#that was me over 20 years ago. i have grown since then. still a night owl tho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugrhigh · 29 days

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RUMORS - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and you’ve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to tara’s party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend

warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and that’s it really

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses

@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur

doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you can’t look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. you’ve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.

ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.

hell, you’d been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.

you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.

their youtube channel had taken off, and you’d gained a large following after you’d finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.

the rest is history. it’s been two years now, and you’ve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.

you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. they’ve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.

but things are a little different with you and chris. he’s your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. it’s always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.

but that doesn’t mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.

it’s selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldn’t be angry over the idea of them dating.

still, it’s been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and you’ve been checking social media every hour since.

you’re about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

chris

can you pls answer me

i don’t like this silent treatment thing

your stomach flips. he’s been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.

the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.

so of course it’s been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.

it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.

another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.

chris

i don’t know what’s wrong but you’re scaring me

the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you don’t want him worrying about you, especially when it’s your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.

you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.

chris

i can see you typing

i’m coming over

y/n

no don’t do that, everything is fine

chris

i don’t believe you

and i already left my house

it’s only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know he’s too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. you’ve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.

but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.

y/n

fine, doors unlocked

i’m in my room

a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. you’re still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.

“hey.” he says softly as he sits down.

“hi.” you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.

it’s not cold, but you’re so anxious that you’re shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.

“what’s up? i haven’t heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.” he tries to joke with a small grin.

you can’t bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“i’m alright, just tired.”

his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know he’s not believing any of it for a second, and you’ve never been a very convincing liar.

“don’t do that, you’re obviously not alright. and i’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like you’re shutting me out.” chris replies quietly.

you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.

“i’m not trying to push you away, chris. i just…wanted to give you space.” you continue to dance around the truth.

he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like you’re speaking another language. “that’s nice and all, but i don’t want it.”

“well maybe i do.” you shrug.

you’re lying through your teeth, but chris’s eyes go wide regardless. you’ve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. he’s just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

“are you serious? did i do something that i don’t know about?” chris asks, clearly exasperated.

he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.

“do you like tara?”

it hangs in the air, and you’ve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.

“i can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” he sounds genuinely astonished.

“what? why?” it’s your turn to be baffled.

“because i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, it’s embarrassing for me at this point.” chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. you’d never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.

“i, uh, guess i didn’t pick up on that.” you manage to reply.

you immediately wish you hadn’t, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.

“no shit.”

this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that you’d almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.

you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. “i like you a lot, chris. and i don’t want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but i’d be lying to myself if i said i didn’t want to be with you.”

he’s still grinning, though you can tell he’s gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now it’s finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.

“i want that too, and i’m a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, i’m not interested in tara like that. it’s always been you.” chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.

you’ve held hands before on many occasions, but it’s different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.

you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss you’ve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops he’s always got between his teeth, and you’re already addicted.

chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.

“your lips are so soft.” he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl he’s loved since he was a preteen.

“take a girl out to dinner first, jeez.” you joke playfully.

chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. “i think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?”

you tap your chin with your free hand like you’re contemplating your schedule. “i can probably squeeze you in.”

“you better. everyone else can get in line.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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ltbarnes · 3 months

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Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #back to december

367 notes · View notes

wavesmp3 · 5 months

Text

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him.

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station.

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes.

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here.

he wakes up just as your finger finds it.

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.”

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair.

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling.

“i was looking for your gray hair.”

he perks up. “do i still have it?”

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t.

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.”

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?”

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe.

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks.

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget.

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late.

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day.

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone.

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him.

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look.

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?”

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat.

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too.

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you.

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger.

“i’m sorry.” he tells you.

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it.

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home.

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.”

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform.

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders.

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back.

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him.

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his.

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek.

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind.

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.”

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him.

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait.

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city.

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

188 notes · View notes

why-say · 8 months

Text

timothee x reader imagine

Warnings: Age gap, Sisters Best friend, Out door activities

This is more story than smut which is low-key new for me! also i haven’t written in months be kind LMAO.

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

———

You were sitting in the corner of the living room in your sisters house. It was the saturday before Halloween and you were in the middle of your sisters party. You were having a great time, you and your sister had spent months planning and making decorations so seeing everything being adored was heartwarming to you.

You had planned to wear matching costumes but yours didn’t arrive on time so you had threw together a makeshift flapper girl outfit. You liked what you were wearing but the dress was an old plain black dress that was a little to short with how you’ve grown in the years. Your solution was to wear a longer skirt over it with layers to add to the 20’s look. It made the look but because you didn’t have time to alter it, you relied on safety pins to keep the skirt layers in place.

Your sister was ten years older than you. You didn’t mind the age gap, you both were still best of friends. But this also meant that the majority of people at this party were her age and older. Though it wasn’t a problem.

Your sisters was a social butterfly, the same as you, but she had kept the same close friends for years. This meant that you had known most of the people here since you were little.

Including Timothée.

Timothée had been your sisters friend since before you were born. They had a small hiccup where they stopped being friends but that was quickly forgotten after your sister met her boyfriend, Timothée’s best friend.

It was quite late into the party but Timothée hadn’t arrived yet. You knew he would but he had a habit of arriving at and leaving places on his own time.

You were having a fun time with your own friends that you invited, one of those friends being Carter. You had met Carter a few years ago but time hadn’t changed the weird relationship you had with her.

You needed a moment alone after dancing and drinking which is why you were in a corner chair alone in the living room while everyone was outside in the garden. There was one guy sleeping on the other side of the living room but he had been asleep since he arrived.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you felt something pricking you in your thigh. You tried to readjust and ignore it but it was adding to your overstimulated feeling. You decided it would be better to just take off the skirt part and stay in the dress for the rest of the night which would be ending soon anyways. It was fall which meant that it was pitch black outside at night so no one would notice you if you went into the garden. There were no lights on in the house except faint led lights that were dim so you didn’t think it would be a big problem.

The minute you got up and removed your skirt and tossed it on the couch beside you, you heard the front door open. The way the house was, you could see the front door in full from your seat and that meant that they could see you. Timothée walked in first. You couldn’t help but stare at him and he was staring back. It was like a trance you couldn’t leave though it was broken when you saw the people behind him pouring into the house.

It quickly became clear to you that the party would not be ending soon like you had thought.

You sat down quickly and scrambled for your phone and your skirt. You found your phone on the floor beside you but when you went to reach for your skirt you saw a row of people sitting on it.

You weren’t panicking yet as no one could really notice you with the lights so low. You started to relax.

You saw something in the corner of your eye and you looked up to see Timothées smiling face beaming down at you. He was sitting on the arm rest of your chair in a costume you couldn’t really make out.

He was talking to you and you were replying through the fog in your brain. You had always had a crush on him when you were younger, but then so did everyone else. You thought you had gotten over him because it didn’t mean anything but he had this ability to make you swoon over everything he did. His smile was just so cute and the way he would squint his eyes every time was something you couldn’t help but love. He was also sexy. Incredibly, addictively sexy. And he knew it.

He was asking you questions about school, work and your future plans and you were giving him jokey answers. You couldn’t help it. It was your natural response when someone asked you something too serious. You’d ended up telling him you were going to a clown college after your gap year. He didn’t look impressed but it was all you knew.

He kept trying to get some serious responses out of you but you weren’t budging till you felt a hand grip your throat and pull you. Timothée had his hand around your throat and your face was inches from his.

He looked like he was about to say something to you or shake some seriousness into you but before you could comprehend what was happening he jumped up from his seat and started a conversation with someone else.

It was dizzying. You felt like you were getting whiplash but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much. He was always flirty, not just with you but with everyone and so you’ve learnt not to take him too seriously by now. You couldn’t afford to.

Though it was the first time he had touched you in more than a friendly manner.

You and your sister were close but you knew she would never support any relationship formed between you and Timothée.

You knew you were going to spiral and think about this all night but before you could, your friend carter came to find you to say she was leaving.

“It’s getting late i need to leave soon but your welcome to walk me out, lover.” She swooned half jokingly. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of Timothée but you managed to flirt back offhandedly and soon it was a back and forth. This was usual for you both but it wasn’t until after you were walking her out of the door that you felt your skin prickle. It felt like someone was watching you.

You knew someone was looking at you and you looked around trying to see who it was and you weren’t surprised to find it was Timothée.

You were so used to seeing him with a large smile on his face so it was odd for you to see him looking at you darkly. His eyes left yours and began travelling down your body and it was then you remembered how short your dress was. It ended at the top of your thighs and the bottom of your ass. You felt Timothées eyes roaming everywhere they shouldn’t but you couldn’t even try to feel embarrassed.

You cocked your head at him and he looked away, resuming his conversation with his friend he had been ignoring.

You were getting a little frustrated of this. You hated having uncertainty within relationships. You walked outside for some fresh air. That’s where most of the party was but they were inside a small lit tent and you were in another section of the garden. It was almost pitch black out there but you didn’t mind, you were just thinking anyways.

You heard heard him before you felt him. Timothée. Again.

“Your dress is very short.” he said, his voice gravelly.

He was standing in front of you, your back on the brick wall behind you. With the darkness you were forced to use your other sense. You could smell the perfume he was wearing, a woodsy scent that you had always made synonymous with him in your mind.

“Is that a problem for you?” You replied.

You couldn’t see him, but you just knew he was smirking in response since he didn’t give a verbal one.

You felt him shift closer to you. Closer than when he had pulled to you him earlier.

“Your sister and i are good friends”

“uh huh.”

“great friends.”

“i’m aware”

Your replies weren’t thought out, it was harder to think with him so close.

“She would kill me if she knew…”

“Knew what?” You asked.

You knew what he was talking about but you wanted at least some form of clarity.

“Don’t make me say it.” His words getting quieter. It was only when you felt his breath hit your ear that you realise you were both inching closer and closer together.

“Say what?” You could hear the smile in your voice now, you were teasing him.

You feel him move even closer now and you prepare for a kiss. When it comes it’s different than what you ere expecting. His lips were cold and you realised it was from the drink he had been sipping. A drink that was still in his mouth. He opened his lips further and you felt his drink - a generic alcoholic beverage you couldn’t think of with how dizzy you were - slowly pour into your mouth. You didn’t think about it. His kiss was mind numbing you wanted every inch of him. Whatever he would give. The drink spilled over the side of your mouth onto your neck. He wasn’t far behind.

He began kissing and nipping down the side of your neck. His hands were trailing up and down the sides of your body and soon found your panties. He slowly slid them down and you quickly helped him take them off. You needed him inside you immediately. You were trying your best to not make any noise, just because people couldn’t see didn’t mean they couldn’t hear.

His kisses moved higher up on your body, he was leaving open mouth kisses all over, nipping and sucking where he could. You felt his hands slipping towards your slit and weren’t surprised to find his hand easily glide through your wetness.

You couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry when his fingers found your clit. At your outburst, his lips were quick to cover yours and swallow the rest of your cries that were getting more frequent the as he moved his hand.

You could feel yourself slowly building to what you knew would be a strong orgasm. You felt one of his fingers move to shallowly enter your cunt and you couldn’t help but move your mouth from his lips to moan heavily.

You felt him move away from you and pull your dress back down as far as he could. You didn’t understand why until your eyes were being blinded by a flashlight. It was one of your sisters friends who was trying to see if you were alright. Because it was so dark he couldn’t see Timothée a few feet from you.

You quickly sobered up and answered him as normally as you could though you were still dizzy from your need. Once he was satisfied he went back to wherever he was before. You felt Timothée move back to you and you gripped his shirt tightly. He moved his lips back to your ear.

“Next time we could finish what we were doing if you were a little quieter.” You barely understood what he was saying because of how much you wanted him but you understood that you weren’t going to get to finish tonight.

“Please. I promise to be quieter just please finish.” You can’t help but beg.

“See you next halloween baby.” Was his only reply.

It wasn’t until you heard him open and close the door back into the house you remembered that you didn’t have your panties. You tried to find them on the ground with your own flashlight but nothing.

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polydactylcatgirl · 20 days

Text

liz@unibox:~Documents$ cat passionproject.txt

do you remember, so many years ago

when you were the belle of the ball the pride of our robotics department an angel of silicon and plastic and steel walking among us mere men?

you wore a backless dress over a transparent plate so that we could all look inside and see just how beautiful you were

it's been many years since then i have grown much older, much wiser i oversee the department that built you now but you still walk and talk the same

you are the pride and joy of this university the research that built you made us famous creations like you are all over the world you are immortal in mind, form, and idea

i did everything i could to get close to you changed my major, my life plan, everything your kind are my life's work i have done all i can to preserve you

so, tell me after all those long nights at the lab after all this time, all this development after everything we've seen together

do you love me like i love you

49 20 44 4F

#original writing #my writing #robot lesbians real #wrote this in a frenzy at like 11pm #enjoy #robot #robogirl

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hopelesswrites · 4 months

Text

Midnight - Joseph Quinn pt. 4

You start healing your heart.

