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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Crossed Wires 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner

Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The gravel mulches loudly under the tires of the truck. You grip the ridged wheel as the seat belt strains against your shoulder. You make yourself sit back, the seat slid up as far as it will go. Still, the bumper shortens your perspective.

You figured you’d get a call to the old Orson place when you heard it sold. That was months ago though and the new owner finally set down roots there. You haven’t seen them, you’ve only heard the whispers that accompany any happening in Hammer Ford; from a new recipe to the juiciest of scandals. You pay much attention to any of it.

You keep your hands at ten and two as you follow the long gravelly drive to the farmhouse facade. There’s a single car parked outside the garage. It’s a sleek white SUV, luxury by the looks of the hood ornament. It’s not what you expect around here. That paint job will be dusty in now time, if not scratched by errant pebbles.

You pull in and shut off the engine. You undo your seat belt and check your watch. Right on schedule. You open the door and step on the rusted step below the door, letting yourself down with a hop. Your tan work boots kick up dirt as you round to the passengers side and swing the door open to retrieve your heavy work bag.

You sling the thick strap over your shoulder and snap the door as you head towards the house. You rest your hand on the side of the bag as you near the steps, searching for any sign of life. The stairs creak as you climb onto the low porch.

“Can I help you?” The deep voice startles you.

You blink and turn to face the man sitting on the wooden boards, bolts and screws around him along with metal parts and wooden boards. You hadn’t seen him through the tight slats of the railing.

You keep your usual vague stare as you sniff, “got a call about the breaker.”

He squints at you, a squiggle forming between his brows. He’s older. His grey hair has a single bolt of its former dirty blond just above his forehead. Despite the heat and the dirt sprinkled over the boards, he wears a pair of dark slacks and a button-up rolled to his elbows.

“You’re the electrician,” he states as he sets aside the small screwdriver in his hand. He stands with a grunt, grasping his knee before he straightens.

“Sure am,” you reply flatly.

“I spoke with a man,” he intones, hands going to his hips as he looks down at you.

“That’s would be my boss. Cole.”

“That’s his name,” he steps forward, wiping his hand on his shirt, staining the light gray fabric, “Andy.”

He offers his hand and you shake it curtly. All the farmers pride themselves on keeping a firm grip and you never faltered with them. He squeezes before he lets you go. He doesn’t have the typical callouses, you even have a few.

“How’d you get into this work?” he wonders.

“It’s work. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t– I don’t mean anything,” he stammers.

“Didn’t think you did,” you sniff, “so, what am I looking at?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” he reaches back to rub his neck. The power keeps… flickering.”

“Ah, been a while, probably just need to wait for it to stabilize. City worker came out months ago for the meters,” you explain.

“Right, well, I heard sizzling.”

“Show me where you heard it.”

He nods and gestures you towards the door. Before you can reach it, he pulls the wooden screen door back and waits for you to enter ahead of him. He tells you it’s just down the hall and stop you near the basement door. You peer down the stairs and flick the light switch. There’s a low buzz.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” you look up, “but I can have a look.”

“Oh, okay,” he utters, “I also had another question. You might know something about it.”

You look at him. He seems put off by your expressionless stare.

“I wanted to install an automatic opener in the garage…”

“I can do the wiring, sure, long as you buy the parts,” you answer. “I can give you recommendations, odds are, you’ll need a whole new door as well.”

“Sure,” he agrees uneasily.

“Can schedule an appointment when you decide,” you turn your palm out, “I’ll just go grab my ladder and have a look then.”

You go to step past him but he’s not quick enough. You nearly collide and find yourself moving back and forth with him, trying to get by. You stop and stare. He stills himself and turns sideways, waving you by. You pass and let out a slow breath through your nose.

You stalk back down the hall and onto the porch. You hear him following you. You come down the steps as he continues his close pursuit. You don’t exactly know what he’s doing but you won’t ask. Cole says you need to work on customer service and not tell people to get out of your way.

