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malereader-inserts · 1 year

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Living With Ghosts

Fandom: BBC Ghost Pairing: Ghosts & Male!Reader Summary: Meet the new resident of Button House, Alison's brother: (Y/n). Word Count: 1,431

It's not the first time that the ghost saw Alison prepare the whole maniacally, but it surely was a rare sight to see Mike also faffing around the house. Alison hadn't been able to talk to them for the past two days, so they had no idea what was happening.

"Perhaps another wedding!" Kitty suggested, tightening herself and swaying at the thought of another wedding happening, "Oh, I do love weddings!"

"Nah," Julian dismisses loudly from his armchair, "They would have set it up by now, I'm hoping they're hosting some se-"

"She would never stoop to that level!" Fanny proclaimed, interrupting at the right time, Julian rolled his eyes - not even trying to argue back.

The group started to brainstorm as to why Alison was acting in this way, they were so caught up in their thinking that they completely missed out on the car that was parked outside. But, they managed to catch Alison running through the room to answer the door. The ghost all shared a look before running to catch up with her, to see who was on the other side.

"Hey!" Alison excitedly greeted, engulfing the newcomer in a hug,

"Who is this man!" Thomas gasped, his hand on his chest as he work a surprised look, "Though, I do admit he is a fine gentleman."

"You can say that again," The captain mumbled, causing him to shrink at the looks of his fellow ghost, he cleared his throat, "Alison, who is this man?"

But, she ignored them as she pulls out of the hug. She looks at you, examining you as she playfully messes up your hair.

"God, I've missed you (Y/n), come in! Mike has tea ready for us."

"Oh good," You softly say, the ghosts were taken aback by your voice. It was like a low rumble, but it was gentle, "I'm starving."

Alison ushered you along before giving the ghost a pointed look, the ghosts ignored her look and followed her along, asking questions about you and how she knows you.

"Just through there, I'll be in there in a minute," Alison says before closing the door and sharply turning to the ghosts. She lowers her voice so you couldn't hear her behind the door, "Guys, what is it?"

All at once the ghost starts their questions before Alison gives them a pointed look, they shut up, glancing at each other before one of them musters up the courage to ask her questions.

"Who is that?" Pat finally says as Alison sighs then smile, "You're awfully close to him."

"That's my brother (Y/n), he'll be living in the button house."

"Why?" Robin asked as Alison looked like she was at her wit's end, she looks over to the rest of the ghosts, who were just as annoyed that there will be another habitant.

"Look, I'll tell you later, just don't-"

Alison comes into the kitchen to see you and Mike conversing. The ghost all followed her in, watching you. They all seem to have the same plan to see if you were worth living in the same space as them - despite not seeing them.

Dinner went well, Alison had opened a bottle for your arrival and it was lovely to see her again. You missed your sister as you decided to move out of the country to start your business, you had made enough money that you could return home and continue your business out of the country. Alison begged you to stay in the Button House, as it was big enough to have two growing families. With your money, you and Alison had come up with a plan to renovate the whole place as you would do anything to make her happy.

You knew that Alison inherited the house as you were also informed about it, but as you were out of the country, you couldn't take the house. You were thrilled to hear that Alison took it up. She would update you on her life through messages, calls and emails. After a while, you started sending her money to fix up the place, but she would always return the money.

"Ali, you're my only family," You poked her, as she rolls her eyes, "I'm glad you can get to renovate it to your heart's content."

"He's rich?" Fanny proclaimed, before stomping towards Alison, "You're renovating the house?"

"Well, it's your money, but, I want your input. It's just as important as ours, seeing you're living here too!" Alison hummed, as Mike gives her a look, "What?"

"You'll have to get the ghosts' input as well," Mike reminded her as she smacks his arm, "Ow!"

"Ghosts?"

Alison sighed as if she had been defeated as she turns to look over to you, as you raised your eyebrow in amusement. She looked around the kitchen, looking at the ghost around her.

"It's an old house and would you believe me that I could see them?" Alison says as you silently look at her, "I know, I might sound insane, but there are ghosts that live here as well, and they all have their own rooms."

You looked at her silently, she was fearing your answer - if you had one. But, the ghosts looked at each other, and all wanted to crowd around you as if you could even feel their presence.

"Well," You cleared your throat, "Could you tell the caveman to stop looking at me, he's been breathing down my neck since we started eating."

Robin almost screamed at you, before Alison almost reached across the table for answers. But, you look unphased as you drank the last of your wine, you reach out to grab the bottle but your sister grabs your wrists.

"You can see them?"

"From the moment you opened the door," You answered honestly, "And I can hear them as well, I must say, The Captain - is it? He has a lovely voice to listen to."

"Oh! Why thank you," If he could he would blush at your compliment, "You would make a rather great soldier."

You chuckled to yourself to hear him reply to you, and Mike looked at his wife and brother-in-law as if they were mental.

"And I heard every little question they had, whilst you were showing me the way to the kitchen," You continue as Alison releases you, allowing you to pour yourself another glass of wine, "I managed to catch all their names - what a funny bunch of ghosts, I might add."

She sighs before her eyebrow raised inquisitively, "How are you so calm about seeing ghosts?"

"Ali, no offence, but you're a bit dense," You joked, leaning back on the kitchen chair, "Remember that near-death experience I had when we were little? And since then, I've been telling you I could see ghosts and like interact with them-"

"I thought you were joking," Alison softly lets out a breath, before a fire started in her eyes, "That means you can talk to them as well! This is great!"

"Is it?" The ghosts all spoke in unison in confusion.

"You can talk to them and we can get all their input about the renovation, plus, you'll start to like their little quirks. I would tell you all about them, but I guess you can ask them yourself."

You nodded, clearing your throat, "Yeah, well, I'm staying for...well, forever, I guess I have all the time in the world to ask them about their lives."

"He's nice," Pat concluded, the ghost was having one last meeting before retreating to bed, "I like him."

"He has lovely eyes," The captain slipped out before quickly saying, "I like his presence, I think it is smashing that we have another person to talk to."

"Well, I think I get dibs on talking to him tomorrow," Thomas announced, as the bickering started once more.

Behind the door, you stood there with a small smile on your face. You thought you were an intruder when you agreed to live with Alison and Mike, but you felt yourself relax. Knowing that you weren't an intruder if there were ghosts around.

You went off to your new room, thinking about who you wanted to talk to first - The Captain had a lovely voice but Humphrey does seem to have an interesting background, Pat reminded you of your own dad - which you have missed since his passing so you think he could happily be your first conversation of tomorrow.

You go to sleep cheerfully, knowing there were nine ghosts who were ready to get to know you.

#bbc ghosts x male reader #bbc ghosts #pat butcher x male reader #julian fawcett x male reader #bbc kitty x male reader #fanny button x male reader #thomas thorne x male reader #bbc captain x male reader #bbc robin x male reader #bbc humphrey x male reader #bbc mary x male reader #x male reader #platonic

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alternativefriend · 23 days

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Okay, someone didn't tell me how good Ghosts is. I'm not even kidding, I forced my mum to watch all of Season 1 with me last night. And also, WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE THOMAS THORNE/READER FICS ON AO3??? I'VE READ ALL BUT TWO BECAUSE THEY WERE OF MULTIPLE CHARACTERS???? HELP??? I NEED MORE!!

#bbc ghosts #ghosts #thomas thorne #thomas thorne x reader #the captain #fanny button #robin #julian fawcett #mary #humphrey bone #kitty #allison cooper #mike cooper #is that his name?#i think it is #i dont know anymore

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begginmonty · 2 years

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being alison's younger sister and seeing the ghosts:

(this is a fem!reader but lmk if you want gender neutral stuff too, also this is rlly long sorry i got so carried away)

(what event that led you to die for a bit and come back alive is up to you - car crash, falling over etc)

seeing ghosts is something that you’ve always dealt with ever since the accident but you've never told anyone, in a fear of being seen as unfit or crazy, y’know? so you’ve always kept it to yourself

and that is until you move into alison and mike’s big home after some money troubles (which you’re ever so thankful for) and as soon as you get out the car you see a group of people from different ages behind alison in the doorway

you’re trying ever so hard to ignore them when seeing alison again and her welcoming you in, but it kinda slips when you look towards thomas who has made some sort of romantic comment towards you and both alison and you look to him but alison catches you and is like ?!??!?!

“y-you can see them too?” alison asks and you really don't know what to say, there’s a silence before you just nod and you’re like “yeah. yeah i-i can, yeah” and then you explain everything to her and she tells you her story

when mike finds out you can see the ghosts too, man poor guy feels so left out and is like this is so unfair :((

a week or so pasts and now everyone knows each other and you’re all friends :D

alison is now happy and more comfortable as thomas no longer directs his comments to alison but now you, which you really don't mind at all and sometimes you’re honestly quite flattered

the captain quickly becomes one your best friends and he likes to be around you a lot as you listen to him and all his war stories and never shut him out, you enjoy his company and he really loves your company (he will never admit it though) but he feels comfortable around you

you like to go on walks around the grounds with him and just listen to him speak about whatever and such, just enjoying his company. you know he’s got a lot of feelings all bundled up inside and you catch onto his secret quickly, you let him know you’re always there for him if he needs

you always join in on the ghosts meetings or the talks they have set up for everyone - kitty always makes sure you sit next to her

kitty loves you a lot - often when doing your makeup or painting your nails you ask kitty what colour goes best and sometimes you even pretend to paint her nails or do her makeup telling her how beautiful she looks

people dont include humphrey a lot but whenever you do find his head you talk to him for a while and ask if you can do anything for him. sometimes you wish you could pick him up and carry him around, and keep him company more but you can't :( but he always appreciates when you sit with him for a bit

one night you find him on the roof and so you sit with him for a bit, looking at the stars and just telling him about your day and such

there’s one night where you are just having a horrible day feeling horrible about yourself and the way you look, and you’re sat staring into yourself in your vanity mirror. you’re a bit teary and just pulling yourself apart and thomas is suddenly in the doorway, and he’s like “if i may, have i told you how beautiful you are today, my dear y/n?”

and instead of jokingly telling him to go away, you smile at him, speaking softly “thanks thomas” he smiles back at you before walking off again.

but you quickly get out of the seat and rush to the corridor, “thomas” and he stops walking, his hands behind his back and looks at you before you walk closer to him, “i’d…i’d like to hear more from your poetry i-if you don't mind”

you two spend the next hour or so walking, just listening to thomas speak and the other ghosts just kinda look on at you two and are like aweeee:(( (my heart)

falling in love with ghosts is really a not a good idea

that time where alison and mike host a party and you are all completely drunk out of your mind, and even the ghosts are dancing with everyone, well just beware because julian will be dancing with you - mostly behind you but perhaps you don't hate that.. : )

whenever you come home from work, everyone is always excited to see you and they each wanna tell you about their day etc

alison and mike go on holiday just for a week, as an anniversary gift from you, so you’re basically left to babysit everyone for the week

its an interesting week, robin nearly burns the house down, you all lose humphrey (both his head and body) for a few days and cant find him, pat hosts a song competition,,, and well one ghosts proclaims their love for you and somehow tries to kiss you well yeah we can all guess probably who

fanny often complains about your outfits and how short some your skirts or whatever are and she just follows you around the house and is like, “THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE! NO ONE SHOULD SEE A LADIES ANKLES!”

and your simply just trying to make a cup of tea, and alison gives you a sympathetic look as fanny is following your every move

the only ghost who doesn't mind you swearing is julian. sometimes his tory-ass will annoy you and you just give him the finger and tell him to f off, and he either laughs at you or is like “what did i do?”

the ghosts all support you in whatever hobby you have and always end up distracting you and asking you questions about it

and basically these guys are your best friends :))

if u want a part two let me know! or any request ideas for any ghosts i am down!! <3

#bbc ghosts x reader #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts imagine #thomas thorne x reader #julian fawcett x reader #thomas thorne #julian fawcett #fanny button #lady button #the captain #pat butcher #pat butcher x reader #the captain x reader #alison cooper x reader #mike cooper x reader

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 3 months

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Run away with me.

Jack Dawkins x fem reader light smut.

Jack looked at you standing in his doorway, your elaborate dress looking so out of place in his tiny room. You were breathing heavily, a thin layer of sweat causing your skin to glow in the low lamp light. You put down a large carpet bag by the door.

"y/n, what is it? Has something happened?" Jack asks leaping from his bed. You shake your head.

"Where is Fagin?" You ask in a quiet voice.

"Out, drinking I think." He says. You nod, take a step forward and close the door behind you.

"Are you okay?" Jack asks again.

"I was at dinner, with my parents. There were several men there. Lady Fanny said it was because my mother wants to marry me off." You say.

Jack nods, confused.

"I looked at them all and I felt....I couldn't speak to any of them without comparing them to you." You admit.

"to me?" Jack smiles, he takes a step forward, "Your mother hates that you spend time with me." He reminds you. You can't stop the laugh that comes out of you.

"I know, but I don't care. I don't care about any of them, if you-" you cut yourself off, suddenly feeling doubt in your choices. Sensing it Jack closes the space between you, lifting your hands into his.

"I have been waiting to say this to you and I suppose now is the right time. Y/n from the moment you came barreling into this hospital I have been consumed by you. I think about you all day, wondering what you are doing, who you are speaking to. You are the thoughts before I sleep and the content of my dreams. You have bewitched me." He admits.

"I feel the same." You say smiling. Jack brings his lips to yours. The kiss is gentle, like he is frightened you might dissolve into the air. Your hands curl around his waistcoat lapels and you bring him closer to you. With precise movements Jack turns you and guides you back toward the bed, his lips never leaving yours.

"Jack, I-" you whisper, pulling back from his just a little.

"We can stop, at any moment if you're uncomfortable I'll stop." He says, one hand cupping your jawline. You nod and he continues the kiss. Using your nervous fingers you unbutton the blue waistcoat, pushing it off his shoulders. Jack shrugs his suspenders off so they drop down around his hips, his trousers dropping slightly. His tongue comes out a little to lick his lips before he too unbuttons your bodice. The tiny buttons seem to go on forever until he is able to toss your bodice to the ground. You drop your skirt and petticoats stepping out of them. Jack's hand takes your waist and pulls you back to a kiss. Blindly he unclips your corset, letting it join the pile of discarded clothing. His hand comes up to cup your breast, squeezing lightly. You sigh.

Jack lays you back on the bed, removing his breeches and lying beside you, half hovering over your body. He looks into your y/e/c eyes and has to remind himself to breathe.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, nose nudging your own. You nod.

"Yes." You whisper and bring him back down to you. Jack had not been this nervous since his first time with a woman. He tentatively ran his hand down your body, sliding his hand below your Bloomers to your core. The Doctor looks to you, silently asking for permission once more, you nod and he slips a finger between your folds. It was a sensation you had never felt before. His fingers worked in and around you. Your body arched and jolted involuntarily. Jack captured your moans in his kisses, easing you through your orgasim.