18+ MDNI

(FINAL PART aaah sorry it took so long, let me know what you think, i'm happy with it, feels good to give them an ending)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It had been months since you last spoke to Joe, the only tabs you kept on him were unwillingly through the media. Fans had named you another ‘unknown fling’ which the more you thought about it the more you understood. ‘Leave him alone he’s a grown man he can date who he wants’ you’d read next to a picture of yourself latched onto the man of the year.

Your heart hurt less now, the denial and delusion long passed. You and Joe were over, he hadn’t contacted you in almost 3 months. He was off filming another movie, being papped with new girls, you were old news, figuratively and literally.

You were more open to moving on yourself, having been on a few dates.

All was going well, you were healing. About time, too. You had spent a good portion of the year getting hurt by a man who was never yours.

Your flatmate had been rambling on about her work crush while you curled your hair by your vanity. You, only half listening as you tried not to burn your neck.

“How about you?” Her question snapped you back to reality.

“Me?”

“Yeah, seeing anyone? What’s the love life like”.

You shrugged, “nothing exciting, I’m focussing on me right now I think”.

Your flatmate hummed in response, “Good idea”.

By the time you had finished your hair and makeup you had both downed a couple shots of tequila, claiming that tonight was going to be a loose one.

Now in the middle of a beer garden, under a heat lamp, clutching a vodka redbull you wished you had brought a warmer coat, and maybe had an extra shot before leaving the house. Your friend had long forgotten her work crush, opting for a tall gym rat type with an eyebrow piercing across the room. Your three social media feeds you had been flicking through had gotten old about 20 minutes ago and you were prepared to just call it a night when a presence beside you caught your attention.

“You look lonely” The man beside you had your heart skip a beat, he was like Joe, but off brand. Big kind eyes, soft curly hair, lived in stubble and an expensive looking button up tucked into equally expensive looking pants. On his face he wore round metal framed glasses, a small part of your brain wanted to make note of how good Joe would look in those glasses.

“I do don’t I” You replied, looking around to emphasise that you were in fact alone.

“I was just over there thinking how much of a shame it was that a lovely girl like yourself was all on her own” The man spoke smoothly, your cursed at how easy it was to swoon over him.

“Were you now?” You teased.

“That drink still cold?” He asked, motioning his head towards the glass in hand. You looked down to notice the condensation dripping down your fingers, ice completely melted.

“Might need a new one” You shrugged.

“What’s your poison?”

You answered with your drink, and he promised to be back with your order, leaving with a wink.

You wanted to take this guy home purely to kill your boredom, but you felt how risky it could be due to his resemblance to the guy you were trying to get over. In moments like these you’d think on what your flatmate would say. But this one left you divided. ‘Go for it babe get out there’ and ‘he looks a bit too much like Joe though’ were flicking back and forth through your mind.

“Its uncanny really” A new voice spoke from beside you. You spun around, that voice being all too familiar, that voice making your stomach do a flip, you hid your emotions well though.

“What are you talking about” You answered.

Beside you was the real Joe, dressed almost identical to the man you had just been talking to, the man that had just gone to get you a new drink.

“He looks exactly like me” There was a hint of entitlement you didn’t like, rubbed you the wrong way.

“Hadn’t noticed” You shrugged off, checking the time on your phone, pretending Joes presence hadn’t caused an earthquake in your chest.

“Are you going to sleep with him?” Joe asked forwardly, stepping closer, sucking you in.

“Yes” You answered equally as bluntly. There was no use playing this game of Joes, it would end in heartbreak, you knew that.

Joe laughed, a short low hum of a sound. “See, I don’t think you are”.

He was so close now, and you can’t lie, you almost caved, he obviously had you wrapped around his finger, the Joe clone long forgotten.

There was one game you wanted to play with Joe though, and so you played along with his, until it was your turn.

You leaned in, bridging the gap between you so your chests were almost touching. “What makes you think that” You whispered back.

Joe smirked, his nose just touching the tip of your own as he slowly leaned in, forcing you to make the move.

“I thought we were done?” He whispered, snaking an arm around your waist and holding you flush to his crotch, a tent forming in his pants already, he was too easy.

“For old times sake then, it’s midnight after all”

Before you could get another thought in, you had been whisked away towards a taxi rank. Once seated in the car you stopped Joe before he could tell the driver your address. This would only work if you were at his place. You rarely spent time together at Joes place before he moved, he was always so private towards his home, opted to meet you at your place instead. This new house you hadn’t been to, and you had a suspicion no other girl had been there either, you wanted to be the first, the one he thought about for the rest of his time in that house.

“Your place is closer isn’t it?”, you had heard from a friend of a friend Joe had moved loser to the city, a real expensive area. Joe looked at you confused, “I can’t wait Joe please” You put on your best puppy dog eyes, rubbing a hand up his arm.

Joe caved, he had the driver put in his new address, you didn’t pay attention to it, you wouldn’t need it after tonight.

The drive was short, but it was all desperate touched and wet kisses along your neck. The walk up to his door was much of the same. Joe had you pinned to his front door, leg between your thighs and teeth grazing your ear while he clumsily fiddled with his keys.

Your hands ran up his stiff sleeves, squeezing at his biceps and landing at his shoulders. “Hurry up” You sighed, feeling all hot and bothered, and incredibly impatient, you wanted to get just as much out of this as Joe was getting, maybe a little more.

The door opened from behind you but you were pulled into Joes chest as he guided you inside. He didn't give you a chance to even look around before he had his mouth on yours in a feverish kiss. he tasted of whiskey and cigarettes. You knew he only drank whiskey when he was having a hard time, something about the burn in his chest being a distraction.

"Bed" You managed to get out and Joe had you by the hips, directing you backwards down a short hall and into a dark room. With his mouth now attached to your neck you took the opportunity to look around over his shoulder. It was a very large and empty space, nothing resembling the charm of Joes home decor in his last place. It felt sad, and you felt sad for him.

"I'm not done decorating" Joe mumbled against your neck, noticing your pace slow down as he tried to push you towards his bed.

"How long have you been here?" You asked back, complying and laying down on the soft bed. It was new, taller than his old one, it felt wrong.

"I've been busy" Was all he returned before climbing on top, slotting his knee back between your legs and pushing up into your heat. Instantly your follow up questions had been forgotten, Joes touch sending electricity through your body. His hands continued to roam, as did his lips, down your neck, your chest. He had pushed your low cut dress down to expose your breasts further, latching onto the meat and sucking.

Marking you.

You weren't mad, he could have his fun if it was going to be his last time with you.

"I want to taste you" Joe groaned, hands sliding down your body and landing at the short hem of your dress, playing with the fabric, asking for permission.

"I'm not stopping you"

Joe chuckled before dropping a chaste kiss to your cheek, your arm, stomach, hip then thigh. His hands slid up, taking the flimsy material with him, exposing your lacy thong and then finishing the job by pulling it over your head with ease.

Joe looked up, eyebrow raised, "Expecting something tonight?"

"I went out with an agenda, yes"

That earned an amused huff as he slid the underwear down your legs, carelessly flinging them somewhere in the room. You fought the urge to get mad at him, those were expensive, and his aloof attitude would not do, but were quickly distracted yet again.

Scratchy face hair rubbed up against your sensitive thighs, sending a heat through your body with anticipation as Joe toyed with the idea of devouring you, licking and kissing so softly, dragging out the moment.

"I want you to beg for it" Joe demanded, which was out of character for him, usually you were the one that had the upper hand, whether it was obvious or not, there was always an undertone of submission for you.

"Please Joe" You groaned, wanting to get this over with, you had your own game to play here.

"Please what?" He questioned, eyebrow raised, smug smirk on his face.

You didn't want to play along, hated the idea, but you needed him so bad, every muscle in your body tensed in anticipation.

"Come on Darling, what do you want from me?" Joe asked sweetly, placing another kiss on your thigh, staying firm to his request.

"I want you to eat me out" You sighed, staring him down, waiting for a response.

"Please" You punctuated it with a plea, the throbbing in your core intensifying by the second. Joes eyes were so intense staring back at you, had your skin crawling.

Another kiss to your thigh trailed closer to your heat, soft and wet as he neared your sensitive mound. Another kiss, then a lick. He was still taking his time.

"What happened to that enthusiasm you had earlier?"

Joe chuckled. "Are you not enjoying this?"

"Not very much" You groaned, slamming your head back against the pillow with a huff. Joe tsked, continuing his slow torture before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard, forcing a stunned moan from you.

"Ye- that, I like that" You struggled against the urge to scream from the pleasure.

Joes mouth continued in a rhythm that had you losing your breath, legs shaking as an orgasm quickly approached. You didn't want to finish like this though, didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so you pushed his head away, taking a moment to catch your breath.

"What's wrong" Joe was confused, not understanding you breathless words.

"Lay down" You said, motioning to the space beside you. Joe understood and laid on his back, as you followed and straddled his lap, his dick straining against his pants.

Now in a prime position you began to tease Joe yourself, running a light hand over his pants, relishing in the shiver you felt go through Joes body.

"Don't" Joe warned, knowing full well you intended to give him a piece of his own medicine.

Everything with Joe felt different now, this all confirmed it, was the closure you needed. There was no more love, just lust, you were familiar to each other and it made it easy, every movement second nature, but no true purpose behind each touch. Months ago you could have sworn Joe loved you, he had that look in his eyes, even if he wouldn't mutter the words. But it was long gone now, and as you unzipped his pants and enjoyed the feeling of making Joe feel good, you knew you no longer loved him either, knew you didn't live to give Joe everything like you once had.

Joe was practically throbbing when you removed him from his pants. A pleading mess below you. You leaned over him and let a line of saliva drop onto his tip, rubbing it down his shaft, looking up to watch the look of shock on his face.

"Nasty, nasty girl"

You positioned yourself over him and sunk down, feeling a sigh of relief wash over you both as you began to slowly ride him. Joes hands grasped your hips, firmly gripping onto the flesh, fighting the urge to fuck you onto him, but you were in charge, he had accepted that now.

"That's it" Joe groaned as you quickened your pace, hands on his chest for support as the friction had you both closing in on a climax. you slowed down, wanting to relish in this moment, watching Joe with that blissed out look on his face for the last time, curls sticking to his forehead as he soaked in every inch of you.

"You close?" You asked, feeling Joe twitch inside you, his pulse quickening.

Joe could only moan and pant, holding you at the hips and grinding you down onto him deeper. You continued the rhythm feeling your own orgasm approaching.

"Come on baby, let go for me" Joe whispered as his own movements became quick pulsing thrusts. You followed your high, letting the heat wash over you, overwhelming all your senses, legs shuddering at the pleasure.

"fuck-fuck- you're so fucking good to me, look at you, oh my god" Joe rambled nonsense as he pulled you off allowing himself to spill himself out onto you both.

the next few moments left you both in silence to regain your breath. You looked down to see Joe with his eyes closed, exhaustion on his face.

"Stay tonight" Joe barely whispered, you could have missed it. His eyes still closed you grabbed his hand that was still firmly holding your hip and squeezed.

"I'm going to clean up" You answered, leaving Joe on the bed while you made your way to his ensuite. The shower alone could have had you changing your mind and keeping Joes number for future hookups, steamy late night rendezvous.

Returning to Joe with a wet towel, who was now far more relaxed, admiring you saunter towards him.

"You will stay?" he asked again while you wiped his own stomach clean.

"Yeah" You responded allowing him to pull you back onto the bed and tuck you under his arm, head on his chest and legs tangled. Neither of you said a word, but when you felt the rise and fall of Joes chest fall into a pattern and the man finally enter a sleep state, you slipped out, leaving Joe alone in his big bed, big house, no note or text, just a memory of midnight.

