots you reacted to.

Finally, they trailed their way back to your core, watching as your face scrunched up with pleasure as they circled your clit again. “Please…” you whined to them, their other hand gripping your thigh as a warning, “I want you in me already, please.” You begged, their grip growing even tighter, likely to leave a bruise before they finally let up. You barely took a breath before you felt them against you, your body tensed slightly but soon calmed down as you felt their lips on yours again. They were more gentle this time, but you could feel the tension they held by holding themselves back. “It’s okay., you can ruin me. Please ruin me,” you begged again, whimpering when their hand gripped your neck, squeezing the sides as they quickly entered you.

Ghostface was smart enough to put their mouth on yours again to cover up your moan, melting in their hold as they began to set up a steady pace. You wondered if they were taking it slow to let you adjust or to tease you, but they quickly had your attention again when their free hand returned to your core. Your stomach tightened once again, your head spinning with all the pleasure they were giving you. When their thrusts began to quicken you couldn’t help but arch your back, your ankles hooking around them and trapping them in between your legs, but with the way they thrusted even harder into you, you don’t think they minded it one bit.

It wasn’t long before the two of you were close to coming undone, both of your hips stuttered and bucked, their hand that played with your clit quickened a little as well, paying attention to the spots that had you shaking. “Fuck, gonna-“ you whined again, your head tilting back as they hit your sweet spot, “gonna cum,” you whimpered out between moans, trying to keep quiet. They continued the torture they were inflicting on you, your black vision turning white as you finally reached your climax. Your thighs shook around them, pulsing around them before they came.

You felt their muscles unclench, glad that you finally came to the realization that they had worn protection, mentally cursing yourself for not even checking before. They pulled out slowly, gently touching your face as you whimpered from the loss. You adjusted yourself on the bed as they finally peeled away from you, hearing the shuffling of clothes again as they got dressed.

After a moment you felt a dip in the bed, feeling them untie you but held down your wrists as they leaned in for one last kiss. You smiled into it, giggling as they pulled away. “Come again tomorrow, with a new Carrie shirt preferably,” you asked playfully, feeling their lips curl up into a smile before they pulled away. You heard the thumps of plastic before your blindfold was taken off, your eyes meeting the masked killer after adjusting to the light.

“Was that smile a yes,” you asked, smiling when they nodded. “You can take the torn one as a momento, and so you know what size to get,” you offered, holding out the piece of clothing to them. They grabbed it, heading back to the window as you stayed on the bed and watched them. They climbed out of your room while you finally stood up and watched them take off. You sighed, running your hands over the little hickeys and bruises they left on you before heading to your bathroom to get cleaned up.

There was the ringing of a phone, only sounding for a few seconds before the other line picked up. “Hey Stu, let's take the girls shopping tomorrow, we owe someone a new shirt. Also need to get you all fancied up too, you have a date tomorrow night,” Billy said, Stu laughing before beginning to question him on the details.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #scream au #poly!ghostface x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #scream x reader #scream1996 #scream 1996 #scream #billy x stu x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #obsessed!reader #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #poly!ghostface smut

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ohworm-writes · 6 months

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「✰」 ━━ CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE CHARACTER FAMILY OUTLINES

RATING PG-13 - Parents strongly cautioned [ Content warnings : references to sex, references to breeding kinks, heavy fluff, children, both pregnancy and adoption scenarios, toxic family relationship dynamics, minimal cursing, brief mention of Ghost and Farah's traumas, brief mention of transphobia and homophobia ]

SYNOPSIS In my opinion, what having a family with an assortment of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters would look like, be it how many kids they would have, their reasonings for having kids, their relationships with their kids, et cetera.

WORD COUNT 6.8k

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

Three sons and one daughter - ages ten, seven, five, and one

I'm certain we're all more than aware of this man's painfully obvious and present breeding kink, so it's no surprise to anyone that he would want to have a lot of children to call his own. He won't just be satisfied with one or two children - he's always wanted to have a full, bustling home, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to make that a reality.

Every child of his is planned, both in pregnancy and adoption scenarios. He meticulously calculates and works to space each child out a certain range and number of years apart from one another in an effort to give himself extended experience with each developmental stage - or so he claims.

He wanted kids of his own, he decided, the second he met you, and he just hopes and prays that you'll be open to the concept of having quite a number of them. And, in his favor, you do and indulge him in his little fantasies.

And, in the ingenious words of @ghostlywhiskey , "i said that man has SWIMMERS AND THOSE MFS ARE PRICE BOYS". So, there's a very obvious patten that begins to form as more and more members are added to his little family. But, of course, there's one token daughter added into the mix, who he loves all the same as he does his boys.

In my eyes, the ideal father figure. He's extremely open and honest with his children, listens and talks with them whenever they have an issue or question, is very understanding and accepting overall, and, more than anything, works tirelessly to be a present, positive figure in their lives.

Because of all of the experience that he has with his own children, this results in the members of Task Force 141 and associated parties going to him for help or to have him answer questions they may have around their own children.

He tries to be as present of a father as he can be, given the challenges and distance that comes with his line of work, but always makes an effort, at the very least, call his kids whenever he can to ask about how they're doing, what they're up to, et cetera.

Refuses to talk about his job or entertain his children in the very idea of joining the military - the horrors he's seen is not in the slightest something he wants his children to witness for themselves. He knows the job best, and he will not allow any of his children to join.

Raises his sons right - they're respectful, mind their manners, don't start fights (but finish them, should the need arise) and instills all the necessary core morals and values they'll need to be good people when they grow up. All the same, he teaches his daughter not to take shit from anyone.

LIEUTENANT SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Three daughters and one child (non-binary) - ages ten, six, three, and nine

Originally, he had never even spent a moment in time thinking about or entertaining the possibility of him having children, much less actively putting effort into reaching that goal. Especially when considering his own history, he can't even begin to see himself as a father, fearing he'll end up like his own.

So, when you get pregnant for the first time on complete accident/enthusiastically bring up the idea to him of adopting a child seemingly out of nowhere to him, he's completely shell-shocked. This is something he's ever put considerable thought into, and now it's being dropped into his lap without a moment to process it or breathe.

So, when he lays eyes on his first little girl for the first time, he's terrified. He's a dad now, whether he wants to or is ready for it or not. And no, it's not like he didn't tell you to get an abortion/refuse to sign the papers, but he isn't fully ready for such a heavy responsibility yet. But when he has her in his arms for the first time, he's done for.

After the first, he's so open and willing - and, quite frankly, pushing for - trying for/adopting another child. Yes, he was scared for his life to become a dad at first, but now that he's one now, he can't help but want another - and best you believe that his children are his absolute world.

Curse of the military. That's it, that's the tweet. He had all girls, plus, of course, his one gender non-conforming, non-binary kid, and all of them have equal ownership over his heart.

He's the perfect girl-dad, letting them do whatever they want with him - their own personal dress-up doll, if you will. Painting his nails, putting make-up on him, styling his hair, making him attend tea-parties and playing make-pretend. Whatever they want him to do, he does it.

When his second-oldest comes out to him (they came to him first before they did you), his heart absolutely melts. To know that his kid trusts him so wholeheartedly and isn't scared to share such a private thing with him lets him know just how good of a dad he is.

He's quick to use the right pronouns, allocates a separate room for them, helps them go shopping for clothes and items they may want, tests out new names for them should they want to, et cetera.

He's not at all a strict parent, as much as one might believe. He's stoic, cold, and cruel, sure - but that's to everyone but his family. For them? He's the biggest pushover in the world. If his children want anything, best believe he's doing everything in his power to fulfill their wishes.

SERGEANT JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH

One son and one daughter - ages four and five

He's always wanted children, that mindset and dream having been set long before he ever even joined the military in the first place. He used to take care of and watch his nieces, nephews, and younger cousins a lot when he was younger, so it eventually evolved into him wanting little rascals of his own as time went on - to be able to nurture, care for, and have fun with.

So, when the opportunity arises to actually start a family of his own, something that he's always dreamed of, he's so giddy. In complete honesty, he's practically beaming and bouncing on the balls of his feet, so willing and ready to make this into a reality. He has his own fears and anxieties, yes, but his excitement far outweighs it.

Both of his children are planned, of course, wanting them to be close in age as he can get them, and he's ecstatic that he gets to have both a boy and a girl. He gets the best of both worlds that way! And, when he finally gets to hold each in his arms for the first time, his heart shatters, melts, and crumbles in the best ways possible.

He isn't just a solider, a boyfriend, or a husband anymore - he's a dad now.

He's such a fun dad in general, always joking around with his kids, letting them - safely - do things that they aren't supposed to do, messing with them, taking them out for desert and sweets, et cetera.

But, as much as he's the "fun dad", that doesn't mean that he's any less strict. If his kids mess up or do something bad, he's often the one responsible for determining punishment, telling them off, and teaching them not to make the same mistake again.

His work is demanding, yes, and that often takes him away from you, his partner, and his kids for long periods of time, but he always comes back, ready to be a dad again and put "Soap" on the backburner.

The perfect role model for his kids, in all honesty - the best combination between a best friend and a parental figure. His kids tell him everything and they aren't scared of him to keep secrets from him, always telling him the truth without shame or hesitation.

SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

One son and one daughter - ages seven

Both of children are twins

Having children wasn't something he had ever planned for, in his mind. Not to say that he never entertained the idea of having children of his own, nor is it to say something that he's against, either. He simply hadn't ever thought about making it a reality before.

But, when the opportunity to have/adopt children comes up into his life, it's welcomed, allowing himself to go with the flow of things and let them play out as is. He thinks about it a lot more now, daydreaming about what his child's personality will be like, what they'll look like, who they'll like more...

And then boom! Twins!

He's starstruck when he first gets the news that he'll be having/adopting twins. It's like a two-for-one deal, or so he says, genuinely shocked and excited at the same time. The way he sees it, his kids will always have a best friend (or, a partner-in-crime) and he's all for it.

Twins are a lot, he knows, but that doesn't mean he isn't up for the challenge. If anything, it only spurs him on to push to be the best dad he could ever possibly be.

For better or for worse, his kids adopt his sarcastic nature as their own and increase it by tenfold. It's his fault, given that whenever his kids are around, he's talking to them as if they'd understand his points and smart comments. They don't, most of the time, but they know their dad's tone, and they're quick to match it.

Takes the most time off out of anyone else in Task Force 141 to spend with his family if and when he can allocate it. He wants to be as present of a dad as possible, and if that means taking work home when he could easily finish it on base and then come home, maybe a day or two later, he's doing it.

Very adamant on having days out with his kids, be it for the purpose of a mental health day or just for fun. Takes them out to get breakfast and lunch, plus going to do another activity. Maybe the park, the playground, watch a movie at the cinema, go to the zoo/aquarium, et cetera.

He's not a super strict parent but that doesn't mean he isn't going to disciple his children if they misbehave or do something wrong. His punishments are lax, focused more towards talking out the issue that giving harsh lessons.

STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL

One son - aged sixteen

She and her wife decided that they really wanted to have a kid of their own a few years into their marriage and, especially given that neither of them aren't getting any younger and didn't necessarily have the energy, time, or willingness to take on the challenge of pregnancy for themselves, they choose the more sensible option available and adopt.

It's a long, deliberate process that they have to go through in order to be so much as be approved for being able to adopt, but, once that hurdle is overcome, the two of them waste no time and immediately begin their search for the newest member of their own little family, allocating time to meticulously decide who they'll, inevitably, choose.

Their hearts end up settling on a little boy whose four years old, somehow resembling the both of them in different ways - be it personality wise or by appearance.

The two of them decide that they want to be able to escape and skip the issues that come packaged with newborns and toddlers, but also have a hand in the development process of their son, thus explaining the age they chose to adopt him at. This accomplishes both of these "goals" they have in mind, and it works out beautifully in their favor.

No matter their son's ethnic background, the two of them make a conscious effort to try and introduce practices, traditions, holidays, ideals, et cetera from their son's culture into their own as a means to keep him connected with his own past and history.

Although her job is connected with the military and does, to an extent, seperate her from her families for periods of time, that doesn't diminish the relationship she has with her son. He's fascinated with his mom's career, allowing for lengthy, in-depth discussion about what her job actually entails with him.

She and her wife are such good moms in general - always supporting him in everything he wants to do and encouraging him a thousand times over. There isn't a second in his life where he isn't being supported or loved, but it by his moms or the numerous different adult figures in his life.

Laswell gets in a fair bit of trouble with her wife for not disciplining her son in any way, shape, or form. She may have no issue with doing so with the military individuals she works with - she can be scary and intimidating when she wants to be - but with her son? She's absolutely a pushover.

Quits smoking the second she and her wife make plans towards actually adopting. It's a harsh line she draws, and one she abides by without hesitation or question.

VALERIA GARZA

None

Now, this isn't because I want to exclude her from this concept for any reasoning whatsoever, but rather because I can't really see her having or wanting any children in the first place. She's "El Sin Nombre", after all. And, in her defense, the cartel isn't necessarily the best enviroment for a child to grow up or develop in - surprising nobody.

She knows this fact better than anyone, and, having sworn her life to her role in Las Almas and the cartel, she chooses to not have any children. Additionally, she isn't going to be irresponsible and make herself vulnerable like that where, to have someone to love and care fore, only for the possibility of them being used as leverage against her later on hanging over her head, putting them in danger.

And, in any case, she has a breeding kink to make up for it, eh?

But, in all seriousness, as wonderful as I think she could possibly be with children in general, I doubt she plans on having or adopting children of her own unless she actually makes the move to leave the business of the cartel altogether - which, lets face it, with who she is and the role that she plays, is highly unlikely.

To make up for this, let's talk about her relationship with kids in general - be it the children of Las Almas and nieces and nephews that she has and interacts with.

She fits the "cool aunt" persona to a tee, always bringing gifts and/or cash to her younger family members, getting them whichever they desire, playing games with them, talking shit about people and listening to them vent, et cetera.

If the children have a problem with someone and, if aren't family, she has no issue doing something about it, be it using a scare tactic on them or completely removing the other person from the equation in more serious scenarios.

All the kids love her, no matter if they're family or if they know her or not. If she isn't busy and one of her men have a child of their own that they need to tend to while they're on the clock, she'll let the kid stay around in her office, so long as they don't disturb the peace.

VLADIMIR MAKAROV

One son and one daughter - ages eleven and five

Now, as cold, cruel, stoic, and heartless of a character that Makarov is, I personally believe that there would be select factors that would influence him to actually want children. Technical, albeit, and not for the sake of having someone to nurture and care for - at least, in the beginning - but I do believe that, for his own reasons, he would still want children as he progresses on later in his career and plans.

The only reason I could ever see for him to so much as bring up the concept of having children, in a way that makes sense when considering his character, would be due to the result of a close encounter that has him just barely scraping out of whatever altercation with his life to spare and hold onto.

He decides then and there that he wants to have a child - a son, specifically - who will be able to take his place and lead the groups that he controls and reigns over when he, inevitably, passes because, like he stated: "even I'm replaceable". It's a morbid phrase, yes, but it makes sense for him to have this be his reasoning.

He wants his replacement to be his own, too, and not for one of men to simply be promoted after he passes. After all, their ideologies, morals, and values could change over time and alter from his own, and he can't have that. However, if he were to have a child, he could foster and tailor their beliefs to match his own.

And besides, there's a certain charm that comes with saying his son is going to be the next in line. So, to his favor, he gets a first-born son, just as he had wished. His daughter, however, is completely accidental and unplanned/an abrupt decision when she is born/adopted. (In the context of pregnancy, though, its entirely his fault that she's conceived out of nowhere - wear protection, folks.)

For the longest time, his relationship with his son is, for lack of better wording, toxic - but this does change! If only with your intervention. All he wants in the beginning is for his son to be able to take over for him in the future - that being his sole purpose. And, unfortunately, he makes that a known fact.

Brings his son in with him to work on base often, working to teach and show to him the empire that he'll be taking over once his dad is gone. He gets a front-row view to the horrors his father is behind and in control of, be it the planning process for strategized and organized attacks, his cruel methods for dealing with traitors, and otherwise.

As much as he might, at heart, want to be a boy-dad, his relationship with his son is so strained and, frankly, falling apart, even if he refuses to acknowledge it, and so toxic in nature that it's only natural he becomes a girl-dad when his daughter is finally born. It's unfair, yes, but it's the truth of the matter.

He keeps his daughter far away from his work, shielding her completely from the badness of the world - the badness that he himself helps to create. She's his his pride and joy, and she's such a daddy's girl, leaving his son to fall to you, his other parental figure, for comfort and support - that of which his dad fails to provide.

COLONEL KÖNIG

Four daughters - ages two, three, seven, and fourteen

Interestingly enough, he's actually always quietly desired and yearned for a family of his own, though, he's never had any open discussions about it until it came to you. It's almost funny, the way that he's so awkward and tends to shy away from others any chance he's allowed to, and yet, he wants nothing more than a sizeable family for himself.