"Jack, I want you." You say holding him to you. Jack fully undressed you both before moving back over you and settling between your legs. He stroked his penis in his hand a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

"If it hurts or you feel uncomfortable, I'll stop." He breathes out. He pushes his tip into you and you feel the stretch. Jack's hand moves to hold yours as he slowly sinks into you. The stretch is delicious, making you feel full. Jack's breath is shallow.in your ear as he begins to move inside you.

Sure you had adjusted to his size and movements Jack kissed you once more.

"I'm going to move faster now, okay?" He says to you and you nod your head. The feeling of his body moving against yours and the rhythmic motions of his pelvis had your muscles clenching around him.

"Oh god." His grunted, biting his head into your shoulder as his movements became sloppy, chasing his own end. His kisses you hard as he spilled himself inside you before collapsing above you. His body weight pressing onto.

"wow." You say between panted breathes. Jack agreed and slid out of you to lay beside you and pull the blanket over you both.

"Jack, I have a lot of money., I have a thousand pounds in my bag." You say, your head resting on his shoulder and his fingers tracing circles on your arm.

"I'm aware." He laughs.

"I know you have made a life here, in Port Victory but would you run away with me?" You ask. Jack freezes.

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"America? There are new towns popping up all over the place. We could set up an office, your own office."

Jack moves himself so he can look into your eyes.

"Are you serious about this?" He searches your eyes and you nod. "We will have to take Fagin." He smiles at you.

"Of course." You giggle as he settles himself back beside you. How is it his life continues to get better? Now he had you, fully and he didn't plan on ever letting you go

"All you have to do is pack and we can be gone, before my parents get to the desert."

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader #jack dawkins #the artful dodger x reader #the artful dodger #thomas brodie sangster

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thatgordongirl · 1 year

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My BBC Ghosts Fanfics

Oneshot Collections -

Easter Oneshots

Christmas Oneshots

Spooktober Oneshots

WIPs -

Never Anything Quite So Special (3/4)- Fanny’s son returns to Button House as a ghost

If I Lived There (2/8) - Pat and Julian survive and meet as living people

This Whole Time - Captain has a flask on him, cue boys night

A Rainbow (6/8)- The ghosts as the colours of Kitty’s rainbow

Everybody Talks (1/4) - Captain starts to see Julian in a different light, leading to conflicting feelings

Patcap -

You Matter To Me - Captain has an existential crisis, Pat tries to make him feel better

Loverman (Oh Where Can You Be?) - Captain builds up the courage to tell Pat how he feels

1944-Lieutenant Butcher - Pat goes back in time to 1944, being assigned to the Captain

Paper Butterflies - Alison introduces the group to a therapy technique

Capulian -

Thank You For Being A Friend - Julian is gloomy on his death day, Captain sympathises

Keep Me Safe - Julian helps Captain cope with PTSD

Couldn’t Escape If I Wanted To - Alison had another party, so Julian distracts Captain

You Are The Best Thing That’s Ever Been Mine - Captain and Julian have an emotional affair

Things I Would (Could) Never Do - Captain meets an alive Julian Fawcett, he’s not impressed

I Get A Little Bit Genghis Khan - Julian and Cap get into an interesting routine

Indulgence - Captain & Julian and Captain & Pat

War Poetry -

Alone Again - Captain comforts Thomas during a difficult time

Our Little Secret - Thomas is more observant than the others know

No Man Left Unconcealed - The ghosts decide to play hide and seek, Thomas and Captain end up stuck together

De-Cap-itation

The Perfect View - Humphrey and Cap meet up for the night guard

Multiple ships/No pairings/One off pairings -

Hopelessly Devoted To You - Thomas/Isabelle, Humphrey/Sophie, Julian/Margot, Pat/Carol and Captain/Havers

Captain x Multiple -

Ghostly Support - Pat/Captain, Thomas/Captain, Captain/Julian, Humphrey/Captain and Robin/Captain

Thomas-centric -

What Writing Can Do - Thomas reflects on the importance of his profession

Reader Insert -

Families Aren’t Always Blood - Teen reader insert can see the ghosts

Pat/Carol -

Love Is Like - Pat/Carol

Theodore-centric -

When Soft Voices Die - Captain’s great nephew decides to learn more about his heritage

Multiple -

In Case You Don’t Last Forever - Daley & Pat, Pat/Captain, Captain/Havers, Julian/Robin, Isabelle/Thomas

It Was Funny - Captain & Fanny & Robin & Humphrey

Fanny & Stephen Button centric -

She Used To Be Mine - Fanny teaches Alison how to dance

Rachel & Margot Fawcett centric -

We Go To The Stars - Rachel and Alison have a talk on the roof

I’m Sorry For Your Loss - Margot and her relationship with death

In Nature Nothing Exists Alone - Rachel relates to plants more than people

Informality Of Family - Cap’s great nephew Theodore and Rachel Fawcett meet

The Joker And The Queen - Theodore gets shot and Rachel goes to comfort him

Nobody Else (But You) - Some good Rachel and Theo bonding

Forget - Rachel and Daley have a midnight conversation

New Year’s Kisses - Pat/Captain, Pat/Julian, Julian/Margot and Daley & Rachel

Exceptions - Rachel doesn’t like most people

#bbc ghosts fics #bbc ghosts

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soft-for-them · 1 year

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As warm as a dead man can be - The Captain x male reader

Summary: A small look into the life of you and the Captain.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/N: One of my favourite gay Ben Willbond characters, which there's a lot of...

It took a few decades to get over your own death, to come to terms with the fact that you’re forever stuck in the same house where you died, giant bleeding gash in your abdomen and outfit never changing.

Though through all it he’s been there.

At first he’d check in on you, minding not to stand too close, his posture stiff but his eyes shaped like hearts. He would watch on as you entertained Kitty, the young woman becoming a sister to you, his heart swelling with pure love he hadn’t felt since Havers, his hands itching to be held.

Then the check ins evolved into him sitting next to you whilst you stared off into space, the early nineties being the hardest for you because the sudden realisation that you’d never age another year age had dawned upon you. He’d sit close, sometime he’d tell a story to quell your nerves, other times he’d allow you to talk about the seventies and the hippy movement, about passed lovers, how for just a moment you felt a part of something bigger. However, one day when the skies cried out heavy thunderous rain, the other ghosts hidden away and quiet, you had flung your arms around him in the tightest hug.

Those hugs became frequent when eyes weren’t watching, your fingers always touching him when you walked passed and you'd always aligning the lapels of his uniform just to be close.

The Captain likes that you’re a very touchy person. Maybe it’s because he can't touch anything else with his hands, that the only thing that he can feel are the cold dead skin of the other ghosts.

The Captain loves to watch you dance with Kitty, the young woman always begging you to teach her disco dance moves, either that or she’s dragging you about the house like a hyper little child pointing at everything like she’s never seen it before. Just imagine the sight, you dressed in your flared jeans, cowboy boots and white shirt (not minding the blood stains) being twirled around by Kitty, your eyes catching the Captain’s with every spin, a giant smile on your face.

You’d get the courage to steal kisses from him years later. The first time it happened it must have been two thousand and four in late afternoon, you both were sitting outside watching the clouds in silence when all the sudden you leaned over, peck him on the cheek followed by fleeing.

The Captain had sat in the same place red faced for a half hour before Fanny came around disturbing the peace.

That very same day the Captain had the courage to ask for another kiss, for he was too shy to do it himself, which you did. Then you did it again. And again, and- well you get the picture.

His hands are as warm as a dead man could be, his fingers intertwined with yours as you relax in a quiet corner of the house. His jacket if off, though he can’t go far without it for it is a part of what he died in. Your hands are warm and so connected to his that they refuse to let go.

Pat would have described your hands like a stubborn knot that could only be untied by the best of knot tiers.

Your face leans on the Captain shoulder, his cheek pressed in the short crop of your hair, the seventies style jostled by the occasional kiss.

The radio plays in the background, radio four playing for it’s the best compromise between your music tastes, the long talking of the presenters lulling in the background almost like the two of you have left Button house and are sat in a nice café or park.

“It’s a nice day today.” you say as your eyes trail to the small window overlooking the large back garden, the radio mixed with the birds songs calming you down from morning filled with disorganised chaos and too many dead bodies.

“It is indeed.” he replies as you nestle into his shoulder some more.

“My Captain how I wish to stay like this forever.” you whisper as you take you other hand and cup his face, your fingers moving across his jaw.

The Captain happily hums almost like a purr, a thing he only really does around you, his body sinking closer to yours.

“Let’s stay here until the sun sets and everyone lays down to sleep.” you carry on.

“I would stay here forever if it was here with you.” Captain whispers, his voice so quiet that you almost miss it.

You smile and snuggle closer, the sun yet to set.

#not proof read #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts x reader #ghost x reader #the captain #bbc ghosts the captain #the captain x reader #male reader #x male reader

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dragoneye01 · 2 years

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What’s Your Problem?

Lemon x Reader, ft. platonic!Tangerine and reader

Word Count: 2,062

Summary: Tangerine never approved of your relationship with Lemon and the tension is getting unbearable.

Warnings: Angst

Your hands were littered with cuts and gashes from the window you had punched in. It was the only course of action that made sense at the time, since you were pushed in a corner and did not immediately see the door. You felt a little silly now, thinking about it.

Lemon was gentle, washing your hands in the sink of the dingy motel you had found, his brother sitting in the other room. Lemon held your hands under the water, his fingers gently rubbing soap into the cuts, making you take a sharp inhale. The pain wasn’t anything new, but it still made you flinch. Lemon didn’t, though. He continued to wash your hands until the dried blood disappeared down the drain. When all that was left were the cuts, Lemon dried off your hands with a mildew-smelling rag. He held your hand out lightly and dabbed it dry, then did the other one.

After the cleaning, he led you into the one room that you rented, sitting you on the edge of the bed and pulling out a first aid kit.

“You didn’t see the door?” He tried to tease softly.

“No, but I saw that window and it looked so vulnerable. You know how I get with vulnerable things.” You joked back. Lemon laughed lightly, nodding his head. He started to dab healing cream all over your hands and then wrapped them in bandages.

“Oh, I do know how you get. I vividly remember you trying to throw me around the first time we-” You shushed Lemon quickly, eyeing his brother who sat on the other bed. Tangerine rolled his eyes, like he was sick of you.

“Shhh, let’s not talk about that right now.” Your face heated up. “Just wait until we’re like alone or something.”

Lemon shrugged with a smirk on his face. He patted your hands, placing a kiss on the bandages before standing up.

“I need a shower.” He huffed, stretching his limbs. “I’ll be back.” Lemon eyed his brother warily, then headed to the only bathroom. You gulped when the door clicked shut, finding yourself alone with Tangerine.

Ever since you and Lemon started dating, Tangerine did not approve. He had said you were more trouble than you were worth. You were clumsy and a liability on their jobs. Lemon always fought these accusations, defending you, but. . . you could still feel the tension when you were left alone with Tangerine.

The room was enveloped in a very uncomfortable silence as you both sat facing forward, not looking at each other. Tangerine got up, not saying a word. He walked over the dresser, pulling over the first aid kit and starting to clean off his own wounds. He didn’t have much, except a nasty gash on his arm. He was about to put a bandaid on it when you spoke up.

“Do you mind if I take a look at that?” You said, gesturing to the gash. Tangerine turned to look at you and scoffed.

“What’s the point?”

“It’s deep. I think you need stitches.” You tried to keep calm. Tangerine had a way of pushing your buttons and undermining you, which only made you angry.

“Stitches? I’ll be fine. It just needs a wrap.” Tangerine shook his head.

“I can stitch it up.” You pressed. “I do it for Lemon all the time. C’mon, you don’t want something like that to get infected.”

Tangerine narrowed his eyes, looking between you and the bloody gash on his arm. It was his forearm, too, and he hated to admit that it hurt like a bitch.

“Fine.” He sighed in aggravation. “Hurry up and do it, then.” He sat on the edge of his bed, directly across from you, your knees bumping awkwardly. You grabbed your fanny pack and pulled out a needle and thread, some neosporin, tissues, and a bottle of water. Taking a breath, you poured the water on a rag and started to clean the cut. Tangerine winced at the pain, watching your actions like a hawk.

“I know you don’t like me.” You said after a moment of awkward silence.

“Really?” He said sarcastically. “What made you think that?”

“It’s pretty obvious.” You deadpanned, wiping up his arm. Before you continued, you carefully took off his watch and gently took off his rings. Tangerine grimaced at the feeling of your fingers on him like this. It reminded him of spiders.

“No, I don’t like you.” He admitted.

“This might hurt.” You said quickly, putting on the neosporin. His reaction was immediate.

“Fuck, you shit!” Tangerine tensed as you started to clean out the cut. “Jesus, what the fuck? That stings.”

“I warned you.” You shrugged. “I get that you don’t like me. I get it, I get it, I get it, but I don’t understand it.” Your shoulders shook as you started to thread the needle.

“You don’t understand it?” Tangerine hissed, leaning forward. His head almost butted into yours, but you backed up a bit.

“No, I don’t, I-”

“Lemon means the fucking world to me. He’s all I have.” Tangerine snarled.

“So, what? You’re afraid I’m stealing him from you?”

“What? No! He can date or fuck whoever he wants. You. . .” He trailed off. “You. . . you make him so fucking happy and if you were to hurt him, he’d break.” Tangerine growled.

“I have no intention of breaking him.” You shot back. Before Tangerine could make you angrier, you gripped his arm like a vice and started to stitch up the gash. Tangerine watched you.

“What then? You gonna get married?” Tangerine said mockingly. “Have kids and live it up and retire in some cottage?”

“Believe it or not, we’ve had this discussion already. We both don’t want kids and we both don’t want to get married.” You grimaced, focusing intently on the stitches so they wouldn’t turn out crooked.

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Tangerine laughed harshly. You threw your head up to look him in the eyes and he faltered. Tears were in your eyes. He had never seen you cry. Not when you killed someone, never from getting hurt, never from people screaming and yelling at you.

“I love Lemon.” You took a shaky breath. You pulled away from Tangerine and pulled something out of your jacket pocket. It was a crumpled up notebook paper with a shitty drawing of a Thomas character.

“He gave this to me when we first met. Lemon said I reminded him of Percy and that he didn’t have a sticker, so he drew him for me.” Your voice had a sting to it that made Tangerine gulp.

“Lemon doesn’t know how to sew, so I fix his shirts and pants for him when he sleeps.” You smiled acidly.