#joseph quinn #smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn smut #joe quinn

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golbrocklovely · 2 years

Text

the ghost with the most // sam golbach

A/N: first fic of my 13 nights of halloween ! i highkey love this story haha this and the one i wrote for colby with the same-ish concept were so easy to write. thank god bc i still have so much writing to do. but hopefully you enjoy this one. this one is also gender-neutral so everyone can enjoy. let me know what you think :)

prompt: the ghost hunter that lives in your house doesn't believe in ghosts. guess it's time to show him what you're made of || ghost!reader x sam golbach

trigger warning: cursing, ghost hijinks, mostly fluff

word count: 1311

~~~~~~~~

This house was yours. It had been yours for years, decades even. But you never grew older.

You died a long time ago. You weren't sure how or when, but you knew you were dead.

And every couple years, a new family would move into your house. At first you hated it, but now... you've grown to enjoy your time annoying and scaring the new house folks.

This year, the family that moved in wasn't really a family at all. It was a group of guys, all in their early 20s. You watched from the shadows as they all picked out their rooms, some fighting over the master (which was yours so like... why were they fighting in the first place?), and over the next month or so they settled in.

Their choice in decoration was... boring, to say the least. Borderline nonexistent, besides in their own rooms. The one named Colby kept his room pretty dark, dungeon-like. The other two had some very weird styles that you didn't appreciate. And the last one, Sam... his was fine.

You settled on his room to chill in.

Something about his energy was interesting to you. You had overheard them all one night talking about ghosts, about whether or not they existed at all. And Sam was the one that surprised you the most with his response.

"No. They totally don't exist. Even with all the proof we've captured, I'm still unsure."

You didn't quite understand what he meant, but you saw him and Colby leave the house every so often, only to come back and tell the others about their adventures and "investigations".

So they were ghost hunters? And Sam didn't believe? Interesting.

You had nothing else to do with your free time, and since you had plenty of it, you decided to focus your energy on Sam and making him believe.

The first thing you tried was giving him nightmares. That itself was a bit difficult for you, but humans’ minds were a lot more open when they were unconscious. You were able to weasel your way in and make him think of scary, horrible things. Of ghosts chasing after him, of you chasing him around the house.

After a couple nights, you thought you had done the trick. I mean, how many times does someone have to wake up in a cold sweat to realize they are getting a message from the beyond?

But it didn't work. So you moved on to plan b: poltergeist time.

Now, you weren't an evil spirit. Hell, in your old life the worst thing you ever did was get a parking ticket. But you figured if Sam saw things moving around on their own, he would start to believe, or at least sense that something was in his house.

Because at least the others knew that. They would tell him all the time that they could feel something watching them, especially Colby. But Sam always shrugged it off, claiming they were just paranoid.

One day, while Sam was sitting in bed, you decided to knock something over on his desk. Some random little figurine he had. His eyes widened as he heard the noise, he jumped out of bed and looked at his desk. The figurine laid on the floor, still shaking from your motion.

"How'd that fall?" He whispered to himself.

You felt like shouting "Me, bitch!" but figured that was a bit mean. He placed it back on his desk and left his room. You figured maybe was going to go downstairs, tell all of his friends about what just happened. You giddily followed him to the kitchen, only to watch him pull out lunchmeat from the fridge and make a sandwich.

You tried the next day, and the day after that, and still... nothing. It didn't help that his other two roommates had decided to move out, so you waited for there to be a right time to spring into action again. And finally when the time came, you decided to up the ante and move something in front of him and Colby, thinking maybe he would get a clue that what was happening to him was paranormal. While the two of them were in the kitchen, you opened a drawer, slowly. Colby noticed it first. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched the drawer open.

"Dude, look! The drawer's opening on it's own." He gasped.

You smiled as Sam turned towards the drawer, hoping that now it would finally click in his head. But instead he walked up to the drawer, shut it, and went back to talking with Colby. He told him that that drawer always had a problem staying shut and had opened on him before.

Oh, so now we're just lying to each other?!

You finally had one more move in your arsenal. You decided, while he was out, to stack everything in his room in the center of it. His desk, bed, furniture, whatever you could get your hands on, you put in the middle of his room. It took you a long time, and you were proud of your work when you were finally through.

There's no way he's not gonna believe this is paranormal.

You waited impatiently for him to come home. He walked through the front door and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. You smirked as he rubbed his eyes, ready to take a nice long nap most likely. Then he opened his door, stopping dead in his tracks.

"What the...?"

He studied his room, glancing all over the place for how this could have happened. You leaned against the wall, just waiting to hear him scream or gasp or... something. He yelled for Colby, and he came in a minute later.

"Love what you've done with the place, Sam." Colby stated nonchalantly.

Sam glared. "How the fuck did you do this?"

"Do what? I didn't do this." Colby argued.

"Well, you were the only one home." Sam mentioned.

"I was, yeah. But I've been busy editing. I left two hours ago to get some food." Colby replied.

Sam questioned him, "Then who did this?"

Ghosts! Say it was a ghost! There's no one else that could have done it!

"...Jake." They nodded their heads, rolling their eyes at their ex-roommate.

Are you forreal?! You tried to breathe for a second. You know what? They'll realize it wasn't him when he confesses it wasn't, and they'll have to realize then it was something supernatural.

But that never happened. They didn't question Jake, they just assumed it was him and moved on with their lives. But you... you couldn't.

You followed Sam around the house. Every step he took, you were right behind him. You gave him some privacy when he needed it (you weren't a perv now), but otherwise, you wanted him to feel you. To feel your anger.

Sam and Colby mentioned that they had a new investigation the next day that they had to get ready for. You groaned at their words, following Sam as he left Colby's room to go to his own, and into his bathroom. Once you realized he was only washing his face for bed, you came in.

"I fucking hate you, you know that right? Do you know how annoying it is to prove to someone that I'm real? God, this is the most irritating thing I've had to do, and I've died before! I mean, you go on these trips, catch tons of evidence, and somehow don't believe in ghosts. It's insane to me. Like, what do I have to do, jumpscare you? Do I have to appear in front of you just for you to believe in me?!"

Sam jolted up out of the sink, his face sudsy with his face wash. His eyes locked with yours, and he screamed.

#sam golbach #sam golbach x reader #sam and colby #sam golbach fluff #sam golbach one shot #sam golbach oneshot #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fic #sam golbach story #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

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scekrex · 1 month

Note

Hi! first time requesting, but could you do another child reader for Adam?

Basically they got left behind in an extermination a long time ago, several years ago, and they've lived their ever since?(And since sinners don't age and they never got to mature they still look and act like a thirteen year old?)

and basically they're like this super goth, emo, punk style person that weaseled her way into talking to Velvette, and hanging with her

but Adam dies and goes to hell, and finds his little kid, glowering at him and then I don't really know

lowkey this had no structure and is kind of long so ignore if you don't wanna :3

love your works

So I've had teenage reader requests in the past and I told the person who sent them that I'm not exactly comfortable with it.

1. Adam is over 10.000 years old, it feels wrong to pair him up with someone behaving like a child to me

2. It's Adam. And I know we all have a different view of him and shit but I personally think he wouldn't like to hang out with teenagers - or people that behave like teenagers. That man is a grown ass adult. I'm an adult too - I'm 20 - and I would feel hella uncomfy to hang out with 13 year olds.

I know I did Adam x child reader in the past but that was a one time gig, I'm not comfy to write it again. Especially because this blog also features NSFW content and minors should not be interacting with me.

Regardless, I hope you have a good day/night/evening and feel free to send other requests at any time

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part I.

GIF: Originally posted by @sandmancentral

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit.

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs. Story inspired by my own experience with parasomnia and night terrors. Fun fact: I've had two parasomnia episodes since starting to write this and they were quite something! Second part coming soon. Have a great day, Saskia.

Sandman Masterlist

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Sleep hallucinating was not something that you had experienced as a child. The occasional bout of sleep talking and walking, yes, but seeing things in a state of semi-unconsciousness was something you had grown into.

This particular type of parasomnia was fuelled by nightmarish visions. Of insects and arachnids crawling in your sheets. Of threatening, humanoid shadows stalking the perimeter of your bed. One instance a few years ago had been a severed head floating above your face. Macabre but not wholly unexpected due to the brutal TV programme you had been watching before bedtime.

Each incident unleashed a visceral, unbridled terror that sent your pulse spiking and incoherent noises tumbling from your mouth. There would be a frantic scramble for the nearby light source, a search of your room or violent thrashings of your limbs to defend against your imagined threat.

Strangely, unlike when you had sleep walked and talked, you were always lucid enough to be aware of what was transpiring and recall each detail come morning. However, the truly unsettling part of each episode would be that despite your recognition that these visions weren’t real, you were totally unable to stop your physical reactions to them.

Your rational brain would be held hostage by your subconscious and until you had performed your safety behaviours, you were unable to assuage your over-stimulated mind.

There was a pattern to it too; when your life was being affected with stress, the hallucinations would gain their freedom. At present, stress was staining your nearly every waking moment and creating turmoil in your nocturnal ones.

This had been happening every night for over a week, with each hallucination becoming more vivid every time. It had resulted in a jittery dread of bedtime and extreme exhaustion come morning.

So when a worry-amplifying day at work coincides with you noticing a person standing in the corner of your room, you are hardly astonished.

As per, your survival instinct kicks in and forces you to slam your clammy hand onto the plastic lamp switch.

Terror then turns to confusion when your delusion doesn’t disappear like it usually would.

"Well this is new," you speak out loud.

You blink a few times, wondering if there’s something in your eyes.

You re-focus on the space where your little desk stands.

The person is still there. They appear to be a man. And you can pick out stunning levels of detail on their pale face.

An angular bone structure and nose. Intense, bluish eyes framed by dark lashes and brows. Perfect pinkish lips. Most striking, however, is their raven-coloured hair. It sticks out in all kinds of directions with unruly precision.

You laugh feverishly. "Okay, brain, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. I applaud your newfound persistence but you can stop now. I know this isn’t real."

“What makes you so sure that I’m not real?” The man asks.

Your head falls back in exasperation. “Oh great, a hallucination that talks.”

The position of the figure’s head told you that they were still waiting for an answer.

You lean forwards a fraction to study him more closely. You smirk as you choose your reply.

“Honestly, you’re way too attractive to be real.”

A smile ghosts over the man’s face and you hear a small noise of bemusement.

“You flatter me, but I can assure you that I am very real."

"Nope, you're just a side effect of my anxiety."

You close your eyes, upgrading to screwing them shut when you could still pick out his silhouette from behind your eyelids.

He's still there when you look again.

You find yourself rubbing rough circles into the skin at the back of your skull.

“Just wake up," you say to yourself as your movements become a little desperate.

"You already are awake."

His tone is the blended juxtaposition of the whispered beginnings of a rainstorm paired with the sub-continental trembles of an earthquake. It is utterly distracting but somehow you manage to argue back once more.

“I’m very certain that you are a dream. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to focus on regaining consciousness.”

The image takes a single, measured step towards you.

You could now see him in the mirror across from you. You were unsure if your subconscious had paid attention to the laws of reflection before.

The observation gives birth to panic. Never before had a dream been so intricate. And the more it progressed, the more you began to question whether you were actually asleep after all.

When he takes another step, fear moves from your stomach to your throat.

"Oh, shit," you curse in an undertone, as you find yourself retreating like a mouse from a feline.

The man continues to advance.

His floor length coat sways hypnotically with each movement he makes.

"It's just a dream," you reason.

More like a nightmare. Your inner voice volunteers unhelpfully.

Your arms form a crisscrossed belt around your waist, your hands are balled into fists, skin blanched by your clenched knuckle bones.

You begin to repeat four words in a mantra, hoping above all else that it’s enough to over-ride the sleep cycle that has you imprisoned.

“It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream.”

Your mattress is like a lifeboat in a treacherous ocean, you feel it shift under you as the man takes a seat beside you.

Two more of your senses begin to process stimuli from his presence; his proximity sends a jolt of stirring heat across your sweat-cooled skin and there’s a scent blend akin to a glacial landscape.

A landscape dominated by snow dappled mountains, divided by serene water and framed by ancient forests. Like the Fjords of Norway in the summertime.

You are aware of your growing delirium from this intoxicating sensory overload.

"It's just a dream," you whisper once more as his stare swallows you entirely.

He speaks in his velveteen voice, “Would a dream be able to do this?”

Before you have time to process, his hands are reaching for you own, prising them out of the vice-like grip you have on your torso and setting them down on your lap.

His deep blue eyes appraise you thoroughly, checking for a change in your viewpoint.