You go around the bed of the truck and open the back. You reach for the ladder but another arm stretches further and faster. He pulls the ladder out before you can and you step back with a grunt.

“Hey, I can get it,” you insist.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind helping.”

“So why am I here?” You ask curtly, immediately knowing you asked a bad question.

“Sorry, I was just… being nice,” he says.

“Right,” you try to soften your tone, “it’s just… it’s my job. I can carry the ladder.”

“I know you can,” he looks down at you and you feel even smaller. You don’t like it when they try to play gentleman, it’s condescending. You might be short but you’re strong enough.

“Thanks,” you grab the ladder and yank it from his grasp.

He lets go and you continue past him. He huffs and follows a few paces back from the end of the ladder. You angle it up the steps.

“At least let me get the door,” he inches past you, “okay?”

“Thanks,” you repeat in the same even keel.

You enter and take the ladder down the hall. He hovers just down the hallway, watching as he shifts his weight between his feet. He’s the worst kind of customer, the kind that have to supervise.

You step up the ladder and look past it. “Mind holding it?”

“You sure?” He gives a trite arch of his brow.

You blink and keep your eyes from rolling, “I’d appreciate it, sir.”

He comes forward and braces the ladder staunchly. You climb up and suppress a snarl. City folk think you’re all backwards out here but they can’t wrap their damn head around a woman with a brain.

#andy barber #cole turner #dark andy barber #dark cole turner #dark!andy barber #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #andy barber x reader #drabble #backwoods au #au #crossed wires #defending jacob #series #ghosted

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comickergirl · 3 months

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Ghost on the wire elsa for the requests?

itsbeeneightyfouryears.gif

#my art #comicker replies #sketch requests #elsa #ghost on the wire #thanks for sending this in!#attn: nos #frozen AU

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jotaroslooseeyebrowhair · 1 year

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Girl help I’ve been staring at my (nonexistent) next chapter of my fanfic for over a week I don’t know how to write fluff

#please help i'm so confused #it’s literally just this one chapter that I’ve been struggling with #crying? pain? torture? hell yeha got that in the bag but how in the FUCK do you write a cuddle pile #he’s a dragon it’s practically wired into his biology but by god it isn’t wired in my brain #what if I write angst for someone and they write fluff for me 🥺#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp au #eldrich horror #ghost king danny phantom #dragon #big dragon #like huge #he’s a big fucking guy #he mlem

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ghouljams · 10 months

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Some of y’all wanna bone scary fairy Soap and while I agree I also disagree because no pretty face is worth it😭love your work tho babes

Wha- Hey now!! Don't discount Gaz!!! He's a good boy!! We've had like no Fae!Gaz, he lets his darlings go!! He doesn't eat them like the others!

Slander! Lies! J'accuse!

Soap gets less scary when he gets his permanent darling. Gaz is actively looking for a permanent darling. I can't believe I'm defending the fae...

#ghoul speaks #fae au #Sorry Soap is so scary I just think that he's insane #he reminds me of my friend who's life goal is to sneak a knife onto an airplane #he's the guy fiddling with C4 in the back of the humvee #going “whoops” when the wires spark and the little light goes on #so Ghost has to throw the whole bomb out the window #I'm right about this #he's so nice to the people he loves but if that's not you??#watch out

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fauvester · 2 months

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since I am a completionist i did want to do a tcgf au jackson... roaming the mortal world with his band of fiercesome ghost lieutenants.. carousing and bothering mortals... stealing ceremonial incense and smoking it like a pipe... despite his ferocious reputation he can come off as very gentlemanly and gallant, especially to ladies (in a purely grandfatherly way, of course) but he wears the proof of a hard and violent life proudly

#tcgf au #instead of a parrot theres this bone vulture that occasionally appears to sit on his shoulders curse and give him messages #GOD i havent drawn this fucker in so long. this man made out of coat hanger wire and old leather #he really does see himself as a cool antihero. protecting the virtue of innocent women. fighting for justice (for himself mostly)#someone has to pay for the bad things that have happened! and its going to be....... NICHOLAS BIDDLE #*camera zooms to a guy eating a bread roll off the floor*#anyone is capable of entering ghost city if they do the silly little ritual. EXCEPT andrew jackson. he is constitutively locked out.#he bounces off that mfer

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ppriesttess · 1 year

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Sorcery fight

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk #my mind is literally plagued by various au ideas........#by the way! for the background i took a screenshot from the game Ghost wire: tokyo

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solunest · 1 year

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So.