To have someone to fight for, to come back home to... it's all a soldier ever wants - himself included. And, for him, that includes a family that doesn't just consist of him and you (as content and happy as he is with it for now). The mere prospect of coming home to children of his own who can greet him and adore him is all he could ever ask for.

Though, even given this, he's especially nervous to actually become a father. He overthinks it a lot, wondering if his kids will even like him, going over the multitude of different ways that he could mess up even when he has no reason to. Because after his first, that fear melts away into enthusiasm.

Four children, especially when they're all girls, is a lot, yes, but he handles it with ease. He doesn't let the stress of it get to him, simply taking everything in stride and dealing with it rationally. He wants to preserve the positive relationship he has with his daughters, and approaching things from a logical standpoint is just the way to do it.

The true curse of the military - all girls, and so many of them, too. His younger children are all girly to an extent, too, so he's no stranger at a tea party and getting his make-up and nails done messily by his daughters. His oldest, although she may not be as girly, still has her moments, be it certain musicians maybe that she's forced her dad to listen to the entire discography of.

His girls love use him as a prop and character in their bouts of playing "make pretend". He's played a tree, standing still for them to climb all over, a dragon, protecting them from all of the bugs and critters that threatens to offend the, and even a race car, holding onto one or two of them as tight as he can and breaking into a sprint. It's strange and exhausting, sure, but he loves it.

Teaches his daughters to stick up for themselves - it's one of the first lessons he ever teaches them. Whether it be in terms of don't let people see you as a pushover, don't let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do, or stick up for yourself by any means necessary, he instills those ideals into his kids. Teaches his eldest how to fight, too - per her request - as another measure and precaution.

Although being apart of KorTac and being a colonel in general keep him busy and occupied and away from his family, that doesn't stop him from trying his hardest to be with them. He sends each and every one of his daughters, with the inclusion of yourself, gifts he picks up while he's away that reminds him of you all, just as a means to remind you all that he's here and he loves you.

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES

Two daughters and two children (transgender) - ages seventeen, six, and thirteen

Both of his trans children, female-to-male, are twins

In his daydreams, he's always imagined himself with a family of his own. A nuclear family, the American ideal - married with two and a half kids, a dog, a big house with a white-picket fence, a stable job. The whole lot. That's all he's ever had in mind for himself and he yearns to make it a reality.

So, when the topic of children come up after the married, dog, house, and job things are already figured out, he's eager to speak his mind and give his input on the matter. He's got the biggest, most lopsided grin spread out across his face when he lays eyes on his eldest daughter for the first time, and that only solidifies his dreams.

Though, ironically enough, he always had in his mind that he'd have more boys than girls. He loves his daughters wholeheartedly and without shame, mind you, but... still, the sentiment remains. He always imagined himself with one, maybe two or three boys - someone he could play catch or watch sports with.

He doesn't get that, until he does, and his twins come out to him (albeit, at separate ages) as trans ftm. Of course, the whole "trans" thing is new to him, and while he may be a little clueless, seeing how happy it makes the two of his kids is more than enough to convince him him to put in effort and be the most supportive dad he can be.

I don't want anyone coming to me saying "oh, he's transphobic" because no he's not. He may fit that all-American persona of his to a tee, but I refuse to say that he would go as far to be transphobic or homophobic, especially with his own children. (Also, I'm petty, so you get two of them).

He fights and works hard to be present in his children's lives. He may be the Commander and CEO of Shadow Company, but that doesn't mean his men can't function without him from time to time. His family means everything to him, all of his time off being spent towards treating them.

Not the parent who pushes for his children to each be involved in a million after-school activities, but encourages them to take up something. His oldest plays volleyball, his second-oldest plays baseball, his second-youngest plays the drums, and his youngest dances. Takes them all to practice and helps them however he can.

Genuinely just copy and paste Jeff Sadecki from Yellowjackets and that's him as a parent. Except... with less of the drama. He's dedicated to being involved in his children's lives, making memories and having fun with them, telling horrible dad jokes from time to time, and whatever else.

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO "RUDY" PARRA

One child (agender) - aged sixteen

He never actually planned on or anticipated becoming a father in the first place, more focused on dedicating his efforts towards his career and not spending more than a passing thought on creating a family. Not to say that he doesn't want one, it's just a concept he hasn't spent too much time thinking about or worrying over.

So, this means that you have to be the one to bring it up to him. And, granted, it somewhat catches him off guard - you want to try for a baby/consider adoption with him? Since when? It throws him off, to be honest, and he genuinely has to take some time to reflect and decide if this is actually something that he wants.

And, in your favor, it is.

He's somewhat nonchalant about the whole thing, not really realizing how big of an event it is until you're close to the due date/you're approved for adoption. And then it hits him full force that, yeah - sooner than later, he's actually going to become a dad and deal with the responsibilities of one and have a child of his own.

It's humbling, funnily enough, and he revaluates his priorities when it comes to his career, you, and child-to-be.

Even though he never anticipated or saw himself as someone who could accurately fill the role of a father, he's a good one. More akin to a close friend at times whereas others he can more accurately be described as a mentor, but it's important for fathers to share both of those factors, in a way. Which he absolutely does.

His child comes out to him before they reach double-digits, and its another moment that he has to pause for. Of course he's going to love them unconditionally, no matter if they identify as something else or go by different pronouns or want to use a different name, it's simply something he hadn't expected.

Doesn't really at all punish his child if they do something wrong. He'll have a conversation with them, sure, but it never truly extends to anything beyond that. Simply a "hey, don't do that again, okay?" and moving on with life. All that matters is that they understand and acknowledge their faults, in his eyes.

Involves himself in whatever his child is interested in and tries to understand it as best he can. They have a sport they're really into? He's buying them merch and watching matches or games with them. They're really into a certain video game? Start up a new save file, he'd love to play. Genuinely super supportive.

Does not at all plan on having another child. He's content with the one and, quite frankly, even one can be a lot at times. He can't count how many times he's had to go to those parent support groups just to ensure he's being as good of a dad as he can be.

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS

Four sons and one daughter - ages twelve, eleven, nine, and eight

His oldest sons are twins

The absolute definition of a family man. He, somewhat akin to Price, always imagined himself with a family of his own later down the line in his life - a large, lively one, too. He grew up in a larger household himself with a number of brothers and sisters, both younger and older, and he always imagined the same for his future family.

He's so enthusiastic about it, too. He isn't scared or worried at all, confident in his own abilities to take care of children, given his own extended experience, so he has little to no fear in what he'll be like as a parent or his own capabilities. He knows what he'll need to do, how to do it, what to buy, what to say, et cetera, so he's confident.

He doesn't really have a plan for what their ages will be, more so allowing everything to flow naturally, but he can't deny the fact that he has his own picture in mind for what he wants his family to look like. Ironically, he always imagined himself with more girls than boys, but it seems like life had... a different plan for him.

He loves it, though. He's extremely good with newborns and toddlers especially, and when he laid eyes on his twins for the first time, holding both of them to him, it was over. Plain and simple. With the first step taken, he can now fully immerse himself in being a father and cultivating the lives of his children, and that's all he could ask for.

His boys are rowdy. Especially his oldest twins and his youngest son, his eleven-year-old acting much tamer and calmer in comparison, but still has his moments. They roughhouse with one another, mess with each other, talk shit - the whole lot. Typical sibling behavior, yes, but they had so much energy.

Takes a lot of time off to be with his family when he can spare it. If he isn't physically out for an operation and instead is at the Los Vaqueros base, he sometimes will bring one or two of his children to stay in his office while he works. That is, if he doesn't up and leave to go home the second the opportunity arises.

Defiantly the one responsible for disciplining his children and dishing out punishment. It's not to say that he's cruel or mean in any sense, but he can be strict. If they do something wrong, he's quick to decide on a punishment that appropriate and relevant, dedicated to correcting that behavior as swiftly as possible.

He's an absolute pushover with his daughter, though. Not to say that he doesn't love his boys, because he does, but he'd do anything for her. Tea parties? Dress up? Make believe? You name it, no matter how embarrassing or emasculating it may be, and he's doing it if his little girl asks.

Messes around with his boys a lot. He has a positive relationship with all of them, one that's open and honest, which leaves room for him to be able to roughhouse and taunt and poke fun at them from time to time. They might have to be smart with their own words and responses, but he's making smartass, cheeky remarks whenever he can with a grin.

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KEELER

One daughter - aged eleven

He's thought about having children before, yes, but never in a realistic context. For him, in the past, it's always been more of a "let me imagine a scenario of how myself and a future family would look" but never actively taking strides or realistically think about how he would achieve that.

So, when you bring the topic up to him, he kind of stills and... actually thinks about it. There's a difference between putting yourself in a scenario and imagining it, and actually taking steps to make it into a reality. He sort of panics, too, because... would he actually make a good dad?

He's the most apprehensive and anxious person out of anyone when it comes to considering the path of parenthood. Of course, he agrees, more than willing to try for a baby/go through the adoption process with you, but he's endlessly terrified of messing things up.

Even when he actually gets to meet and hold his daughter for the first time - he's a man who has no shame in crying, because he absolutely does when he sees her - that paranoia remains. But even so, it solidifies his goal to become the best father he can be for his little girl.

So clueless at first at how to even approach fatherhood, purchasing so many parents books and listening to an abundance of podcasts and going to classes and everything of the like. He's confident in most aspects, sure, but parenthood is something he's never dealt with in the past - it's no surprise he wants to do everything in his power to be the best dad he can be.

As anxious as he is, though, he, in my opinion, is probably the best father he could possibly ever dream to be. He's attentive to his daughter's wants and needs, can gauge her emotions correctly and acts accordingly, is responsible in terms of taking precautions to keep her safe, and he's present as much as he can be.

Number one cheerleader in everything she does. Whether it be getting a passing grade or an outstanding one on a test, he's hyping her up. If she joins and becomes a part of a particular activity of interest, he's taking her out to a celebratory dinner. All words of encouragement and praise from him.

Is a very active an present parent, too. Takes her out on little father-daughter days whenever he can to wherever she wants to go. The mall to look at the one obscure candle store? Sure, he's down. The zoo to go make up conversations between the animals. Absolutely. He loves hanging out with her, and seeing the way she lights up whenever he offers to take her out is all he could ever dream of.

COMMANDER FARAH AHMED KARIM

Two sons and one daughter - ages seven, four, and eight months

In the beginning, actually, she was very opposed to the concept of having/adopting children. Given her involvement with the ULF and that the current climate in Urzikstan was far from safe to raise any child in, she had no reason to even entertain the thought. Especially considering her own past, she was against it.

For a while, most conversations of having or starting a family were shut down by her - she yearned for it in the back of her mind, sure, but it wasn't a realistic goal. That was until she and Samara had a conversation about the topic, Samara telling her that while, yes, there were dangers to it, there's nothing more fulfilling than family.

So, after long deliberations, she began to consider it more heavily, leading to discussions where she finally agreed. She has her own reservations, fears, and anxieties about it, yes, but considering all the work she's done, she's allowed to have this. To have a child or children, to make her own family that loves her unconditionally.

She keeps her family completely separate and distanced from her work. As much as she's passionate about what she does, there's that lingering fear in the back of her mind that, one day, her family could get hurt or even possibly used against her as leverage if they're discovered. So, there's a clean separation between the two.

But it's all worth it when she meets her first born son for the first time. She's playing such important roles in her life - the Commander of the ULF, a resistance fighter, someone associated with Task Force 141, and one of the few key figures tasked with liberating her country in its entirety. But, now, she's more than that. She's a mom.

Even though she's never had children of her own before, she handles motherhood like a seasoned professional. Even before her other two children, she never got too overwhelmed with the work and responsibilities that come with being a parent, handling everything with a level head and a calm voice, turning out in her favor.

Though, she's somewhat a bit stricter with her children - not in the sense of being overbearing and not trusting them, or even that she has high expectations and standards for them. Rather, she wants to ensure the safety of her children and that their childhoods never turn out like her own, so she takes extra precautions.

She doesn't actually send her children to school, rather taking time to teach them herself - with your aid, of course. It's partially for those same reasons of fear and wanting to protect her children, but she's actually really good at it. She's taught her children how to write, how to read, how to speak two different languages... it's a way that shows how invested she is in her family.

As serious as she can be with her work, she's much more laid back and relaxed when it comes to her family - just another perk and upside, she supposes. With all the stresses she deals with, being able to come home to her sons and daughter, being overwhelmed with love - it's rewarding in a way she's never experienced before.

NIKOLAI

Two daughters - ages eight and three

He's always imagined himself with children, in complete honesty, even when he was younger - to have maybe one to three of his own. To your luck, he's open about it too, so he's actually the one to bring up the idea to you in the beginning, having no shame whatsoever in his willingness to try for/adopt a child... or two or three.

He isn't scared to become a parent, per se, nor does he have many anxieties or worries about becoming one, but there is still that subtle worry in the back of his mind that he won't be the most fit parent.

Everyone jokes about how he can be reckless and unethical, and he enjoys the banter, but it does make him self-conscious and second guess his own ability to be an adequate father.

He doesn't really consider or worry about what ages his children are, simply allowing things to fall into place naturally, as they should. He may have imagined himself with children in his own daydreams, sure, but there was never any clear specifics for age or gender he had in mind.

But once he actually gets to meet his daughters for the first time, those worries fade away partially - they still linger, yes, but for the most part he lets them simmer on the backburner, not allowing them to interfere with him as he directs his focus away from worrying and more towards becoming the father his girls deserve.

His daughters are just as much of a menace as he is. Maybe not in the "I deal with sketchy people on a daily basis and have done some questionable things" kind of way, but they have their own mischievous streaks like their father. Be it orchestrating pranks or smaller acts of the like, sometimes they even outshine the father.

He's playful by nature, yes, and he is with his girls, but you'll also never meet a more protective parent than him. He may be sly and smug and appear all cool and collected outwardly, but when it comes to his daughters, he's doing everything in his power to protect them from anything, be it people... or ants.

Likes to be his daughters' own personal jungle gym, letting the two of them hold onto him and climb all over him without a care in the world. Additionally, that means he makes for the perfect mode of transport for them, too - having them cling onto him as he walks around, moving them from one place to the other.

He can act like a child in his own right, but he's still a good father nonetheless. In line with that protective nature, he does everything he can to both foster a positive relationship and set rules and boundaries. Bed times, chores, punishments, et cetera - he's in charge of those things, and, while he isn't strict, he's responsible.

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saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄

+ gojo x f!reader | wc 2.3k | content: modern au, fluff, slight angst, rich!gojo, rich!reader, arranged marriage but reversed(?), slightly suggestive

notes: haha i was exploring tropes and this just came to me :’) fairly nervous so feedbacks and reblogs appreciated muwah <3

summary: sometimes you think that you and gojo are not meant to be. and sometimes, he itches to prove you wrong.

there are many things you would call gojo satoru. partner in crime, friendship on fire, a twisted manifestation of the kind of romance that would consume you whole if you didn’t take precaution.

“ready to do this, baby?”

he’s as sweet-lipped as ever, the honeyed words overflowing from his tongue. how you’d miss it, those words you hear at night, the saccharine praises that send you into overdrive.

“only if you are, sweetie.”

you’re equally good at it, having learned from one of the best—gojo satoru himself. you smirk at him, straightening his suit and tie. he looks devilishly handsome in that tailored suit, the one you had made for him. if you recall correctly, he only saves it for a special occasion.

and it qualifies—today is definitely a special occasion.

“so happy to be getting rid of me?” satoru asks you, pouting and putting on his best puppy eyes. his white lashes house a sea of crystalline blue, the kind you’ve gotten addicted to, the same pair you’d gotten lost in many times over.

you’ll never forget it.

the way satoru’s lips ghost over your own. the way his index finger trails up the side of your arm. he likes the goosebumps that sear across your skin. satoru loves knowing the effect he has on you.

this marriage of convenience has taken its toll on both your families. in hindsight, they should’ve known that they can’t control either of you. the gojo family, for all they’re worth, thought that gojo satoru would never betray their money, their status. and your family—they’d always known you’d objected to these notions; convenience, business, romance—the way these three intertwine intentionally, a manufactured relationship borne out of familial ties.

it’s bullshit.

how lucky for you, that gojo satoru felt the same. he still feels the same, which is why he’s in front of you right now, getting ready to drop the bomb in the investors’ meeting.

his father is sure to kill him, but that’s provided he can get through you first.

sure, getting married to gojo satoru was not in your life plans. your mother had chosen a very apt timing to tempt you, quoting half a million dollars as the condition for getting and staying married to that gojo boy. and sure, she can do her best to try and haggle that money back from you once the both of you are done with today, but you’re guessing she’ll be facing much more important and pressing matters than simply getting money back from her defiant daughter.

“this is what we discussed, satoru,” you sigh, avoiding his question like he knew you would. “one year, that’s all we needed. and look where we are now.”

satoru smiles, pearly whites and bad boy charm. “i’d miss you in my bed at night though.”

you smack him playfully across his chest. he only chuckles lowly, fondly, his right hand on your head, brushing your hair. it almost makes you want to stay. but that wasn’t part of the deal, and you’re not sure that either you or satoru are ready for commitments.