There is no difference. Your face is still set with disbelief.

A frown pinches the man’s face for a quick moment before reverting back his previous stoic expression.

His next movements are graceful and measured, like he's performed them a thousand times.

To your surprise, he pulls a leather pouch from his pocket.

He loosens the beaded draw strings and you feel a strange hum of energy pass through the air.

By this point you are so confused by your brain’s choice of hallucination that you simply accept it without question and continue to watch the scene unfold.

Long fingers dip inside the pouch to retrieve something that you cannot see.

He's then bending so his face is at the same level as yours. There's a rush of air from his mouth and a swirl of sand is hitting your skin.

You flinch away from the assault but it's too late. The particles are in your eyes.

It brings on a sensation that is impossible to ignore. It fogs up your brain like warm breath on a cold windscreen. A sensation completely summed up by the single word you hear him utter as your body goes limp.

"Sleep."

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"All my dreaming torn in pieces."

532 notes · View notes

myfandomprompts · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏

Summary: Aemond finally has you for himself. But the war won't make his life easy. He has to let you go.

Warning: smut, jealousy, possessive behaviour, semi-violent smut Masterlist (Part 20 - Part 22)

It was one of the best sleep you ever had.

Adding to the exhaustion of your past travels, you could still tell how Aemond was the one in a dire need of rest. And rest he did. He was a sight to see as he slowly breathed next to you. You could say that you had grown accustomed to his closeness and peaceful sight since your return from Sandstone and the nights you had spent together, but this was different, the dawn of something else. You wondered how you had lived without it before. After a while of quiet admiration of his features, you left the bedsheets and ordered a long needed bath for yourself, letting your husband have his rest.

The hot water you submerged yourself in made you lose track of time, the peaceful noise of the birds outside soothing you into slumber. But it was not long before Aemond came through the door, handsome as ever and barely dressed in his white linens, walking towards you as he gently scolded you.

“How dare you leave my side after our honeymoon night? I should not have to search for you,” he said, fighting a smile.

“I felt the need for cleansing and heat. I apologise for leaving you.”

He slowly crouched next to the tub, resting his elbows on the edge as he plunged his hand into the water, reaching for your belly.

“We Targaryens love the heat. I believe that your blood now craves for it too,” he declared as he looked at your form under the water. You went to rest your hand on his and the other grazing his arm in affection.

“Do not speak of it to anyone yet,” he spoke again, as he caressed your abdomen with his fingers, troubling the water. “Even my family.”

“Why? I know it is still early but…” You knew pregnancies could always go wrong, but you did not want to think about it.

“It’s not about this. I only believe it better to keep this to ourselves. Being of my blood is dangerous these days, I do not want anything happening to you. To the babe.”

You bit your lips. From this side you mainly saw his sapphire eye, his profile hiding his purple one. You put damp fingers over his scar.

“You are always keen to believe me unable to protect myself, it seems. Should I be offended?”

He smiled weakly and took your hand resting on his face to kiss the back of it. “We will see about that once you have beaten Cole in battle.”

You laughed softly as you sat up in the tub in order to be closer to him.

“You know… I think Helaena knew,” you stated, wishing to take his mind off whatever dreadful thoughts were going on his mind. “Somehow she knew that I would become your wife. Even when Cassandra was still… I mean, when she was still in the picture.”

A dark chuckle emanated from him. “Yes. She might have discovered my… esteem for you very early on. She can be very observant at times.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly did you do to make her think such a dreadful thing?” you jested, your nose inches from his.

“Believe me when I say that it was not my intention to let my sister know of my desires. I guess that I was not as skilled at hiding my emotions as I am now.”

His lips curved upwards at the remembrance. You recalled otherwise.

“It depends of the emotions I suppose,” you said tautly. “Do you remember Lady Errol per chance?” you inquired, referring to a young maiden of a great House that had been relentless at seducing Aemond, not that many years ago. You did not carry her in your heart.

Aemond looked at you with interest, “I do. What of her?

“If I remember correctly, you did snap at her when she asked you to dance with her at Aegon’s wedding. Not very emotionless of you, my Prince.” Aemond exhaled through his nose in brief annoyance as he played with the water near your breasts.

“She was constantly in my way and insisting on singing to me Lun the Last. I hate that ballad.”

“Oh, I know you do,” you said, mischief in your voice.

Aemond’s eye shot up at you with sudden interest.

“It was you? You told her that it was my favourite and that I would love to hear it for my brother’s wedding feast?”

You tried to remain as innocent looking as possible as Aemond watched you incredulously.

“It was a harmless joke. Besides, it had the merit of making Helaena laugh.”

Aemond was now staring at the glint in your eyes.

“I always had hoped. That you would be jealous of her.”

And how much you were. Each time a girl, after witnessing Aegon’s unattractive behaviour, was brave enough to try and lure Aemond with their charms instead, you felt how your skin would burn and your heart would ache. Of course you had tried to battle those feelings at the time, refusing to let them come to the surface, but Aemond never strayed from his distant behaviour, even for the prettiest of them. So you were doomed in watching lady after lady try and seduce him as he grew up to a fierce and handsome man.

You bit your lips in guilt, meeting Aemond’s amused gaze. His hand left your belly for your face and he pulled you into a gentle kiss.

“You are the only one that mattered,” he whispered against your lips.

Although the water was starting to get cold, your body was heating up, and after peering into his eye for too long you pulled him into a feverish kiss again.

Your hold on his jaw was so strong that you feared you would mark it, you just had to have him whole, all of him for yourself. The kiss was shifting into something more and he leaned closer over the tub, his hair dipping further into the water as he managed to cup your head more gently than you as you clung on to him, but he barely managed to hold back himself. You could sense how much he wanted to put your body close to him, something you wanted to do if not for the copper bath that prevented you from doing so. His breath turned heavier, mirroring yours and when you gasped for air he did not stop, taking the opportunity to claim your mouth further.

The knock on your door was not heard by the both of you at first, too enthralled by each other, but the knocking continued and when he groaned in annoyance into your mouth you were forced to acknowledge it as well. He still chose to ignore it, his hand gripping your hair but when a voice called for you over of the incessant knocking he deeply sighed, closing his eye as he refrained himself from yelling to leave you alone. But he reluctantly let go of you and stood up, walking to the door.

As you watched him disappear behind the folding screen you heard Aemond loud “What is it?” resonate as he opened the door violently, and you thought that whoever was behind it would surely be scared for their life. You could not decipher what was said but then you heard the door close again and saw Aemond reappear, an upset look on his face. He sat next to you again, his jaw clenched, pitching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in deep annoyance.

“My brother wishes to see you. To congratulate you. Us.”

You really hope that by brother, Aemond had meant Daeron. But you knew it a fool’s hope. You swallowed nervously.

“Well. I will not make the King wait,” you declared as you grabbed the side of the tub, Aemond rising up to support you.

“I don’t know if I’ll allow it. He is not the same since you last met with him.”

“He is still the King. I owe him as such. Besides, he now is my... good brother.”

Gods, you did not think of that until now, and visibly neither did Aemond as you saw him flinch at your words. So be it, but he would not let you go alone.

The royal chamber was dark, but despite the lack of proper sunlight you could still see what stood out the most in the room besides the bed: tables were filled with bottles, herbal jars and other medicines you didn’t recognise despite having studied them. Although, you were certain half of them were wine, as cups laid around the bedside table, empty, leaving the smell of alcohol travelling through the air.

Aemond closed the door behind you as you walked closer to the bed, where Aegon, eyes tired but happy to see you, was seated against the headboard.

“Dear Y/N,” he greeted you, extending his hands for you to take them.

“Let me congratulate you on your wedding. It is a welcome thing for sure during such challenging times.”

You thanked him graciously, glad to see that he did not seem too light-headed by all of the medicine he had taken. How wrong you were.

“I do apologise for my absence at the ceremony, however. In normal circumstances, I would never have missed such rejoices, and certainly not my brother’s success at securing someone who would not try to kill him in his sleep, however capable you may be.”

You heard Aemond snigger darkly behind you. He had stayed behind, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, silently watching your exchange.

Aegon tilted his head in his direction with sly interest, allowing you to see the severe burns that had him suffering so badly on his neck and no doubts, further down his flesh. As he moved, the smell of wine reached your nose strongly.

“It is odd, I do not remember summoning you Aemond. Only Y/N.”

Aemond looked straight at him, his eye widening in a deranged manner.

“And yet, here I am.” he said coldly.

Aegon’s gaze turned red briefly but he quickly returned his attention to you, choosing to ignore his brother’s presence. You did not like how his fingers were now caressing your hand as he was still holding them, his wicked smile finding his way to his face again.

“I must say brother, that you made a fine choice,” he spoke. “I have met the Baratheon girl and-” he stopped to grimace as if he tried to chase a bad memory. You felt Aemond’s body shift behind you. “Let us say that I would rather have you in the family. You are more… unique.”

He had looked at you up and down as he said that, a lustful look on his face as he revelled in your form. Aemond had straightened up from the wall at once, unfolding his arms and looking straight at his brother as he clenched his fists.

You deeply frowned in distress, wondering what you had done to deserve such a look. But you could not deny that Aegon had never shown any interest in you over the years. As a matter of fact, you recalled many times when he would approach you with his wicked grin of his, and each time, Aemond was absent. You had always managed to keep your distance, however.

“I am flattered, my King,” you lied, bowing your head as you sensed Aemond coming closer. “But do not let me bother you any longer. I am sure you need rest.”

You had managed to take a step back in order to free your hands from his grasp, and his eyes hardened at the move, his drunken demeanour unfolding before you.

“How did the bedding ceremony go? I heard you refused it brother,” he said loudly enough for Aemond to hear clearly, ignoring your last comment. “It’s a shame. Or perhaps it is you who is ashamed? I have never seen you give any interest in the matter since your thirteen name day. But you needn’t be-”

“That’s enough,” you heard Aemond say tense next to you, his eye boring into his Aegon in mere restraint.

“What is it brother? Is my assertion right? Are you sure you can fulfil her yourself or does she need to be shown? I would gladly oblige.”

Aemond was on him the next second, grabbing him by the collar roughly, his face inches from his brother’s.

“Careful Aegon. Perhaps I cannot keep my sister away from you and your depravity, but I will not have my wife listen to your drunken ranting. Do not lose the remaining respect I have for you.”

Aemond’s voice was low, threatening. You could not see his face but Aegon’s was harbouring a disrespectful grin, watching his brother through lazy eyes.

“So I am correct, aren’t I?” he boldly stated. He was lurching on his spot, barely registering the grip his brother had on his collar.

You heard Aemond take a deep breath, but did not act. He roughly released his brother after a while, sending him to hit the headboard in a thump before rising and grabbing you by the waist to depart.

“Pitiful.” you heard him say under his breath. His face was tense, and his body was radiating such anger that you feared it would burn your skin.

“If he summons you again, do not go,” he told you as you passed the door and led you to a secluded alcove in the corridor. “I will inform my mother that he is not well enough and has lost the privilege to be granted of your presence.”

“It doesn’t matter to me Aemond. He is in pain, he is not thinking clearly.”

“It matters to me!” he shouted, then he let go of you after realising how hard he was squeezing your sides. His eye was staring everywhere but at you, eager to not let you see this side of him. The one he could not control.

“Go back alone. I need to go to the training grounds. I will be back shortly.”

Hoping to pass his anger through the sword, he turned on his heels only to be stopped by your hand on his arm.

“No Aemond. Don’t do this, do not distance yourself from me.”

He froze, still unable to look up at you. You brought his head to face you, hand resting on his jaw. “Stay with me.”

“Do not make me. You don’t want to witness this. Me,” he said as his gaze landed on the base of your neck, avoiding your pleading stare. He was still raging inside, but you only embraced him.

“Stay. Please.”

Then your touch elicited something in him, enhancing his anger as he lost himself into your touch, eyes lingering on your plump lips. The one he possessed.

“Aegon is a wastrel who believes everything is owned to him. But you are mine. No one will touch you, no one else but me, do you understand?” he seethed, more talking to himself than you.

You could only nod as he had his hand clasped around your throat, squeezing hardly. Your breath got caught into your lungs as you felt him unleash his retained wrath onto your skin, teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck and hand lifting up your dress as he scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He took you, harshly, and you could not help but feel troubled by his behaviour.

His movements were erratic, desperate, and you liked it, you welcomed every side of his being, regardless of how it would affect you.

Your fingers were digging into his shoulder as he mercilessly pounded into you, savouring the sound he made when he jerked in pleasure at his final release, leaving him panting against your skin. Your hands buried themselves into his hair and he nuzzled his face into your neck, his hot breath moving your hair.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered after a while, his voice slightly shaking.

You immediately took his head in your hands, making him look at you.

“I am not.”

He was incredibly grateful that you were his wife.

The White Worm saw no valid reason for this bickering. All around the fire, the Blacks were discussing how to use one of their greatest assets, but the White Worm thought the matter limpid. They would strike soon anyway.