“I don’t want to get married because it’s too much paperwork, but I have no intention of leaving no matter how mean you are to me. And I don’t like kids! I don’t want kids! Even if I wanted them I couldn’t because I got shot years ago and I’m sterile now because of it. Guess what? Yeah, I tried to throw Lemon around the first time we had sex! I was nervous and it was my first fucking time, so I got goofy! And he thought I was funny and cute and didn’t care! I fucking love him and his quirks and I love listening to him talk and I love hearing him snore! It lulls me to fucking sleep. I love Lemon so much that I put up with slander from his fucking asshole of a brother.” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep from screaming. Tangerine was totally taken aback. He was staring at you with his mouth gaping open. Tears were falling over your cheeks now and you wiped them away angrily.

“I don’t care that you don’t like me, ok? But I hate that you think I’m someone I’m not.” You growled, pushing his knees to the side and storming off. You slammed the door to the motel behind you.

“What the fuck is all this ruckus?” Lemon comes out of the bathroom, wearing slightly cleaner clothes and wiping his face. Tangerine pales.

“I think I was just an asshole to the wrong person.” He admitted.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Lemon asked, looking around.

“She just. . . she’s just getting a snack. I’ll walk her back.” Tangerine jumped up, running out the door. Lemon watched him go, sighing into his towel.

Tangerine ran down the block, seeing you walking fast. Geez, you walked fucking fast.

“(Y/n), wait.” Tangerine called. He came up right behind you and snatched your arm, pulling you back.

“Don’t run off.” He said gruffly.

“I’m not doing this right now.” You grunted, trying to pull your arm back. Tangerine had a solid grip, pulling you back.

“Listen to me-!”

“Hey, what are you doing there, pal?” You didn’t even see the three guys who had crossed the street when they saw the tussle.

“Nothing that’s any of your fucking business.” Tangerine said, running a hand through his hair.

“I think you’re harassing this person, you ass.” The head guy argued.

“Piss off.” You growled at him.

“C’mon, love, leave this guy.” The man reached for your hand and pulled. You hissed at your bandaged hand being pulled. Tangerine took one step and knocked the guy down with his fist.

“Don’t you fucking touch them.” Tangerine snarled. “Don’t you fucking talk to them. Don’t you fucking look at them.” He came between you and the three guys, well, two plus one on the ground.

“You’re the one that was bothering-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. Say another word and you’ll wish my friend here would hold me the fuck back.” Tangerine threatened angrily. You grabbed his good arm, pulling him back.

“Tange, let’s go back to the motel.” You said between gritted teeth.

“What a cunt.” One of the guys muttered.

“On second thought-” You let go of Tangerine’s arm. He leapt forward, throwing punches and kicks like a wild animal. One of the guys was about to grab at Tangerine’s long legs but you gave him a swift kick to the face. The fight lasted maybe three minutes, but by the end of it, the guys were on the ground.

Tangerine wrapped a brotherly arm around your shoulder, steering you back towards the motel.

“Nobody calls them a cunt but me.” Tangerine spat. You laughed loudly, hitting his chest with your hand. On the walk back. Tangerine apologized.

“I’m sorry about how I’ve treated you. I didn’t know you cared so much about Lemon.” He admitted. You took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh.

“If I had a brother, I’d act the same way. I mean, you’re a massive asshole, but I understand now. You were looking out for your brother.” You said.

“Don’t make excuses for me. I was an asshole. And I’m sorry.” You stopped right in front of the motel room.

“It means a lot to me that you’d say that.”

“Why don’t you redo my stitches and we’ll start over, hopefully on the right foot?” Tangerine offered. You laughed lightly.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“You know, I’ve never had a sister.” Tangerine mused.

“I’ve never had a brother.” You added.

“Is anyone gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?” The door swung open and Lemon stood in the doorway, staring between you and his brother. You lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his waist. Lemon glanced at Tangerine, then enveloped you in a hug.

“Hey, love, what’s up?” Lemon asked.

“I’ll tell you about it later, yeah?” You smiled. “I have to restitch Tangerine’s arm back together before he loses it.”

“We can reuse this fucking string that’s hanging out of my fucking arm.” Tangerine teased. Lemon looked between the two of you, confused by how playful you were being.

“Is there something I should know about?” He asked warily.

“We just had a heart to heart is all.” You shrugged. “I’m happy to add a brother to my family.” Lemon quirked a brow at Tangerine, who shrugged.

“Well, isn’t your circle growing?” Lemon teased, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and walking you back into the motel. Tangerine smiled and shook his head, walking in and closing the door behind him.

#my writing #bullet train #bullet train imagine #lemon bullet train #lemon and tangerine #lemon x reader #lemon imagine

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multifandomfix · 1 year

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Fanny Button Fluff Alphabet

A = Aroma (What do they smell like?)

Fanny smells like antique lace and old book pages.

B = Babe (What would they use as pet names? Do they use them a lot?)

She’s not overly big on pet names. She much prefers using your given name, but she’s not averse to calling you ‘dear’.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Fanny would be a little hesitant to cuddle at first, since she’s not used to that sort of affection, but she would grow quite fond of it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? What would they think about living together?)

As long as she’s the lady of the house and can keep it running how she likes, then she’s perfectly agreeable to settling down and living together.

E = Emotion (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Fanny mostly shows her affection in her words. Her love language is definitely words of affirmation and praise is the highest honor she can bestow.

F = Flirt (How do they flirt? Are they smooth or awkward?)

She’s not very good at flirting. Most of it actually goes right over her head. Her way of flirting is just being an attentive listener and genuinely caring about what you have to say.

G = Gifts (Are they a gift giver? What kind of gifts do they give?)

She’s not much of a gift giver, but she does like to give those traditional anniversary gifts that represent the years, like paper for the first, etc.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She didn’t think herself much of a hugger, but she warms to them rather more easily than she expected. She’s not the best hugger out there, but it’s enough that she tries.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes a while. You really have to work for that ‘I love you’ from Fanny. Her heart takes its own time in growing fond enough for you for that.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

When jealous, Fanny gets flustered, unsure of herself. Usually very eloquent in her speech, her feelings make bet fumble over her words.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

Fanny’s kisses are generally on the soft and sweet side. She doesn’t like to linger too long on your lips, especially if there’s any probability of being caught, but she is quite enamored with both the giving and receiving of cheek kisses.

L = Little ones (How are they around children? Would they want some of their own?)

She’s not all that fond of children. She’s not awful with them, but she’d rather put that part of her life in the past.

M = Meet (How did they meet you?)

When you came to Button House for a tour. You’d seen her from the window and weren’t scared to approach her.

N = Nurture (Are they good at taking care of you if you’re hurt/sick?)

Fanny makes for an adequate caretaker. She may not be the most doting, but rest assured she gets you what you need to feel better as soon as possible.

O = Out (What’s a typical date night with them like?)

A homemade candlelit dinner is what Fanny considers a perfect date night. Pleasant conversation with some light music in the background.

P = Propose (When do you/they propose? How does the proposal go?)

It’s really not a grand thing with Fanny. One day you just start referring to her as your wife. It’s easy enough and when she hears it, she doesn’t correct you.

Q = Quirk (What small habit/feature/quirk do they have that you find especially endearing?)

The faces she makes. They’re all so cute that you can’t help but smile every time she pulls a face at something or someone.

R = Routine (What does a typical day together look like? Routines, schedules, habits?)

Quiet, orderly. You may take to part of the house to read or watch the television for part of the day, go your separate ways to do whatever it is that was usual for you and come back together over dinner to talk about your days.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

She’s a little protective, but she’s not likely to admit to it. She treasures you and your genuine love for her so she’d definitely want to protect that.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, etc?)

A decent amount. She knows it’ll just exhaust her and disappoint her own high expectations if she tries too hard and it falls flat.

U = Unique (What’s something they’d only do for you?)

Scare people. She hates the expectation of being a ghost and scaring people, but if someone has bothered you, she’ll make an exception to frighten the daylights out of them.

V = Vulnerable (How long does it take them to feel comfortable being vulnerable around you?)

It takes a good long while for Fanny to be comfortable letting you see the less prim and proper version of herself to the woman she really is underneath it all.

W = Wardrobe (What would they wear to impress you?)

Being stuck in the same dress doesn’t give her any options, but you love her look anyway. Though if given the choice, Fanny would like to surprise you in one of her old, fancier dresses that she used to adore.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Fanny would actually love to have pets again. If you came home with a brood of animals, she’d be thrilled.

Y = You (What are some things they would like in a partner?)

Fanny would like someone patient, responsible and level headed.

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Fanny is a light and sometimes fitful sleeper. She has the occasional nightmare from her past and has to wake up and see you to remind her of her present.

Requested by @whenyouhaveanobsession

Fanny Button: @mattxxamryli, @casserole-from-dads-asserole, @alkalinebatteriess, @fog-on-the-moon, @wellthen18203, @iciclesandsnow, @whenyouhaveanobsession

#fanny button #fanny button fluff alphabet #fanny button x reader #bbc ghosts #request

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withlovewriting · 2 years

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Mixed Drinks and Smoke Rings 17: The Second Coming

Chapter Seventeen: The Second Coming

Xanny, packed in my Off-White fanny, I been going off, I’m manic, Shit wearing off, I’m landing, More on the way, don’t panic, Drank too much, God damn it, Shut that door, don’t slam it, Shit too loud, can’t stand it, I can’t stand it

Summary: New to town, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a dealer. Thankfully, a girl from your Narcotics Anonymous meetings knew just the guy.

Characters: Fezco (euphoria) x Non-descriptive Reader

Words: 4,405

Chapter Warnings: Drug use, abusive relationships, i already wrote out this damn thing once and then pressed the back button on my mouse by accident so if there are any mistakes its because im dumb and didnt save it as a draft as per

Series Warnings: Addiction, sexual themes, cursing, abuse (various), smut, drug use, teenagers being fucking idiots. 18+ only, minors DNI

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Masterlist

taglist: @iamasimpingh0e @chelseagirl77 @zeida @thepawn1999 @alanis-altair @purplebtsmagic @fuckrigthoff

'A complete stranger has the capacity to alter the life of another irrevocably. This domino effect has the capacity to change the course of an entire world. That is what life is; a chain reaction of individuals colliding with others and influencing their lives without realizing it. A decision that seems minuscule to you, may be monumental to the fate of the world.'

At least, that's what J.D Stroube once wrote.

Your life so far felt like one big game of dominoes, but you'd be stupid to blame all of your bad situations and decisions on other people. After all, even if you had to pick between the lesser of two evils, it was still you who had made the decision.

You might've been led to the water, but you're the horse who chose to drink.

As you walked through the school corridor you're friend, Chloe was going on and on about something -- you'd lost interest around 30 seconds into the one-sided conversation -- when your eyes wandered to the large mahogany stairs, where only the most elite of students hung out.

The popular kids -- like a million different teenage films -- seemed untouchable. Whilst loitering on the stairwells was forbidden, even the strictest of teachers would often walk right past them, and no punishments were ever given when they'd boldly stroll into class after the bell.

Everyone wanted an in with them, regardless of how, or why. And you most definitely were not immune to the charm.

As you passed the group, your eyes met those of Liam Ryder, easily the most popular boy in school, and a whole grade above you.

Not only completely ignoring Chloe, but you were also totally oblivious to Keon Jackson, only aware of him when he accidentally shoulder clipped you -- his own nose deep in a book -- sending you both flying.

Your face felt hot when you heard laughter, the high-pitched cackles from Jen Atkins seemingly much louder than anyone else's as she peered down at you from where she was sat, like some kind of puffed-up pigeon.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Brushing off Keon's bumbled apology, you pushed yourself to your knees, quickly grabbing your dropped belongings. As you moved to grab your textbook, a hand shot out, grazing yours as you both reached for the book.

Taking a deep breath, you finally looked up, eyes connecting with the same brown eyes that had distracted you in the first place.

He gripped your textbook as he quickly stood, offering a hand out to help you up.

"Really, I'm so sorry, I-" Keon began once more, cutting himself off when Liam sent him a sharp look.

"Scram."

And just like that, he did.

Turning his attention back toward you, his eyes softened as he visibly checked you over, "Are you alright? You went down pretty hard."

Trying your best to swallow down your embarrassment, you sent him a tight-lipped smile, followed by a curt nod. The problem with the elites, was that they were nice to look at, but terrifying to actually speak to.

Raising a quizzical brow at you, he smirked, "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

Your eyes widened as you realized how rude you'd appeared, stuttering out a reply, "Shit. I mean... Uh sorry."

Shaking your head, you felt like an absolute idiot, "Thank you. I meant to say thank you."

His smirk only deepened as he watched you squirm, "I've seen you around. You're in my AP class, right?"

Unsure of why he was talking to you at all, you forced the lump in your throat down as you nodded, "Yeah. I uh... I sit near the front..."

If there was a God, you could only hope he'd strike you down where you stood for being such a damn loser. Instead, the bastard let you stand there, wringing your hands and babbling. Clearly, you didn't attend church nearly enough for the big man upstairs to help out.

"That test last week man... I barely scraped by. You did well though, right?"

You did more than do well, you wanted to say. But it didn't seem the appropriate time to brag, "Yeah, I did OK."

His dark eyes bore into yours for a moment, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck, "So, uh... Do you by any chance tutor people? I would totally pay, I just-"

Your eyebrows shot toward your hairline as you barely registered him now fumbling around his words. The elites of the school were smart enough, sure. But they usually relied on the brains of the less socially inept to do their school work.

"I don't usually tutor anyone," you watched as his face fell, shoulders deflating a little, "but I'm happy to go over my notes with you for next week's test."

His smile stretched across his face, meeting his eyes, "Yeah, that would be great, actually. Thank you."

You both stood in silence for a moment, his smile almost forcing a small grin onto yours. Feeling as though you'd only half-embarrassed yourself during this tete-a-tete, you finally spoke again, "Uh, I need to get to class..."

"Oh sure, yeah. Me too."

When neither of you moved, you let out a quiet chortle, "You uh... You still have my book."

It was Liam's turn to look mortified as his hand that had kept a firm grip on your book shot out toward you, only to tighten once you had grabbed the other end,

"Tomorrow, after school? I can drive you home after."

Waiting for your confirmation, he finally sent you a charming smile before releasing the book and making his way down the hallway, his head turning around only once, catching you still standing motionless, watching him leave.

Quickly spinning around on the spot, you couldn't help the large, beaming smile that tugged at your lips as you marched toward class.

What you didn't see, however, was Liam handing over a crisp bill to Keon as he passed.

Sitting on Liam's desk chair, you felt much more at ease than you probably should've, being alone in a boy's room.

He sat a respectable distance from you, choosing instead to perch on his king-sized bed.

He was tapping his pen along to whatever song was playing through his phone, silently mouthing along to the lyrics as he read and re-read over his notes.

Watching him for a moment, he seemed so relaxed in the comfort of his own home, even when in the presence of an almost total stranger.

Maybe, Liam was a lot more normal than you had originally been led to believe. Maybe the bravado and monkeying around in school was simply a front, a mask he was only content to take off in the safety of his own four walls.