“must’ve been some pretty good sex to make the gojo satoru miss me, huh?” you play along, pushing yourself away gently, your hand on his chest.

satoru tips your chin up with his finger, looking you in the eyes as he tells you, “babe, you’re the best pussy i’ve ever had.”

complete romantic, as you can tell. (you can’t stop his vulgar tongue even if you tried.)

“okay okay, stop stalling, satoru,” you chide him, holding your palm out, smiling as he takes it. “got the evidence?”

satoru holds a thick envelope out, grinning. “all here.”

the two of you stand outside the conference room for a minute, staring at each other. in another world, maybe you’d be in this hotel with gojo satoru where you’re actually married—for feelings rather than a transaction. in that other world, maybe you and gojo satoru were childhood sweethearts, the kind where you grew old without all the fucked up relationships that branded both of you too overwhelmed to be in a real one right now. hey, maybe in that world, maybe just maybe, that vow that gojo satoru had uttered on your wedding day (the same that you had uttered as well)—maybe he would’ve meant it.

you didn’t think you would come to like gojo satoru. it’s been a long time since you’d first met him. when you’d seen him stomping into the meeting room of your company’s office like he owned the place, like everyone there was beneath him. he’d gotten right under your skin then and there.

getting along was no easy feat. it took three months for the both of you to agree to live together. strangely it took just one night for you both to give in to temptation once you did start living together.

both of you are menaces—that’s what your mother would say.

somehow, somewhere, those feelings you thought you’d never feel before blossomed again. the kind of trust you didn’t think you’d ever give was given to satoru and you wonder if he even knows it. but satoru has never changed his stance on relationships since the first time you met him; they’re a waste of time.

“you know, if you wanna keep me, all you gotta do is say so.” satoru’s looking at you, that jester smile plastered on his face. you can’t see his beautiful eyes when it’s all crinkled up like that, but you thank god for that. you don’t know how you’d resist him if you could see them.

“dream on, satoru,” you deflect, and expertly. you’re great at hiding your real feelings like that. “our deal ends today.”

yeah, the deal the two of you made with each other, right when both families thought their children had made peace with their decision, or their fate, as they liked to call it. neither you nor gojo felt any affection for the family you grew up in, not when they’d never took interest in either of you as anything other than an heir. when both your childhoods were filled with extra readings and learning proper manners. when satoru grew up learning from his father that women were just a means to a child and you’d grown up learning from your mother that if a girl is not beautiful then she is not desirable. you remember how she almost disowned you for getting a scar on your face, even though it was only temporary.

she has a penchant for the overdramatics. you think today might be no different. you hope not. the entire aim of today is to bring about the crumble of two empires—gojo’s and your family’s.

to hell with their money and their dirty syndicates. it’s filthy money they have their hands full with, and frankly, you and satoru are done playing their pawns.

as satoru leads the way, you loop your arm around his elbow, watching as his father is taken completely off-guard when he watches his own son expose his schemes, watching as your own parents try to salvage the situation by saying how children these days would do anything to get out of their responsibilities.

they’re all walking ironies.

you both watch as the investors walk out one by one, outraged and disappointed. you watch as satoru’s own father vows to kill him, and you scoff as your own mother seconds his notion.

“not if the law gets you first,” you tell them, effectively shutting them up as they hear the police sirens in the air.

they spew about how the both of you are pieces of shit as they’re taken away, and you find you couldn’t care less. maybe it’s a little inhuman of you not to feel a thing when you watch your parents getting taken away in handcuffs. but then again, they’d never really treated you like a human either.

“here you go,” satoru chirps as the sirens drown into the background. he holds out another envelope, this one solely for you.

you smile, a melancholy washing over you as you take it from his hands and take the documents out, flipping to the last page where satoru has already signed.

“our divorce papers,” you coo, “how romantic.”

because gojo satoru is always a romantic.

he remembers your birthday and remembers your favourite cake. he remembers what you need when you’re upset, never makes you feel alone. he remembers how you like your eggs and purposely cooks them wrong all the time. he remembers how you take your coffee and always gives you tea. he remembers how you always nag at him for annoying you and then annoy you some more because for some reason you look very attractive when you’re angry.

it takes you a minute to sign your own name. it kind of feels lonely now, thinking how you’ll never go back to the same apartment as satoru. how you won’t see him sprawled out on the couch, pouting because you’re a little late for movie night. how you won’t catch him staring at your body as you get changed. how you won’t get to throw your pillows at him in the morning for tickling you in bed just to get you to wake up.

after all—you’d agreed; these affections were temporary like they were always meant to be.

you can’t help but find yourself wishing for more. but you were raised to be ruthless, not stupid. you won’t let satoru know of your feelings, because all your deductions say that nothing good will come of it.

“hmm,” satoru hums as he eyes your signature. “wouldn’t be opposed to a special arrange—”

“not gonna be your fuckbuddy, satoru,” you deadpan at him, flicking his forehead.

“why not?” he whines, and you nearly cave.

because you can’t risk falling further than you already have when there’s absolutely zero chance of satoru catching you.

“because there’s a long line of guys i wanna date and you should get in line first,” you lie, and satoru smirks like he’s caught on to something.

but if he has, he doesn’t say a thing, and that tells you everything you need to know.

“guess this is it then, l/n y/n?”

you don’t want it to be, but it has to.

“you made a great fake real husband, gojo satoru,” you tell him, shaking his hand.

kind of a lame goodbye for two people who had shared everyday together for the past year. but you think maybe this brief goodbye should suffice. you don’t want the flames to burn either of you blue.

gojo satoru doesn’t say another word when you turn to leave.

and you don’t turn to look back at him as you walk away.

some chapters of your life should come to a close. your chapter with gojo satoru should remain here, kept close in your heart, kept warm as memories should.

six months later.

“i just think you and i would be suited for other people.”

it’s funny, how everything never works out between you and other guys. you don’t recall it being so hard with satoru. perhaps he was truly made for you, like the heavens designed. but both of you were too similar, too afraid of commitment. nothing was going to come out of it anyway.

and maybe that’s why you miss it.

his fleeting glances, soft lips on tender skin and a pair of calm blue that never fails to mesmerise you.

satoru is the fleeting kind of romance that burns so bright in its prime and the kind you can never keep close. not when he isn’t willing to tone it down and when you don’t have the tolerance to match.

strangely, maybe that’s also why you’re still drawn to him. you’re still hoping that there will be a flaw in the design, that your seemingly parallel lines will intersect somehow. that maybe you won’t have to try and replace him with someone else.

“yeah, kento, i get it,” you tell nanami, sipping on your tea as you watch him get up and go.

you and nanami would not have worked out anyway. not when you’re way too fucked up and he’s comparibly normal. it would be too much for him. you would be too much for him. you stare at the tea in front of you. you kind of miss those dates satoru took you on; trespassing on private property and reliving youth in arcades.

satoru is everything—love, heartache, gambles, sins. both of you are spun from the same thread, and maybe you believe that if soulmates exist, you and him have the same red thread twirled around your pinkies.

though, the fact that he isn’t here simply proves you to be wrong.

last you’d heard, satoru was travelling the world, carefree and spreading his wings like you always knew he would.

you find yourself wishing that perhaps, somehow, you’d meet him again. but you sigh and get up, knowing you are far too old for this wishful thinking.

but where you’d thought that satoru was roaming, you forget that he’s much like a swallow. because now, when you turn around, you catch that same shade of ocean blue staring straight at you, the same white locks that obstructed your vision in the mornings.

the same satoru who’d learned of love through you and you alone. the same satoru who, even if he leaves, will always find his way back to you, no matter how much you try to deny and push him away.

satoru takes two steps forward before he pulls you towards him, his long arms coming around you and holding you tight.

this time, he’s not going to let you go.

“y/n,” he calls your name softly, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “wanna give this another shot?”

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #satoru x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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landwriter · 1 month

Note

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me!#dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin)#author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :')#might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little!#my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it'#me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

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cioneo · 2 years

Text

staying in

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader fandom: modern warfare 2 (call of duty) word count: 0.7k warnings: none, just something short and sweet summary: ghost finally gets a peaceful sleep notes: this man has consumed my thots, so i gotta write fanfiction for him. this is also my first fic. any feedback is greatly appreciated. enjoy!

It was an unusual sight to wake up to. You felt like you were still stuck in a dream.

But no, it was real, and you welcomed it.

—

Simon Riley and sleep had never gotten along since forever.

Some nights he would stay wide awake, either staring mindlessly at the ceiling or looking over your sleeping form with warmth seeping through him. This was not the case during the first few weeks of sharing a bed, where he would occasionally go out for a walk. Now he never leaves your side.

On other nights, he would startle during his sleep from the nightmares that just never seem to go away, and you would get up to wake him if he did not already jolt up first. Whether he talks about the horrors he's seen or keeps them to himself, he will always pull your body closer, seeking comfort in it. Then you both would doze off again while holding onto each other more firmly.

There may be nights when he experiences both of them at the same time. But the one thing that remains unchanged is how Simon somehow always wakes up earlier than you, even after a restless slumber. Until now.

—

You were surprised to see that his eyes were still shut. His arms were still locked around your figure in the same way they had been the night before.

Traces of light shone through the blinds you swore you closed the day before. It didn’t matter that much anyway. In fact, you were thankful for the light which highlighted his already stunning features littered with tiny scars. The temptation to brush away the hair from his face is powerful, but you quickly shut the thought down, afraid of waking Simon up from a well-deserved rest.

Instead, you stare at his peaceful state with admiration for who knows how long.

—

Sometime later, he moves against the sheets beneath him and slowly opens his eyes. He blinks his eyes repeatedly to adjust to the lighting and the sight of you looking back at him.

"Were you watching me this whole time?" Simon mumbles, his morning voice apparent.

You let out a hum, too tired to nod your head.

"Would be creepy if it were someone else."

"Then it’s a good thing I’m not. Besides, is it so wrong for me to appreciate this?" you reply while gently caressing the side of his face.

Simon closes his eyes for a brief moment at the feeling of your hand’s movement. "I guess not."

You continue to trace his features while he looks at you with the softest gaze no other has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He lets out a soft groan at the brushing of your fingers against his hair.

"We should get ready soon," he says, planting his hand over yours and stroking your knuckles with his coarse fingers. "But I got a feeling you don't like the sound of that."

"Your observational skills are getting better," you tease, knowing full well he is an elite operator.

"Alright, just a few more minutes and then we'll get up."

"Don't think I'm gonna leave this bed for a while. Better hope the boys don't mind us being late."

"I don't give a damn what they think."

Chuckling at his remark, you bring yourself impossibly closer to him and lay your cheeks against his chest. He tightens his grip on you and moves his chin to rest atop your head. You both listen to each other’s steady and slow breaths. A silence so comforting envelops the room, a contrast to the gunfire and explosions you were accustomed to hearing on the battlefield.

You look up and shoot him a quick smile. "We really needed this, y'know? Just a day where we don't have to constantly worry about preventing an all-out war or if we would even survive."

Your comments fall on deaf ears, as Simon didn’t reply, simply offering a quiet hum while he drifts away into your embrace. Content with his acceptance to go back into his rest, you peck the back of his hand and rub it softly so as to not wake him up.

The meeting you both were supposed to attend vanishes from your thoughts as you soon close your eyes and follow him to sleep.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #my writing

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dotster001 · 10 months

Note

Hi! May I request the reaction of the twst boys, if they already have an S/O but they meet their soulmate? What would they choose between, their S/O or their soulmate?

Summary: Ace/Rook/Sebek/Sam/Leona x. Gn! Reader

A/N: this got long, but I had souch fun thinking about this. So feel free to request other boys for me to look at!

3k followers masterlist

Ace knew just as well as anyone that in modern day society, it was common to not end up with your soulmate. Some people never met their soulmate, some people's soulmates were just not a good match, some people seemingly didn't even have a soulmate. It was fine. Nothing to get butt hurt about.

Ace's soulmate mark on the palm of his hand had never even sparkled, let alone lit up. And he'd found someone that he had fun with. He wasn't sure if it was really love, but that was fine since he couldn't be sure if he was even capable of love.

He probably wasn't. His only other relationship, he'd ghosted them once he got bored. So a fun relationship, with no love, was probably all he deserved.

Until the day the you'd poofed into the mirror chamber, and his soulmate mark had glowed for the first time in his life. He saw you looking around in confusion, and at the time, he had assumed you were looking for him. Later he would realize you were too scared to even notice your mark. He was so god damn selfish.

He quietly slipped a glove on that was supplied with his uniform, and decided to wait and scope you out.

….

You'd both just defeated a monster of some kind, and you, Deuce, and the cat monster were laughing together, but he was just thinking of you.

You. You were too good.

He couldn't do this with you. You'd be hurt at first, but it would be better than knowing your soulmate was a heartless asshole who would leave you when he got bored.

You never had to know. He'd take solace in what he had, and give you your best chance for happiness.

His string of fate had finally become a natural color. And during the SDC auditions, he'd found it belonged to you.

He'd told you the truth. That he'd been seeing many people, believing that you were dead, or he'd never been destined to meet you. He was practically pleading with you to forgive him for the crimes he'd committed against you, but you told him you'd done the same thing once you'd realized your string wasn't the correct color.

He fought back a wave of intense jealousy, by kissing you, and telling you he'd break up with the one he'd been dating immediately. Hell, he'd be doing it right this moment, if you hadn't told him it'd be cruel for him to do it over a call.

How could he even care about cruel when you were right in front of him? Ready to help him find his happily ever after!

Lilia had always told him about soulmates, and how they would change your life. When you saw them, your world would literally expand, the otherworldly "colors" flooding your vision, but all you'd be able to focus on is their eyes.

He'd started at NRC, and Riddle Rosehearts had brought up the fact that a marriage of convenience would help Malleus more than being with his soulmate would. Silver had stepped in, repeating what master Lilia had always repeated. But Rosehearts was one that his lord respected dearly. There was no harm in trying it.

And one date with the rich merchant's kid had turned into two, had turned into three, had turned into a full relationship. For Sebek, the connections were very helpful to his king. For his partner, connections to the fae court, which were normally hard to come by, were completely open to them.

While Lilia often gave the disappointed dad look, and Silver wanted no part in the relationship, Sebek saw no reason to end it.

At least until the two of you made eye contact, and he finally got to experience color.

You were ecstatic! But he was torn… could he give up this boon he had for his master, just for his own happiness.

He told you he needed time. You looked disappointed. Perhaps you had your own Lilia back home who had filled you with beautiful promises. But you told him you understood. Albeit with tears glimmering in the corners of your eyes.

He spent three days straight training. He didn't think to stop, even with the sweat streaming into his eyes, causing them to burn more than they already were.

It wasn't until he felt his Lord's calming presence entering his periphery, a steaming mug of hot cocoa, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floating in it, in his hands.

"It would be foolish to work yourself to death."

Sebek halted his moves, sheathing his sword, and quietly grabbing the mug.

"It is not often you are rendered speechless," Malleus smirked,but Sebek could barely nod.

Malleus sighed. "Humans do not live very long. To have one for your soulmate is a blessing few get to share. You will have centuries to be bound to someone you do not love.Do not lose your chance to hold them while you have them."

Malleus vanished as quickly as he appeared. Sebek stared at his hot cocoa, before running to find you, while he still had the chance.

He was always so cold. No matter where he was, he never could find the warmth of his soulmate. He'd ask his friends every once in a while to see if there was a soul that was destined to truly belong to him. The answer was always no. So he lived in eternal winter.

Those trapped in the cold seek warmth. And he'd found solace in a simple witch. There was no love. The relationship was purely to bring warmth to one another.

Then one day, he felt a moment of relief, as his friends came running for him, all of them speaking over one another. The only word he could consistently catch was , "Soulmate". The worst part was that he was literally in the arms of his little witch.

It wasn't that he didn't want you. He desperately did. Especially when Everytime you walked into the room, the cold numbing his fingertips dissipate, and he'd feel like he was in a warm embrace.

But you never pushed him, because of the conversation he had with you the moment you walked into his shop for the first time.

"I can't."

"Huh?"

"Not yet. I have someone relying on me. I'm their only source of warmth. Can you wait for me?"

You truly were perfect for him, because you never brought it up. And if you were anything like him, you desperately wanted the warmth you would feel if you held him close to you. But you were so patient. Pretending everything was fine, while he searched tirelessly for a soulmate that might not exist, for a potion that would simulate the warmth.

One day though. He promises that one day, he'll have it figured out. And then both of your patience will have paid off.

no one could ever love him. Which is why he wasn't bothered that no one's name was scrawled on his arm. And why he wasn't bothered when his brother had nervously asked if he'd be opposed to a betrothal to someone from another country. It's not like anyone was waiting for him.

It was a comfortable relationship. They definitely didn't love each other. But at least there was someone who had to at least pretend they cared when you complained about something. Comfortable. That's all he could ask for.

Until he'd felt pain on his arm, and found a name scrawled onto it for the first time. In a sea of new freshmen, he could pretend he didn't notice. He could pretend he didn't see.