“We cannot risk them to openly fight. As grateful as I am for their support, exposing them would anger Sunspear as they went over their direct orders. We cannot afford that at the moment.” Rhaenyra Targaryen was seated nearest to the fire, looking up at his son Jacaerys.

“Why not? They have men and we need men. Without mentioning the skilled assassin they own.” Daemon intervened, seated across from her. “The support of the Qorgyle is a blessing, and all of this thanks to my dear nephew who decided wise to steal a girl who was betrothed to them and do… gods knows what with her,” he said, sweeping his hand in the air. “We should use them without delay.”

“He married her.”

All eyes turned towards the Mistress of whisperers.

“What?” said Jace, bewildered.

“Three days ago, in a small gathering. Before a Septon.” she confirmed.

All remained silent as some looked at Ser Lorent who shifted uncomfortably in his armour upon hearing of his cousin’s daughter marriage’s to a monster.

“We have to get her out of there,” concluded Jacaerys, breaking the silence. He has always adored you and could not bear to see you in the arms of the one who had killed his brother.

“No, it is too much of a risk. For all we know, she is chained in the dungeons, a prize for her father’s loyalty as he did for the Baratheons,” Rhaenyra replied but she was interrupted by her son again.

“This is exactly the reason why she needs us! Her father always supported your mother, and she is no different. She can be helpful to us, we only need to make her escape King’s Landing.” Jace loudly proposed, Rhaena nodding in agreement next to him.

“This is exactly what he wants.” Daemon interjected, trying to see clearly in the game his nephew was playing. “That snake surely married her to provoke us, attempting to anger us because we considered her as one of our own! He does not need the Lydden’s support, hell, he does not even care for a wife! The Baratheon girl is proof enough.”

Jace was aghast at the words of his step-father, looking desperately at his betrothed for support, but the White Worm spoke again.

“He does care for her.” They all looked at her with incredulous eyes.

“He is the one who took her out of Storm’s End, did he not?” she kept on, stating the obvious. “Then went to retrieve her as she was about to marry? I hardly would describe that as not caring. She is the Stolen Jewel after all.”

Silence followed, as they all struggled to imagine Aemond the Kinslayer caring about anything other than obliterate every Blacks that would come upon his path with Laena’s dragon, until none remained.

“Then we use her.”

Rhaenyra’s words attracted shocked looks on her, some were unsure that she had indeed spoken, but soon Jacearys were arguing alongside Baela, stating that you should not be used as a pawn.

“He killed my son!”

All fell silent at the Queen’s sudden outburst, Daemon eyed his wife in wariness, eager to see the side of her that would not let this crime go unpunished. Daemon loathed his nephew as much as he admired him.

“I will not harm her,” Rhaenyra softly spoke after meeting her son and Rhaena’s appalled faces.

She remembered your time in Dragonstone, and your smile at King’s Landing when you were only just a child, playing with her sons under the watchful eye of your father who was always loyal to Viserys.

“But if it’s true, if he truly cares for her” she kept on, glancing at the White Worm. “We can use her to lure Aemond, lure Vhagar out. We cannot waste this opportunity.”

She looked at Daemon for approbation, meeting his proud smirk as she spoke. “She is our only strong link inside the Greens, if she still is on our side.”

Jacaerys and Rhaena both looked at each other, forced to agree with the Black Queen.

A plan was agreed upon during this small gathering. The White Worm’s agent would try to reach her and deliver her a message from Jace, then her escape would be put to motion.

As she listened, Rhaenyra felt iron in her mouth. Aemond Targaryen’s cruelty had cost her a son, and as the White Worm departed, she secretly hoped that you were with child.

An eye for an eye. A son for a son.

Days had passed since Aemond was away, and your new ladies-in-waiting were your only company. More accurately, Hightowers distant family members were your ladies-in-waiting, the emptiness of the Red Keep making it difficult to come across any one of your age these days.

The Dowager Queen was either praying or taking care of her children and grandchildren, and Daeron had been the only one around to protect King’s Landing. However he spent most of his time with his grandfather when he was not watching over the Bay. The only news you had was the fact that Criston Cole was to come back shortly, Tumbleton having been taken by the Hightowers recently and called back by Aemond to defend the Bay.

Then one early morning, you were woken by a commotion that shook the entire Keep, making you jump straight out of bed. It was still dark as you peeked your head outside, only to be urged back inside by the guard in charge of your protection. Servants and nobles were screaming in the corridors and you did as you were told, grabbing your own dagger for protection as you closed the door.

After a short while you were dragged to the Queen’s quarters and put into a chamber with Helaena and the children. This is where you heard.

The King was dead. Murdered. Otto Hightower had been daggered by the assailant as he tried to protect his grandson. He had died shortly after.

Your heart pounded inside your chest in shock as you sat down next to Helaena in the dark lit room, taking on the news of Aegon’s death.

You were ordered to remain behind closed doors, secured in the chambers as Criston Cole kept the Dowager Queen close. Although the assassin had been killed as he tried to escape, the Lord Commander did not rest until every square inch of the Keep had been searched for an accomplice.

You stayed close to Helaena who has not said a single word, as she rarely did those days. She was staring straight into the void, not feeling your touch when you tried to take her hand in comfort.

So instead you stared at Jaheaerys all morning. The new King to be.

Everything settled down in the afternoon, and as Alicent came to check on her daughter, trying to appear as strong as she could as she had just lost a child, you had been able to learn more by her and the guards.

The assassin had infiltrated the castle deep into the night and had reached the King’s chambers, planning on poisoning him. However a servant had spotted the dark figure and warned a guard, the noise putting Otto Hightower out of his bed and making him go straight to Aegon. The assassin, out of time, had slit Aegon’s throat and stabbed Otto in order to escape, only to be stopped by the Kingsguard.

They believed the assassin Dornish, and although he bore no sigil, the poison found on him was one used was of the south of Dorne. This new piece of information made you shiver, Larys Strong had seen right, and you could not help but feel responsible for this.

You watched how much Alicent showed nothing appear of her grief as she soothed her daughter. She had lost her father, and a son. Your hand went to your stomach, thinking how much pain losing a child would inflict to someone.

Daeron has been sent at once to retrieve Aemond and deliver the news only to him. They had landed and gathered a war council right away after Aemond had sent a Kingsguard named Martson Water at your side. Talks of crowning the seven-year-old heir were already travelling the corridors of the Red Keep, but you knew Aemond was the one everybody would look up to, although you were certain that he would do anything to strengthen the Greens’ claim of the Iron Throne and could not afford to wait for Jaheaerys to be King.

But the first thing he did stunned you as he found you, embracing you tightly.

“You will leave tomorrow for Deep Den.”

“I beg your pardon?” you replied, looking at him with furrowed brows.

Aemond then explained to you that after what happened, he will have you removed from the castle as he deemed the place not safe any more, his absence making him worried each time he had to leave you in a place he thought crawling with spies and traitors. For the first time, you could see how much the war affected him, increasing his paranoia and his hot-tempered nature and making him take unwise decisions.

You tried to argue, taken aback by his lack of emotions after his brother’s and grandfather’s death. You wished he would let go of his grief around you.

He only dismissed your refusal to leave in assessing that you would be safer hidden, that he knew that the assassins would come for you next. For the babe.

“You are not thinking clearly Aemond, you cannot send me away.”

“It was the Qorgyles! We both know it Y/N. They rallied the Blacks and send their vengeful scorpion to do their bidding in their stead. Cowards.” His eye was displaying pure distress as he yelled at you. “But I will not let my family fall. They won’t have you.” His lips trembled now, and you did not know if it was of anger or fright.

“I need you safe until I secure King’s Landing, secure the bay. Until I kill every one of them for what they did.”

You cupped his neck and caressed the outline of his jaw, making him come to a stop in his outburst.

“What of Helaena? What of your mother?”

“My sister refuses to hear me, she won’t leave the twins and I need Jaehaerys here for the time being. As for my mother she will never agree to leave her behind. But I will find a way. For now you are my priority.”

You still would not yield.

“Aemond, don’t send me away from you.”

He brushed your lips, peering into your eyes and he gently pulled you into a kiss. His body shook against yours and you felt him hold back his emotions once again, all of his grief fighting to come to the surface, his anger and need for revenge barely held inside of him.

“You leave tomorrow.”

-0- Part 22

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia @ml0103 @nsainmoonchild @lonadane @skythighs @bietchz @samnblack @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @projectcampbell @ripdragonbeans @caribbeangal @polireader @zillahvathek @moni-cah @literishdegree99 @a-beaverhausen @thekinslayer @maniccrystalhippie @princessofdarkwinter @isaxbella749 @claudie-080102 @ebaylee422 @hydrationqueensworld @crumblychunksofheaven @officiallyunofficialperson

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rosenallies · 3 months

Note

mirage as Anetra’s sister in drag racer au??? my heart just thinking about it! 🥲🥲💕💕

Idk if you wanted this as a prompt or if u were just commenting on it but I had to introduce her so I’m using this as a vessel <3

——

“Who is this?!” Anetra grumbled into the phone, finally picking up after the same number had called her over and over again throughout the day, leaving no message.

The voice on the other end almost made her drop her phone.

“Anetra?” Breathed the voice of her baby sister, Mirage, someone she hadn’t heard from since her mom kicked her out almost 8 years ago.

She and Mirage had always been close as kids, making up dances in the backyard and giggling into the darkness all night until their mother yelled at them through the wall to quiet down and go to sleep. If Anetra missed anyone from her real blood family, it was Mirage. She’d left when she was 20 and Mirage was just 15, cheeks still full with baby fat and eyes teary as she begged her big sister not to go.

“Mirage? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Did you miss me or something?”

‘Miss’ was an understatement, she was sure her sister was the only one in her family to not hate her when she came out but that hope that Anetra had that she’d reach out when she turned 18 got dimmer and dimmer as the years passed, she’d fully given up on hearing from anyone from her blood family ever again at that point.

“Miri-I-“ Anetra choked out, breath seized as she got choked up, “it’s been so long.”

“I know,” Mirage sighed and Anetra could almost picture her biting her lip on the other end, a habit she had never been able to break no matter how much their mom scolded her for it, “look, I-um-I’m sorry I never reached out, I wanted to but mom was putting me through school and-and-“

“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Anetra admitted softly. She’d thought about it a lot, how she would react if she ever heard from her sister ever again and anger usually came to her mind, but hearing her sister’s voice, even muffled slightly over the phone sent all that flying out the window. “Are you still living with mom?”

Mirage laughed, bitter seeming. “No, I’m living in Vegas now. Where are you?”

“LA,” she paused, “I want to see you. Will you come visit?”

“Netra, I would love to, I just can’t afford-“

“I’ll pay for it. I’d come to you but I kind of have a family now and the baby is-“

“Hold up;a baby?! Girl, you had a baby?!”

Anetra laughed. “I didn’t carry, one of my partners did, but yes.”

“Wait? One of? You’ve got more than one?”

“Yeah, I’ve got two amazing partners,” Anetra replied, smiling to herself, “and a son, he’s about 6 months now.”

“I’ve missed so much,” Mirage sighed, “I’ll pay you back when I can but I’d really like to see you.”

“Don’t even worry about it, I’ll book a flight for as soon as possible. I-um-I love you, okay? I know it’s been so long and-“

“Netra, I love you too. I’ll see you when I can.”

Less than a month later, Anetra found herself at LAX, chewing on her thumbnail and pacing as she waited for Mirage at the gate.

“Darling, do you want to take Kai?” Sasha asked softly, handing the baby off to Anetra when she nodded, nuzzling her nose in his hair and letting the scent of his baby shampoo comfort her nerves.

“Don’t be nervous, Neech, she’s your sister,” Marcia said, patting her shoulder to ease the tension as people started emerging from the gate, suitcases in tow.

Anetra scanned the crowd anxiously, bouncing the baby in her arms just to keep the jitters at bay. When her eyes finally landed on her sister, she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling overv. If she didn’t have the baby in her arms she would’ve ran to her, and it seemed as if that notion was noticeable as Marcia gently took Kai from her arms, letting her run to her sister.

“Miri!” She called, running toward her and throwing herself at her sister who now towered over her.

“It’s so amazing to see you,” Anetra sniffled, holding her at an arm’s length away as she pulled apart, studying her face, “look at you, all grown up.”

Even though she had tears in her eyes too, Mirage laughed softly, “and look at you, all emotional in your old age.”

Anetra threw her head back in laughter, giddy with the feeling of being reunited with her sister. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Always,” Mirage winked, “now are you gonna be a good big sister and help me with my bags?”

“Give me your bags, you brat,” Anetra rolled her eyes lightheartedly, tugging her sister’s luggage along to where Marcia and Sasha stood, watching fondly.

After introducing Mirage to her little family and a nice dinner downtown, Anetra sat on the couch with Mirage, knees touching as they chatted about everything they’d been up to over the years. It was getting late but Anetra didn’t want the day to end.

“So,” Anetra breathed, stomach churning with nerves, figuring she might as well ask what she still wondered day in and day out, “how’s mom and everyone?”

Mirage bit her lip, appearing as if she really hadn’t kicked that habit. “She kicked me out three years ago.”

“What? Why?”

“I dropped out of college and started dancing at this little bar downtown and when she found out she told me to quit or leave, so I left. I moved to Vegas a few months later after crashing with some friends and I’ve been dancing on the strip since. I know it’s ‘dirty work’ or whatever most people think it is so I get it if you’re judging me but I really found myself on stage, you know? I really love it, getting dolled up and dancing. It’s freeing. A big change from our religious upbringing.”