Them four arms huh

#'The Heavenly Body' Case File In Question AU #police chief!eclipse #detective!y/n #mafia au #fnaf sb #does this count as the fabled wire play??#i dont know #but i just wanted an excuse to have little sleuth sit on eclipse's lap and sense his hands ghosting their thighs

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galactic-feelins · 1 year

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Been rotating some characters and shows I like around in my brain, but something went wrong and now some wires crossed in unfortunate ways. I’ve been trying to get back into the drawing mood, but considering there is now a jumbled mess of fandoms and characters in my head now, be warned I may end up sharing something unfortunate

Details are in the tags here if you’re curious, just be warned it’s messy…

#It’s like… if you threw breakfast and dessert ingredients into a crock pot I guess?#in case anyone’s reading this and want an idea of what’s gone wrong just start with that roxas and sora au thing from before #now take that lil au of Roxas having to travel and adventure to find Sora and take away the TTeens #obviously Roxas can’t fly the gummi ship on his own due to a lack of smiles and reason to smile and start adding bad ideas #bad idea 1: maybe that random space loving ghost kid would like to take a vacation on a sorta kinda space ship?#bad idea 2: that randy over there sure is weird but also weirdly capable? Mayhaps capable enough to be the hero he needs right now?#bad idea 3: aliens. Space adjacent is cool and all but wouldn’t it be fun if there were aliens? And why not a contained package?#said package turns out to be a 10 year old though so no everyone’s arguing. Oh well moving on. Adventure awaits #most recently those thoughts devolved and added Kevin Levin into the mix and somehow made things worse but better #there are now 2 children and 3 teens and all of them distinctly not human and yet very much human and the children are fighting #also the idea of each of them slowly finding out about each other in increasingly horrible ways #even better is if the first is Danny very visibly being impaled and just taking a picture and walking through the blade #like oh my god he just got impaled and his first instinct is to get a visual record and phase through the problem!#the more they go through the worse it gets before suddenly another kid is being babysat and has to wonder wtf is going on #’he’s literally dead and yet I’M the freak?’ ‘Whaaat no! Nooo who said anything about freaks? You’re perfect! You’re fine! Sweet child!’#just a lil hissy and volatile in a group of volatile kids throwing hissy fits occasionally #anyway like I said some wires were crossed in a horrible way <3 #I know there isn’t art of it yet but I’m still putting this on my art blog cuz if I do make art it’d be relevant here

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ru5t · 1 month

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Tag drop pt. 3 !

c:\\work>dir v:\ THE SILVER CITY* //1.youth/

c:\\work>dir v:\ THE DARK HALLS* //2.trials/

c:\\work>dir v:\ THE DESERT'S CALL* //3.freedom/

c:\\work>dir v:\ THE HALF DEATH* //4.ReEd/

c:\\work>dir v:\ THE GHOST GIRL* //5.main/

c:\\work>dir au:\ THE RAT NEST* // .modern/

c:\\work>dir au:\ THE LIVE WIRE* // .powered/

c:\\work>dir au:\ THE LOST DAUGHTER* // .fantasy/

#c:\\work>dir v:\ THE SILVER CITY* //1.youth/#c:\\work>dir v:\ THE DARK HALLS* //2.trials/#c:\\work>dir v:\ THE DESERT'S CALL* //3.freedom/#c:\\work>dir v:\ THE HALF DEATH* //4.ReEd/#c:\\work>dir v:\ THE GHOST GIRL* //5.main/#c:\\work>dir au:\ THE RAT NEST* // .modern/#c:\\work>dir au:\ THE LIVE WIRE* // .powered/#c:\\work>dir au:\ THE LOST DAUGHTER* // .fantasy/#oh_yeah_it's_all_coming_together.gif

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ceilidho · 2 months

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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 5; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Give him blood and he’ll give you something new to chew on.