And he hadn't run into the person the name belonged to, until you stepped on his tail in the greenhouse.

And after that, you were trying. You were trying so damn hard. It was endearing, and he almost let you in.

But deep down, he knew you'd one day seem him for who he was.

So one day, on edge from you asking him questions about himself, he snapped and told you to stop wasting your time, and get out of his life. Stop lying. No one could ever love him.

You glared at him. You called him a coward. And he growled back at you.

"I don't need you!"

For a moment, you seemed startled. Then you glared at him, and held your head high as you told him you wished him the best but doubted he'd find it.

And as he watched you storm off, a part of him knew you were right.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #3k followers #ace trapolla #ace trapolla x reader #ace x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #rook x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #twst sam #twisted wonderland sam #twst sam x reader #sam x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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chappellroansdreamgirl · 2 months

Text

good luck, babe! [e.w x fem!reader.]

chapter one.

author's note!<3 - this is inspired by chappell roan's unreleased song good luck, babe! i lllloooovveee chappel roan! this was originally going to be just a LONG ASS one-shot but i don't think i can write any more tonight 😭😭 . BUT I REALLY WANNA PUBLISH IT SO HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!! also forgive me if there's any grammar/spelling errors... i'm posting this at 12:59 am🥶🥶🥶🥶🥶 . reblogs and comments are SO appreciated!!! i busted my ass for y'all 🤗 .

content warnings - SLIGHT angst, reader has internalized homophobia and is outright homophobic to ellie, reader is in the closet, ellie is a lovergirl and she's going through the five stages of grief, modern!au, reader gets sexually assaulted/harrassed, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING ELSE!!!!

special thanks to!!!!: @sharkfemme and @dykedearest FOR HELPING ME OUT!!!!!! and also LYNN AND MAXIM!!! ALL FOUR OF YOU ARE AMAZING BETA READERS I'M KISSING YOU ALL THROUGH THE PHONE RN!!!

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

it's fine, it's cool.

ellie's grip on her glass got impossibly tighter as her eyes never left your figure, your body swaying to whatever shitty mainstream pop music that was playing.

ellie williams hated secrets. she hated surprises, and she hated being in love with you.

she hated the way you would ghost her after spending a week at her apartment. she hated the way you would stop responding to her texts after you would leave. she hated the way she would let you back in when you needed her, she hated how much she loved to comfort you. she hated how gentle you were when it was just the two of you, compared to how cruel you got in public.

you can say that we ain't nothin' when you know the truth.

ellie took her hand off the glass and gripped the bar table instead, afraid that if she broke another glass she'd be banned from the bar.

you were like forbidden fruit to her, or maybe that was what she was to you.

she knew you weren't ready to come out of the closet. she understood that. so, why keep on playing this fucking game with her?

why did she even still feed into it?

i guess i'm, the fool.

the closet was made out of glass, really. you would stare at every woman's body that passed you, your eyes would scan up their short dress, she could see the curiosity and desire in your face.

but every single time after you two would hook up, there was always a new excuse.

"i'm not a fucking lesbian, ellie. i just... don't like men sometimes." sometimes?

"they're just stupid thoughts... it's not like i could ever be with a woman." but you had been. you had been with her.

"ok but... do you even count as a woman? you wear boxers, you don't even know the meaning of the term ladylike and... i don't know- look at your fuckin' hair! the closest you'd get is a transwoman." that one had hurt her. she didn't talk to you for a month after you made that comment. and then you appeared in her apartment complex hallway, sobbing hysterically.

and of course, she took you back.

like she always does.

with her arms out like an angel, through the car sun-roof.

she hated playing this fucking game with you. it was killing her.

every single time she'd see you at this bar, she imagined you dragging her onto the dancefloor. she imagined being able to walk out with your hand in her's, waking up to your groggy groans when the sun invaded the sacred space of your shared bedroom, you'd hide your face in her neck, mumbling something about, "shouldn't have drank that much last night."

every single time you pulled this shit on her, it felt like her already shattered heart broke off into impossibly tinier pieces.

"i wish you were a boy." crack.

"it's not easy for me like it is for you, els. i don't know the first thing about being proud of myself." crack.

"this hurts me more than you, baby." shattered. her heart was shattered.

it hurts you more than her?

the fucking audacity.

the nights she spent crying next to your sleeping figure.

the hours she'd spent texting you and checking her phone second after second after goddamn second.

the way she would ignore every single obligation she had to pick you up from whatever shit-hole situation you had found yourself in, immediately and happily dropping anything to make sure you were ok.

and it hurt you more than it hurt her?

you didn't know shit about hurt. about misery. about love.

i don't wanna cut it off!

her friends had told her to cut you off. her therapist said in his own professional shrink way that you would never be good for her. at least not while you weren't even good for yourself.

but she couldn't let you go. it seemed like every reason that she had to leave you, fuelled her determination to stay.

but you don't wanna call it love!

every single time you somehow broke her heart in a new way, she fell harder in love with you.

you just wanna love someone that calls you baby!-

ellie was pulled out of her internal anger when your eyes met hers. although it was only a few seconds ago, it felt like she was staring into your eyes for an eternity.

don't fuckin' wave, ellie. look away- LOOK AWAY. , she thought to herself as she was unable to look away from your beautiful irises.

you had this slight smile on your face, the dancefloor's led lights adding a shimmer to your already twinkling eyes.

it felt like her melancholy thoughts had lifted and increased all at the same time by the sight of you acknowledging her presence.

ellie went against her better judgement, her slender hand flying up to wave at you. her lips quirked upwards gently as she scanned your delighted face.

your light expression quickly turned into one of frustration, suppressing your grin with a tightening of your lips before pulling the nearest man close to you in for an unexpected kiss, opening your eyes once you knew the mystery man's were closed, locking your eyes onto ellie's before closing them once more.

the light had died in ellie's stomach after that. her happy hand that was raised in the air faltered painfully back to her side as she watched the man's hands roam down from your sides... to your waist... to your ass.

you can kiss a hundred boys in bars,

those butterflies that she had just felt in her tummy had died slowly, turning into knots of anguish.

she watched your hands cradle the man's face. those same hands that had counted each and every freckle on her face on a snowy morning that had you both stranded in her apartment.

those same hands that had a death-grip on her back as you sobbed into her shoulder every other weeknight as she tried to muffle her own cries.

those same hands that had shoved her violently as she finally tried to stand her ground one afternoon you showed up knocking on her door. "you know what... fuck you, ellie! i don't know why i keep on doing this shit with you anyways." you said, before storming off. you called her later that night. she answered. "i'm sorry, els. i'm sorry, i'll do better, i'm so sorry-" , "it's ok, baby. it's ok. i know you didn't mean it. you're ok baby, i forgive you."

shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling!

she would've stayed in that seat, stewed in her anger for a bit more before the tears inevitably came falling down if it wasn't for the way the dude's hands creeped under your skin-tight jeans and how you flinched away from his grasp, breaking the kiss immediately with a nervous giggle creeping up.

the guy obviously took it as an invitation to do more, placing his hand back on your waist and agressively pulling you closer.

you can say it's just the way you are,

ellie's head tilted as she watched this go down.

what she wanted to do was launch that creep into the nearest wall and make sure he never tainted your body again. but she didn't want to get up too soon, she wanted to be certain that you needed help, whether you wanted it or not.

your hand stopped him from coming any closer, placing it right before his chest. you said something along the lines of, "don't want to do anything." .

make a new excuse, another stupid reason-

instead of him being a decent human being and leaving you alone, his face quickly turned into one of anger. his jaw jutted out as he tried to pull you in again, leaving you thrashing against his body.

how was no one else seeing this? why was no one else doing anything?!

she didn't even have time to process what she was about to do. her feet were on the ground, marching their way towards you before she could even think about her course of action in a smart way.

"let me go, fuckin' creep!" she heard you shriek as she grew closer to you, attempting to elbow him in the chest.

ellie felt like no matter how fast she was walking, she would never make it to you in time.

he laughed tauntingly as he grinded against. "i'm the creep, bitch?! you kissed me f-"

his last word was stolen from him as ellie forcefully pushed him off you with and landed a blow against his nose.

he groaned in pain, falling to the ground as he cradled his now-broken-nose.

you gasped in shock and horror. "what the fuck, ellie?!" you scolded her. as if you would've been fine on your own.

she ignored your words though, pulling the guy's hand away as she forced another punch to his face.

now people were finally looking.

she didn't stop until she felt your hands on her stomach, pulling her away from the scene.

"she fuckin'... said... no!..." ellie's voice thundered, erratic breaths in between her words before bringing one last painful kick to his face before letting you lead her out of the bar and into the night air.

you didn't stop even after you two were at the entrance door of the establishment, you made sure the two of you were far enough away that ellie wouldn't be caught if the police were called.

she couldn't help but feel those stupid fucking butterflies again as your hand gripped hers and felt a little disappointed when you dropped it, suddenly all too aware that you were still in public.

her green eyes met your own, yours filled with anger and chaos... hers filled with love.

"hey baby." the auburnette sighed out simply, that stupid love-grin back on her face as she was finally close to you.

your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as your hands went to massage your temples. you let out a humorless giggle. "you're so... fucking stupid, ellie!" you exclaimed, shoving her chest as if she was in the wrong.

her grin turned into a confused frown as she surrendered her hands in the air, her eyebrows mirroring your own now. "wh-wh....what-"

good luck, babe!

"god, you have this severe goddamn saviour complex or some shit!... i was fine! i was fucking fine on my own before you marched in and assaulted that guy."

well good luck, babe!

you gaslighted beautifully, defending the man you knew nothing about over the woman who was fatally in love with you, she almost believed you.

ellie's frown turned into an angry smile as she brought a hand to gently wipe over the bridge of her nose, a mannerism of her's she had developed whenever she got frustrated with you.

"assau-... ok, sure-... you wanna talk about assault, baby? that fuckin' guy would've assaulted you if i didn't step in. he was assaul-"

you shut your eyes tightly the way you do when you wanted to block something out that ellie was obviously right about. you shook your head stubbornly. "gggoddd ellie- it was my fault! i wanted it and then i didn't. i shouldn't have- i shouldn't have kissed him in the first place. i gave him mixed signals, i-"

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling!-

your eyebrows grew dangerously closer to your face as you cradled your head in your hands.

ellie was quick to walk right back to you, caressing your arms.

"what? baby, no. no, it's not your fault... that- that fuckin' guy... hey... look at me, sweetheart." she cooed lovingly.

good luck, babe!

you slowly brought your hands away from your face, meeting her breathtaking green eyes.

you wanted to fall into her arms, you wanted to thank her for coming to your rescue and kiss her and confess to her how scared you truly were.

but you didn't. you never did.

your slightly calm expression that came over you once you met your secret lover's gaze turned into one of annoyance. ellie was, like always, taken by surprise as you thrashed against her grip, just like the way you did with that monster in the bar.

good luck, babe!

ellie's eyes blurred with tears as she watched your face turn into a grimace.

"fuck you, ellie." you said quietly as you broke free from her hands, storming off into the night. leaving her. like always.

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

266 notes · View notes

neoarchipelago · 1 year

Text

And they were roommates (part 11)

A/N: I hope this works because my internet is KILLING ME.

Warning: 18+ content SHIT IS STARTING TO GET REAL.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The next day, you and Simon had driven to the house. It felt like two parents visiting a house to move in with their kids. It made you laugh. The house was enormous. 4 bedrooms, three bathrooms, a spacious kitchen, a big living room with a tv big enough to feel like at the cinema. A very modern house painted in dark tones. All that you liked. You had looked at Kate and General Hopkins as he spoke.

"You deserve some comfort. You've been such a great asset-"

"You're trying to give me a luxurious house because I almost got killed."

The silence set for a minute, Ghost grabbing the back of your pants as he stood behind you.

"Yes… pretty much" the general admitted.

You rolled your eyes. Kate shook her head.

"You also deserve it. Plus you need a bigger space since you are having even more roommates." She smiled.

You sighed. Ghost ran his thumb on your lower back, soothing you. It sent a shiver down your spine. He loved to do this. You had noticed it. These little touches, hidden from others. It grounded you to him. If you felt anxious, nervous or tense. You loved it. He couldn't stop touching you.

The week after, you had moved in. Gaz and Soap were sharing a room, Konig had his own room and Ghost and you too. You had wanted to share Ghost's room but to keep things slow you had both preferred to stay like that. You'd share each other's beds in any way. Soap and Gaz were thrilled, Konig was too but in his own quiet way. Ghost seemed tense already.

"Hey… you alright?" You asked when the boys were a bit further away in the house.

"Starting to regret living with these idiots already."

"Konig's quiet."

"Wait until they play board games."

You had laughed.

You had settled in your room nicely. The space felt much bigger than your old apartment. However it felt less empty. Even from your room you could hear the boys laughing, or the TV playing. You smiled to yourself. Things had changed so much in a few months. You didn't regret it at all.

You were putting away your clothes in your new walk in closet. You were at peace, finally. Walking back into your room, you yelped when you noticed someone sitting on top of your bed.

"What the-"

You squinted your eyes. You knew it was him. You would have recognized him even in the dark. But… him, sitting there, without his mask on, made your heart beat as if it wanted to leave your chest.

"Fuck… even your face is hot." You let out.

You immediately blushed when you realized that once more your mouth had been faster than your brain.

You tried to hide your blushing face in your hands as you heard him laugh.

"Come here bunny."

You dropped your hands, biting your lip and walking to him. You stood in between his legs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you…"

You smiled, finally holding his face in your hands as his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I was happily surprised." You whispered.

He closed his eyes letting his face rest in between your chest, earning a chuckle from you. God he did look handsome.

"I just… thought it was time to show you my face." He said, voice muffled by your own body.

"I am honored. You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable." You assured him.

"I feel safe with you. I don't mind at all."

It made your heart jump in your chest. He felt safe with you. You wrapped your arms around his head, leaning your own on top of his.

You remained like this for a little while until a knock was heard.

"Hey guys!" Soap called.

Simon groaned against you. You laughed.

"Someone's here to see you!"

You frowned.

"We'll be downstairs in a minute Soap." You called back.

You tried to separate the embrace but he held onto you.

"Come on Simon. Let's go see who's there." You smiled at him.

He stared at you for a long minute.

"You're so pretty when you smile…"

You blushed heavily at the compliment.

"Thank you…" you dropped a soft kiss on his lips.

He sighed against your lips before you finally separated. He grabbed his mask that was thrown on top of the bed, only noticing it now, before dropping it over his head.

You threw a last smile at him before you headed for the door.

You walked down the stairs with him, meeting the rest of the house and Price in the living room.

You turned your head to finally see your guests. Mellissa and Amy.

"Oh Sparrow! Are you alright?" She was worried.

"Y/N! Ghowsty!" Amy cheered.

You could have laughed at the shocked expressions on the rest of the team. You finally reached them, taking Amy into your arms as she was impatiently extending hers towards you.

"hey! How are you monkey?" you kissed her cheek making her giggle.

As Simon came to a stop next to you she extended her arms to him. You had been beaten at this game. He was her favorite. You looked at him, his eyes not leaving you and the little girl in your arms. You saw something unfamiliar in his eyes before he extended his own arms to pick up the little girl.

"gowsty!" she smiled at him.

"hey little baby princess." he cooed.

Yes. he did. And it made you melt on the spot. Melissa grinned and the rest of the room were absolutely shocked. It took one glance from ghost for them to look away. You rolled your eyes. You invited Melissa to come sit on the couch with everyone as ghost and Amy followed. She decided to sit on his lap and not move from there, playing with his skeleton gloves.

"Boys, this is Melissa gallegos. She's my friend and the mother of this sweetheart, Amy." You cooed as well, softly brushing a strand of hair out of her face, making her giggle. Simon looked like he wanted to devour you for a split second.

"this is Soap" you introduced.

The little went into a giggle of laughter, making everyone melt in the room.

"soap!" she repeated.

The man in question blushed a bit, waving at her.

"why you'calld soap?" she asked.

The room temperature suddenly changed but Ghost was quick to move.

"because he loves washing his hair." he lied.

The truth was not something for her little ears. Soap looked a bit hurt but the rest laughed.

"this, is Gas. because... because that's his name." Ghost said, taking the lead.

"This.."

For a second you were worried about her reaction towards Konig. He stood in the room a bit further away. He was trying to hide his big frame, probably not to scare the child but was failing.

"this is Konig. He's... a friend." Ghost tried. It was clumsy. He was trying to find a way to make her accept the big guy.

"Why he sow bwig?" she asked.

"Amy..." Melissa started.

"Because he's half giant." Ghost said, making everyone chuckle and Konig rubbed the back of his head.

"he has supew powers?" she asked, not letting Konig out of her sight.

"yes." he asked.

"wat?" she asked.

"he gives the best hugs! and when you're in his arms you're super tall!" Soap said.

She giggled.

"thas not a supew power!"

"ah! you should try!" he winked at her.

She thought for a minute before extending her arms towards him, leaving you in a bit of shock. This little girl would never cease to amaze you. Konig had frozen on the spot.