Maybe, he was just as normal as the rest of you.

"Have you finished already?" He questioned, eyes never moving from his book.

Feeling your face warm-up, you quickly diverted your eyes back to your own work, "I finished like, ten minutes ago."

His brows pulled together as he looked toward you, the side of his mouth pulling up into a sideways grin, "So you've just been sat there twiddling your thumbs when you could've been helping me?"

You don't know whether it was his question or the look he was sending you, that made you nervous. Your leg bounced as you shrugged.

"Do you ever relax?" His tone was light, but his eyes were far too curious to mean it in jest.

"Of course I do... I'm just, I dunno..."

Thankfully, he only let you suffer for a moment or two as he silently watched you struggle for any word that wasn't 'nervous'. His eyes darted toward your still-moving leg before returning to you with a lifted brow.

"High strung? Anxious? Scared? All of the above..."

"I'm not scared of you..."

Standing from his bed, he made his way over to you, his palm flattening against your thigh in order to stop its bouncing, "I'm not making fun of you, I swear. Just... You shouldn't be so worried all of the time. It's not good for your health."

A small chuckle escaped you, lessening the frown that creased your forehead. You watched as he leaned over you -- his body so close you could smell the faded scent of whatever soap he'd used this morning -- rifling through one of his desk drawers,

"I have just the thing," he smiled, straightening up as he held the joint between his fingers.

Placing the unlit joint onto your rolling tray, you released a long sigh.

It had started innocently enough. A couple of puffs on a joint every now and then, hiding out in his room under the guise of studying. If his parents cared that he had a girl over, or that he was smoking pot, they never spoke up.

You'd never speak much in school, instead, your days were filled with gentle grazes as you passed in the hallways, and longing looks across the lunchroom.

His attention seemed solely focused on you whenever you were in his vicinity, and you'd even heard his friends mock him on occasion for being so distracted, even if they didn't know why. Yet, he continued to drown them out whenever his dark eyes met yours across a room.

Maybe that was what initially drew you to him. The way that, even in a room full of students, he could make you feel like the only person there with him, without saying a single word to you.

The stolen glances felt like a romantic secret, something only the two of you shared because nobody else --his friends, or yours -- mattered enough to know.

In hindsight -- which they say is 20/20 -- you knew this was because you were a secret. At least in the beginning. And maybe that was the first red flag you'd ignored.

"Please explain why you invited some girl that you've barely spoken five words to."

Tucker wasn't wrong. Liam technically hadn't spoken to you in school much since that fated day in the hallway.

"She's cool, man. Trust me."

Your nerves were at an all-time high as you sat in the passenger seat of Chloe's car, tugging at your skirt. It had taken some convincing, but she'd finally agreed to check out what was being dubbed the biggest party of the year.

Tucker was rich, rich. His parents worked in real estate and -- thankfully for him -- seemed to spend most of their free time out on their yacht.

You assumed that was why Tucker acted the way he did; he craved attention. Good or bad, it didn't matter. You didn't want to admit it, but you both had more in common than you'd assumed. Hell, most of the kids here did.

Your mother had flown out to DC before you'd even woken up that morning and wouldn't be back until late Sunday evening, and your father had gone to a sports bar with some work colleagues.

Although you'd had to practically drag Chloe there, a few other people in your group had willingly come along, excited to attend their first real high school party.

Sure, you all claimed that you didn't care about popularity, but you were human. All you really wanted was to be accepted, to be liked. Isn't that how every teenager felt?

"Look what the cat dragged in," a supercilious voice caught your attention as soon as you walked through the door as if she was awaiting your arrival.

"Oh, hey Jen."

No matter how tempted you were to divert your eyes and look around the room for the familiar brown ones, you kept your eyes on the girl in front of you, her own piercing glare refusing to back down. You weren't sure where her sudden animosity had come from, but you knew she was playing some kind of game. You only wished you knew the rules.

"Are you two going to stare at each other all night or what?" Chloe grumbled, catching Jen's attention. Seemingly bored of playing with her food, Jen merely rolled her eyes before strutting off into the sea of people.

"What the hell was that about?"

Shrugging, you weren't entirely sure yourself, "C'mon, let's go see how big the pool is."

Looking back, you couldn't feel anger toward your younger self. You just felt... sad.

You'd remember that party for the rest of your life, a bittersweet memory that you didn't know how or even if you wanted to rid yourself of.

That night was the first time you'd tried anything harder than pot. Liam had produced a line of Xanax, joking that if weed wouldn't help you relax, then this definitely would.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

Chloe's question caused your eyes to roll, annoyance radiating off you as you took a bigger gulp from your cup, trying to prove a point. Wiping your chin, your eyes met Liam's across the room, watching as he obliviously nodded along to whatever his friend was saying, his burning stare not deviating from you since you'd first spotted each other.

"I'm just trying to enjoy myself. Maybe you should have a couple, might make you a bit more fun."

You knew your words were harsh, but you were 4 cups of jungle juice deep and fed up with her party-pooper attitude. She'd been counting down the minutes since your arrival, mumbling under her breath about how she'd have more fun watching paint dry, and being a little too loud with her deprecating comments. Chloe could be brusque at the best of times, downright rude at the worst.

You just wanted to have a little fun at the first party you'd actually been invited to. And here she was, acting like a total bitch.

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't think getting wasted on over-priced alcohol with a bunch of people who won't remember me in 5 years is 'fun'. I just didn't think you'd entertain them either,"

Pushing herself from the wall, she eyed the crowd dubiously for a moment before turning back to you, eyebrows pulled together, "Don't think it's odd that they even invited us? I mean, I'm not even sure they know our names. If they pull a 'Carrie' and pour pig blood on us, I wouldn't even be surprised."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you could feel your last nerve fray, "Fucking hell, Chloe. Get a grip, OK? First of all, I was invited, not you. Maybe, they'd know our names if you weren't being a colossal bitch all night. The fact that you think nobody here would bother with me unless they had an ulterior motive is fucked up."

Downing more of your drink -- ignoring the glances from classmates that had overheard your argument -- your chest heaved as guilt settled over you, weighing you down heavily. Sure, Chloe could be a little too much sometimes, but she was your friend.

Before you could open your mouth to apologize, Chloe shook her head, a tremulous laugh falling from her tight-lipped, mournful smile, "Fuck you. Find your own way home."

You heard the hushed chatter and laughs as she pushed through the crowd, making her exit.

Releasing a sigh, you gently knocked your head against the wall behind you as you felt tears fill your closed eyes. Trying to garner the strength to follow her out and apologize profusely, your eyes fluttered open when you heard a familiar voice,

"Well, that was... dramatic.”

Your brow creased as you bit your bottom lip. Your face felt hot and you knew as soon as you opened your eyes, you'd start crying. Maybe you were a little too drunk.

"I'm uh... I'm sorry," You sniffed, feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you opened your eyes, "I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm gonna... I'm gonna head out-"

Leaning forward, Liam brushed his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear, "No, I... shit. I didn't mean you, I meant her. You're just having a good time and she's clearly got a problem with that."

Sending him a meek smile, you found yourself feeling a little more relaxed as his warm brown eyes watched you, "You heard that, then..."

"I think everyone heard that..." he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, "but she's jealous, you know? I would never invite you here under false pretenses... I just, you know... Enjoy spending time with you."

You forced down a deep breath, feeling like the exploding butterflies in your stomach would escape if given the chance.

He could tell you were still embarrassed, and a little uncomfortable as he placed his arm around your shoulders, "C'mon, I've got something that will really take the edge off."

The glass crunched under your sneakers as you made your way into the lounge, looking around at the destruction your father had caused.

You'd visited the station a few times, once to give your statement, and the rest to try and speak to someone about bailing your dad out. You'd gone in guns blazing, telling them you had no intentions of pressing charges and that it was all a misunderstanding, but you were simply told that an attorney intended to.

Kicking off, you were quickly escorted out with the threat of being arrested yourself.

You were told he was put on a 48-hour hold, his past DUI really coming back to bite him in the ass and the cost of the bail was enough to make you lose all hope. A bail bond agent would be your only option.

Grabbing the broom from the closet, you ignored your pounding head and began to sweep up some of the glass. You had a party to prepare for, after all.

"How are you feeling?"

Everything sounded slow as if you were swimming underwater. The drowsiness was bad enough, but every time you managed to open your eyes, the blurred vision was enough to make you slam them back shut.

It sounded awful but... You felt relaxed, just as Liam had promised. Sure, weed was great at calming you, too, but when Liam escorted you into a spare bedroom, his friends all sat around snorting a powder from the bedside cabinet, you felt like you couldn't say no.

"I, uh... You know. Good. I feel good."

You were aware enough to know your speech was slurred, but couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit. You did feel good. Just tired. Very tired.

Your head rested against Liam's shoulder as you were snuggled into his side. You don't remember how or when you came outside, sitting around the fire pit with his friends, but the party had seemingly calmed down, and you could only make out a few different voices.

"Maybe the drinks before were a little too much," he chuckled, watching your head fall forwards a few times, the motion pulling you from sleep, "C'mon, you can't go home like this."

Tripping over your feet, Liam gently guided you back into the house, ignoring the wolf whistles from his friends.

Kicking the door shut behind him, Liam led you toward the bed, laying you down gently after he'd pulled back the duvet, "You should sleep it off. Fair warning, you'll most likely feel like shit tomorrow."

Totally unaware of his warning, you were already passed out.

Pushing your way past the large crowd that had congregated in your living room, you needed to find some peace and quiet.

You used to love parties, after you began to hang around with Liam and his friends, you attended one every weekend and hung out at an abandoned warehouse that the group would often refer to as the 'Factory' on school nights, getting high without the worry of someone's parents walking in.

You didn't have that problem right now.

Shouldering a drunken teen out of the way, your body ached with the contact. Whilst your nose had been bloody, and your lip split, the majority of injuries you'd received were from the fall down the stairs. Bruises and cuts from the glass littered your body, and sometimes you'd have a sharp pain in your ribs whenever you'd inhale too deeply, but with the looming price of your father's bond, you couldn't afford to go to ER.

So you settled for a much less expensive way of soothing the pain. It was as if reminding yourself about your body aches caused them to hurt more, and you rubbed your wrist as you made your way outside to the small garden.

"Move." Your tone was stern, leaving no room for arguments as your classmate jumped up from the plastic chair, allowing you to settle into it instead.

You had binged your way through your pill supply, both with Rue and alone. You couldn't deny that you had pushed the girl away recently. You didn't mean to, but you liked to be alone when you wallowed in self-pity.

After what felt like only a few moments of peace, a loud sigh came from someone who practically threw themselves next to you, "Everything OK?"

Maybe you were stupid to invite him and his friends. Hell, you didn't know who half the people at this party were. It was an odd feeling, wanting to be alone but around people. You couldn't explain it, let alone begin to understand it.

Rue's Mom had offered you a place to stay after her daughter had filled her in on what happened, but after a few days, you returned home, worried about being able to hide your habits from her, and not wanting to pull Rue down with you.

"Just in pain," you told him truthfully, trying to ignore the way his dark eyes lingered on your bruised wrist.

"You uh... You haven't got anything for it?"

Shaking your head, you looked up toward the stars, barely able to see them because of the city lights, "My, uh... dealer... He's in between stock right now."

"And Devon?"

"Said he had to head out of town for something."

Liam watched you as you deflated a little. He could tell you were in the throws of a withdrawal from something, "Well, lucky I saw him before he left then."

Your eyes flung open, watching him quietly for a moment before sitting forward in your seat, "What have you got?"

"Does it matter?" His brow raised as he tried to hide a smirk. And in all honesty... No. It didn't matter. At this rate, you'd take anything he had to offer.

It would be funny, if it wasn't so sad, how quickly you could fall back into old patterns.

"I don't care, Rue. I ain't goin'."

"C'mon Fez, if not for her, then for me. I don't wanna be surrounded by her old, rich asshole friends."

A humorless laugh escaped him as he leaned into the sofa, "Neither do I. Which is exactly why I ain't goin'. You don't need to either if you don't wanna."

Rue couldn't fault Fez's logic. She didn't want to go, so why should she? The only answer she had, was guilt.

She was the reason your father was currently sitting behind bars awaiting a court date, and she was the reason why you'd clearly spiraled into an addiction Rue didn't quite expect from you.

Yes, you took drugs recreationally, and you often drank with them, too. It might've been excessive but... She knew you were currently binging on them, already telling you that you'd run out of your supply. You were popping pills like candy, so she couldn't find it surprising. Remembering her own outburst at Fez when he refused to fuel her own addiction, Rue was glad you hadn't bothered him, knowing he didn't have anything to sell.

Watching Rue as she appeared lost in her own world, Fez sighed, "Look, I know you been feelin' guilty about all that shit with her Dad, but don't, alright? It's on him, no one else. He's just lucky the cops turned up fo' me."

Rue turned her attention to Fez, watching as he lounged on the couch inconspicuously, yet she saw his fingers sink between the cushions, content once he found the cold handle of a gun.

"What were you gonna do?"

Making her way toward the other couch, Rue sat herself down, watching him attentively.

"Kill him." Fez didn't even hesitate, causing Rue to release a long sigh.

"Shit man. You got it fuckin' bad."

Fez's face scrunched up as he rubbed a hand over his head, deep in thought. Rue didn't know everything, he was sure of that. But it seemed she did know something.

"We friends, Rue. You know that."

Shaking her head, Rue pushed herself up, "Bullshit. You're both so fucking annoying. You coming to the party, or not?"

He wanted to, even if just to check you were OK. Rue wasn't exactly forthcoming with her answers when he'd ask, and that somehow made him feel **worse**. He was certain she was hiding something, but he knew she was just trying to protect you, and calling her out on her bullshit wouldn't get him anywhere. He knew Rue, and he knew that she needed to ask for help before she'd accept any.

But Fez knew damn well he wouldn't be welcome, and coming to your house was asking for drama that he wouldn't partake in. You already felt betrayed by him, he didn't intend to twist the knife by showing up.

Taking his silence for an answer, Rue released an annoyed groan before making her way out.

He watched as she left, following her to the door to lock it, confused when she turned around and sighed, “Grow some balls, Fez.”

He could've called her out on the comment, telling her that he was only neck deep in shit because he covered for her, knowing damn well you would probably never speak to him again.

But friends didn't do that shit to each other. So instead, he let her stomp down the road, praying that you had the sense to keep yourself safe tonight. But he couldn't let himself dwell on it, he was meeting up with a new dealer in a couple of days, hoping that he could partner with her considering Mouse's... absence.

Then, he had a date with Nate Jacobs.