Except that isn’t the way it goes. Not this time at least.

He tries to talk Ghost out of it, but it falls on deaf ears. Blatantly ignored. The car barrels down the motorway under the cloak of night, a swell of stars overhead as the city falls farther behind. Radio shut off. Johnny thinks if Ghost had his way, the radio would’ve been pulled out entirely, just wires and an empty, black cavity in the dashboard, but it’s a rental.

And no one wants to deal with the paperwork involved in damaging military property. Not even Ghost.

Ghost won’t so much as glance over at him. Unaffected as ever, as if they didn’t just fuck. Johnny’s stomach hurts when he thinks about it. Even without her knowing, he’s broken his girl’s trust. Not for the first time; maybe not even the last. His guilt echoes not only that he let Ghost make him come, but that he liked it—that the buzz in his bones says do it again, please god, again, please let me come, I need to come, touch me, please—

He thinks about his girl, then turns to Ghost again.

In the pit of his stomach, Johnny knows this is wrong. In his rational mind, he knows it. If he were in a better place, he wants to think that he’d make a real attempt to change Ghost’s mind, maybe get him to turn around at the next gas station, but he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in his belly at the prospect of seeing his girl again after a week of nothing.

The silence has been eating away at him. Bits of his brain flaking away, moth-eaten. Checking his phone again and again to no new messages, getting the same voicemail message whenever he calls. Something flutters high in his chest, an itch he can’t scratch; it tells him to take off in the middle of the night, drive all the way back home and pound on her door until she’s forced to answer it, forced to talk to him face to face.

Again and again, he tries looking at it from her perspective—tries to empathize with her. What he would’ve done in her shoes had she allowed a coworker to grab his dick in front of a crowd of strangers. It’s more than fair, he thinks. His own shame leaks out of his pores in the middle of the night, sleeping on top of the covers because he sweats right through the sheets.

And yet, he keeps butting up against his own anger. Talk it out with me, yell at me, he growls into her voicemail, anger growing as the days pass one by one.

It’s the road that alerts him to their arrival into the city more than anything. More cracks in the asphalt, the car rattling over sewer depressions and potholes in a way that says home sweet home. Usually it’s a source of comfort, like seeing the silver lining on grey clouds or the iridescence in an oil spill, purples and greens catching the light. Not now. Now the road winds like descending into the underworld, each turn coming with a sinking feeling.

They park down the road from the flower shop, tucked just out of sight. A cool breeze wafts over his hot face when he steps out of the car. It nearly rocks him back. When he glances up, his heart stutters at the sight of her bedroom window, sealed tight now. Only cracked open during their sleepovers, when Johnny runs a bit too hot at night for them to sleep comfortably with the window closed.

“Should I…do ye want me to give her a call to wake her up?” Johnny asks tentatively, shutting the car door softly so as not to make a noise.

Ghost shakes his head. “We’ll let ourselves in.”

Johnny’s picked hundreds of locks in his time; he’s jimmied open doors with crowbars, set up explosive charges, used a good old fashioned ram from time to time—no stranger to the trade—but it feels decidedly uncomfortable with Ghost at his back, staring down at him as he breaks into his own girlfriend’s apartment.

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbles, turning the pick in the lock until he hears a familiar click inside.

Ghost doesn’t answer, just raps his knuckles against the back of Johnny’s head. A silent get a move on.