"Konig. Come here." Ghost ordered.

You were going to protest, telling him not to force him if he was uncomfortable, but Konig moved forwards very slowly. Finally in front of Ghost and Amy, he picked her up very slowly as if she was made of glass. The little girl didn't say anything while looking around.

"im tawler than everwyone!" she claimed happily, making everyone laugh.

Konig looked relieved, until she looked into his eyes through the mask. She touched it a bit.

"ah ah Amy. We talked about this." Melissa warned.

"imno gonna take it off!" she said, looking offended.

It made you smile. As she turned back to the man.

"you eyes awe pwetty. They blue" she said, making the monster of a man melt on the spot.

She hugged him before asking to go back to ghost's lap. Konig was very flustered but walked back next to soap to sit on another couch.

"This is Captain price. Or as Y/N calls him, dad."

You gasped, looking at Ghost horrified. Everyone laughed. Amy was deep in thoughts. Before jumping from Ghost lap and running to price

"gwandpaw!"

Now Melissa looked horrified. It clicked so fast in your mind. How Melissa called you her sister and Amy's aunt. The very clever girl added 1+1 and decided that if you were her aunt and Price was your dad, obviously he was her grandfather.

Price had looked taken aback but gladly held her in his arms.

Ghost sulked a bit, suddenly not being the center of attention of the little girl. You left the boys being completely amazed by the little girl as you turned to melissa.

"How are you? Laswell told me what happened. I was in the room when she was talking to Hopkins." she looked worriedly at you.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Not my first rodeo, we both know that." you said, grabbing her hand in yours.

"I was so damn worried. I couldn't handle it, and Amy surely wouldn't." she said.

"Hey, I'm fine. Don't worry alright? I have a whole team of bodyguards constantly watching over me now" you said in a joking tone looking at the boys behind you.

Amy was standing on top of the table, the men on their knees or crouching around it.

"though your daughter seems to be their master. She has a talent of bringing these terrifying men to their knees.'' You laughed with melissa.

You both watched as Amy took turns, touching soap's mohawk, price's hat, gas's hat, Ghost mask and konig's too.

"Stay for dinner, the boys will be thrilled." You said.

And they were. They were absolutely thrilled. You had made dinner with Melissa while they had played with Amy's legos that Ghost had bought for her the last time. Now you all sat at table dining, talking happily. Amy was so fascinated by the way Konig ate underneath his mask that she'd forget to eat what was in her mouth. Konig had felt very embarrassed under her scrutiny and had avoided eye contact.

You had stopped for a second, looking at the table you sat at. You felt grateful. For all of these people.

Once dinner was over, the boys had cleaned up the table, except ghost who was trapped by a little girl in his arms. She was starting to get sleepy. Ghost had glanced at you as you sent a wink his way, making him shake his head.

"what's happening between you and the liteutenant?"

Melissa's voice made you slightly jump.

"hum... well... we're... together." you spoke.

You tried not to blush but she gasped, a smirk on her face afterwards.

"you go girl! daaaamnn." she said.

You rolled your eyes.

"so it's serious huh?" she asked

"yeah... I think it is... he trusts me enough to show me his face."

She looked touched, holding you in her arms.

"I'm so happy for you. Really. You deserve it."

You smiled, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. You blinked them away.

"Thank you Melissa. I'm so happy you're in my life too."

She smiled at you before turning back to ghost. The little girl had fallen asleep in his arms as he kept pacing around to rock her softly. You noticed that the boys had lowered the volume of their voices too, as Ghost eyed them like a hawk at every decibel too high for his taste.

"He'd be a great dad." Melissa teased.

"We're far from that. Please don't start." You begged.

You walked towards him.

"Thank you lieutenant. She really adores you." she said to him.

"No problem." he nodded.

"I think we should go home." she said, glancing at you and then at the sleeping girl.

"Alright, we'll walk you to the car." you offered, Ghost clearly not wanting to wake up the little girl, agreed.

Everyone bid their goodbyes in a hushed tone under Ghost's gaze. You walked Melissa to the car, ghost had dropped the little girl, her car seat buckling her up.

"Thank you lieutenant." she smiled.

You stood next to him as Melissa looked at you both.

"Thank you for taking care of her lieutenant". she said.

You blushed heavily, looking down to hide your face.

"The best mission I've chosen." he answered back.

You bit your lip looking up at him as he glanced down back at you. Melissa got into her car and left, leaving you both at the entrance of the house.

"You're gonna catch a cold. let's go back inside." he said, his hand meeting your lower back.

"Simon." you called.

He looked at you, waiting.

"Thank you. for taking care of me."

"No. Thank you. For holding on to me. To my... fucked up mind and scarred body."

Your eyes faltered, his words hurting you in a way you didn't think was possible. You grabbed his face in between your hands, his masked face dropping to touch your forehead with his.

"You're everything Simon. you. Ghost. the lieutenant. all of you." you comforted him.

He hugged you tighter.

"fuck.." he cursed under his breath.

A breeze passed by, soothing the incredible heat in your body.

"come on... let's head back."

You nodded, stepping inside with him.

One thing had been absolutely sure. The boys loved playing games. When they weren't training or at the base and they were bored at home, they'd always want to play a board game or a game of cards. And right now. The game of cards was improvised. The evening had rolled in, you had been working in your room, and the boys were bored. It had begun as a simple game, Soap had ordered pizzas, and you sat around the large table in the living room. But as time passed, those menaces had decided to add some dares to the game. If you'd lose, you'd have to do something. Price had been skeptical, Ghost too, especially because he was worried about what the boys could make you do just to taunt him.

After the first round, where, much to Soap's dismay, he had lost, he was forced to play with handcuffs for the next 5 rounds. Watching him struggle during round 2 made Price laugh way too much, so he remained for the game. Obviously he very quickly regretted his choice.

Gaz had brought some Rhum, and even if it remained very calm, alcohol loosened minds and… tongues. You were all a bit tipsy. And the dares were beginning to be slightly hotter than they should be. Konig was shirtless… the poor man was extremely embarrassed. Gaz and Soap made out, a little predicament created by you. Unfortunately that had horribly backfired. You had to call Laswell and ask her if Price could legally adopt you. She was extremely confused but had said yes. Price added that he'd keep it in mind.

To counter that you had prepared a little cocktail for the next looser, Soap. You made sure it was incredibly spicy. He had died, his soul leaving his body for a minute. Ghost seemed to be a very good player, managing to lose twice. He had to draw two little blush points on his mask with lipstick. He looked extremely cute. The second time he had to let the boys draw something on his arms with a sharpie. He had rolled his eyes. After that he had escaped all shenanigans except one, he also had to take off his shirt. For some reason these men loved seeing each other half naked.

Price had tapped out, opting for going home before he lost all credibility as a captain. Konig had also begged to be let go, you had obviously let the poor man leave, remembering him he didn't need permission, and shouldn't listen to the boys. Now, as the four of you remained. The dares become completely ridiculous. Now Gaz was handcuffed to Soap. They had a wife and husband written on their foreheads with a sharpie. You had cringed, you knew he'd be hard to clean up.

The tapping point was you having to… lick your way from Ghost's clothed mouth to the aim of his pants, under the careful gaze of the two men. You were blushing hard. Ghost's eyes were fixated on you, his breath had quickened. His hand had reached your hair, tightening there when you passed over his abs.

You had tried your best to hide your blush when you stood up. You could feel Simon's eyes following your every movement. When soap had tried to comment something along the lines of 'I'm jealous I want a bunny too', he had received a smack behind the head as a warning. The last round had hit, everyone was tired as 3 am was slowly approaching. To everyone's surprise, Ghost lost. Soap and Gaz had run to you, and you were now trying to find the perfect dare to conclude the game.

Soap finally jumped.

"I know! You have to wear a dog collar and a leash all day for Y/N!"

You had gasped and blinked slowly, trying to process what he had said. You looked at Ghost, he seemed to think about it.

"Simon…" you called.

"Ok."

Did he… agree?! You were unsure if it was the alcohol or something else.

"Nice!" Gas said.

You were extremely confused… and slightly excited. The sight might be something worth seeing.

You had called it a night, kissing Simon goodnight and hopping into bed. The liquor and the tiredness made your head buzz as you closed your eyes.

The next morning you had woken up rather begrudgingly. You needed a coffee. Or tea. You had thrown one of Simon's hoodies on and some leggings before heading down stairs. The house was noisier than usual for this hour. You had walked into the living room, greeting everyone. Soap and gas had a grin on their face. Ghost had walked to you, lifting up his mask to kiss you deeply.

This was the best way to wake up. Truly.

"Good morning" you mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning bunny." He growled.

You were taken aback from his tone. What was going on this morning?

"Breakfast is ready, come on!" Soap called.

You had sat at the table and eaten breakfast with everyone until Price had walked in, a bag in hand.

"Good morning everyone!" He greeted.

The boys were quick to their feet as ghost sighed, getting up as well. He extended his hand to you, making you get up and step to him. He dropped your hand to reach his neck with both hands, taking his dog tags and transferring them to your neck. You stumbled on your words looking at him. You felt incredibly honored and thrilled and… owned.

"S-simon… I…."

"Fuck. You're gonna have to let me take a picture of you like that." He talked in a hushed tone to you.

He didn't leave any room for an answer as he grabbed your head and made you walk with him to the others.

"I have no idea why you asked me to pick this up, but I have a feeling it has something to do with last night's game." Price said as he dropped the bag on one of the couches and grabbed the objects inside.

Your eyes widened when you saw him take out a dog collar and a leash, both black.

"Oh my god…" you let out.

"Yes!! Captain you are the best!" Soap almost yelled.

Gas was just as excited as him.

"Alright, so who has to wear this?" He asked, turning to soap and then gas.

When they both turned towards ghost, who stood next to you, arms crossed, Price froze for a second.

"Really?" He asked with his signature smile.

You were unable to process what was happening as Soap took the object and ran to the man next to you. He stopped when he saw the dark gaze of his lieutenant.

"Sergeant, if you try to put it around my neck I will break your hands." He warned.

Soap smirked but nodded before handing you the collar and leash.

"Wait, WHAT." You cried out.

You looked at the black leather collar. It had a silver tag shaped like a skull. You turned it to see Riley written behind. They had made it engraved. The leash was a mix of black leather and chain. It was pretty basic. You were taken out of your thoughts as you saw Simon bend down next to you, now eye to eye level.

"Simon, really?" You asked.

"I am a man of my word." He said.

You shook your head. This… was ridiculous. The rest of the team looked at you expectedly. You sighed, unbuckling the damn thing before very slowly approaching it to his neck. The eye contact was intense as you secured it around his neck, and the tension was breakable as you hooked the leash on it.

"Bloody hell. You're all insane." Price let out, finally breaking the tension.

He straightened up as you still held the leash in your hand.

"There! Now you have scary dog privileges!" Soap joked.

"This is a sight LT." Gas added.

"When did this happen?" Konig asked, poor man confused.

You couldn't believe this.

Ok. Alright. It was a matter of 24h. It might be fun after all.

You had continued about your day, unleashing Ghost. Soap and gas had forced you to keep the leash on you so you could put it back whenever needed. They were having way too much fun with this. You had your laptop on your lap as you worked through some things on the couch, Simon not too far. You had heard some commotions behind you in the kitchen.

"Y/N! Get your dog!"

You smirked.

"It don't bite." You said matter of factly.

"Yes IT DO!" Soap threw back.

You had continued to work without paying attention to them. During the day you had found yourself often playing with the tags around your neck, letting your fingers trace the letters on it. Mindlessly bringing it to your lips when you were lost in thoughts. You had only noticed it when soap had thrown a comment about it.

"Y/N."

"Hmm?"

"You don't have to kiss that, the real thing is right here."

You had blinked looking at him and then at Ghost. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you saw him, hunched over the kitchen counter both hands on it, gazing at you through his lashes like he wanted to pounce on you.

Soap had immediately excused himself and you had let the tags fall back to your chest.

"S-sorry…" you apologized.

He had suddenly realized his posture as you spoke, straightening himself and cleared his throat.

"No problem."

He had quickly walked out, the tag on his collar clicking, leaving you confused.

The interaction had remained in your mind. He had seemed a bit distant afterwards. You had gone out for a drink, soap and gas reminding you that you had to keep him on a leash. You had been horrified at the thought but Ghost had grabbed the end of the leash and hooked it in his collar.

It had been funny to see all the soldiers at the bar avoiding all eye contact towards your table. The sheer fear the man next to you created in them was astounding. And yet he was next to you, as your hand held onto the leather leash connected to his dog collar. He had made sure to reach to your neck and take out the dog tags so everyone could see it.

"Damn he possessive." Gas had joked, being completely ignored by his lieutenant.

And he was. You had gotten up to order another drink at the bar.

"What can I get you ?" The bartender asked smiling at you.

"Hum can I get a mojito, with strawberry syrup?" You asked tentatively.

"Oh! Sure, Nice!" He agreed with a wink.

When you had walked back to the table with your drink, Simon had wrapped his arms around your waist and not let go for the rest of the night.

You felt a bit uneasy because you could clearly see his mood had changed. You had gotten home around midnight and everyone had gone to bed. The boys had finally let Ghost alone with the collar, though he was still wearing it. You had brought him into your bedroom to try and talk it out.

"Y/N, I'm fine, come one hop into bed." He had tried.

You were still holding the leash and you straightened it, applying only a bit of pressure.

"Simon."

His gaze had darkened.

"Tell me."

"Your time is up bunny. The leash is off now." He warned.

You furrowed your brows in challenge, applying even more pressure in the leash. He growled.

"Bunny. Let. Go." He warned again.

"Then tell me." You confronted again.

He reached your hand, bringing you to his chest. You yelped. His hand was holding your jaw softly.

"You had fun having me on a leash all day?"

His special dark tone was back. The one that sent shivers down your spine and made you feel like he was a predator hunting his prey.

"Well, everyone knew who you belonged to." You teased.

He chuckled darkly.

"Yeah. Same with my tags around your pretty neck." He made you spin around, now making you look into the mirror on the wall. His hand traveled from your stomach to your chest where the tags dangled. Your breath hitched as his hand hovered over your breast.

"Look at you. Mine. So fucking pretty." He growled in your ear.

"You know what. You're such a pretty sight to see. Let's immortalize this pretty sight."

You frowned.

"W-what?" You asked.

He took his phone out with his other hand, turning it on and opening his camera.

"Grab the leash." He ordered.

You obeyed, holding the leash over your shoulder. He placed his hand over your throat, not squeezing but holding you in place. He aimed the lense towards the mirror, taking both of you into view.

"Good girl…" he praised, making you close your eyes and tilt your head back.

He had taken a picture at that exact moment.

"So pretty fuck. I wanted to punch that guy at the bar you know."

You finally understood.

"Simon… his wink was just playful… it-"

"No… not his wink. The way he eyed your ass when you walked away from him. That. That made me want to rip his head off."

Oh. You hadn't noticed that. He was jealous. God that man was possessive.

He closed his eyes for a little second.

"Simon. I'm yours." You reminded him.

He opened his eyes, planting them into yours in the mirror. He visibly relaxed.

"My bunny."

"My wolf." You teased.

He laughed a bit, relieved.

"That's new."

You turned around hugging him. He took off his mask, letting it drop to bed behind you. He dropped a kiss on top of your head.

"I'm sorry… "

"Why?" You questioned.

"I… sometimes lose myself. You have to tell me if I scare you an-"

"No!"

You looked at him as he frowned.

"I'm not scared Simon. Please don't think that. You never hurt me. And I trust you."

He took a moment before nodding.

"Come on, bed time."

You whined.

"Sleep with me tonight." You asked.

"Bunny… not tonight. I got to wake up early tomorrow, the team has to go to base."

"A mission ?"

"Something like that. I'll tell you more after I get info."

You nodded.

You had slipped into pj's in your bathroom before slipping into bed. He had stayed just to be able to tuck you into bed. He turned around heading to leave before you stopped him.

"Simon…"

"Yes baby?"

"Can you send me that picture…" you blushed.

"Of course bunny."

Once he was out you smiled to yourself. He was really possessive over you. You knew there was a part of him that felt scared that thought you might regret this relationship. That he was not good for you. You wanted to prove him wrong. Your phone buzzed.

You picked it up to see the notification. Simon had sent the picture. Fuck was it good. You made sure to keep it for yourself. He had added a little treat as a second notification rang. He was shirtless, the collar still on as he held the leash in one hand. The camera was tilted upwards as the looked straight into it. Fuck. You didn't take him for the kind of man to send thirst traps to his girl. But you were glad he was.

You bit your lip, thinking about your next move. You were slightly embarrassed but also somehow excited. You undressed yourself before laying back down in bed. You made sure to position the dog tags in between your breasts with his name visible. You bit your lip. You held the phone up, making sure the flash was on and you took the picture making sure to push your breast together. You edited the photo making sure to add little skulls over your nipples.

You made sure to check the picture before sending it as fast as possible with a small good night.