Anetra nodded, she understood that more than anyone. She laced their fingers together, squeezing gently. “Yeah, I get it. I could never judge you for that, just like you were the only one who didn’t judge me when I came out,” she paused, laughing to herself in disbelief, “imagine if mom could see us now. Me, gay with two partners and a baby born out of wedlock crashing cars for money and you, a Vegas stripper.”

They looked at each other and then burst into a laughter so hard it made their stomachs hurt, making up for years of missed laughs.

“Oh man, I’m so glad I have you again,” Mirage sighed as they came down from their laughing fit, leaning her head on Anetra’s shoulder.

Anetra pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, just like she used to do when they were young and Mirage cried, only wanting comfort from her big sister. “I’m glad I have you too. Of course, I love my chosen family more than anything, but I always wished I had at least one person who shared my blood on my side.”

“I was always on your side, Netra. Always. And no matter what I always knew you were on mine.”

#drag racer au #prompt request

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 7 months

Text

Times Change and We With Time

Part 1 | ? |

First of all let me say, I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm going to roll with my crazy plot bunny. Also as a warning, my first foray into writing any kind of Star Trek, though I've watched a majority of all franchises.

This is a Christopher Pike / Reader story.

Lots of set up in this chapter, so bare with me.

----------

Q always drives home the point that time, is in fact, non-linear. So what happens when you realize that maybe a person's future, lies in the past?

'Times change and we change with them' - Latin Proverb

----------

Chapter One: So, That...Happened

Disclaimer | I am taking several liberties with Star Trek lore in order to mold the telling of this story. Mainly, Spock's disappearance when he went on the rescue mission to stop the destruction of Romulus's star system. We're going to negate the Kelvin timeline here and assume Spock surfaced and has been focusing on continued re-settling of the remaining Romulan inhabitants on Vashti.

OOOOO

Stardate: 2402.3

OOOOO

The Enterprise-G was quite a formidable ship. Previously known as the USS Titan, she was rechristened after the events of near Borg annihilation just a few short years ago.

You were walking back to your quarters, smiling and nodding at several familiar faces on the way.

Having served in an unofficial capacity on the Enterprise-E, you knew there was no other feeling in the world than being on a starship.

And for once, you were grateful for the lull in activity. Not racing against all odds to save the galaxy, worrying about the crew and their safety. As thrilling as that may be for some, it's nice to get back to what Star Fleet was all about, exploring.

Technically, you were never enlisted in Star Fleet. But here you were, having spent a majority of your life with them, all whom you've grown to call family. Protecting them fiercely.

With a genius mind that rivaled most all humans, you reveled in problem solving, tackling the most enigmatic challenges.

However, this came at a great personal cost. There have been many long sleepless nights, you just wished you were normal.

They say humanity has bettered themselves over the centuries. And yes, you suppose that may be true, but there are still those out there who wish to do harm. You learned that early on in life. Orphaned at such a young age, your family sacrificed their lives to protect you. Your intelligence sparked interest in parties who would use your mind to create chaos and destruction. You had to run constantly, never staying in one city too long on Earth. Though, you found the state of Montana to be quite lovely. You thought, if ever you were to retire one day, it would be there.

OOOOO

Okay, so when you mentioned you "served" on the USS Enterprise, it may have been an exaggeration. You were 10 and snuck aboard before leaving space port. The only reason you were allowed to stay was because of one, Beverly Crusher. You like to think of her as the adoptive mom you never had.

But like everyone else close in your life, she had disappeared too. That is until she resurface with her son Jack. You weren't even angry she up and poofed out of existence for 20 years. There was only hurt and sadness. You were used to people abandoning you.

So after crying and lots of hugging, of course you understood, but the loss was still palpable over those two decades.

It's funny, during your time on the Enterprise-E, once you were old enough, you essentially became a Consultant to the Captain, which is what Jack's position on this ship currently is.

That kid. What a handful. And a shameless flirt, who does not seem to care that you are nearly a decade and a half older than he is. You mostly roll your eyes at him, but occasionally, he'll get a good laugh out of you.

Over the last 20 years or so since leaving the Enterprise-E in 2379, you had bounced around from ship to ship, consulting on various odd ball requests. Still never commissioned, but Star Fleet also understood why there was a reason to keep a low profile. Those terrorists that hunted you as a child, were still out there searching for you. So, keeping your name off any official databases was pretty handy.

Until - it wasn't.

OOOOO

Your communicator beeped just as you arrived at the front door to your quarters. Entering, you tap the communicator on your jacket.

"Go ahead."

A loud sigh can be heard over the comm line, "You ready to go? We're at the transporter pad, waiting to beam down."

"Hold your horses. I just need to grab my backpack and PADD Commander Musiker."

You may have responded a bit cheekily, but you don't often use your honorary rank.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Shaking your head and laughing, you gather the remaining items stuffing them in your backpack, "Raffi, just head down to the surface with the away team, I'll follow suit in a couple minutes."

"I can wait," a very distinct male voice piped in.

"Commander, I am definitely ordering you to take Ensign Crusher planet side, now."

You could hear the abrupt rounds of laughter floating through the comm system.

"Copy that. We're heading down."

Yeah. Today was going to be a good day.

OOOOO

Away missions aren't generally something you venture out on too often. Just due to the nature of your position in Star Fleet, but you made a special request for this one.

A class M planet in the Beta Quadrant had been producing unusual anomalies since the Romulus sun went supernova. The readings were sparce and intermittent from the probe recently sent. So, to get a better understanding, command sent the Enterprise out to get more concrete findings. The data was so mystifying it even piqued Ambassador Spock's interest as well. He planned to meet you down on the planet near one of the anomalies.

But still, something seemed, off.

You beamed down within a reasonable amount of time from your last communication with Raffi. The team appeared to be setting up camp and already taking readings of the area, though you aren't sure why everyone is peering over the edge of a cliff.

Quietly approaching, you clear your throat from a fair distance behind the team, making your presence known.

Jack spins around.

"There she is. You've got to take a look at this."

He really does act like a happy golden retriever sometimes, and it is ridiculously infectious.

"Hi friends. What have we got?" You wave at everyone before leaning your head over the edge of the barren cliff. The area reminded you of the Grand Canyon. "Oh, uh - now that is trippy," your eyebrows nearly stretch all the way up to your hairline in surprise.

You weren't really sure what you were looking at. A flattened dark swirling mass of....distorting matter? You pull your backpack from around you and grab your tricorder. Giddy with excitement you attempt to get as close to the edge as possible.

"Easy there tiger, let's not fall off. We all know how clumsy you are," Raffi's voice carries nearby.

You huffed annoyed, but bite back any remarks, because - okay, you were a tad clumsy. But mostly it's because you're occupied with your head in a book or data and randomly bump into things as you walk.

Mumbling to yourself, "Seriously, what is this thing?"

"That is a temporal rift."

Your head snaps up, turning towards the newcomer.

"Spock!"

Smiling you, make your way over to greet one of your closest friends. It still shocks the hell out of you, to think you became friends with one of Star Fleet's most highly decorated.

You don't see each other very often in person anymore, but you both have a bi-monthly communication, catching up on what's going on in each other's lives. But honestly, you just enjoy listening to Spock reminisce about serving on the Enterprise. Lately, he had been sharing more and more stories about Captain Christopher Pike. And they were so good.

"You still accept hugs from friends?" Stopping short, you hold out your arms tentatively.

You know hugs aren't always his thing, but you've managed to wrangle one or two out him in the past.

"Perhaps not in front of the away team, Fleet Admiral."

Out of your peripheral, you see the team trying to look inconspicuous, as if they aren't eavesdropping on your conversation.

Sighing you drop your arms and walk closer to Spock. You jut your head over to a grouping of rocks a few meters from your friends.

"Ambassador Spock and I are going to have a quick chat. We won't go far."

You stuff your hands into pockets and gesture for him to follow.

"You know Spock, you don't have to call me Fleet Admiral."

Having fallen in step with you, his hands are steepled in front of him, "It is your rank, is it not?"

"Yes, but - it's just an honorary rank. And we're friends, you can call me by my name, you know?"

You peer up at him, knowingly.

"Indeed I do."

Chuckling to yourself, you hoist yourself onto one of the large boulders nearby.

"Okay. Time for the important questions. Why are you really here? As happy as I am to see you, this doesn't seem like something you would waste your energy on," you watch Spock stand next to you as he peers out over the vast canyon.

"You have always been incredibly perceptive for a human. You also carry with you an innate compassion for others and a will to never give up. So logic dictates, you would likely continue questioning my motives until I bare them to you."

"You would be correct," eyebrow raising in interest.

You heard a soft chuckle from the Vulcan. Spock dipped his head slightly before facing you once more.

"You remind me very much of a Captain I once served under."

Your eyeballs grew comically wide.

"What?" You drag out slowly. Narrowing your eyes, you continue "I'm assuming you aren't referring to James Kirk?"

"I am not. You may be centuries apart, but many of the endearing qualities I see in you are also the same ones reflected in Christopher Pike." Spock paused briefly, sighing quietly before continuing, "Had you have met, I believe you both would have found great value in one another."

Your jaw drops open slightly in shock.

Blinking rapidly, your brain is trying to discern what exactly Spock is implying. Great value in one another?

"Uh - thank you?" You say confusingly. Then a thought comes to mind and you perk up, "Is this why you keep telling me stories about him?"

"It is one reason, but not the only one."

You tilt your head to the side, "I'm not following. What other reason could there be?"

"Today will be the last day I see you, as I am now," Spock answers.

"That isn't exactly the response, I was hoping for. Why is today the last day I see you? Are you not well?" Alarm creeps into your voice, sounding a growing concern for your friend.

"You will understand in due time."

Standing, you rubbed a hand over your face in frustration.

"Could you not be so cryptic in your Vulcan-y ways?"

You were about to start in again, but a communicator went off.

It wasn't yours.

"Spock here," he taps on his badge.

"Ship's ready sir, just let us know when you're ready to beam back aboard," an officer's voice filtered through.

"Momentarily, Spock out."

"So, you aren't here for the mission," you reply, crossing your arms in front.

"No. I am not."

"Then why?"

"I came to say goodbye to an old friend," Spock replies softly.

Looking up at him, you notice now how somber his eyes are.

"I still don't understand."

Bobbing his head, Spock gives a look of contemplation, "I know.”

Suddenly, you're pulled into a hug.

You were grateful for the comfort, but terribly concerned. Spock normally doesn't initiate hugs, and this conversation has been very confounding to say the least.

But you trust Spock. If something were seriously amiss, he would tell you, wouldn't he?

Pulling back, you give him a fond questioning look.

Spock raised his hand to the Vulcan salute, "It has been the one of the greatest privileges of my life to have known you. You shall and always will be my friend."

"I - yes, Spock, same to you, as well," you were stumbling over yourself, stunned by his action and words.

"Live long and prosper," Spock fondly says, a small smile gracing his features.

You see him tap on his comm badge, "One to beam up, energize."

"Wha - ?"

Before you have time to responds, he's gone from your sight.

Why that sneaky Vulcan! How could just up and leave like that? Next communication session you plan on giving him an earful.

OOOOO

You make your way back over to the away team, dusting off your jeans as you walk. Spinning around slowly, you check to make sure you got all the sand off you. You weren't a true field commissioned Star Fleet officer, so you tend to only wear your uniform when you absolutely have to.

"What was all that about?" Jack says, striding up to you.

"Your guess is as good as mine," you reply dazed.

"So, Ambassador Spock is not staying for the readouts, I take it?" Raffi sarcastically chimes in.

You look over and just shake your head exasperated.

"Vulcans, what are ya going to do?" You throw your hands up in the air.

You noticed other members of the crew had separated out in pairs to collect data. The plan was to only spend one day on the planet and then return the findings to Star Fleet command, with a recommendation on what to do about the anomalies and if they posed a danger to inhabitants.

Reaching for your tricorder again, you stopped short when you heard a shuffling from a section of the area North that hadn't been scouted.

"Commander do you hear that?"

Raffi straightened up, looking around. She holds up her hand, "Everyone quiet."

The shuffling noise was becoming more prominent, closer.

"Phasers out," the Commander replied.

Funny thing. You didn't have one on you. You should really be better prepared.

Craning your neck, you try to see if there's any danger, but there are boulders everywhere.

Raffi was starting to run security protocols with the crew when you saw them.

"Commander, left at 2 o'clock," you shout.

A small group of what looks to be raiders are making their way forward to advance on the team.

And they have weapons. Wonderful.

"Take cover," Jack shouted, grabbing you and darting for the nearest section of boulders to crouch down behind.

You hear a phaser go off and shouting from members of the away team, calling out positions.

Well, this turned ugly fast, you think.

You tighten the backpack strap across your chest in a nervous gesture.

Knowing you don't have a weapon to help your team, you hit your comm badge, "Enterprise, status - we are under fire. Repeat, we are under fire. Request immediate beam up."

No response.

You tap your badge again. Nothing.

Enemy fires grazes the top of the rock you're hiding next to. You look around and see the young Crusher, side stepping his way around to the outer rim - firing every so often, but you can hear the weapons discharging from either side at increased rates. It's only a matter of time before someone gets seriously injured.

Raffi is several feet in front of you around another set of rocks, taking cover and giving orders while keeping her own attackers at bay.

Peering up from over the boulder you're at, you notice a pair of raiders closing in on Jack, who has now isolated himself near the edge of the cliff. You never thought he was extremely reckless, but his mother would be furious if anything happened to him.