Her apartment looks the same but different when they enter it. His muscles remember the layout though. The pink couch in the living room with two dimpled pillows on either side, the footstool by the door, the stand with her shoes all piled in neat little rows, the vase on her kitchen island with a fresh new bundle of flowers, fragrant when he dips his head to take a whiff. He’s loved flowers ever since meeting his girl.

Ghost doesn’t try to muffle his footsteps for once. He rummages through her cabinets and drawers with all the finesse of a first time burglar looking to get caught. It smacks of intentionality. Johnny’s worked with him too many times in the field to know that if Ghost wanted to disappear into the darkness, he would. He’d be the thing creeping silently through the shadows, tread lighter than air, close enough to touch but never see.

So it’s more than deliberate when he noisily shuts a drawer. Baiting her out.

It’s no surprise when Johnny hears her creep around the corner from out of her bedroom. He’s tucked in the shadows of the living room, just out of the light, so he sees her first when she comes silently down the hall, whole body trembling with fear, the bat she keeps beside her bed drawn over a shoulder. Even her hands shake around the grip.

Of course she yelps when Johnny says her name, stepping out of the shadows, swinging wild. He winces when the bat smashes into a lamp, shattering it on impact.

“Fuck!” she screams, scurrying backwards into the wall behind her. Several framed pictures rattle against the wall, nearly knocked off their hooks.

“Noisy, isn’t she?” Ghost grumbles from the kitchen, tossing a bored glance over, unbothered by the commotion. He undoubtedly heard her creeping down the hall as well.

“What the fuck?” she gasps, chest heaving when she breathes. Her eyes dart from Johnny to Ghost’s massive form in the other room. Poor nervous thing. She must recognize Johnny’s voice saying her name even through the panic because her lips droop in a frown, more confused than petrified.

“Hen, it’s jus’ us—nothing to worry about,” Johnny coos, hands stretched out in front of him to show he means no harm.

It gets her to lower the bat, but only just, the slightest dip that has him darting forward to pry it gently from her hands. The ceramic shards on the floor will have to be swept up later, but he’s relieved that at least she didn’t step on any of them.

Up close, she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Pretty as pie. How could she not be? In the glow of youth still, not like it's been a decade since they last spoke face to face—only a little over a week. A sight for sore eyes, even though Johnny’s narrow when he stares down at her and thinks about the week of his texts and calls going unanswered. His jaw undulates, rage held back by the thin thread of her scent that wafts under his nose, making him lean into her.

Breathe in and out.

“Us?” she repeats, brow furrowing.

She glances over at Ghost again, the man still ambling around the kitchen, at home in her little one bedroom apartment like he visits her frequently. Like it’s his as well.

“Aye…Ghost wanted to come—Simon wanted to apologize…for the other day,” Johnny explains.

“You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…so Simon could apologize for sexually harassing me?” she says, the disbelief smacking in her words.

“Hen, it's no' nice to say it like that—”

“No time like the present,” Ghost says, not ashamed in the slightest. “Heard you weren’t taking Johnny’s calls. Might not’ve had to do this if you’d picked up.”

Johnny doesn’t believe a word of that, but there’s no reason to call him out on it now.

He can see her wrestle with a trifecta of emotions competing for first place. Anger, embarrassment, and then, a smidge of worry holding up the rear. Aware of the fact that she woke up to two grown men, one practically a stranger, breaking into her apartment under the guise of having a conversation. His heart aches at the thought. The lion’s share of the blame rests with him, but still it’s her that suffers for it.

“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she rasps, flinching when Johnny lays a hand on her waist, towering over where she’s still cowered against the wall. Bat gone now, defenceless. Her pupils narrow to a pinprick. He almost tuts, poor thing. Scared out of her wits.

It feels so good to touch her though. Soft and yielding.

“‘Was Simon’s idea, hen, but, ah—” his breathing picks up when his fingers tighten on her waist and she squirms “—I was goin’ crazy thinkin’ ye were pissed for what happened last week. Couldnae get a wink of sleep—kept closin’ my eyes and seein’ your face. Nearly broke me.”