You bit your lip. You wondered if you were going to get an answer. Two minutes passed so you thought he wouldn't. But then a notification came on.

You smiled to yourself. Finally drifting off to sleep. The next morning you woke up to an empty house. It felt oddly quiet. You took your time eating breakfast and resting. Around lunch time you were still alone. You knew the team had to go to the base for something related to a mission. You wondered when they would come back. Time passed by and you got lost for a little moment in your work.

When late afternoon rolled in, you decided that perhaps a warm bath would be perfect. You could read a book or something. You stood from the couch when suddenly you heard the front door open and a lot of voices half yelling at each other. You frowned, watching the team stumble over each other.

"hey hey hey... guys, what's going on?"

"hey Y/N!" soap called in a very soft voice making you expect the worst.

"so hum... we got something here, can you take a look?" gas asked.

"It's a bit urgent, sweetheart." price added in a serious tone.

You walked over to the table where the boys gathered, putting down a laptop on the table. you sat down in front of anxious looks.

"Will any of you tell me what's going on? By the way, where's Ghost?" you frowned, opening the laptop and turning it on as you looked around.

"Hmm..." Konig tried.

"well..." Soap continued.

You immediately turned to Price at their hesitation.

"Please tell me what's going on."

He sighed before sitting next to you.

"Darkends is dead. We are very close to catching the drug lord. We've been put on this mission and we were called to brief everyone and check some seized gear. one of the cases was... trapped."

You felt your heartbeat quicken. no... wait.

"Simon?" you asked.

"he was the one who opened it."

You closed your eyes letting out a shaky breath.

"Hey, he's fine, he's fine. He was in contact with a powder, a drug. He's going to be alright"

You sighed with relief.

"He's gone upstairs to his room, but we need to know what kind of drug it is. It was quite a dose and we need to know the effects. Can you do that? "

"Absolutely. I'm on it."

You turned to the screen, you absolutely needed to find what it was.

For over an hour, after you managed to decrypt the computer, you finally had found something interesting. The boys were pacing around and kept watching you.

Finally you found something interesting, a video about the effects of the drug.

"guys i got it!" you called.

They rushed to your side and finally you opened the video.

The silence was loud. But nothing louder than the sounds coming from the laptop. You blushed heavily as Soap laughed and Gas cursed. The noise kept repeating itself, making it obvious as to what the drug was.

"ah! fuck me!"

It was a sex drug.

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

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

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gojos-thot-patrol · 10 months

Text

M E A N D T H E D E V I L W A L K I N G S I D E B Y S I D E

Sukuna isn't the type of person to say "I love you." He's not the type of person to love. He was a demonic warlord, known for his cruelty and lack of empathy. What part of that screams "lover boy" to you?

baby, you're a haunted house

Society will tell you that playing with ouija boards is a bad idea. this fic begs to differ. a demonic Sukuna smut

close calls

Love is scary, Isn't it Reader? Sukuna thinks it is. but at least he's facing his fears for you. a soft Sukuna smut.

sacrilegious

Feeling holy? Maybe a little less than holy? Do you want to have your guts rearranged by a God in his own temple? yea, me too. a holy Sukuna smut.

unholy

Did you like the idea of the previous fic, but think you'd relate to it better if the reader was of the male variety? well, do I have news for you! A smutty Sukuna drabble

seven minuets in heaven

Maybe you're feeling something a bit more modern reader. Something more relatable? Like a college au where you lose your virginity to a frat boy named Ryomen. A modern day Smut

better off as lovers

Dating is hard and falling in love is harder. Ryomens love isn't up for debate, but if he's truly ready to give up his playboy life style for you is a little more questionable. Part two of Seven Minuets in Heaven. A smutty hurt/comfort fic

new mistakes

I would say being left at the altar was the worst thing that could have ever happened to you, but I think the revenge sex with Ryomen makes it all worth it, don't you agree Reader? A modern day revenge smut.

bad miracle

Gojo has always been an idiot, but he's really done it this time. He's kidnapped the wrong girl, and now, leader of The Syndicate Ryomen Sukuna has to figure out what to do with you.

A Mafia Au smut

heir to the throne

Sukuna never wanted to be a father. Why why hell would he want that? A sticky, stinky, ball of chaos that feels the need to destroy everything. Why would he want that? It's no surprise you hid your pregnancy from him for so long.

A Dadkuna fluffy fic

urban legends

You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? A TrueFrom!Sukuna smut.

change of plans

Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause such a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. Part of the Frat Boy AU Some introspective fluff

tiger hybrid! headcanons

We've all wondered what he would be like as a tiger hybrid, right? Right? some Smutty Headcanons

breaking up headcanons

While you would be entirely within your rights to leave Sukuna, what on earth made you think it would be that easy? some more smutty headcanons

feral nights

Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? An omegaverse Smut

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna masterlist

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mrshesh · 10 months

Note

Okay, I've just watched King the land, and I saw this scene

Can you write a scenario (idk exactly what you write, feel free for this :D) where 141 boys+alejandro are talking with their partner while they're in the edge of a pool, and the boy enter it and take their partner in by the waist, ik kissing and cute stuff. I CAN'T TAKE THIS SCENE FROM MY MIND HELP ME PLEASE IT WAS TOO CUTE FOR ME UGHH

also, have a nice day and drink water, sorry for my poor english, I'm brazilian ♡♡

"you coming in?" - modern warfare 2 x reader

overview: the 141 + alejandro being affectionate with their s/o at the pool

pairing: the 141 + alejandro x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: fluff

a/n: hi anon! this scenario is the cutest - thanks for requesting it! i just had to see the scene for myself, and i know exactly why you can't stop thinking about it - it was adorable! i did make a little twist, i hope you don't mind - it's basically a bit more detailed and deep than just the pool scene, but the scene in itself is a big part of these headcanons! and your english is perfect babes, don't worry! i hope you love it.

It feels blue, serene, and calm - yet cold and lonely. The sapphire-colored water is hitting your shins continuously, yet it’s not aggressive or scary. It’s welcoming, ataractic, even. You sit unaccompanied on the pool’s edge, kicking your feet through the deep Adam’s ale. You sigh as you think of what would complete the calm inside you - him. You have no clue that he, however, is…

x simon "ghost" riley

You have no clue that he, however, is staring at you as he rests his shoulder against the doorframe of your back door.

You have been out there all alone for God knows how long, and he’s only seeing you now that he is home from work. He can feel his heart throb upon seeing you. Why are you out here all by yourself?

He doesn’t break his silence. Instead, he simply walks up to you and sits beside you, dangling his feet in the blue water, matching you. Although he’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, he’s still accompanying your feet underwater with his own - always being his actions that speak out to you, are the loudest, and make your heart flutter the most.

Your eyes meet his almost immediately, your lips curling into a small smile as he removes his mask.

“I’ve missed you, Simon.” You grin, feeling his hand hesitantly brush against yours. His scarred face is tranquil, telling you he’s completely comfortable with you. It took time for you two to get to this point in your relationship - but you would do it again in a heartbeat if you had to.

With a tame smile, he lets his shaky hand rest on top of yours. “Why are you here all alone?” The concern in his voice is subtle, but you can smell it and touch it - you know he’s worried for you.

“I guess I just got bored. I missed you a lot, you know?” You shrug, nodding softly to signal to him that you’re all right. “You need to be careful. What if you get hurt?” “I think I know my way around our pool, Simon. I’ll be fine.” Your tone is playful, masking the gut-wrenching feeling you can never get used to. You sigh, knowing that his worry for you can easily turn to agitation.

Your gazes turn to the cold water both of your feet plopped into. The muteness between you two is comforting, but you can feel the tension in the air. You can’t help but worry for Simon. He’s a hard worker, a loving boyfriend, and a thoughtful soul, yet a broken one.

“Why do I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me?” You break the silence, looking at Simon’s hand that sits cozily on top of yours. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” He quickly responds before he looks at you, his brown eyes softening immensely, sending chills down your spine. “I… I’ve just missed you.”

His words hit you like a truck. It’s hard for him to express his gratitude and love for you, having built up several thick walls of stoicism and numbness to avoid all loving interactions. But now that he’s with you - comfortable, adored, and safe, he can tell you anything on his mind, breaking down each of his walls one at a time.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You place a small peck on his cheek before your eyes dart to the water before you.

“I kinda want to get in.” You sigh, changing the subject. It’s hard for Simon to talk about his feelings, hell, it’s hard for him to talk about himself, and you respect that. You’ll do anything in your power for him to feel content.

“Why don’t you?” “I don’t know.” “What about if I get in with you?” Your head shoots in his direction with a wide grin, snickering as you scoot closer to him. “You’d do that for me?” “You’re actin’ like I’m not your boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes, making you chuckle even harder. “Well damn, sorry!” “Fuckin’ hell.” He takes a deep breath, sliding into the pool as you stare at him in shock. “So you were serious?” “Don’t be a pain in the ass and get in.” He shivers slightly at the feeling of the frigid water embracing his anatomy, wishing you’d come and hold him - you could make the Atlantic Ocean feel like a hot tub. “Can I prepare myself first?” You bite back your laugh, teasing him.

Simon shakes his head in annoyance, grabbing your waist firmly and lifting you into the pool as you protest, you both laughing till the warmth inside you radiates off you.

He holds you close, allowing you to wrap your legs and arms around him. Your forehead rests against his, noses and lips brushing past each other as your guys’ cheeks burn, almost stinging you.

When you finally lower your lips onto his, you can practically feel your worries melt away, dripping down your body and into the water surrounding you, touching you, yet not absorbing into your skin. You feel complete, and so does he.

Simon’s heart aches when the delicate skin of your lips touches, almost like you’re covering an open wound of his that has blood gushing out of it, keeping him alive and secure. He needs you so, so badly.

His wet hands travel up your back, gripping the soft skin of your shoulders to ensure you never let go.

You share soft, innocent kisses, yet they’re desperate and hot, showing how much you yearn for each other.

It’s nearly impossible to touch Simon's heart, to send shockwaves of heat and adoration through his body - yet you’ve managed to do exactly that, to the point where he finds himself kissing you while clothed in your shared pool.

x john "soap" mactavish

You have no clue that he, however, is running to you with a huge smile, immediately wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he sways you side to side eagerly.

“Hey, bonnie.” He whispers in your ear, kissing your cheek as you grip his arms, giggling excitedly at his impatience. “Hey. Is everything alright?” “Yeah, just happy to see ya.”

You motion for him to sit down. He happily complies, taking your hand into his and rubbing small circles with his thumb into the soft skin of your palm. “What’re you doing out here?” “Just thinking.” You kick your feet ever so slightly, holding eye contact with John.

“You seem tense.” He says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. He knows you too well.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately. But I’ll be okay. I promise.” You close your eyes, the soothing feeling of his body against yours washing all your worries away like a downpour. “You can talk to me, bonnie.” His tone is extremely matter-of-factly, almost uncharacteristically so, making your eyes open to glare at him, punching his pecks playfully as you snicker. “Of course, I know I can. I just prefer to dwell on my sadness sometimes. You know, typical angst.” “Dark.” “I know.”

“But remember, I’m here for you when you need me.” He caresses your arm as you rest against him once more. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“I wanna swim.” You turn to the water, your hand reaching into it to let it glide between your fingers. It’s cold. “Let’s get in then, aye?” John hops into the pool, not bothering to change his everyday clothes, making your eyes widen. You try to get up when you realize what he’s doing, but you can’t. His strong grip on your waist is making it impossible. You’re both laughing like children, with you struggling against his grip and him carrying you into the water. “Ain’t this what you wanted, bonnie?” “Johnny!”

When you’re finally in the water, you hug him close to you, trying to generate heat between you. You press your cheek against his cheek, shivering while chuckling. Meanwhile, John’s having the time of his life. He’s laughing smugly, holding you up by the back of your thighs as he allows you to snuggle into him.

“I think I know how to warm you up.” “Well, how about you tell me then?” You jolt slightly at the chill running down your spine, hugging him even harder.

His hand reaches the back of your head, pressing your lips against his, making you yelp in surprise.

When your smiles connect, your teeth clank slightly, making you both snort before you continue sharing sloppy, clumsy kisses.

It’s almost as if the cold, wintry water instantly turns into a hot spring, all of your skin from the top of your head to the tip of your toes thawing up.

He breaks the kiss sooner than you both want, staring into your eyes as his hand slides down your back again. “I was right, wasn’t I?” “Just kiss me again.”

x kyle "gaz" garrick

You have no clue that he, however, is looking for you, walking around your shared home while calling out your name. Where even are you? He doesn’t think to check the backyard, the image of the patio and pool abandoning his mind.

When you hear your name coming from a familiar voice, you immediately look over your shoulder, trying to see if Kyle is at the door to your backyard. “I’m here!” You mindlessly say, not knowing what he wants just yet.

When he hears your faint voice in the distance, he speedwalks outside, sitting beside you unquestioningly and dangling his legs into the water. “What’s up?” You ask, grabbing his thigh playfully. “Tch.” He smirks, matching your energy. He returns the grab, running his hand up and down the fabric of your clothes on your leg. “I’ve been looking for you.” “I know. What’s up?” “I’ve just been missin’ you.” “I’ve missed you too, pretty boy.”

He kisses you softly, making his heart flutter, like he didn’t just run around looking for you. (Just picture him jogging around your house like: “Babe?” “Babe??” “Baby?” Ugh, the cutest ☹️)

When he pulls away, you two are giggling and looking at each other, still caressing one another with hearts for eyes. “You should’ve told me you’re out here.” He boops your nose, making you chuckle even more. “I just thought I’d come and sit here for a little. The water is weirdly relaxing.” “It’s cold.”

“We don’t nearly use this pool enough,” Kyle continues, his linen shorts not touching the water yet. It’s as if he’s eager to jump in and hesitant simultaneously. “Wanna get in?” You suggest, making his gaze turn to you once again. “Let’s not even change. Let’s just get in.” You smirk, making him giggle. “It’s cold as shit, babe.” “So?”

That one word makes him return the smirk - he could never say no to you.

He gets in the pool, only to turn around immediately, picking you up by your waist and lowering you into the frigid water. Your giggles are cut short by a shiver, hugging him close to you to feel less frostbitten. He chuckles, his hand coming up to the back of your head, holding you so you warm up. He hates seeing you uncomfortable, but your shuddering in his arms heats his heart. He wants to protect, love, and care for you - you’re so precious to him. “Told you.” “Shut up, Kyle.”

You wiggle in his grip, trying to create friction between you to stay heated. “I hate to admit it, but it is colder than I thought…” “I’m doing pretty okay, actually.” “Okay, no one asked.”

You laugh brightly, hugging each other as if your lives depend on it. Kyle looks you in your eyes, his gaze darting to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” He asks tamely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries of yours. He has made it into a habit to ask. “Yeah… of course, you can.”

With that, his lips are all over yours, kissing you sweetly as you shiver from the coldness of the Adam’s Ale. His touch is dove-like, as gentle as it can be, showing you how much he cares about you, despite his teasing. “Still cold?” “Just… be quiet.”

In truth, Kyle is colder than you are. His hands tremble from the chill of the water that hugs you both, but he pretends to be sweltering just so he can take care of you and your needs - your chilly body.

The worst part is that it’s working. You have no clue how utterly icy Kyle feels - but he doesn’t mind. As long as his remaining heat transports to your body, he’s content.

x john price

You have no clue that he, however, is already walking toward you, smoking his cigar as his heavy footsteps approach you.

He has been worried about you. John has noticed that you’ve been acting atypical lately. You’ve been quiet, distant, and on ice. He has no clue what could be bothering you so profoundly, and quite frankly, he’s frightened - worried for you.

“Been lookin’ for you.” You look up at him for a second when the soundwaves of his voice reach your ears, giving him a tiny grin. “Hi.” You simply say. He’s standing behind you, taking a drag of his cigar. “You’ve been off lately.” He confronts, not wasting a second to get to the bottom of your worries.

You look back at the pool, blinking. “Hey, talk to me.” He sits down next to you, dipping his feet into the water. “What’s wrong, doll?”

“Nothing’s wrong, John.” You look at the man next to you, the man you’ve oathed to never lie to, the man you love the most. There’s no convincing him that you’re okay - he knows you inside and out. “Is there a reason you’re lying to me?” He quickly calls you out, erupting a small chuckle from you. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” “Never.”

“I don’t know. I’d rather not talk about it.” You sigh, kicking your feet in the pool. “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you shouldn’t carry this on your own.” He persists. He wants to respect your boundaries, but when he sees how much this has affected you, he can’t. He needs to help you. “I promise, John. I’m fine.” “You’re not.”

“Fine.” You say after a couple of seconds of excruciating silence. “I’ve been feeling down. My stress has been getting to me. I’m trying to find a way to calm down, but I feel helpless. Nothing is working.” You vent, resting your head on his shoulder. “Sweetheart…” He caresses your hair, letting you melt into him. “Thank you for telling me.” He starts, readying himself to give you some words of wisdom, but you cut him off, foreshadowing him spewing his advice. “And as much as I appreciate your advice, I don’t want it.” You relax into him. “I see.”