Distracted by another raider to his right, you see the ensign focus and hit his target, but he's failed to see the other two closing in on him.

You see one of the two fractioned raiders raise their weapon, ready to fire.

Without hesitation, you sprint from your hiding place and tackle Jack to the ground barely missing the shot fired.

"Are you insane Crusher?" You yell.

"I could say the same thing about you!"

"Can we not do this right now?"

More weapons discharge over the next several minutes. The exchange finally stops after seeing another attacker go down. The Commander is calling out for a perimeter sweep and ordering a Lieutenant to find a way to get in contact with the Enterprise.

Jack stands up and offers you a hand once the all clear is given.

"Thanks for that," he replied bashfully, gesturing to the area where he was saved.

Both of you head start to head over to Commander Musiker, walking along the cliff edge.

"Yeah, well your mother would murder me if something happened -"

Cutting off your snarky reply, you're thrown back by the force of something piercing your shoulder. You cry out in pain, stumbling backwards.

Okay, maybe this wasn't as great a day as you imagined.

Vaguely, you can hear both Raffi and Jack shouting, but your ears are ringing. You reach you towards Crusher with your good arm, but you lose your footing and the next thing you know you're falling in darkness.

OOOOO

#christopher pike/reader #captain christopher pike #mr spock #strange new worlds #who knows what this will be #Rated T?#christopher pike #aka captain perfect hair #brief mentions of uss enterprises #star trek strange new worlds #st snw #star trek picard

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 4 months

Text

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 32: New Year New Town

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1868

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

A/N: Taking place sometime not long before grown up Henry calls for Hook, Regina and Emma to come to his aid in the alternate Enchanted Forest in 7x2, the residents of Storybrooke are living out their Happy Beginnings. With New Years approaching, Regina and Snow decide it’s time for a new town wide initiative. Emma and Killian use the occasion to make a special announcement of their own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good morning, Beautiful. How was your night?” Killian crooned softly as he leaned down to kiss Emma’s cheek, his hand softly caressing her shoulder.

Emma smiled as she slowly opened her eyes and turned over to meet her husband’s adoring gaze. She’d introduced him to the song a few months ago, and ever since then, he’d woken her up to it nearly every morning.

They’d been married for five years now, and yet Killian could still make her stomach swoop like a teenager with her first crush. It should be illegal for someone to be so romantic.

Emma sat up, ran a hand through her riotous curls, and then pulled Killian down for a long, slow kiss. Life was good. Life was really good.

Killian pulled away with a reluctant groan. “I’ll never complain about a good morning greeting like that, my love, but if we continue on in this manner, we’ll never make the city council meeting on time.”

Emma groaned. “You sure we can’t just skip it? It’s New Year’s Eve; I’d much rather just stay here in bed with you.”

“Likewise darling,” Killian said with one more smacking kiss to her lips before he threw back the covers and got to his feet, “but you know neither Regina nor your mother would ever let us get away with that given their New Year, New Town initiative.”

Emma groaned again. “Oh yeah, that. Can’t wait”

About a month ago, just after Thanksgiving, Regina and Snow had called a special town council meeting.

“We’ve been Big Bad free for five years now,” Regain began without preamble, staring down each of the members of the council, “and you’d think that would mean our town would be nearly perfect, by now, but that is not the case. I’ve still had to deal with the same petty squabbles as I’ve always had to, and I think it’s high time we do something about it.”

“Just what kind of squabbles we talking about ‘your majesty’?” Leroy asked, scowling fiercely

“Well, for one thing, I think we would all appreciate it if you’d lay off the threats of a lawsuit everytime someone eats the last of Granny’s bacon before you get there.”

“I have always tried to get as much bacon as I possibly could, and my brothers all know it”, Leroy argued. “They double cross me at the diner counter, they know what to expect.”

Regina rolled her eyes and looked on the point of retorting back, which Snow quickly stepped in.

“The point is not to point fingers at any one person,” she said. “The point is that I think we all have things about ourselves that we could change in order to become the best versions of ourselves.”

“So, Lady Snow, what particularly are you and the queen proposing?” Killian asked.

“As you all well know, the holiday season is just now ramping up, and before you know it, it will be Christmas and then New Years,” Snow explained. “Regina and I were talking over tea one day, and we had a thought. New Years is the time for resolutions. What if we–all of us–the whole town–made new year’s resolutions to make our town a better, friendlier town?”

“We’ll call it the ‘New Year, New Town’ initiative,” Regina said in her typical no nonsense tone. “It will, of course, be compulsory for all residents of Storybrooke.”

There was a general groan among the council as everyone began talking at once. Regina banged her gavel, finally restoring quiet to the council room.

“While I personally don’t think New Year’s resolutions are a bad thing,” Archie said, “I do have questions about how it would work practically, though. Surely you can see that forcing the town to make New Year’s resolutions is a bit heavy-handed, even for you.”

“Not happening, Sister,” Leroy tossed in.

“For once, I have to agree with the dwarf,” Killian tossed in. “No bloody way in Hades you will get the town–or even most on this committee–to go along with such an authoritarian scheme.”

Regina sighed in exasperation. “Listen Captain Guyliner��”

Snow stepped in again before things could further devolve. “Okay, maybe we can’t make it compulsory, but I was thinking, we could have incentives. You know, get pledges from various businesses for prizes for anyone who makes and keeps their resolutions until the end of the year. Make it a fun, citywide competition. That sort of thing.”

After a fair bit more debate, the council finally voted six to five–with Regina, Snow, David, Archie, Whale and Marco voting aye and Zelena, Emma, Killian, Leroy and Granny voting nay–to implement the initiative. Emma had been on the fence about the whole thing, but what finally tipped her to the “nay” side, was Regina’s final decree.

“There is one thing I must insist upon,” Regina said. “If we can’t force the entire town to comply with the initiative, we must at least stand in solidarity in our efforts to encourage full participation. To that end, I move that the initiative be compulsory for the members of the council.”

Another groan around the room.

“What’s stopping everyone from just making self-serving resolutions?” Whale asked.

“Well….” Snow began slowly. “Now just hear me out!”

No statement that started like that could ever end well.

“Regina and I discussed that, and we came up with a plan that we think is fair for everyone,” she said. “We, the council, have a say in each other’s resolutions. Everyone is free to submit resolution ideas for each other, and then on New Year’s Eve, we hold a vote to determine what each person will focus on next year.”

That suggestion got more than a little pushback, but in the end, it was reluctantly adopted.

And so here they were, New Year’s Eve morning, making their way to town hall to decide upon and commit to their resolutions for the coming year.

Emma took a deep, calming breath, as she and Killian took their seats at the council table. Killian took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze offering her his support and strength. She couldn’t care less what the council had decided for her resolution; the whole thing was ridiculous anyway. What did have her nervous and excited and a little freaked out was the plan she and Killian had come up with just before Christmas when they learned the news. Fact was, it was a big deal, a really, really big deal.

Regina, dressed in her customary power suit, banged her gavel against the table to quiet the gathered council and call the meeting to order.

“Okay, as it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m sure we all have better places to be, let’s go ahead and get to it,” she said.

“Here’s how it will work,” Snow said eagerly. “Everyone will vote on the proposed resolutions via secret ballot. The ballots will be tabulated, and then each one of you will be given an envelope with the list of suggested resolutions the council proposed. The one picked for you will be listed at the top in red.”

“And if we refuse to go along with that one?” Leroy asked, crossing his arms and scowling fiercely.

“We aren’t unreasonable,” Snow said in answer. “If you can’t go along with your top choice, you have the option to choose one of the other selections on your list.”

Voting and tabulation were rather quick affairs, and within fifteen minutes the results were in.

“Just to get you all to stop bitching about this and see that it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll go first,” Regina said, taking her own envelope. Taking her letter opener, she neatly slit the top of the envelope and pulled the single sheet of paper free. Taking a moment to read through it, Regina scoffed. “‘Cut back on snarkiness and insulting nicknames’? Really? I don’t–”

“Oh yes you do, your majesty,” Killian said. “I’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve called me some variation of ‘Handless Wonder’ or ‘Captain Guyliner’.”

“Oh, did I hurt your little feelings?” Regina snapped.

“Aaaannd there’s the snark,” Emma commented.

“Fine!” Regina said, “just to prove to all of you that I’m serious about making this initiative work, I’ll accept your stupid resolution.”

With the first resolution reveal out of the way, the rest went rather smoothly. Snow resolved to refrain from revealing secrets (although Emma personally preferred the resolution Killian had submitted for her mom: Call before coming over to your daughter and son-in-law’s house). David resolved to make time for his mates now that his farm was taking up so much of his time. Zelena resolved to cut out envy from her life. Leroy resolved to stop running through the town yelling “terrible news!” about anything less than a full blown emergency. Whale resolved to stop drinking while on duty. Archie resolved to actually get a medical degree not given to him from a curse. Granny resolved to replace the uncomfortable mattresses in her inn. And Marco resolved to take classes to bring his woodworking business into the twenty-first century.

Finally, it was down to just Emma and Killian. The moment of truth.

Emma stood up, and without even looking at what was written on her envelope said, “I resolve to be the best mother I can possibly be and to learn all I can about how to care for a newborn.”

She was met with blank, confused stares as she sat down and Killian rose to make his announcement.

“And I’d like to address my resolution directly to Dave,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Mate, my resolution for next year is to not get your daughter pregnant….again.”

For a moment the blank stares continued until suddenly Snow gasped. “Emma….Killian? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Emma stood, and laced her fingers with Killian’s as her smile bloomed and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. “If you think we’re saying you’re about to be a grandma again, then yes. We found out on Christmas Eve. It finally happened! I’m pregnant!”

Later that night, after the ball dropped and the new year came in amid fireworks and cheers, Emma settled in bed in Killian’s embrace.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asked, holding her to him and nuzzling her neck. “Is the little one causing any distress?”

“At the moment all is well,” Emma said. “Now in the morning when the nausea hits like a ton of bricks I might have a different answer, but for right now, everything feels just about perfect.”

Killian placed his hand on her belly and rubbed gently, his attempt, she knew, to caress their growing child. “Something tells me this new year is going to be our best one yet.”

“Something tells me the same thing, babe,” Emma said.

They fell silent for another moment before Emma broke the silence with a chuckle. “How long do you think it will take for the council to realize we totally blew off their resolutions for us?”

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #new year new town

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boybandbaby · 1 year

Text

Grown Ups Grow Apart

Pairing: Bestfriend!Eddie x reader, Eddie x Steve, Eddie x Reader (It's a mess all over honestly.)

Summary: Eddie and you are best friends but things become complicated over time.

Word Count: 4K+

Notes: I was high when I thought of this but sober when I wrote it. All mistakes and confusion are mine lol. I just kept writing whatever my mind came up with so this might be super confusing. I might make a part 2 or series if there's a demand for it. This is a modern au. THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THIS SONG

Warnings: cuss words, mean words between Eddie and you/ reader, if there's anything I missed please let me know.

I saw your picture in a box last night

Seems I'm always unpacking, yeah, I moved again

Did I tell you that?

It got me thinking

I've been missing you, thought of calling you

Yeah I wanted to

But I got anxious 'cause that's what adults do

And they start looking back

Don't you hate that

You were currently packing up your room, moving back to Hawkins by the end of the week. You had grown up there most of your life and had to move right after your senior year of high school. Now you were in your mid 20’s, headed back for a new job.

As you packed you decided to throw out things you didn’t want or need. This meant you had to go through every area and item you owned. As you reached down under your bed, you pulled the box you had shoved there the day you moved in about 5 years ago. The metal lunchbox covered in stickers of well known bands and local bands that you had seen with Eddie. Eddie. Your best friend or ex best friend from Hawkins. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the night before you left.

The Polaroid was the last picture of you and Eddie together. You were in your cap and gown, arm around Eddie’s shoulders as you both smiled at the camera. Unfortunately, Eddie was held back so he didn’t graduate with you. You never judged him for it knowing all his childhood trauma and struggles. You wondered what he was up to. Was he still in a band? Did he still love d&d? That you assumed was still true. Was he single? How was Wayne? Did Eddie graduate? Did he finally move out of Hawkins like you both always planned? You selfishly hoped he was still in Hawkins and that you could see him. Hear his voice again.

You wanted to hear his voice everyday that you were away. You wanted to call him, apologize for the things you said and the way you left. Left him alone in a shitty town with shitty people who judged him. Made him feel like a freak and an outcast. The same way you treated him when you left.

Now you're weighing on my thoughts tonight

Can you explain this

How can you know everything and nothing about my life

At the same time

Time is crazy, I don't know where all my life has gone

I told you secrets, did you keep them, do you miss home

When you start looking back

To those basements and backyard dances

Our song, the front seat of my jeep

In love and taking chances

The night you looked at me and said

Time won't fly, I won't let it

Promise you won't forget it

The way that it is, the way that we are

'Cause kids grow up and grown ups grow apart