“I am pissed at you,” she snaps, temper getting the better of her.

“I ken, I ken,” Johnny coos, ducking his head until his lips graze her temple. “Simon’s sorry—we came all the way here so he could tell ye to your face, but fuck, hen, I’m sorry too—shoulda said something instead of standin’ there like a fuckin’ dolt—”

“You should’ve,” she interrupts, still fuming mad, an iceberg melting right in front of them. It makes his cock pulse.

“—Aye, hen, I’ve no excuse, none at all. Shoulda told Simon to fuck off and keep his hands to himself—”

“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost says warningly, finally stepping into the living room. He fills out the archway imposingly, almost forced to twist his body on an angle to step in.

Her eyes cut over to Ghost, narrowing, lips pursing. Johnny’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s one thing to see his girl again in the flesh, but to see her all righteous and on the verge of an argument—he could bend her over the back of the couch now, sink into the plush, delicate folds of her pussy, reacquaint himself with deep, languid thrusts. Heaven after not getting his cock wet in a week.

He flinches when he thinks about the last person to touch his dick.

“So you’re sorry?” she says to Ghost, her disbelief clear. Difficult to see why she wouldn’t find it hard to believe that the man that shamelessly grabbed her ass in broad daylight in front of a group of his colleagues and her boyfriend would now choose to apologize.

Johnny knows the answer is no when he sees the way Ghost’s eyes rove over her body, taking stock of her little cotton pajamas and her bare feet curling against the cold floor. Ghost tilts his head to the side, eyes travelling back up to meet hers. “Sure I am, bird. Don’t I look sorry?”

Neither of them answer that. Arguing with Ghost feels different, like inviting in danger. Moving too suddenly in front of a hungry dog, jowls loose and salivating for a bite.

He takes a step closer. “Complete pillock, wasn’t I? And now Johnny’s getting the silent treatment ‘cause of it. Just couldn’t bear another second of him moping around base on the verge of tears.”

Johnny frowns at that. His girl frowns too, but there’s something more to it. He wouldn’t blame her for not accepting Simon’s apology, if he could even call it that—nothing about it rings sincere, more like words spoken softly to call a kitty over—but questioning it feels worse somehow. Like detonating a bomb at two thousand feet above ground.

“…Okay,” she says instead, voice trembling a little. “Apology accepted. You guys can go home now.”

“Bird’s forgiving, huh, Johnny?”

Johnny preens despite himself. “Aye. She’s a good girl, Lt. Told ye so.”

Ghost nods. “That’s right. A good girl who’s gonna let us make it up to her ‘til we have to report back in forty-eight hours.”

“Wait, you can’t—” she starts, then cuts herself off when Ghost’s eyes flash.

He can’t help the way he shudders at the helpless look on her face. Downturned eyebrows, pretty lips slack with disbelief, just the slightest hint of a whine building in her throat that dies when it dawns on her that nothing short of calling the cops will make the two of them leave.

And she’s a good girl—would never call the cops on him. His perfect girl. Sweet as pie.

Johnny falls in love a little bit more when she presses her squeezed fists against her eyes and exhales. “Fine. I’m too—I’m going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Ghost doesn’t react to her acceptance. It’s taken as a simple fact of nature—he says something and it happens. He speaks the world into being.

“I’ll take the couch,” he grunts, finally sitting down to unlace his boots. He looks comically large on her little couch—it’s more than likely that his feet will hang off the end, if not everything from the knee down.

Johnny already figured as much. No point in them driving all the way back to base when they both have the next two days off duty and there’s a perfectly serviceable couch for Ghost and the other half of her bed for him. He thought they’d have to convince her a bit more or strong arm her into it (a putrid thought; he’d rather have sweet talked her into the idea), but his girl always manages to surprise him in the best way.

On that thought, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, cock throbbing again at the thought of getting to hold his girl’s body against his. Touch starved dog. Mangy mutt, tongue lolling out at even the possibility of a pet.