Your attention turns to the water before you. “I think I’m going for a swim.” “I’m swimming with you.” John almost instantly says, making you sit up straight and stare at him with a small smile. “Really?” “Really.” “You never swim with me.” “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you alone when you’re clearly in need of comfort.” He puts his cigar out on the ground, throwing it off to the side.

You blush instantaneously. “Alright, I’ll change quickly.” You start standing up, but John holds you firmly in place. “No need.” He smiles at you, hopping into the pool with his clothes on. He turns to you, holding his arms out for you to grab onto. “Hop in, doll.” “I don’t know, John…” “Oh, come on, don’t be silly.” He chuckles, grabbing your waist gently, giving you a questioning look, almost telepathically asking if you’re okay with this. You giggle, easing into his arms. “Fine.”

When you give him the green light, he wastes no time. He picks you up, lowering you into the pool and hoisting you in his arms.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, feeling your legs wrap around his waist. “I’m okay… it’s a little cold, though.” “Let’s get you warmed up, then.”

He quickly brings his lips to yours, capturing them in a comforting kiss, holding you to ensure you don’t let go of him. Your worries are slowly fading, the memory of them in your brain clouding. You cup his cheeks hesitantly, letting yourself get loose. He knows you too well - this is just what you need.

Your heart feels full, and you feel content. You know that John also feels satisfied. He’s happy knowing that he can be of comfort to you. You’re so special to him - how can’t he be joyful knowing you feel safe with him?

You continue kissing passionately yet smoothly. It’s not rushed, taking your time with each other, allowing you to let one another into your embrace. Even though you’ve been with John for a while, you’re still cautious with each other, showing you how much you care about one and all.

You’ve never felt more stress-free. You’ve got John holding you, kissing you lovingly as he hugs you, his strong arms pushing you against him. The content of the pool makes you feel weightless, mimicking the zero-gravity properties of space. What more could you ask for?

x alejandro vargas

You have no clue that he, however, is in the kitchen, cooking for you as you sit outside, pondering what you should do to get your mind out of the frenzy it’s in. You know Alejandro is inside, but you don’t feel like joining him. The pool is enough to get you to settle down a little, but you still feel lost.

Alejandro soon walks out to the backyard, making his way to you. He can sense the worry oozing out of you - it’s natural for him. He knows you inside and out.

“Mi vida, food’s ready. Are you coming?” He asks, bending down till he’s at eye-level with you. “Yeah… just give me a second. I’ll be right there.” You smile at him, caressing his cheek. He can sense a tinge of sadness behind your smile, making him frown. “Are you okay?” “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” “You’re lying.”

He immediately sits down and wraps his arms around you, dipping his feet into the water. “What’s wrong, cariño?” He kisses your temple, making you melt.

“I’ve just been feeling so overwhelmed… and I don’t want to put that burden on you since you work so hard and have problems of your own.”

Alejandro feels his heart burst. He had no clue you feel this horrible. “Mi vida… your feelings are not a burden.” He hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead sweetly. “Look at me.” He says, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him. “You’re so important to me, corazón. You should’ve talked to me.” His eyes lock with yours. Trying to look away is out of the question - he’s got you in a trance with his gaze. “I know I should’ve. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. Let’s get you cheered up instead, yeah? Are you hungry?” He smiles, rubbing your chin with his thumb. You get an idea.

“Can you get in with me?” You shoot the pool a glance and then look back at Alejandro with a devious smile painted across your face. “That would make me happy.”

His eyes widen before his smile matches yours. You’re so unpredictable at times. He loves that about you. “Of course, I’ll get in with you, cariño.” He chuckles, tucking a hair behind your ear. “There’s that smile I love so much. Come on, amor, I’ll carry you in.” He gets in, catching you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to get in fully clothed - but it makes you the happiest you’ve been in a while.

He gently grabs you by your waist, pulling you close to him so the feeling of the water around you is less intense. You’re feeling overwhelmed, after all - you don’t need any more unnecessary discomfort.

“Feeling okay?” He asks, kissing you softly on your lips and caressing your back gently. “Yeah. I feel great. Thank you.” “Of course, mi vida. You know you can always talk to me. Your struggles are my struggles. Your triumphs are my triumphs.” His hand finds the back of your head, pulling you in close. “I’ve got you.” He whispers before kissing you again, taking in your scent and touch. He feels so alive.

You, on the other hand, feel tranquil - you’ve been yearning for this feeling. Your body is relaxing, melting into Alejandro the longer he holds you. It’s like your bodies are colliding into one. His heartbeat matches yours, making you feel intact.

He holds a special place in your heart.

so sorry for the wait, beautiful! i hope it was worth it.

433 notes · View notes

madelynraemunson · 6 months

Text

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 015: Eddie, Do You Copy?

Learning about, understanding, and loving all parts of Eddie.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

word count: 5.8k words

disclaimers — fluff, grief, flight of icarus easter eggs bc of eddie’s mom, ANGST, talks of childhood abuse/negligence/foster care, implied domestic violence, homicide, cancer, mentions of suicide, mentions of underaged drinking/drug use if you squint, lil modern-nostaglia moment btwn eddie and the boys (as a treat ✨), erica and wayne cameo yayyy

author's note: eddie is so boyfriend in this chapter 🫠 happy holidays, you filthy animals ♥️

“I put the record on, wait till I hear our song. Every night I’m dancing with your ghost.”

♡

Your eyes accommodate the first beacon of light as thirst creeps its way into your system.

6:38 AM.

Quietly chucking the covers off, you find yourself hobbling over Eddie in attempts to get to the kitchen. You can only hope that it doesn’t wake him.

Eddie responds with a low grumble. Followed by some mumbling and flailing. And then you watch as he shifts around, doing his best to return to the state of comfort he was in before his sleep was interrupted.

But if he’s anything like you — which you know for a fact he is — his cranky self is most likely awake by now and just pretending to be unconscious to avoid early morning conversation.

To put it to the test, you press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s forehead. He smiles.

You smile to yourself. Called it.

When you get to the kitchen, you seek out Eddie’s Garfield mug for your reservoir of choice. And as it fills with water, the bedroom adjacent from his captures your attention.

Steve’s door is open. A huge indicator that he’s still not home.

Judging by the energy levels of everyone last night, you assume it’s because they were still out partying. And for Steve’s sake, a part of you hopes it’s also because he went home with somebody.

Once you’ve got your water, you sneak back into Eddie’s room, using the newfound, natural light to really study it.

You would’ve thought it was an extension of Steve’s room, not Eddie’s. Everything’s a posh navy blue, something Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in if he had been anywhere else.

But the corner of his room is more like him, decorated with vinyls and a Crosley just like your sister’s. There were records of his favorite metal bands: Sabbath and Maiden. Anthrax, Metallica, and Judas Priest. And the unsuspecting like Elvis, The Doors, and Pink Floyd. Even country — both old and new, Johnny Cash and Chris Young — followed by a wide selection of Chicago blues and bluegrass.

The rest of his personality could be found on the bulletin board sitting on his desk.

Hand soap, dryer sheets, FUCKING DO PAYROLL

Eddie’s to-do list. You let out a soft chuckle.

Familiar faces canvas the board. There’s photos of Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. A picture of him with his uncle — Young Eddie with his hair buzzed and Uncle Wayne’s a subtle gray, most likely Eddie’s doing.

There’s a photo of Steve and Eddie at a Colt’s game. Eddie and Dustin. And Eddie with Will at what looked to be a D&D convention of sorts.

But one photo catches your eye the most.

‘MOMMY & ME: LIZ + EDDIE , 1994’

His mom’s name was Liz. You graze the picture of Liz holding a baby Eddie in her arms. On her face was a dimpled smile like no other, the love-filled look in her eyes having been shielded by her thick wavy brown hair.

But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know how much she loved Eddie. You see it in how she’s holding him, gently pressed to her chest while she supports his neck, his beady brown eyes staring at her with the same amount of adoration.

It all reminds you of Mom. You’re almost certain there’s a picture of you two like that, but it’s back home with Billy… evidently a forbidden turf to trek.

At least there’s still the memory of it. But like the bond with your twin, it’s also growing to be distant.

Your eyes and tears trickle down to another picture of her on Eddie’s bulletin board.

It’s of Toddler Eddie now with Liz in what looks like a kitchen. He’s standing on her feet and, judging by the motion of the picture, is dancing along to a song that was probably playing on the stereo. Behind the two of them sat piles and piles of CDs, all of which were all of the blues.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

Eddie is behind you now. He smiles at you with a dreamy gaze, beaming at the mere fact that the two women who made him happiest could be visually processed in the same frame.

You gulp.

“Really, really pretty,” you insist. “You have her smile. A-and her hair.”

"Yeah, I look a lot like her," Eddie chuckles with a hint of pride. He grazes the photos of her in the same way you did. "She’s influenced me a lot growing up. Bet that's why my sperm donor can't stand me."

You carefully dissect his choice of words. There’s a lot of resent for Alan Munson on Eddie’s part. You don’t blame him, if what Billy discovered had been true. It’s the same reason you and him resent Dad.

Eddie fixates on the expression on your face. He knows why this is so moving for you.

“It never gets easier, does it?” he questions, hinting at your own ongoing struggle with grief.

You cross your arms and shake your head. Softly you mutter, “Never.”

You feel stupid. Eddie’s doing his best to navigate his own baggage, yet you still found a way to make it about yourself.

He pulls you close and wraps his arms tenderly around your waist. Eddie doesn’t have to say it to reassure you that your burdens are safe in his presence. You can just feel it. Two traumatized individuals understand each other in a way others can’t.

“Time just keeps going,” you speak again. “Everyone moves on and you’re kinda just…stuck in place.”

“World just keeps going. Grief doesn’t care about your plans when it blindsides you, taking you for everything you’ve got.”

You swallow hard as Eddie’s words sink into you.

Tragedy just feels so non-consensual. No one ever asks for it to happen.

You and Billy can’t even go surfing without thinking about Mom. Whenever you try you both always end up fighting. That’s why Max tends to go alone or with her own friends.

“I have to stay away from a whole genre of music because I’ll burst into tears,” you scoff in agony. “Billy and I can’t even listen to Iration without thinking of our mom.”

“Can’t listen to Muddy Waters without thinking of mine.”

You and Eddie sway in place to the tandem of your beating hearts. It’s a breath of fresh air knowing you have each other now.

After a while, he ruffles your hair and spins you around so that you can face him.

"But enough about that," Eddie attempts a smile. He rubs your shoulders and you hum in awe. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"Happiness and despair can coexist," you sniff. “Duality, remember?”

Eddie smiles. It's a you're right kind of smile. "I was yesterday years old when I learned that."

He kisses your forehead and soon you two are in the shower, rinsing up and mentally preparing for the long day of errands ahead.

You’re the first to hop out and get dressed, eager to devour a bowl of oatmeal before tackling the day.

"Hey… babe?" Eddie calls out to you from his closet.

The pet name almost sounds too natural rolling off his tongue. But then again he is the owner of a strip club, and was married for a few years before meeting you.

“Yeah?” you call back, heart skipping a beat.

“Can you make me a coffee while you’re out there?” he requests. “The usual black drip coffee with some hazelnut? Please and thank you.”

“Of course, hun.”

You can get used to this.

So you make your way back out into the living room and kitchen shortly after, practically skipping. But the person you see in the kitchen — with tired eyes and a bowl of his own oatmeal in hand — stops you in your tracks.

"Morning, Hargrove," Steve responds.

You're so dumb. You've gotta start realizing that when you sleep with one of them, the other may pop in at any minute. After all, it’s their townhouse.

As frozen in place as you are, you do your best to shoot Steve a shy little wave. Again, the look on his face indecipherable.

"Morning..." you pathetically respond.

Steve eventually grants you a wave back. He pokes around at his oatmeal while you make your way over to the fridge, your cheeks flushing a timid red as you do so.

You move in a way that seems like you were way too conscious of your actions. Even Steve notices. But he keeps trying to eat, his spoon clinking against his bowl as he intermittently clears his throat, all an attempt to fill the void of silence.

"Did you have a fun night?" you question. "You know... bar-hopping."

"Yeah, I did," he replies. "Argyle had to get cut off cuz he was being real extra with it."

"Oh geez."

"I know."

“How was Max?”

“She was fine,” Steve shrugs. “The bars use the same 21+ wristbands Hellfire does so we were able to sneak her in no problem. Chrissy made sure she got home safe. The girls were just stoked they finally got to have a carefree night.”

“That’s so good,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m so happy for them.”

“Yeah,” he nods in agreement. “I’m really happy for them too. Seems like they needed it.”

Finally, your friend decides to address the elephant in the room.

"We uhh..." he begins. "We should probably end what we have going on here. Just so no one gets hurt."

“I think that’s a smart idea too,” you mumble as you nod.

You make your way over to Steve, stunned that he doesn’t shy away from you when you invade his personal space. Instead he leans into you, opening up his lap so you can maneuver between his legs.

You know, like how friends usually talk.

“It was fun while it lasted…”

"I know. I just feel so bad..." you choke, rubbing his arm softly. "I’ve wasted your time."

"I wouldn't say that," Steve refuses, shaking his head rapidly. He touches you back, running his hand across your arm. "I've thoroughly enjoyed your company."

Eventually his hand intertwines with yours.

There’s a heaviness in the room and something tells you that Eddie is near, looming at the foot of his room so that your business with Steve remains uninterrupted. He knows there’s some dust that still needs to settle. And he will linger until it does.

"You helped me get out of a really dark place," Steve admits. "And Eds too, I'm sure."

You look back towards Eddie's room.

“It wasn’t my intention to fall for him,” you say. “It just…happened. The connection, i-it’s...”

“I know…” Steve soothes you. “Been pickin’ up on that for a while. If you think I’m blaming you, I’m not.”

Steve urges you to meet his gaze again. And when a teardrop falls from your eye, he uses his thumb to wipe it away. Tells you to stop, before he too starts crying.

"This is... a huge step for him," Steve manages a grin. “I don’t think you realize, Shy Girl.”

"Yeah, I bet," you nod. "After Isabelle..."

"Yeah, Isabelle and everything else that dude's got going on," he confirms. "This is really good for Eddie. I can tell. It’s why I think it’s best that we part ways.”

Steve eventually does cry too, but it’s a rather suppressed one. The both of you take turns wiping each other’s tears, embracing the presence of each other for just a short while longer before needing to distance yourselves indefinitely.

You’re never going to forget Steve Harrington. His charm. His integrity. His everlasting devotion to the ones he loves most, and how he’d — time and time again — go to the ends of the earth for them. A noble soul in the highest regard. A true king.

“Thank you for being so kind,” you say to him. “You made my first week in Indiana a lot less intimidating. I hope you’ll still be around.”

“Of course I’ll still be around,” Steve chuckles. “Look at our friend group. Look at where I live.”

You share a laugh with him again.

“Ain’t no getting rid of me that easy, Hargrove.”

“I can sure try though, right?”

“Now why would you do that?” he banters sarcastically, chuckling into you.

He kisses your cheek softly one last time. Finally, Eddie’s door swings open, prompting you and Steve to asunder from one another.

“RISE AND FUCKING SHINE!” Eddie announces his entrance. “Both my soul and thine.”

You get out of Eddie’s way so he can go over and hug Steve good morning. Eddie then breaks the hug with a peck on the cheek and rough slap to Steve’s ass. Steve winces but you can tell he enjoys it.

“Mwah!” Eddie cheers. “Love you, babyboy. What you got going on today?”

“Oh, just gonna work on the online biz for a bit,” Steve mumbles as he ushers his hands through some paper. “Then ’m gonna start recruiting peeps for my other new job.”

“I forgot you dropship now,” Eddie says. “How’s that going?”

“Really fucking good,” Steve smiles. “I shouldn’t count on it too much though. It’s why I also have Newby’s. Speaking of which…”

Steve hands you a flyer. You take it from his hands.

NEWBY’S COFFEE ROASTERS: Even Superheroes Need Coffee!

Steve explains to you that a new coffee shop is taking over Family Video’s old suite. The owner grows his own coffee beans and all syrups are organically made from Hawkins locals. And since they’re a Mom and Pop shop, they were really going to need some help.

“If Maxine is still looking for a job, she’s more than welcome to apply,” Steve says. “We’re gonna need baristas. And we’ll be coworkers so whenever she’s on, I can drive her to work.”

“That sounds like an awesome gig for her!” Eddie pitches in. “Free coffee for employees too, I’m guessing.”

Steve nods at Eddie’s remark.

“That’d be amazing,” you blush. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“Thank you, Stevie,” Eddie parrots you. You elbow him playfully.

“Yeah, anything for you guys. I’ll put in a good word for her to Bob. He’s the owner. Great guy.”

“And what about this owner, huh?” Eddie chimes in. “Hope you can pull some strings and snag me some of those magic beans as well. I’m gonna need it. I also don’t mind paying full price cuz it’s goin’ to Newbs.”

“T’yeah with your job? You can have all the beans you want.”