#fezco euphoria #fezco fanfic #fezco smut #fezco imagine #fezco x y/n #fezco x reader #fezco fanfiction #fez euphoria #fez fanfic #fez smut #fez imagine #fez x y/n #fez fanfiction #fez x reader #euphoria fanfic #euphoria imagine #euphoria fic #mixed drinks and smoke rings

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daemonsdivorcerock · 2 years

Text

BEING A GHOST AT BUTTON HOUSE WOULD INCLUDE…

__________________________________

request: yes/no

requested by: n/a

plot: headcanons for being one of ghosts at button house, specifically the most recently deceased ghost

pairing: platonic!ghosts x gn!reader, platonic!alison cooper x gn!reader

warnings: death, descriptions of death, period-typical attitudes, sexism, murder

a/n: my first fic on tumblr. wish me luck!

__________________________________

You died in the early 1970s, a couple of decades after The Captain. You preferred not to talk about how you died, the only one who knew how you died was Alison.

The first ghost you saw after dying was Robin. He laughed every time you tried to run out the gates only to be forced back onto the property. He’d count all the times you’d run out the gates before you eventually gave up.

The Captain would be the first to explain what’d happened to you and he’d awkwardly comfort you when you started to cry.

Kitty would talk to you for hours upon hours and you’d come to think of her as a sister to you. You’d been told of Kitty’s sister, Eleanor, and you resented Eleanor for what she’d done.

When he accepted his death in the 1990s, Julian would most likely make a perverted joke about the two of you being the youngest ghosts, resulting on him getting a slap on the arm from you and a scold from the Captain.

When Pat joined the ghosts of Button House, he would be the one to ease your mind about what happened. He’d help you get used to your afterlife in Button House and introduce you to all the clubs.

Initially, Fanny would scowl at you and berate about your ‘unladylike’ clothes. She’d eventually get used to it and become like a grandmother figure to you.

Mary would ask you questions about your life before. What it was like to be a woman with the freedom of speech in the modern world and you’d tell her.

You’d stumble into Humphrey one day, specifically his head. You’d become his favourite ghost after you’d reunite his head with his body, to his thanks.

Last but certainly not least, being realistic, Thomas would probably fall in love with you. Knowing how much of a simp that man is, he’d desperately try to woo you for the first fourteen years of your afterlife before Alison and Mike arrived.

#headcanons #ghosts #bbc ghosts #bbc #Thomas Thorne #the Captain #fanny button #Pat butcher #Mary ghosts #Robin ghosts #kitty ghosts #Humphrey bone #Julian Fawcett #Julian Fawcett MP #Alison cooper #six idiots

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maxinewebs · 8 months

Text

Steve Harrington x Punk!reader

!!warnings: swearing!!

(reader is said to have she/her pronouns)

📖

Steve is not having a good night. Hell, he’s not really having a good week. Max has been prodding him around the roller rink for the last thirty minutes, and the two times he’s fallen flat on his ass, she’s skated circles around him, laughing at his flailing attempts to get back up. He thinks to himself that this must be some sort of karmic retribution for all the bullying he did in highschool.

He was supposed to be going out with Gina Hemshaw tonight, but she had canceled last minute, and that plus the rejection from the new girl at Family Video earlier in the week isn’t doing much for his ego. He supposes that’s why he got wrangled into chaperoning his little band of dipshits for the night, a distraction from the seeming reality that Steve was losing his touch with the ladies.

After his third fall of the night, Steve decides he’s had enough, leaving Max to torment some other poor soul while he wobbles off to a bench to get these damn wheels off his feet. As he’s unlacing his skates, Robin’s scraggly converse come into view. She’s a wheezing wonder as she motions to his fanny pack. The kids had given him endless grief for the little bag he slung around his hips, but how the hell else was he supposed to keep track of two inhalers (Robin’s and Dustin’s), car keys, an epi-pen (Mike’s), and a wad of presumptuous band-aids?

He passes her her inhaler (an “R” sharpied on the side to tell the two apart) and she’s quick to calm her gasping breaths down.

“You. are. Never. Going. To. Believe. This!” She thrusts her forearm right under Steve’s nose, barely catching a glimpse of the scribbled numbers.

“Holy shit, who?” Robin’s got a smug grin as she tells him it’s the new girl, the one that came into Family Video earlier, the very same one who had rejected him. Steve high fives his friend, doing his best to look excited for her, but on the inside, he’s a swirl of relief and horror.

Relief that now there was a very good reason for her rejection of him, namely that he was a him. Horror that he had asked her out in the first place. Sure, Steve could be clueless, but he had genuinely thought she was flirting with him. How could he not tell she wasn’t interested? Damn Harrington, you really are losing it.

Robin snaps him out of his thoughts, waving her hand in his face, “earth to Dingus. Come in Dingus, you alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. That’s awesome, Robs. Hey, I need some fresh air, will you tell the kids I’m out by the car?” She sighs, “yeah, no problem. You sure you’re ok?” He finishes lacing his own shoes back up, standing, “yeah, just have a headache.”

Robin seems to buy that answer, flittering off to get a soda and find the kids. Steve returns his skates and heads out to the parking lot, leaning up against the driver’s side of his car, letting his head tip back. He sighs and the exhale turns more into a groan.

“You ok?”

“Jesus christ!” Steve’s startled straight out of his skin, he whips around to see where the question came from.

“Sounds like you’re having a rough night.” He swallows hard, seeing that it’s a girl who scared the living daylights out of him, and Steve has to do a double take when she steps a little closer to him.

He does his best not to let his eyes linger too long on her fishnet-clad legs, wandering up to a short tartan skirt that’s adorned with a dangling chain belt.

He assumes she’s wearing a band tee, but he can’t be sure because he doesn’t recognize the name and the shirt is also cropped and chopped like crazy, neckline stretched and sliced so it hangs off her one shoulder. A denim vest to top it off, with safety pins clipped through the button holes and a few sewn-on patches mottling the sides.

“Hey, buddy. You good?” Steve blinks hard a few times, finally focusing on her face.

“Um, yeah. Sorry, just ready to go home I guess.” He can’t stop looking at the piercing in her nose, a thin metal cuff wrapping under her left nostril. She’s also got a hoop in the corner of her one eyebrow. Steve’s never seen anything like it. Certainly not in Hawkins.

She kicks the toe of her Doc Martens into the ground, sidling up next to him to lean back against his car.

“Is the roller rink not really your scene?” Steve snorts, glancing over at her, “I feel like I should be asking you that.” She laughs, throwing her head back and Steve swears he sees something glinting on her tongue. Suddenly his throat feels very dry.

“Nah, definitely not. I’m just here to pick up my sister.”

“Do you always get this dressed up to pick up your sister?” Steve regrets it the moment it’s left his mouth. What the hell was he thinking? She however just laughs again, and yeah, her tongue is definitely pierced.

“I’m on my way home from a concert. Told my folks I’d grab her on the way back. So what about you? What’s brought you to this lovely roller rink parking lot?”

“My kids–”

“You have kids. Either you started way too early or you have a serious skincare regime.” Steve laughs hard at that.

“No, no. They’re not my kids, well they’re–”

“Steve! I need my inhaler!” Ah, Dustin Henderson, always a master of timing.

The young teen comes barreling up to Steve, not giving him a second to react before he’s grabbing at the fannypack still slung around his front. Steve swats at his hands.

“Jesus, man! Just, patience, alright? Back off. Here, take it.” He passes the inhaler to Dustin who promptly takes two succinct puffs.

“Thanks, you’re gonna skate some more, right? Max said you fell on your ass a bunch but you can’t get better if you don’t practice.” Steve could strangle the kid, honestly. Before he can say anything more though, Dustin’s attention is drawn to his female companion.

“Woah. Your face.”

“Henderson!” Steve is mortified. She however is cackling.

“Cool huh, kid?” Dustin nods his head frantically.

“Those had to have hurt. How bad did they hurt?” She shrugs, “eh, these two weren’t so bad. This one however,” she briefly flashes her tongue to them, showing off a metal ball right in the middle, “yeah, that one made my eyes water.”

“Holy shit. So cool. Wait, why are you talking to Steve then?” Steve huffs, grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and spinning him back towards the rink entrance.

“Alright, that’s enough, Henderson. Go skate some more, yeah? Tell the others to come out when you’re all done.” He pats him hard on his back, more of a light shove really, and for once, Dustin seems to get the hint, shuffling back into the rink with a few mutters under his breath.

He turns back to her, rubbing the back of his neck. She quirks her eyebrow at him, metal glinting with the movement.

“One of yours, I presume.” He sighs, mumbling, “yeah, something like that.” He tries to discreetly unclip the fanny pack from his waist, tossing it into the open window of his car.

“Well, Steve. Since I know your name I should probably formally introduce myself,” She extends her hand out to him, telling him her name as they shake. He feels like a dope for thinking that he likes how her hand fits with his.

“I feel like I would’ve remembered seeing you around. Are you new to Hawkins?” She nods, explaining that her family just moved here this past week. A lot of folks moving here all of a sudden. She tells him that she’s just living with her parents for the summer, having graduated from college in the spring. She’ll be moving into an apartment in the fall, starting as the Hawkins Middle School music teacher. Steve does his best to not look shocked at the idea of her working with kids, but she catches his raised eyebrows and grins.

“What, you think these piercings aren’t removable?” He stutters, “No! I just– Well, I um– You–”

“I’m just messing with you man. But yeah, it’s not that hard to tone it down, you know? Just gotta go like half-punk, or maybe a quarter punk in this town.” He swallows his embarrassment, nodding.

“Well, if you’re here to stay, whatever fraction of punk you are, maybe I’ll see you around. I work at the Family Video in town.”

“Oh yeah, my sister went in there the other day, said there was a really chatty dude working, tried to ask her out.”

She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. Steve blanches at her words. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit.

Just then, someone calls her name and sure enough, it’s the girl from Family Video, the one who rejected Steve and scribbled her phone number on Robin’s arm, walking out of the rink. For a moment, Steve ponders the desire to be struck by lightning, or even to spontaneously combust. Anything to get him out of this interaction. “Hey sis, good concert?” Family video girl sidles up next to her, throwing her arm around her shoulder.

“Eh, not much of a scene here in the sticks.” She scrunches her nose, pushing off of Steve’s car to walk them both over to her station wagon. Her sister glances at Steve, eyes widening in recognition.

“Hey, I know you! Steve, right?” Steve wants to say “no, wrong guy, sorry” but all he can do is sheepishly nod. He thinks to himself, great, she’ll want nothing to do with me after her sister tells her I was the creep who hit on her.

Before Family Video girl can talk, cool girl chimes in, “Steve here has been keeping me company while you stayed later than you said you would. It’s five past midnight, duck. I said 11:30.” So-called “duck” looks between her sister and Steve, seeming to decide something. She mutters a slanted “sorry” before huffing over to the passenger side and slipping into the car. Steve turns his attention back to her, raising his eyebrows.

“Yours, I presume?” She laughs, nodding, before shooting him a crooked smile.

“Something like that.” She tilts her head at him, “maybe it’s the feet fumes wafting from the rink driving me to madness, but would you wanna keep each other company again some time?” Steve’s heart kicks, he smiles.

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“You got a pen? Can I give you my number?”

Steve pats his pockets, panicking for a moment when he comes up empty. And then, like a strike of lightning, he remembers the fanny pack.

He mumbles, “give me one sec” as he gracelessly shoves his torso through his car’s open window, fishing around for his pack. Mercifully, there is a pen amidst the first aid detritus in the little bag. Thank god for fanny packs. He wiggles back out of the window, cheeks flushed. She’s smirking at him.

“Quite the show you just put on, Steve.” He flushes a little harder as she takes the pen from his hand and grasps his wrist, tugging up his sweatshirt sleeve and scrawling her number on his forearm. He’s never found forearms to be a particularly erotic part of the body, but suddenly, watching her black-polished nails wrap around his wrist, he’s reconsidering that stance.

She hands him back the pen, sending him one more crooked grin.

“Call me, yeah?” He smiles, “Yeah, I will.”

He rests his chin in his hands on the hood of his car, watching her get into her station wagon, sending him a little salute. Her sister also looks at Steve, and shoots him an ‘ok’ symbol with her hand. His stomach drops, but he decides to interpret that as meaning she’s not going to tell her sister about their first encounter, at least he prays that that’s what it means.

As he watches their station wagon pull out of the parking lot, he hears Robin calling his name, turning to see the brigade coming towards him and his car. The kids all pile into the back and Robin takes shotgun, immediately turning towards Steve in a flurry of activity.

“So I did talk to phone number girl a little more. We shared a cherry cola, isn’t that rad?” Steve quirks his face at Robin using the word “rad,” but lets her continue.

“And, I assured her that you’re not a pervert, just a very hopeless guy who isn’t good with social cues and she said it was all good which is great because that means we can all hang out and it won’t be awkward because of your painful attempts at flirting and she said she has a sister who’s also been striking out in the dating department so maybe we could set you two up and maybe one day we’d even be in-laws, oh my god, that’d be perfect we’d actually be family and she’s so cool, did I tell you that already? She said–”

Just then, Robin glances at Steve’s forearm, shirt sleeve still rucked up.

“Hey! Look, we both lucked out tonight, dingus! Who’d you pick up in the parking lot? You know, I get that you’re desperate, but honestly, Steve? That’s a new low even for you, hitting on people in the parking lot of the roller rink. You’re better than that, and honestly as your friend I think that–”

“Hey, Robs. I think there’s more tootsie pops in my pack. It’s on the floor by your feet.” Her eyes light up and she’s already forgotten the word vomit tirade she was on, digging around in Steve’s fanny pack for a sucker. He knows her too well. She obviously hadn’t taken the time to compare hers and Steve’s temporary tattoos, because if she did she would’ve found that Steve had the exact same numbers scrawled up his arm that she did, a shared landline between the two new sisters in town. Steve figures to himself that that’s on a need to know basis, and right now, there’s no need to get Robin worked up again when she’s already got another tootsie pop in her cheek.