Ghost must notice the object of his gaze because he sets him straight. “You can take the floor, Johnny.”

His tone brooks no argument. When Johnny whirls around, the words already on his tongue, she’s my girl, I’ve already slept in that bed ten times over, the sight of Ghost’s bare face, the mask now off, dangling in his hand like some scrap of fabric, makes him lose his train of thought. It’s not often he’s granted the luxury of seeing Ghost’s face—wide, clean shaven jaw, buzzed blond hair, old burn marks like a half-moon around his eye, nasty old scar slicing through his lips—and to see it now, here, makes something in him give.

Saturnine man with a wolf’s appetite. Ravenous.

It burns him that his girl looks slightly relieved at having the bed to herself. Irks him. Makes his jaw clench on a mean remark, half tempted to spit out something cross. Just because things have gotten complicated, now he’s not welcome in her bed? After the week he’s spent toiling, trying to make amends? Pleading desperately over the phone, stewing in guilt and heartache—Johnny knows she’s a good girl, but if he finds out that she’s replaced him with someone else in the week since they last saw each other—

Even the thought makes him see red.

He watches her as she turns around to retreat back to bed, more than a little displeased.

“Give Johnny a little kiss before bed, why don’t you, bird?” Ghost lightly suggests. Not a suggestion.

She freezes mid-turn. His expression dares her to put up a fuss. Johnny again nearly clucks his tongue, troubled on her behalf. Her spitfire nature is snuffed out easily under that stare. Grown men with experience in the field wither under Ghost’s stare. It’s no weakness of hers that she acquiesces time and again to his demands, glancing up at Johnny from under her eyelashes before shuffling over, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek.

“Better than that,” Ghost grunts, unimpressed.

His poor darling. Humiliated now. No skin off his back though. Johnny’s heart pumps double time when she presses her lips to his; soft petals that spread when he slips his tongue into her mouth, too eager after a week of nothing. Touch starved. Desperate to sink into her, lap his tongue over her lips and the roof of her mouth and press her jaw open to spit messily in her mouth. Take it, hen, every piece of me.

She rips her lips from his and dances away when he tries to get his hands on her, eyes wide, casting one last glance over at Ghost before hightailing it back to her room.

He barely resists going after her. Only Ghost’s stare roots him in place; his voice in Johnny’s head that rumbles, heel. I’ll tell you when to go.

He still doesn’t know what it says about him that he angles himself towards it. Bows his head to it. Moth to a flame that shocks him to the bone when he touches it.

Ghost tosses him the second pillow from the other end of the couch and takes the only blanket for himself. No matter. Johnny’s bivouacked on snowy cliff sides, chilblains blistering his toes for weeks; nights spent camped in torrential downpours, his tent on the verge of collapsing; windswept baysides chilling him to the bone. He can handle a pillow on a hardwood floor.

The ebb and flux of an ocean in his ear, and then Ghost’s voice from the couch: “I’ll take first watch.”

Whole body falling loose as if snipping a cord tethering him to the world.

“I’ll clean up the lamp in the morning,” he mumbles, vision already blurring. Ghost hums low in his throat.

He falls asleep with Ghost’s voice in his head, his girl’s taste still in his mouth.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader

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masked-ragdoll · 9 months

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new chapter of this au finally!

also I made this meme while writing plot notes for later chapters >:3c

#ghost in the wires au #gitw au #ghostbur #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dsmp

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Crossed Wires 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner

Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As you drive off the former Orson property, your phone rings. You slow to a crawl as you answer, hit speaker and toss it on the passenger’s seat. It’s the same person who only calls. The only one who does.

“So, how’d it go?” Cole asks, his voice patching in and out over the erratic countryside reception.

“Typical,” you answer.

“Been a while since we got a new customer. Were they nice?”

“Eh,” you mutter.

“She friendly?” He prompts further.

“He was fine. Tipped well.”