“Mm, speaking of which,” Eddie scoffs as he stares at the time on his Apple Watch. “It’s almost time.”

Steve imitates Eddie’s gesture. Your eyes dart between the two of them, confused about the context of the whole ordeal.

“What are you guys-” you begin.

“Ah, buh-buh!” Steve stops you. “Wait for it…”

You look at the time on your phone to feel some sort of involvement as well.

7:59 —> 8:00

Eddie’s phone rings.

"An everyday thing," Steve tsks, shaking his head, resuming his breakfast as he does so.

"First problem of the day," Eddie looks at you. "It’s always something with Hellfire. From the moment the day begins...Yello?"

It’s Lucas. Sinclair never really calls unless it’s a dire situation, so you listen closely, doing your best to make out what he’s saying on the other line.

"I can't come in tonight,” is what it sounds like.

"Uh, why the fuck not?" your man demands. He places a sassy hand on his hip. "We need you for front of the house."

"Erica's sick and my car is in the shop."

"I'll pay for your Uber, you're coming in."

"I think it's covid. I don't wanna spread it to anyone if l've been exposed."

"It's not fucking covid, you guys have been jabbed more times than I can count for school."

The two continue to bicker back and forth like they’re brothers. Steve excuses himself from the narrative, going over to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes.

You watch Eddie as he lights up a pre-roll, taking a frustrated drag from it while he listens to Lucas’s, probably bullshit, excuse.

Eventually there’s a scuffle on the other line. Something something, “GIMME THE DAMN PHONE” followed by a “NO” followed by a “PHONE. NOW”. Eddie’s drags from his blunt grow increasingly slower.

Then another person speaks. The voice belongs to a girl. She sounds slightly younger than Lucas. And she sounds sick. And angry.

"Listen here, Ed-NERD Alan Munson," the girl hisses sassily. " I KNOW I did not just hear you tell my brother that he is coming in even when HE TOLD YOU why he can't. It's giving desperate. It's giving exploitation of your employees. If you want my brother to come in for a half shift at your stupid gentlemen's club then you best pull up to our residence, YOURSELF, with them spicy chicken wings level Creeping. Death. My tongue? It needs to be on FIRE. My eyes? They need to be burning from the temperature and sauce. My sinuses? BOYYY, you better be-LIEVE they oughta be SO CLEAR, I could cough up a loogie, SPIT IT OUT THE WINDOW, and have it smack you RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD SO HARD you won’t even THINK about forcing my brother to do something he isn’t comfortable doing again. Keep trying me, motherfucker. THE FUCK WRONG WITCHU."

Steve is flabbergasted. Eddie's mouth is wide open. You would’ve thought Lucas’s sister was on speakerphone but she wasn’t.

You're scared of Erica Sinclair. And so is Eddie, the way his eyes widen at her spiel. If Lucas's sister ever got into a heated argument with Billy, Billy would go home crying.

“And some sweet potato fries," she adds softly. "Please. Do we have a deal?"

"At your service," Eddie deals her a salute through the phone, even though she can't see it. "Anything Applejack wants, she gets. I'll be over after my Meijer run."

"As you should, sir."

Eddie turns to you after he hangs up the phone. "Don't ever own a business."

——————— 🛒—————

“WE GROW UP AND MOVE AWAY... The seasons pass, but the monsters stay.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Hellfire is Eddie’s baby. The man lives and breathes that strip club.

As much as you’ve already harbored that suspicion, you didn’t realize his work-life balance was practically non-existent. Running errands. Frequent call-outs. Always having to prepare for the unexpected. But that’s the price one pays for owning a business. It also only seems to get harder and harder when you’re a handsome business man like Eddie, someone with the drawing power like that of a 13,000 gauss magnet.

“Mike to Munson, do you copy?”

You and Eddie have hit the road now, ready to start your errands run before your shift begins. As Eddie drives, he has you hold his phone up for him while he speaks to the boys in their group FaceTime call.

“Copy,” Eddie responds. “Thank you for covering ground, dear Paladin. It is because of you we are no longer… short staffed.”

God, they’re such dorks. You’d cringe if Eddie didn’t have the sex appeal of a Roman god.

“It’s the least I can do,” Mike insists. “Taking inventory as we speak. We need more ground chili and pop cans. Cola and Fanta, please. When you go to Meijer.”

“Done deal,” Eds nods. “Who’s doing side quests?”

“Me!” Will chimes in. “Doing silverware, stainless steel, and just helping Jonathan open up the bar.”

“Thank you, Byers-squared.”

“And I’ll sweep and do windows,” Dustin adds. “We’ll figure out the front house situation as it unfolds. Gonna be a little late. Getting gas.”

Eddie places a firm palm over your hand. He smiles at you when you look over.

“Running errands with Shy Girl, we’ll see you soon.”

“Pulling in now. Over.”

“Us too. Over.”

“Over and out, boys.”

————- 🚐———-

After your Meijer run, you and Eddie stop by CVS for Wayne’s medications and the ‘morning after’ pill. And shortly after that, you two haul ass to the other side of town to scoop up Nina.

Eddie gives the young dancer a ride to work almost every day. He also smokes her out before the shift, evident by her waltzing in stoned out of her mind all the time. It brings you peace knowing the whole story now, and that there truly is nothing more to it than that.

“Your boyfriend really needs a new car,” Eddie huffs to Nina as she climbs into the backseat. “Been telling him that shit’s on it’s last good tire.”

Figuratively and literally. The 90s Buick that you caught sight of shortly before Nina shuffled in can only be described as a lost cause. Nina knows it too, the way she scowls at the thing.

She tsks as she clicks her seatbelt in place.

“Duh, Eds. What do you think I’m saving up for?”

Eddie holds up an eighth.

“I can think of a few things,” he chuckles. “I take it you’re a fan of all things eco mode.”

“Hey, it’s 2022, of course we’re going green.”

Eddie grins. “I like how you think, sweetheart.”

Nina looks over to see who’s in the front seat. Her eyes glimmer when she realizes it’s you.

“Oh, hey Shy Girl!” she cheers.

You smile at her contently. Securely.

“Hey, Neens.”

Eddie starts up his van once again.

“Alright everyone,” he says as he shifts gears. “Hold onto something. We’re on a tight schedule so expect some Eddie Stops.”

“Not this again,” Nina mutters.

“Oh boy…” you add.

SKRRRT!

———— 🏠 ————

After dropping both Nina and the groceries off at Hellfire, you and Eddie set out to Forest Hills Trailer Park to visit his infamous Uncle Wayne.

“Wayne’s the man,” Eddie boasts as he drives on. “Taught me how to fish. Somehow taught me how to drive. Automatic and stick.”

He laughs at that one.

“Even took me out of the foster care system when I was 16. I lived in his old room for years while he took the pull-out couch in the living room.”

“Foster care?” you echo as he nods. “He was tired of you jumping from home to home?”

“Nah, I just kept running away,” Eddie cackles. “If a kid was ever in the police station for something, nine times out of 10 it was probably me. I was stressing way too many people out, Uncs probably felt bad for them.”

“But he also loves you, I bet,” you grin. “You’re his nephew, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles too. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Eddie pulls into an empty dirt road just yards from the estate. You two climb out of the van together, slamming the doors in unison.

Eddie leads you up the stairs by the hand, then uses his other one to wave at old neighbors close by.

“Hey y’all! How ya doin’?” he exclaims. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you. “Those are the Johnsons. Their sons were frequent customers of mine in high school.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Eddie waves to another pair of neighbors.

“And those are the Jacobsons. I bought their sons alcohol their senior year for homecoming. Buncha lightweights though. Wouldn’t recommend.”

“Well aren’t you a hero,” you jest.

“Hey, someone’s gotta pay the bills,” Eddie shrugs, half-jokingly. “You would think 40 years at The Plant gave you a decent insurance plan but that wasn’t the case. Had to help Wayne out for a fat minute. Still do every now and then.”

Eddie shifts closer to the door and gives it a couple knocks. He leans his head towards the doorframe, placing his lips just inches away from the chipped, painted wood.

“Wayne Munson,” Eddie bellows in his playful, deep voice. “It’s your friendly neighborhood pharmacist here. I’ve come with your percs, your piss pill, and your Motrin.”

Percocet and Motrin.

Two very strong pain killers. Hearing those names send chills down your spine. Those are the same meds Mom overdosed on when Billy found her.

But given Wayne’s circumstances, it’s not too much of a concern. According to what Eddie has told you, his uncle had just retired and is very frail. Heavy machinery and long hours can do that to someone. Just constant, chronic pain.

The door swings open and you hear Eddie greet Wayne like a grateful man would greet his dad. “Hey, Old Man! How are you?”

“Hello, there my boy. Agh, watch it. ‘s hurtin’ again.”

It didn't seem like anyone was at the door when you look over. But that was because you were looking about two feet too high.

Your eyes travel to the level at which Eddie bends down and there you see Uncle Wayne, having wheeled himself to the door to greet Eddie with a warm hug.

Oh this goes deeper than you thought.

A nose cannula. Yellow grippy socks. The wheelchair that housed his thin, fragile body. The navy blue Pacers beanie that concealed the fact that the man had very little hair.

Wayne’s face was extremely chiseled in, deeming him malnourished and underweight. The bags under his eyes that drooped heavily against his sockets took up a good portion of his face — nearly half.

You look at the place behind him. His trailer had lots of rails installed, Ensure protein shakes for adequate nutrition, and the pull out couch was set up to look like a bedroom, with a collapsible dresser right beside it that was nearly lost in a sea of orange medicine bottles.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of you.

Wayne is sick. He almost looks terminal.

It feels like the ground had opened up and swallowed you whole. Your knees feel wobbly like gelatin, but Eddie is too busy reuniting with his father figure to notice. When he turns back around, he pulls you into him, with the biggest smile on his face.

“There’s uh, someone I want you to meet,” Eddie says to Wayne, his cheeks now a deep shade of pink. “This is Shy Girl.”

“Shy Girl,” Wayne smiles the same bright smile that Eddie has. “So you’re the THEE Shy Girl that my Eddie’s been rambling to me about. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You meet Wayne where he’s at, shaking his cold hand at eye level and giving him the warmest smile you can.

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Munson.”

“Mr. Munson,” Wayne smirks cheekily. There’s a hint of who he used to be when he does that. He was most likely a firecracker just like Eddie, evident by how the two start poking at each other in a teasing manner. “Didn’t realize we were at a business meeting. In that case, we shall not waste any time. You and Eddie can come on in now, Miss Hargrove.”

Butterflies form in your stomach. You never told Wayne your last name.

And soon you’re in Wayne’s trailer, Eddie’s old home before he grew his wings and left the nest. A bittersweet energy floods the room. It only becomes more prominent when you see Eddie and Wayne holding hands as they make their way inside.

“Welcome to my office,” Wayne proceeds, carrying on with the banter. “I’ve got some tea in the cupboards, as well as some stale saltines because this one over here thinks I should watch my sodium intake. You’re more than welcome to help yourself.”

“Thank you so much,” is all you’re able to say.

“No worries, doll.”

Wayne darts his gaze back over to Eddie. “Anywho. Now that the formalities are over… son, I need to take a shit.”

The same dry humor too. You giggle and glance over at Eddie while he grimaces at Wayne in annoyance. But, since it’s not his first rodeo, he obliges, unlocking Wayne’s wheelchair to wheel him over to the commode that was concealed behind a DIY curtain.

“Did you do your exercises today?” you hear Eddie ask him.

"I tried. Got tired ‘bout halfway through.”

“What are your oxygen levels looking like?”

“Satting 88 percent without my oxygen. 93 percent on three liters.”

“That’s what we like to see. Good job, baby. I’m proud of you.”

You stand off to the side, giving Wayne as much privacy and dignity you can throughout this very intimate ordeal.

While Eddie is away with him, you keep yourself distracted with Wayne’s mug collection, as well as the array of trucker hats that decorated one of the four walls. You take a look at what’s on the TV: The Price is Right is just about to go on a commercial break. And on the coffee table rested an assortment of dated magazines, all going back to as early as 2008. Ah yes, recession core.

Within a few short moments, Eddie comes back out. You study him as he makes his way to the kitchen to wash his hands, making faces at the friendly neighborhood cats who liked to make themselves at home on the porch.

“Anyways!” Eddie exclaims. “I’m gonna start making Erica’s wings cuz we got everything here.”

He starts back over to you.

“But before I do, want me to show you my old room? It’s like a huge time capsule. Wayne hasn’t touched it since I left.”

You can barely meet his eyes. Eddie is acting way too normal about this. Or maybe you’re too dramatic.

He sees you frowning, thinking.

“…You okay?” he attempts with you.

"Eds... I didn't know," you whisper softly.

But Eddie smiles a bit. "That's okay. I initially didn't want you to know."

"How bad is it?"

"Stage 3. Lung cancer."

"How long has he had it?"

"Siiiince… March of 2020?” Eddie recalls. "We initially thought it was covid because of all the pulmonary stuff..."

He gestures around his own lungs.

"So what started out as a — rather intimate — nose swab turned into a biopsy that turned into getting a team of specialists….”

He glances over at Wayne to make sure he’s still okay.

“To having uncomfortable talks with the case worker about...exploring other options... And then to me being his full-time caregiver."

"March of 2020..." you recall. "Isn't that the same time you and Isabelle got divorced?"

"We were finalizing it..." Eddie corrects you. “But that’s neither here or there.”

“And Hellfire?”

“We were struggling for a bit not gonna lie,” Eddie chuckles. “It was during the start of covid and no one wanted to leave the house. Even when the babes were smoking hot.”

Holding up a palm, you stop him from explaining any further.

“So let me get this straight,” you state. “Your piece of shit dad UNALIVED your mom in cold blood when you were a kid, your father figure has cancer. You somehow manage to care for him full-time all while basically living at Hellfire, your business that your ex wife tried to SABOTAGE; which led to you getting arrested and released on bail up until your trial where you were then proven NOT GUILTY. But even then, your reputation still remains slightly tainted because almost everyone in Hawkins is a narrow-minded, self-righteous prick who weaponizes religion to get an upper hand? And they know you’re an easy target so that’s exactly what they did in this case, making your life and Wayne’s a living hell when it was the last thing you two needed at the time?”

“It be like that sometimes.”

Eddie flashes you a sarcastic, ‘I’m alive’ peace sign. He’s not helping.

Your heart just about shatters.

Eddie has suffered so much. But he hides it so well with his never-ending sarcasm and Munson magic.

And to think all of this — Hellfire, Wayne, and divorcing Isabelle — went down a couple years ago. He still had his childhood to sort through. If that's even plausible.

“It’s also kinda why Chrissy and I were screwing around,” Eddie adds, snapping you out of your thinking. “Apparently I was constantly depressed and she wanted to keep me distracted and all. Again, fun. But very short-lived.”

You fall into him and squeeze him tight. Eddie is almost taken aback by it. But nevertheless, he returns the favor.

"Are you alright?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you demand. "You have all of this going on and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

Oh, how lonely Eddie must’ve felt through all of this. You just want to hold him. Take away all of his pain.

It’s always the angels on earth who get sent to hell and back. Eddie deserves the world, and you’re going to go your best to give it to him.

"Are we alright?" you question him.

"Of course we're alright," Eddie insists, ruffling your hair like it’s the silliest thing you’ve ever asked him.

He pulls away from you. Rubs your back delicately as you soak in all of this new information.

“You sure you want to sign up for all of this?”

You are absolutely more than sure.

“Now why would you even ask that?” you choke. “You know my stubborn ass. I’m not backing down without a fight.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie squints. “I guess you are pretty stubborn.”

You fall into one another again, kissing each other like it’s the air you need to breathe. Eddie delicately cups your face with his hands, relishing in the last couple of smooches before he pulls away.

“I like stubborn though.”

“You and me, Eddie.”

“You and me, sweetheart.”

“Eddie!” Wayne calls, innocently interrupting the moment. “I’m done, boy, now come help me get up.”

“Comin’!” Eddie cranes his neck, shouting in Wayne’s general direction. He kisses you one more time on the forehead before excusing himself. “Be right back, babe.”

You and Eddie leave for Hellfire shortly after spending a little bit more time with Wayne.

The entire ride there, you let Eddie talk about his memories with his uncle… how he’s attended homecoming rallies, talent shows, graduations, and the less-than-celebratory court hearings — loving Eddie unconditionally through thick and thin. He was there for Eddie’s senior prom, snapping photos of him with the boys and his date Ronnie, who was also his best friend at the time.

Wayne was also there for Eddie’s wedding, even though he didn’t particularly like Isabelle. Again, every milestone, Wayne was there for.

You fawn over Eddie as he continues to talk, the spark in his eyes never leaving for as long as it’s about his loved ones. You can only hope he talks to Wayne and the others about you in the same way.

You can’t believe this is real life.

From here on out, it’s going to be you and Eddie. And you’re going to be by his side no matter what, because he’s proven to you that he is committed to doing the same.

From here on out, it’s going to be Shy Girl and Eddie… and nothing… NOTHING will ever change your mind or get in the way of that.

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