When he gets home that night after dropping everyone off, he stops in front of his bathroom mirror. He knows it’s silly, but for a moment he wonders how he’d look with a nose ring.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve the hair harrington #steve and his amazing hair #steve stranger things

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dipitagain · 2 years

Text

Imagine checking Fanny out when you come to see your old friend Alison

Fanny x f!reader

The Ghosts were all congregated near the door when the doorbell rang. Alison came running down the stairs, straightening her shirt. "Fair Alison, who may that be?" Thomas asked in confusion. "My old friend, Y/N, she can see you as well so all of you need to behave". "A she" Julian mumbled " Is she fit?". Alison nodded absent-mindedly. "Yeah she's hot we dated in school". Everyone watched as the doors opened to reveal a tall woman with long h/c hair that swayed lightly when she walked. Her eyes were shining as she pulled the shorter women into a tight hug. "Alison, my love it has been so long". Her accent was slightly French and she pulled back to survey the group in front of her. "Ally you didn't tell me that you had guests". "Ghosts, Y/N, they're Ghosts". Her smile grew even more. "Well Ally why don't you introduce me". "Y/N this is Julian-". A wave and a wink. "Pat, Mary, Robin, Kitty, Thomas, Humphrey's head is somewhere around here and the Captain". The girl looked at the military man with unfounded softness. "You fought in the war?". He looked at her startled. "Yes Miss". Her smile softened even more. "I commend you for your bravery sir". He stood a little straighter". "It was an honour Miss". The lady turned to look at her friend again. "Ally ,darling, I thought you said there was 9 of them, are we missing one or can you still not count babes". Both of their laughter mingled. "We're only missing-". Alison was cut off by an angry shout. "What is this racket". The woman on the stairs immediately attracted Y/N's attention and her eyes flickered up to the descending figure. "Who is that?" She murmured softly. "That is Lady B " Alison whispered in her ear. Her eyes caught on the beautiful woman in front of you. "Lady Button". Her voice was breathy and soft. Your smile turned rather quickly into a sweet smirk. "She's beautiful, absolutely gorgeous". She straightened her black trousers and the cuffs of her shirt. Alison's eyes twinkled. "I thought you would like her-" her voice rose "Fanny this is Y/N one of my old school friends". That was when their eyes connected. "It is wonderful to meet such a gorgeous woman such as yourself, cara". Her eyes very obviously looked her up and down. "Well it is lovely to meet you to" the Grey Lady said with a genuine smile "I think we will get along fine". The two of them stayed looking at the other. "Why don't I get the fit ones" Julian whisper shouted from across the room.

#bbc ghosts incorrect quotes #BBC Ghosts #Fanny Button x reader #BBC ghosts x reader #The Captain #Julian Fawcett #Thomas Thorne #x reader

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imagine-a-dream · 2 years

Text

A Better Family

platonic! Ghosts x reader

summary: You just died and ghosts of the Button’s house try to comfort you and help to cope with your death.

warnings: mention of poisoning, betrayal and death.

requested by: 😱 Ghosts anon

A/N: kinda angst, found family trope. Hope you like it!

The first thing you felt was cold. It dug into your body like a million needles. It reminded you of the time when you went ice skating with your sisters when you were little. It was an early winter, and the lake near your mansion was not frozen enough to withstand your weight for too long, but you were too eager to spend time with your sisters and ignored all of the warnings. And predictably, after a few minutes of fun, the ice under your feet broke and you fell into the freezing water.

The feeling is much the same now. You felt like your body was slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the icy winter river, and the water consumed you, drugging you to the muddy bottom. But unlike the feelings in your memory, this time it was not unpleasant. The coldness brings you calm. But the moment your back touched the bed of it, your body was forcefully pulled back onto the surface.

"Such viciousness in my house!" You’ve heard someone’s voice above you. It sounded feminine and very angry. You wanted to open your eyes, but your eyelids felt so heavy, like they were glued together.

"Poor thing. At such a young age…" Another voice, now more concerned and masculine, even if a bit high.

Alright, you can do it. Just open your eyes.

"Do you think she’ll stay? I don’t want her to go. We could be friends!"

A very high and too cheerful voice, yet another one you couldn’t recognize. You thought it was just you and your sister in the house. Your sister. Now that you were thinking about her, you wondered where she was. And what happened. The last thing you remembered was that you were having tea and then…"

Yeah, a new face could be nice. Not that I’m tired of any of you, but you know…"

Finally, you opened your eyes and the voices gasped from such abrupt action. You set up and saw eight pairs of eyes looking at you. Almost all of them had a weird expression that you couldn’t pinpoint just yet. Their clothes were weird-looking, like some of them came from the past centuries. Then there was a man without pants, but at least he was wearing half of the suit from modern times. What a strange party.

"Who are you?"

The first and most logical question to ask a bunch of strangers that were in your house for some reason.

They shared a look, pointing at each other and shaking their heads, as if none of them wanted to talk to you. It was rude, considering they somehow sneaked into your house uninvited. Finally, the short man in the scoutmaster's uniform and a bow in his neck (what the hell?) stepped out. His voice was quiet and full of sadness when he spoke.

"We are the ghosts of this house, my dear. My name is Patrick Butcher, but you can call me Pat. This is Lady Fanny Button, the old owner and your great, great…"

Pain. You felt pain after the third sip of your tea. Your throat was burning, and your stomach, too. You tried to scream and cry for help, but no sounds came out of your mouth. You threw your body at your sister, clutching on to her t-shirt for dear life, wishing nothing more than to end this suffering. The last thing you remembered was a white hot pain consuming your body. And a crooked smile on your sister’s face.

Oh.

While the nice man was introducing the ghosts (now it made more sense) of the house, you slowly stood up. There was an odd feeling in your body. A perplexing lightness. But you did not feel the clothes you were wearing or the floor under your feet. You knew it was there, but you couldn’t feel it. You, too, were just there.

"And you are… well, uh, how should I put it? Ah, bugger, there is no other way to say it. You’re dead."

"Patrick!" The older lady (your great, great grandmother if you remember right) scolded the man. "For goodness sake! This is a highly delicate matter, you can’t just say it."

Slowly, you turn around to look at the spot where you were lying minutes ago. And saw yourself, or what was left of you, still lying there. Now that was beyond crazy. You stared at your own body, now lifeless and cold, lying on the floor of the house you never even called home. And now you are stuck here forever. With strangers around, a broken heart that couldn’t comprehend the betrayal of their own blood.

The next few days were like a slumber. The ghosts explained to you that now you couldn’t touch anything, couldn’t feel anything but other fellow ghosts and were indeed stuck in this house for forever. Or until you finish your unfinished business. If only you knew what you had not finished, other than living a long and happy life.

With time (and great help from all of the members of the house), your grief and misery turned to acceptance and even joy. You found a new sister that actually loved you and was happy to spend time with you; a bunch of weird uncles and an aunty that were just as happy to talk to you (even if some of them were a bit dramatic at times); and a loving, even if a bit strict, grandmother.

They helped you cope with your death and find a new afterlife. And after your sister and mother died, one very interesting and very much alive couple moved in, causing a great fuss among the members of your new family.

Maybe your death wasn’t such an awful event after all.

masterlist | request rules

#Ghosts #Ghosts BBC #Ghosts x reader #Ghosts BBC x reader #pat butcher #thomas thorne #lady fanny button #captain ghosts #kitty ghosts #mary ghosts #robin the caveman #humphrey bone #plus size reader #six idiots #female reader #queue doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

Text

Chapter 7: Wrapped

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Production Designer

Summary: Wrapped - the act of striking the dressing from a set.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, drinking, PiV sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, don’t be a fool wrap your tool, fingers in mouths, cum eating, edging, light degradation, some dom/sub vibes, Subby!Dieter, Soft Dom!Reader, overuse of filmmaking terms.

Notes: It's Day 7 of Dieter Takeover, our final day! How will this all wrap up?

Cross-posted on AO3

Below the Line Masterlist

EXT. ORANGERIE - NIGHT (DUSK)

You had to hand it to craft services, they really outdid themselves on the wrap party. After weeks of excellent hot meals, always having pick-me-up candy stashed somewhere, and being the therapists to half the crew, they still catered this like it’s the fucking Oscars. Tables were set up around the perimeter of the greenhouse with loads of dishes, appetizers and drinks. Your team had helped with the decorations, digging up some string lights to illuminate the lawn and making paper chains out of recycled script pages. Wardrobe put out some fabric scraps that people were turning into headbands and scarves, and even makeup laid out the cheap grease paint they didn’t end up using so passerbys could throw on some war stripes. It was silly and childish and wild and beautiful.

You’d decided to bring a change of clothes and try to look just a little more put together than your usual t-shirt, jeans and ditty bag on set. Instead you swapped jeans for your favorite skirt, your t-shirt for a looser top to combat the humidity of the night, and seriously debated still putting the ditty back on for laughs. Everyone had called it a fanny pack until you started pulling useful odds and ends out of it.

Dane and Shelly went all out, Dane in a suit that Harry Styles would have died for, red with black roses embossed in the fabric, and Shelly in a violet knockout of a dress with her hair styled on top of her head. Her hand tucked into Dane’s elbow made you raise an eyebrow with a knowing smile, but you made no comment. You weren’t one to talk.

The three of you entered together, a team to the very end. The party was already bustling, beers and wine in clear plastic cups held in many hands. You scoped the food tables, starving and needing some sustenance before partaking in any of the numerous drink selections.

“Are the wrap parties always this fun?” Shelly asks, music starting to play outside. You shake your head as you pop an hors d'oeuvre into your mouth.

“Cliff Beasts was all cold gas station sandwiches and an escort off the property,” you say, and both hers and Dane’s eyes light up. You roll your own. “Fine, fine, you wanted the dish, get me a drink.” They both scoot off to the drink table as you snag more snacks. Dane has their hand on Shelly’s lower back and it blooms happiness in your chest.

“Your babies all grown up now?” your friend Jack says next to your shoulder, tossing his head at them. You swat his arm.

“Let me enjoy watching them be young and excited about things,” you say back.

“I’m more excited for whatever this spread has to offer,” Jack replies as you both fill paper plates with food. You take a subtle look around for Dieter, but can’t pick him out of the crowd yet. Most of the ATLs aren’t here, probably off doing cool kid stuff. You know he’ll find you eventually.

I’d like to show you exactly how I feel about you.

You push down the nerves, the questions that sentence arouses in you.

As the evening goes on, lubricated by drink and conversation and laughter, you start catching glimpses of Dieter in the crowd. He’s worn a suit, deep blue in color with crisp white pinstripes and a white button-up with scandalously few buttons actually done up. His golden skin blazes out from the V of the neck he so brazenly reveals, making you want to lay claim to it even with everyone watching.

He’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You turn and see him talking to Ronna, holding a plastic cup in his large hand. Or you walk by a group and get a whiff of his cologne and breathe it in indulgently. He catches your eyes a few times, sending you secret smiles that lasted mere seconds before he turns back to whoever he’s talking to.

A toast is suggested, and Dee starts popping champagne bottles and walking around, filling up people’s glasses. Dieter takes a couple too, laughing as he slowly drizzles the fizzy drink into cups. You wait to see who will get to you first. Dieter wins.

“What do you think we should toast to?” he asks, innocent enough to an eavesdropper but the quirk in his smile and the linger of his gaze speaks a volume of difference to you. You tap your lower lip, watching him continue to pour even as the fizz reaches the top of the glass.

“To jobs well done?” you offer, and he makes a face. “Fine, you think of a better one, Bravo.”

Your cup overflows, sweet champagne bubbles spilling over your fingers. You swap hands, shaking the wetness off into the grass. You smile up at Dieter, feeling easy and relaxed.

Quick as he can manage in a crowd, he takes your wrist and licks the length of your pinky, tasting the alcohol on your skin and winking before pulling away. His eyes read ready and want and soon. With a nod he moves to the next person needing a top-off, smiling brightly. Your heart pounds as you dart your eyes around to see if anyone caught that. Dane and Shelly are standing together, Shelly’s mouth dropped open. You lift your eyebrows and nod at the two of them.

Secret’s safe between us?

They both break into smiles and nod.

Ronna makes a speech that almost gets you crying. Then Clara, a quick few words from Dee, and finally Dieter. He saunters into the circle of people, clapping and taking a moment to look at the crowd. You stand back from the edge, still walking the knife’s blade of caution even though tonight was the signal of the end.

“I’ll have to admit, this movie kicked my ass,” Dieter begins, and the laugh warms everyone up. He throws down some inside jokes, acknowledges all of the teams (“art department, you guys made this place look like an honest-to-goodness gothic horror house and I would never sleep here.”) and raises his glass. His eyes search the crowd until he catches yours. You worry your heart might stop at the fond smile he gives you.

“To the end of what we know, and the beginning of all that we’ll discover.” Cheers erupt, drinks are quaffed, and you desperately want to kiss him. Fuck everything that came before this, you only want what’s coming next.

Was this what being the object of Dieter’s affection was like? Both seen and protected, teased and given everything. You’re not exactly sure what you want, but Dieter needs to be a part of it in whatever capacity that might be.

The music roars to life, and an impromptu barefoot dance party starts. Dieter and the other ATLs are at the center of it, mouthing along with the 90s pop music blaring over the Bluetooth speakers. You linger along the edges until Dane and Shelly grab you by both elbows and drag you into the fray. You sway and rock and sing along to the music, watching Dieter out of the corner of your eye. Him and Theo (crap, you don't remember the actor's name now) are bumping hips and he's shrugged his jacket down his arms. He looks light, happy, goofy even in this sacred space you all have carved out in the grass and fairy lights.

As the moon travels, now clear in the sky and silver-plating the grass and your skin, the party starts to thin out. You sneak a peek at Dane putting their coat around Shelly’s shoulders. Pausing for a moment before pressing a kiss to Shelly’s cheek, she turns in to capture their lips before they can move away. You don’t go looking for them after that. Jack bids you goodnight and you send your love back to his wife. Various crew wave as they leave, and you toe the dampening grass as you feel the pull to leave. It feels late enough that your absence won’t be noted, but early enough that if you head into the trailer park it won’t seem suspicious.

You're loose-limbed as you meander your way there, shoes in one hand. You could stop now, turn away and pretend that Dieter’s whispered confession under the canopy of trees meant nothing. You could. But you wouldn’t dream of it now as the glow of the trailer park starts to pull you into focus.

Someone is walking out of the rows of trailers, curly-haired and broad shouldered and surefooted until he sees you and stops. His hands hang by his side, one stuffed in his pants pocket.

Dieter.

You smile and give a small wave, coming up to stand in front of him. He’s foregone the jacket, standing in that open-necked button up and slacks. His face is shadowed until you get right up to him, and only then do you see the adoration his eyes hold for you.

“Hey there handsome,” you say, chucking your knuckle under his chin. He chuffs out a laugh, putting his hand to your cheek. His palm dwarfs your face.

“Hello yourself,” he says, and he’s breathless before you even get a chance to kiss him. Which he does in the next moment.

He dives in to slot his lips against yours, tasting like the sweet champagne and spearmint. His tongue delves into your mouth, eager to map the softness of your lips. In a swift movement he lifts you, urging your legs around his waist as he wraps you in his arms.

“Don’t you dare throw out your back,” you scold as he turns and walks you towards his trailer.

“Not doing this,” he whispers back and you laugh into his mouth. He fumbles for the door before getting you both inside and locking it behind him.

He’s cleaned since you were last here, which makes you giggle at the image of him preparing for tonight. Then the thought of tonight, of what he promised makes you slide down off him, ignoring his whine of protest.

“Wait, wait, just a sec, I…” you say, trying to catch your breath even as he chases your neck with his mouth, leaving open kisses on it. You pull his head back to look in your eyes, forcing him to focus. God, he does look good desperate.