“He? Interesting. Just one guy or–”

“I guess,” you shrug at the road as you drive. “I’ll bring the check tomorrow.”

“Sure, uh, you going to The Horn tonight?” He asks as you steer along a board curve and rev a little as the road inclines.

You sigh. You were thinking about it but if he’s asking, “no.”

“Oh, alright,” he replies, his disappointment plain.

You don’t mind a nice cold pint at the end of a hot day like this but he’s a lightweight and he gets obnoxious. Sometimes you forget he’s almost forty, more than a decade your senior. He seems to forget too.

“Might get a call for a door opener install,” you break the silence.

“Uh, okay, I’ll keep an ear out. What’re you doing for dinner?”

You stare ahead at the road. You get that the village isn’t very big but you’re not into socializing with your boss and only other coworker. You’re lucky he can’t see the dimness in your eyes.

“Leftovers,” you mutter, “you’re cutting in and out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You pull onto the apron as you reach for your phone. You hang up and drop it back to the seat. He’s a nice guy, you can’t fault him for being just that, but you keep to yourself. That’s how you’re comfortable and you’re not spending your time off pretending otherwise.

✨

The next day, you drive out to the Turner farm. Ethan greets you as he sweeps the porch steps. You apprenticed with him right before he retired and passed on the business to his son. So far, junior has yet to live up to senior.

You get out and decline his offer of a coffee as you climb the stairs. You prefer the elder Turner, he doesn’t chit chat so much. You go inside and leave your boots on the mat, not wanting to draw Beverly’s wrath and press on to the little office behind the kitchen, refusing a second offer of a coffee; you have a thermos in the truck.

You knock and wait for an answer. There’s a groan.

“Honey, you can probably just go in,” Beverly says.

You nod and let yourself into the office. Cole has his head on the desk and winces as you shut the door behind you. You take out the wad of bills you got from Mr. Crayford and the check from that other man, Barber? You put them just above his head and step back to cross your arms.

“Shit,” Cole sits up and rubs his temples, “bit too much fun at The Horn last night.”

“Mm,” you hum. “There’s the money.”

“Ugh, right,” he reaches for the check and squints at the narrow writing. He grumbles and drops it back to the desk, “my head.”

“Any calls?” You ignore his obvious struggle. “I have Lynette marked down for the afternoon–”

“She canceled,” Cole reaches to flutter through the heavy ledger, “but… Odinson called. They’re having an issue with a whole floor. I was thinking we could tag team it, it’ll be a bigger job.”

He speaks gingerly as he cradles his head between his hands. You stare at him dully. He is in no state to do anything more than whine.

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“I just need a coffee,” he says as he rubs his forehead, “I’ll be okay.”

“What time?” You check your watch.

“What time…” he repeats thinly.

“What time are we headed out? I got errands I could run–”

“You’re not going to hang around?”

“Depends,” you huff and drop your arm, putting your hands on your hips as you push back your open flannel shirt, only the button in the middle hooked. His eyes follow the movement.

“In an hour?” He gurgles, “I’ll have to call and confirm.”

“Right,” you take a breath and turn on your heel.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Grabbing my thermos,” you say without looking back.

You leave him, letting Beverly pass as she approaches with a full steaming mug. She does tend to coddle him. His helplessness isn’t very surprising. You stop to step into your boots and tuck the laces in.

Ethan is sitting on the porch bench, a newspaper in hand. You give a small wave as you emerge and head off to your truck. You get in the front seat and roll down the window. You grab your thermos and uncap it. You can wait out here until Cole gets his shit together.

You put the thermos back in the cup holder and look down. You button up the front of your shirt, skin crawling as you recall the way he stared at your hips. He does that sometimes but you’re not even sure he realises. He just watches you…

Whatever. You got a job to do and having him with you will only double it.

#cole turner #andy barber #dark cole turner #dark andy barber #dark!cole turner #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #cole turner x reader #drabble #series #crossed wires #au #backwoods au #defending jacob #ghosted

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