“Before we get into anything, I just…I need to know if this is a one-time thing,” you say, and a wrinkle forms in Dieter’s brow. “This isn’t about the first time, right?” You feel stupid asking it, but now that you’re here you need to know if this is still guilty orgasm-chasing or is it…

“My god, fucking never,” Dieter curses, his eyes so eager. “I absolutely want to do this so many more times." You smile as he begins walking you backwards.

"I want to fuck you for as long as you’ll have me, then take you out for breakfast.” You laugh, but it gets smothered in another kiss, more fiery than the last.

“Want to ask you about your day…” he continues, urging you gently down a narrow hall. Your elbows bump the walls as he guides you by your hips.

“Want to Netflix and fall asleep with you,” he says, and now your heart is pounding.

“Dieter…” you say, and your voice is more wavery than you thought it would be. He soothes you with his hands, his lips sweet on yours. Your calves hitting the edge of his bed as he wraps you in his arms.

“You think I’d let you go after finding you again?” His lips give you the answer, sucking and licking and pressing into you until you’re out of breath and he’s laying you down on the bed that takes up the entirety of the room.

He covers you, sinking down to fit his body into your curves. You wrap around him, indulging in his mouth, the plushness of his lips, the addictive scratch of his mustache against your skin. Your skirt is rucked up your thighs and Dieter’s hands slide under your ass, searching for the zip.

“Hmm, eager?” you tease as he mouths at your collarbone.

“You have no idea,” he says back, thick fingers finding the small tab to slide down tooth by tooth. You lift your hips so he can drag the fabric down your legs, throwing the skirt over his shoulder and hurriedly pressing his hips to your core.

He’s hard and heavy and grazing softly against you, the head of his cock brushing against your clit through your underwear. You fist his shirt, the other hand finding his hair and digging into the lush curls. His mouth comes off your skin with a hiss, hips pressing long and hard against you.

“You like that?” you purr, and Dieter’s stuttery sigh is the answer you need. He might have instigated things years ago, but if the afternoon you kissed him was any indicator, Dieter preferred to be led.

“Get on your back,” you say, firm but sweet. Dieter’s head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“But I want to take care of you,” he murmured, hands coming up to span your ribcage. He’s so large, covering you with his body, but you know he’ll melt in a moment under your ministrations.

“Here’s what I want.” You lift his head out of your neck to look him in the eyes. His lips are pink and swollen, eyes half-lidded. He swallows against your hold.

“I want you to lie on your back. Then I’m going to fuck your face until I cum on it.” At the phrase Dieter whines, pumping his hips into you once. “Once you lick yourself clean I’m going to ride your cock until you’re begging to cum and watch you fall apart.” He peppers your skin with kisses where he can reach, relaxing against your touch. With a swift move you roll him onto his back, straddling his stomach and pressing him into the mattress. “Then we’ll do it however you like…or however I let you have it…until you can barely remember your own name. Sound good?”

Dieter nods frantically before surging up to kiss you. As possessive as it is, he relents immediately to your tongue invading his mouth, moaning and gasping as you nip his lower lip, flick the tip against his, and steal his breath. You take a moment to slide open the buttons on his shirt, yearning to feel the heat of his skin against yours. The moan he releases when your thighs skim across his ribs makes you absolutely want to wreck him.

Once you part, Dieter slides his hands under your thighs and pushes your hips to hover over his hungry mouth. Looking down at him is a treat that could almost make you cum untouched. His hair a wild mess, eyes focused on the fabric covering your cunt, lower lip wet with his tongue swiping against it. He noses against you, the curve fitting perfectly against your clit as he breathes hot and heady against your cunt.

“Fuck, should have undressed you first,” he bemoaned, making you chuckle. You slide out of your top and unclasp your bra, feeling him mouth at your cunt and moan. His hands roam up the swell of your ass, the curve of your waist, and the drag of his thumbs on the underside of your breasts breaks your skin out in goosebumps. Leaning forward, you plant your elbows above Dieter’s head and lift your knee, letting him slide your panties down your thighs. You manage to get one leg out before his hands wrap around your thigh, forcing your cunt down onto his waiting tongue.

You gasp at the sudden onslaught, still pressing his head into the mattress with your pelvis. You worry that this position is uncomfortable for him before remembering that he does nothing he doesn’t want to do. You came on his face as he sat in driveway gravel, he’s clearly enjoying himself as he swipes his tongue through your hot sex.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he moans into the crease of your hip, his wet lips smearing kisses on your inner thighs, the top of your mound, before you sit up tall on his face. Angling your hips and arching your back, you rock your cunt along his mouth, scruff rubbing over your tender flesh and hot breath searing, then cooling you. Those big hands that dwarf everything they hold come around your thighs to pull you flush, coaxing you to drag harder against him. His tongue is long and stiff, pulsing and licking and flicking and pushing inside you.

“You love getting your face sat on, don’t you?” you tease, lifting up a fraction but Dieter whines and yanks you right back down.

“Fuck yes,” he pants, and you feel him try to take control by sliding up to capture your clit between his lips. You gasp, the pull and release sparking up your spine as he seals his mouth over you to slide his tongue around and across until your hips shake against his jaw. He’s bringing you dangerously close to the edge, and while you’re sure he’ll give you many more if you let him, you want him to know who’s topping who here.

Fisting your hand in his hair, you tilt his head back and away from your cunt. He gasps, and you feel his hips lift on the bed as you slip two fingers into his open mouth.

“That’s not how I said it was going to go,” you tut at him, sliding your fingers deeper into his mouth to stroke the back of his tongue. You feel him start to gag and draw back, but he closes his mouth around your intruding digits, pressing his teeth gently against you. Slowly, you slide them back into his mouth until the ring of his lips almost touches your knuckles. He’s swallowing over and over, splitting your fingers with his tongue and closing his eyes in a bliss you’re greatly enjoying. Pressing down on his jaw, you urge him to open his mouth.

“Nice and wide for me, honey, let me see that wicked tongue of yours,” you purr, and Dieter drops his jaw and lays out his tongue for you, pink and slippery and waiting. “Good boy,” you murmur, and the hitch in his breath is the perfect precursor to settling your cunt back on his mouth.

Hand still fisting his hair, just enough to feel the tension and a zing of pain if you squeeze harder, you begin rolling your hips. You plot a path that has you climbing quickly, traveling the length of his tongue and pausing for him to dip the tip into your entrance, his nose rubbing into your flushed clit. You can feel your slick on Dieter’s face, coating his cheeks, his beard, his nose, and he lays there and gasps and moans through it. There’s a barely perceptible rocking of the bed as he tries to relieve friction on his cock, tight in his pants. Leaning back just enough to slide your fingers over his aching erection, he strains against your touch. The sound he makes, like you’ve suckered punched him, ushers in another wave of slick that he greedily sucks up.

“Please please please,” he begs, redoubling his efforts to lap and suck and flick you over the edge.

“Please what?” you ask, but it’s getting harder as Dieter presses his tongue just below your clit, finding an erogenous zone you didn’t know you had but you want him to keep at. “Oh fuck, there, yes, there.”

“Cum on my face so I can fuck you,” he growls, and he yanks you forward to drape over his head, catching yourself before you land face-first in the bed. From this angle he has perfect access to your clit and with a wet slurp to prepare, he slips a finger inside you. The stimulation drives you wild, fucking his face earnestly as your body begins to tighten. His nose is crushed against your mound, curls tickling your tummy and thighs trembling on either side of his head as he presses just right and makes you cum hard and long above him.

Shit, this was even better than the first time. He learns quickly and applies his education, and if the curses and wet mouth noises are any indication he loves doing it. You push yourself back off his mouth, hovering over his chest instead. He’s smiling, blissed out with wetness coating his face. His hands caress your thighs, your hips, the dip of your spine as you both try to come back to your bodies.

“Was that good?” he asks, and you shuffle back enough to bring your lips to his. He’s covered in your musk, tangy and sharp, mixed with the flavor of his champagne-soaked mouth. Settling your cunt against his cock, wetness surely ruining these pants, you indulge in the heat of his kiss. He strokes your back, pulls you chest to chest and cradles your head in his hands. It's terrifyingly intimate, learning your body, what makes you arch and burrow and hum.

“Very good, almost makes up for the first time,” you say, nipping at his chin. A flash of uncertainty colors his features, making you press your forehead to his. “Sorry, that wasn’t kind. I’m so fucking satisfied right now, but I’m also greedy to have this cock inside me.” Dieter’s body relaxes, his hands coming to your hips to guide your grind against him.

“If I got to spend the rest of my life making up for that first time, I’d consider it well lived,” he says, making you sit up to look at him. His smile is a little sheepish, but his eyes are so open and honest.

Was he pussy drunk, or did he mean that?

He sits up to meet your lips, chaste and full of sweet promise. Then he strips off the open shirt and nudges you off him to slide out of his pants. His cock is a dark flushing red, thick and ready to burst for you. You take him in your hand, stroking the shaft and watching the foreskin pull back as he keens below you.

“Never had an uncut one before,” you murmur, “I heard they’re more sensitive.” A swirl of your thumb around his head elicits a groan and a thrown-back head, confirming your hypothesis.

"Do you want me to put on a condom?" he asks, and the question is so shy you have to study his face. That veil of uncertainty he wore like a shroud for weeks was back. You skirt your fingers over his soft belly, making the muscles twitch.

"I'm on the pill," you say, swirling your index finger around the rim of his bellybutton. His hand grazes your face and strokes a path across your cheekbone.

"I'd still wear one if you wanted it. If you wanted the barrier."

How the fuck does he make everything he says hold a double meaning? You take him in your hand again and stroke him base to tip, watching all of his muscles contract at the sensation.

"I'll take you just as you are, Bravo."

See, you can do it too.

He whines as you pump his length languidly, hands fisting the sheets and eyes squeezed shut.

“Please, gorgeous, I’m so close already I can barely stand it,” he begs, and after one brief suck of his head into your mouth (followed by a steady string of “oh shits” from Dieter before you pull off), you’re straddling his thick thighs and letting the soft skin of his cock slide against your inner thigh.

“You want to come once before we get to the actual fun?” you ask, letting the tip of his cock slip against you, just enough to feel how wet you still are.

“Fuck, no, want to last. I’ll do this…” he snaps his fingers quickly, desperately, “if I’m going to cum.” You nod, leaning over to kiss him again. He’s hungrier now, licking into you desperately as you slide the underside of him through your wet folds.

“If you want me to stop teasing, say mercy,” you tell him, waiting for his nod and verbal agreement. When his head catches against your entrance, you mold your mouth to his and take his wrists. With a tilt of your hips you begin sliding onto him, pressing his hands above his head. His tattoos direct your eyes, the triangles both indicating to look up at his face and to look down at his cock disappearing inside you. He moans and pants at the descent, arms flexing but not trying to overpower you. You let his hips seek you out, shallowly thrusting up into your blinding heat as you lower yourself so slowly you think he might pass out. When you’re flush against his hips and making your first experimental roll against him, he snaps his fingers, the sound loud and stuttery.

“Oh, pretty boy’s gonna cum just from feeling me around him?” you pull off to say, watching his eyes squeeze shut and his lower lip between his teeth. He takes a few grounding breaths before opening his eyes.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he pants, face almost pained from trying so hard to focus. “Fucking amazing pussy, so tight and wet and perfect. Let me…let me breathe for a second,” he pants, his chest rising and falling so prettily for you. Keeping your hips still and pressed flush, you stack his hands on top of each other so you can hold him down with one of yours. The stutter in his breathing lets you know how affected he is in this position, pinned and at your mercy. Your other hand skates down his chest, brushing over a nipple to make him arch and ticking down his ribs to make him squirm against you.

“Had enough time to think about baseball” you tease, and his neck stretches back as you lift up and drag back down his length.

“Shit, nothing’s fucking working, you’re gonna break me,” he whines, hips rolling under yours as you let out a little moan. He feels wonderfully full in you, so hard he must be suffering. You press his hands further into the bed as you reach down to circle the base of his cock.

“Let’s see how long we can keep you on this edge,” you say, and he stutters out a breath as his hips start rocking up into you. You let him fuck up into the sweetness of your cunt, waiting for the signs that he’s close to the edge before gripping the base of his cock hard and lifting up off him, his tip pressed against your entrance.

“Fuck!” he chokes out, biceps straining and neck muscles bulging as you stave off his orgasm. You drag your lips and teeth along his neck, enjoying the flush you’re bringing out of his skin.

“Trying to, but you’re so sensitive it’s like I’m taking your virginity,” you purr into his ear, dragging the circle of your fingers up his length.

“Gonna ruin me,” he forces out, and you agree as you sink back down on his cock. His mouth flies off into a diatribe of, “oh fucks,” and “yes baby yes pleases,” and the pussy-melting “I’ll spend hours making you cum on my fat cock and my tongue and my fingers if you just let me cum once.”

It takes two more hard stops just before the finish line, loud finger snaps echoing in the trailer, before you think Dieter may just say mercy to end his torture. His eyes are wet with tears, gathering in the corners and spilling into his hairline. His mouth is open in a silent sob, chest heaving in short bursts as you deny his purpling cock once more.

“Please,” he begs again, and it’s not mercy but it’s close. His gaze is blissfully faraway, exactly where you want him when you sink down on his cock the final time and set a fast rolling pace, snapping your hips against his and catching the head of his cock on your entrance on every downthrust.

“Fuck, fuck, baby, gorgeous, beautiful, I’m…I’m gonna…shit, can I…tell me…” he devolves into barely formed pleas as you release his wrists and plant your hands next to his head to better leverage your thrusts.

“Cum for me,” you order, and he yanks you down onto his chest as he explodes, shouts of ecstasy as he cums for longer than anyone you’ve had inside you. He jolts like he’s being electrocuted, a pained grunt followed by a weak sigh. You grind down on him, working him through it with soft praise into his chest as you kiss along his collarbone.

Once he goes to jelly below you, breathing slowing down and light giggles starting to emerge, you lift up on your elbows and look at his blissful face. He’s grinning so wide you think it hurts, eyes squinched shut. Perspiration beads on his brow and you smooth it away with your fingers.

“Holy fuck, I’ve never cum that hard,” he gasps, eyes finally opening to see the soft smile you’re giving him. His face goes from ecstatic to reverent, his fingers tracing your features. You’ll get off him soon, get him something to drink and lay with him until you’re both hard and wet again, but right now he’s looking at you like you hung the moon and it fills you with warmth.

“I…” he starts, then stops like he thinks better of it.

“Hm?” you ask, feeling him soften but still holding him between your thighs.

“I remembered you,” he said softly, his other hand coming up to stroke along your spine. Your brow furrows at the statement, so he continues.

“I was coming down off the high that day you came to my trailer, and I remembered something. You were on set with us, in the back I think. I wasn’t paying attention. But you were making jokes with the mocap guys and we were waiting for something, some new line or other bullshit, and I started watching you. And you were…so funny, and cute, and hard-working and fun.”

Your breath caught, his eyes getting a little unfocused as he remembers. You do too, you got so bored on 5 that you would mess around with the mocap guys just to have someone to talk to. You didn’t think anyone noticed.

“After that, every time I went on set I looked for you. Sometimes you were there, sometimes you weren’t, but when you were I couldn’t fucking concentrate. I'd hear you talking about a new art exhibit, or some indie film you saw, and it made me want to see it too. Just so I could talk to you about it.” He looks you dead in the eyes now, as present as as serious as he can be. “I don’t fuck people I work with, it’s always a bad idea, but I wanted you. I remembered wanting you and telling myself I wasn’t allowed to have that because it would fuck you over. A Dieter Bravo fling that would follow you forever.” The admission raises the hair on the back of your neck.

“I still don’t remember that night. I must have done so much shit I was barely a person. But I remember before, and I remember after they told us half the crew got let go I thought they were doing you a favor. Before I got mixed up with you.” His head thumps back on the pillow, eyes locking on the ceiling.

“I’m still sorry, for that night. I thought…I thought I was good to the people I took to bed. I’m not so sure now.”

You tilt Dieter’s chin down to kiss, letting your lips play a soft game of give and take, caressing and breathing each other in.

“You’re not a bad person. And I’m sure you were good to many others. You’ve been so good to me right now.” The admission lets him relax his shoulders. He wraps you in his thick arms, rolling you over as he slips out of you. Now it’s your turn to trace your fingers across his wide back, feel the weight of his body surround you.

"I'd like to keep doing that," he says, his hair a wild mess, eyes dancing over your features. "I think..." You watch him contemplate what he wants to say next, pulling his lip between his teeth and worrying at it. You bring your thumb up and tug it away from him and he smiles down at you. He kisses your shoulder, up your neck, and then confesses in your ear:

“I think I could fall for you.”

The words throw your heart into overdrive, a lump forming in your throat as he presses his forehead against you. You know he expects rejection, for the bile of the past to still be simmering in your gut. There are words you could say that scare you how much you feel them, but you want to be real in this moment. You hadn’t sugar-coated anything so far, now is not the time to do so.

“I’d like to see where this leads us,” you answer back. In it is hope, and desire, and maybe a response to what he said in not so powerful words. He squeezes you tight, a smile against your skin.

The next hour starts with kisses that grow hungrier, Dieter’s mouth traveling down your body to worship your breasts and pull another orgasm out of you with his fingers, lubricated by his cum and your arousal. Once you’re not shaking anymore he throws both of your legs over his shoulders and eats you out until you cum on his beautiful tongue again, threatening to keep going until you scramble up the bed away from him.

He makes grilled cheese sandwiches at one am, smiling at you sporting one of his well-worn t-shirts while sitting on the kitchen table. You take the time to admire his pert bottom in the tiniest, most obnoxiously neon green boxer briefs you've ever seen. His smile, even when he's not looking at you, is bashful and secret. You sigh when his fingers dance along your thighs as he licks buttery crumbs from his lower lip. A thank you kiss grows into him taking you back to bed, laying you out and sliding into your cunt with a series of curses. He lasts this time, holding your hips as he snaps into your core, the strain of his muscles and the bliss on his face beautiful in the depths of the night. When you wrap your smaller hand around his throat he loses himself rutting into you. He cums buried inside you, head in the crook of your neck and hands around your thighs and the small of your back. You hear him pant something indistinct, something soft and not truly for your ears yet, before his fingers find your clit and glide you through another orgasm around his softening cock.

After you both clean yourselves up, he pulls back the duvet and slides between the ungodly high thread count sheets. His hand lays on the other side of the bed, a question.

You answer by sliding in next to him, placing your head on his shoulder and letting him pull you into his body. The steady cadence of his breath lulls you into sleep.

EXT. PROPERTY GATES - DAY (DAWN)

You are unwashed, in a spare set of clothing you dug out of the back of your car as you supervise the final key handover to the homeowner. He’s pleased with the state everything is left in, the grounds clean and well kept, the home just as he left it. You shake hands on it and head to your car, parked just outside the gates.

Ronna meets you, confirming that all is well and done with the location.

“Just on to post now,” you say, smiling and trying not to wring your hands or look desperate.

“I think they’ll have plenty to work with,” she agrees, adjusting her jacket around her frame. You smile and nod, opening your mouth to spill what you’ve been feeling. That this was the best project you’ve ever worked on. That you hope she’ll keep you in mind for future projects. That you’re looking forward to the long career ahead of her and how much you’d like to be part of it.

She beats you to it.

“I’m going to be doing a lot of press junkets for this movie, but I’m also scouting out new projects. A colleague of mine, a screenwriter, just got the exclusive rights to a French period novel, some gothic elements but a little more modern. I’ve got some ideas for it if you’re available to discuss over lunch?”

Your heart is so full you might burst. You confirm the date and time and see Ronna off before you head to your car. You want to skip and jump and run laps around the estate, no matter how many miles that is. Everything feels like it’s moving into a new golden age for you.

Including the man leaning against your car, wearing those sunglasses you hate until he sees you, then they disappear into his pocket.

“Don’t you have a driver?” you ask, and he smirks at you.

“He’s waiting,” Dieter says, tossing his head at the black Mercedes idling close by. He takes your hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your palms.

“Ronna give you some good news?” he asks, and you feel like there’s a more pressing question on his tongue.

Where do we go from here?

“We’re talking next week about her new project,” you say, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“The French one?” he asks, and you quirk an eyebrow at him. He shrugs.

“I might have also expressed an interest in working with Ronna again.” You let him pull you into his arms, ducking his head to hide the shit-eating grin.

“Dieter Bravo, are you following me to my next job?” you ask with fake salaciousness, brushing your nose against his as he pulls you into a kiss. It’s hot and sweet, the perfect amount of passion and kindness that make you a little weak in the knees.

“Well, you did say this role might get me another Oscar, might as well stick around and see what the next project turns out to be.” He leans back against your car, watching you with quiet surety. His confidence is sexier in this light.

“Plus, I really like the art direction,” he teases. You fiddle with the lapels of his light jacket.

“So we’re going to do this?” you ask, and both your insecurities come out to clash against one another.

“Only if you still want me,” Dieter says, tripping over your accompanying words of, “I’ve never had a relationship like this.” You both laugh, meeting each other’s eyes with mirth.

“Well to start, I do. Want you,” you say, and Dieter’s smile could be seen from space, it’s so bright. He kisses you again, playful and light. “The logistics give me the cold sweats though. Never done something this, you know, complicated.” At this Dieter’s brow furrows.

“Where are you when you’re not on set?” he asks.

“Hotels, short-term rentals, that sort of thing,” you answer. Not a glamorous life, but one you enjoy even with the nomadic aspect.

“Oh. That’s easy then. You stay with me.” He says it like he’s offering you the other half of a sandwich, not asking you to move in with him. Your mouth drops open, stuttering in surprise.

“I can’t…we should, it’s way too early, I don’t…I don’t want…you’ll hate that,” you stutter, and Dieter’s smile is so calming for a man who can stress you out to no end.

“Hey, it’s okay. There's plenty of room. And we won't always be there together. You'll be on projects, I'll be on projects. Maybe together, maybe not." His hands are back to the soothing circles on your palms. "But if we're not working, I'd like to have you in my home. Have a place for you to stay where you're wanted." His eyes search your face, which must be gobsmacked because he takes both your shoulders into his hands.

"Do you trust me?” he asks.

What a loaded fucking question.

Three months ago the answer would have been a hard no. Not with your pleasure, or your feelings, or even with your basic consideration. Now, kind-eyed and open in front of you, the only thing you can imagine is…

“Yeah, yeah I guess I do.”

That’s followed with another kiss, short and sweet.

“Then let’s try to make this work.”

With the world at your feet, this man in your arms, and the excitement of the road before you, it all seems possible.

“Okay Bravo, then take me home.”

And he does.

END || PREVIOUS

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who came along for this wild ride. It was a ton of fun to explore a story that pulled in so many of my interests (including Dieter, that messy raccoon man) and share them with all you amazing people. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reblobbled and were generally fantastic. To many more stories!

EPILOGUE

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo / you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #prolix fics

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soft-for-them · 2 years

Text

My dear, tell me what’s wrong? - Humphrey Bone x plus size reader

Summary: You're just a shy Victorian ghost sad about your undead life, Humphrey is always there to listen to your worries and cheer you up. Reader being plus size is hardly mentioned but is there.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

A/n: This is some self indulgent stuff right here for I'm Humphrey brain rot at the moment. Also someone please make more BBC Ghosts GIFs, I need them badly.

To most the scene of Alison doing some paperwork in the living room whilst a whirlwind threatens to blow off all her hard sorted papers stacked on the table would be a supernaturally peculiar thing to see but to Alison it's yet another day in the ever so haunted Button house.

Alison barely looks up from her stack of bills as a Victorian ghost straight out of a ghost film or an episode of most haunted flurries around the room looking around for her dear friend’s detached head whilst muttering obscenities about how modern day people portray Victorian era ghosts.

“Oh, I must wear a night gown to bed to blend in with the Victorian ghosts just in case I die in my sleep.” You mock as you look around for Humphrey’s decapitated head, “Alison! I hate this!”

“Hey!” you here Humphrey call from somewhere in the room.

You stand straight up in all your white laced glory, the pure white gown you died in drowning your plush figure in a stereotypical ghostly glow.

“I don’t mean searching for your head my dear-“ you seemly float towards the sound of Humphrey’s disgruntled mutters, “-I mean I hate being in THIS for eternity.”

You tilt down in the most dramatic way as you carefully pick up Humphrey’s head. If you were alive your back would have clicked from dramatically draping yourself down and certainly if your friends from the Victorian era were in the room they’d tell you to use your knees instead of your back picking up your dear friend.

Who, cares though, you’re dead.

For a moment you pause. You're now fully back up, Humphrey’s head safely in your hands, his neck and cheeks softly being held by your dead hands, your eyes trained on his. It’s almost like you’re caressing the Tudor man’s face but alas if you move one wrong move then the head that is your friend will drop on to the floor.

Humphrey smiles up at you with a oh so soft smile.

Normally the other ghosts don’t treat his decapitated head in such nice ways. For the last hundred or so years you’ve been one of the few ghosts who’ve not used him as a make shift football.

If only he wasn’t at odds with his body, then you could hold his face in such tenderness without the threat of dropping him. Maybe he could do it back, maybe caress his thumb from your jaw to your lips like he always wants to do, maybe just maybe he could bend down or perch up (depending on the height difference) and kiss you on the lips.

Alison does not interrupt these intense interactions that normally happen between the two of you, she doesn’t move out the room to give you both space, it happens too much for he to be bothered.

To most of the other ghosts they don’t realise Humphrey and you have a close relationship, most of the ghost don’t even know you exist. Even if they did Julian would be joking about it every five minutes or Fanny would be judging you both.

Alison doesn’t know much either about the two ghost in front of her looking like an ethereal version Hamlet but what she does know is that she is routing for the two of you to get together.

At first when Alison came to Button house (and subsequently started seeing ghosts) she didn’t know you were even there, let alone that you normally walked around with the decapitated head of Humphrey.

( A high pitched sound that can only be described as an eek had left Alison’s lips as she tried to get to the kitchen for a midnight snack.

It was the first time she’d seen you, a glowing ghost wearing a flowing over the top nightgown and a slightly sad look to her face.

“You were not supposed to see me.” You had said in an anxious voice, “I- well-I was just looking for my friend, he’s called Humphrey.”

“You’re a ghost.”

You had choose to ignore that statement, both because it seemed rhetorical and you were very shy at the time, instead like you always seem to do, you had begun looking around.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” Alison asked.

“I like hanging out in the basement and attic.” A muffled and quiet call of the name (y/n) had been called out none other by Humphrey which had gotten you to float away, “Also I died in the garden.”)

Now that Alison knows that you reside where most of the main ghosts don’t go, that your resting place is in the plants and grass instead of the brick walls of the manor, she’s been trying to get you to introduce you to everyone.

That and she’s been trying to get you to confess to Humphrey but either one would be very nice.

Alison carries on watching the two of you lovingly look at one another. It’s sickly sweet, so sweet until the bickering of ghosts gets closer.

Alison, like the good friend she is, finally gets up and says “I’ll short this out” before leaving the room.

You pause there like a dear in head lights as your hear Alison heard the two ghosts, the Captain and Julian you think, away from you and Humphrey. You’re still ready to bolt even when the voices fade and Humphrey tries to grab you attention.

“There’ gone now.” Humphrey whispers.

You look down at your friend worry still chiselled on your face. If a ghost could cry, then you’d be close to crying. With eyes magnified by salty water and your sweet sweet smile turning down into a soft frown Humphrey just wants to hold your face like you’re doing to him and comfort you.

“Sit (y/n).” his voice is neither harsh or demanding it is only soft and kind, if it was anyone else you’d not listen but you sit down. Paper surrounds the two of you, the spot where Alison once sat warm making you feel almost alive.

“You’ve been down all day.” Humphrey begins his voice soft as he speaks, “You don’t have to but do tell me what’s wrong?”

His head still held by your hands, his stump neck balanced on the soft curve of your thighs, Humphrey look up to you with pleading eyes.

“I-“ you pause not knowing what to really say, “-Humphrey my dear?”

You voice just a whisper graces his ears like a sweet song, if Humphrey could he would have nodded at you but instead he just whispers back a small ‘yes’.

“I-I’ve been feeling down lately. I-well-I never really had someone like you when I was alive, someone so kind and patient with me-“

Your head hangs low partly of sadness but partly to be closer to the decapitated head that is your friend.

“-I’ve been thinking a lot about my death and how sudden it was, how I never got to do many things with my life despite all I had.”

You head almost touches Humphrey’s as your voice becomes a whisper in the wind. You want to tell him everything you ever wanted to do with your life, how you wanted to get a job despite being a woman, own a fancy dress and go to a ball, even fall in love but all you are now is a woman covered in layers of unflattering white cotton with your hair a mess and feet bare forever destined to end up sleeping in the shrubbery.

You want to say that to Humphrey but instead you just press you forehead to his and sigh.

“I don’t think I ready to speak just yet my dear-“ your eyes connect with his, “-but for now I’d like to be in your company if that’s ok, I find you a comfort.”

“As do I”

Eye still connected and soft smile on each other face you peck the smallest and most chaste kiss on to Humphrey’s cheek before going back to leaning forehead to forehead, somehow there’s a subtle warmth on your undead face, Humphrey’s own face even going a bit pink.

Alison walks into you both silently looking at one another and she smiles. Without disturbing you both she sits back down and carries on with her paper work, the house quiet for just a moment more.

#not proofread #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts x reader #bbc ghosts humphrey #humphrey bone #humphrey bone x reader #x plus size reader #plus size reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader

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