Grown ups grow apart, ah

Eddie knew everything about your life from social media and a mutual friend, Gareth. You and Gareth occasionally texted, never really being close but being friends when he met Eddie. Eddie knew what your job was and what you currently looked like and where you lived and sometimes hung out. What he didn’t know was the personal things like your daily routine, current obsessions, or even your favorite color.

He knows your deepest and darkest secrets, well your old secrets. He’s sure you have new ones and he’s almost certain you share those with someone else now (you don’t). The idea that you have a new best friend, someone you dance with, sing with, laugh with, cuddle with, hurts his heart. Those were things you were allowed to do with others but only saved for him. He was the only person who saw you freely be yourself. You’d sing with your chest and dance like no one was watching (Eddie was ALWAYS watching), laugh from your belly even if it meant snorting or wheezing out loud and snuggle up tight with him.

He remembered the last time you cuddled together. During the summer right after graduation. It was hot and humid but you both still snuggled up together. An old, raggedy blanket thrown on the patches of dirt and grass in Wayne’s backyard. It was the night you told him you were moving. Two weeks, he remembers. You were leaving in two weeks. He only had you for two more weeks. You both promised to always be best friends. Promised each other to text and call and write to each other and even visit when you could. None of that happened. Promises were broken and time flew. 5 years had flown by without a single moment of contact.

Do you remember summer '09

On my birthday

After dinner, you introduced me to the guy you liked

Now in hindsight

You're so beautiful, I was insecure and I won't lie

It was my birthday and I wanted him and I hate

That I could hurt your feelings like that, yeah

And I can't take it back

It was your 18th birthday. You and Eddie had made plans to go to dinner, somewhere outside of Hawkins to make a big deal out of it. It was the year you were officially becoming an adult after all and Eddie was proud of everything you accomplished this year even if you felt like you accomplished nothing. After, you would go to the store and scan the shelves and racks for things you would never buy with an ice cream or shake in your hand. Tonight was different. Eddie had said he had plans afterwards with a guy he liked. You knew Eddie was bisexual, he had told you he was unsure of his sexuality in middle school. He fully embraced it (between the two of you) during high school. You were the only person that knew.

So when you both stepped out of the restaurant after sharing a family size bowl of pasta, you were shocked to see Steve Harrington leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting for Eddie. You had driven you both to the restaurant in your beat up Jeep, telling Eddie he had to finally let you drive and pick the music. He agreed as part of your birthday gift (the other part of your gift being Eddie’s presence and him paying for dinner).

“Y/n, you know Steve right?” Eddie smiled, awkwardly hugging Steve.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” You replied, looking at your shoes as you stuck your hand out. Of course you knew Steve. Who didn’t? You had found him cute since freshman year. You never told Eddie because you thought he would’ve made fun of you having a crush on a jock.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Steve smiled. God, he was handsome. The way his hair fell slightly against his forehead, his jeans hugging his thighs, his arms straining against his t-shirt. You wanted him. You wanted to steal him from Eddie. You didn’t want Eddie to have him. You were a horrible friend.

You began to get jealous when Eddie would hang out with you less during senior year. You began to get jealous when he gained more friends. People he and Steve had in common and who played d&d with him. You would shut him out when he did try to hang out or meet up. The loneliness made senior year emotionally more stressful but allowed you to focus on your plans for after. During the summer you spent a little more time with Eddie knowing you couldn’t use school as an excuse anymore. Then came the news that you were moving. You knew he’d be okay without you. He had more than enough friends to fill your absence.

The two weeks between you dropping the bomb that you were moving was filled with amazing moments between you and Eddie. You had began to cry as you laid on his chest but Eddie told you to stop. You still had two weeks he said. So you wiped your tears and made the best of the time together. Then, the night of your fight and end of your friendship.

You both were sitting in his van, hotboxing and listening to your shared playlist. A mix of both his and your favorite tunes. “I can’t believe you’re really leaving.” He sighed as smoke left his mouth. He took another hit before passing it to you.

“But we’ll still be friends right?” You smile softly, “and when you graduate you’ll come live with me somewhere far away and we’ll make a life for ourselves.”

“Right.” He snorted.

“What do you mean?” You passed the joint back to him.

“You think I’m getting out of here? I already flunked school once, it’s just going to get worse from here.” He brushed some ash off of his jeans.

“So what? It was a one time thing. You’ll graduate in another year and can be on your way.” You stopped his hand, noticing there wasn’t anymore ash to brush off.

“You’ve always been naive y/n.” He pushes your hand off his thigh. “I’m not smart like you. I don’t have a plethora of opportunities like you.”

“What are you even talking about? You’re literally so smart.” You pull your hand into your lap. “Remember when you scored higher than me on that history test? You didn’t even study, you just knew the concepts and stuff.”

“I guessed on most of the test y/n. Mrs. Borris thought I cheated remember? Even called Wayne and had us in the principals office.” He rested his head back against the window of the van, the velvet curtain giving him a small sort of pillow.

“You’re still smart in other aspects Eddie.” You shrug.

“I hate when you do that.” He groans and closes his eyes.

“Do what?” You glare at him. “Sit here?”

“You make me feel like shit when you invalidate my feelings.” He finally takes another puff and doesn’t bother passing it to you. “I’m telling you how I feel and you’re trying to tell me the opposite.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. I just think you’re hard on yourself when you shouldn’t be. You’re seriously one of the best people I know. You are smart Eddie. And really strong and such a hard worker. I just don’t understand why you have to put yourself down.”

“It’s because that’s how I feel. You’re leaving and you’re going to do amazing things. I’m here y/n. I’ll never leave this place.” You can hear the way his throat closes slightly, he’s choking on a sob.

“I’ll always be here for you Eddie.” You scoot closer to him. “And you have Steve and Dustin and Robin while I’m away. They’re cool people.”

“It’ll be easier for me when you leave. I don’t have to compare myself to you and wonder why you’re friends with me.” He says. That’s when you snap.

“Damn it Eddie! You’re making me feel like shit now! Why can’t you just accept that I love you for who you are and I love being your friend.” You groan, slipping your shoes back on. “It’s like I have to justify all my actions with you.” You crawl over to the metal door and open it, slipping out and onto the pavement. You turn back and he’s already exiting the van with you. “I’m glad I’m leaving too. I won’t have to hear your shit anymore.”

“I’ll fucking help you pack if it means you get out of here faster.” He throws the joint on the ground and stomps on it unnecessarily hard.

“No need. I don’t want your nasty ass hands touching any of my stuff.” You growl. It was the only insult you could think of. “Wouldn’t want you anywhere near my stuff, you’d probably curse it with your Satanism.” Now you are grasping for straws. Anything that would hurt him as much as he’s hurting you.

“Oh so now I’m a freak? Just like everyone’s been saying?” He slams the back door not before grabbing your bag. “You’re pathetic using that as an insult y/n.” He tosses your bag at your feet. Good thing you didn’t have anything valuable in it other than your wallet and some gum.

“I’m pathetic? You’re the one who’s a legal adult and still in high school.” You pick up your bag. When Eddie doesn’t reply, you look up. His eyes are watery and his cheeks are pink with embarrassment. You’d always told him he wasn’t stupid or weird and told him not to feel bad about being held back. Now you were spewing every insecurity at him.

With a shaky voice he replies, “well you know what? I’m sorry that I’m your only friend. When you realize you’re lonely in a new town and have no one to talk to or hangout with, I hope you think back to this moment and how you ruined our friendship. I’ll be here with all my amazing friends who support me and think highly of me and you’ll be wishing you could call me. Lose my number when you leave.” He shakes his head and heads to the driver seat of his car.

“Oh yeah? Well, let’s see how many of those friends stay when they realize you’ll be holding them back. Just like you held me back all these years.” You shout and start making your way back to your car. Eddie hears it but doesn’t respond. He doesn’t leave when you do. Just sits in his car and sobs, thinking over everything that just went down.

Then the next morning, he second guesses himself. Everything he said and did. Was the entire thing his fault? Was what you said all true? He knows he has to go see you before you leave and hopefully talk to you. Maybe the weed fucked up both of your brains and just made you both say things you didn’t mean. Of course, Eddie wanted you to stay, he didn’t know how he’d survive without you. Yes, he loved his new friends and he wasn’t technically with Steve. Sure they’d went on a few dates but it really didn’t turn into anything more than that. No one knew him like you. As he quickly got dressed into something that didn’t smell like sleep sweat and weed smoke, he rushed to brush his teeth, wash his face and tame his hair. He then said bye to Wayne and rushed over to your house. He didn’t know what time you were leaving or even if you were still there. He hoped the latter wasn’t true.

Just his luck. The house looked abandoned and there were no moving trucks or your dented, ugly colored Jeep. Tears started to trickle down his cheeks as he parked the car. Maybe just maybe you were still here. He knocked on the front door as loud as he possibly could. After several minutes, he knew he was shit out of luck. You were gone. You hadn’t even said goodbye like you promised two weeks ago.

You made the drive back to Hawkins, still in the same old Jeep you had before. You tried to make it look better but it still remained an ugly light silver, several scratches and bumps on the doors. The only new addition was a cracked window on the right back passenger window.

You’d found a decently priced apartment. A one bedroom with a bathroom that had everything you needed, a very small kitchen and enough space for at least a couch. It was livable and you knew you could make it home with a few touches of color and decorations. The apartment complex was along a busy street across from shopping center. There was a grocery store, a pho spot, an insurance company, a liquor store and a cash checking store. It wasn’t much of a view from your apartment but it wasn’t bad. You parked along the curb and grabbed a small box to take up with you to start the move in process.

Eddie was with Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Lucas scanning the grocery aisles for snacks for their planned movie night. His car was at the shop, needing a new battery and front brakes. He would be able to work on it between cars at work. Today was his day off though and Steve picked him up since his car wasn’t working which means he’s crammed in the backseat with Dustin and Lucas. Robin and Steve are inseparable and have to be in the front together. I mean Eddie and Steve have kissed, cuddled and fucked over the years but he’s still shoved into the back seat when it comes to Robin.

Once the gang had picked out everything off of the list, they strolled back to the car. Steve pushed the cart and Dustin hung off the side, making it harder to push. Robin and Eddie were tossing fruit snacks into Lucas’ mouth as they walked, occasionally throwing one at Steve’s head and hoping it gets stuck in his hair.

Before Eddie can throw another one, he spots your Jeep. He knows it’s yours. The same color and dents from 5 years ago. There’s a partially ripped sticker on your gas tank lid. You’d tried to take it off even with the help of rain but it wouldn’t budge. Eddie branded your car with a homemade corroded coffin sticker when he first designed the logo. Eddies slightly hurt that you tried to take it off but he’s not surprised since you’d unfollowed him on social media and refused to answer any calls or texts that he made the first month you moved away.

Before he can say anything to anyone, his feet carry him across the parking lot and towards your car. He has to dodge the traffic, curse words and car horns screaming at him along the way. You’re not in the car when he arrives. He’s pressed against the cracked window, taking in the boxes as he steps on the sidewalk.

“Get away from my car!” You rush over towards him, not thinking of how dangerous this could be for you.

He backs away and turns toward you. How you didn’t notice the long hair and leather jacket is beyond you. There’s a pause, a long pause, and then he’s breaking into a smile. The prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. He knew it was you. He’s strutting towards you before you can flee the scene. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s lifting you up into his chest, your toes barely holding you up on the sidewalk. He breathes you in, the scent of your hair (something similar to an aromatherapy essential oil rather than the fruity scents you went for in high school). He wonders what else about you had changed, did you still like your favorite ice cream flavor? Did you still have the same favorite pizza toppings?

“Hi.” You squeak out, not minding how he’s squishing you.

“Hi.” He sighs. 5 long years without this. No one’s hug’s compared to yours. Steve’s we’re strong and shy, quick to separate due to lack of touch throughout his life. Chrissy’s we’re short and sweet. Amanda’s (a random hookup from the bar) we’re tight and clingy, mixed in with a few kisses on the jaw. Anyone he had hugged had not meant as much to him as you therefore their hugs didn’t compare. “You’re moving back?”

“Yeah.” You smile, arms clinging around his shoulders. “I’m back.”

As much as he doesn’t want to let you go, he pulls back, his hands on your waist. He takes in your clothes, your hair style, your demeanor. It’s much more shy than he was used to. Are you shy now? Is that who you were? Or was it that he was now a stranger?

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He states, almost amazed that this is real. You’re really here. “You missed me huh?” He jokes, tries to lighten the tension.

“I did.” You say honestly. “Everyday that I was away.” You take a step back, his hands falling from your hips and searching for you again. “Eddi-“

“Don’t. Please.” He begs. “I-“

“I’m sorry.” You cut him off, same as he did to you. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“No, no.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I was such a sick. You didn’t deserve that and I ruined everything.”

“You ruined everything? Eddie it was all me. All me. It’s my fault we fell apart and I’m sorry.” Your voice wobbles with tears in your eyes. “I was a different person back then. I depended on you too much. I was jealous of you.”

“What? Jealous of me? How could you be? You’re this amazing person and I was a nobody.” He cups your cheeks, brushing away tears.

“You were everything to me. So free and fearless. So incredibly cute and funny and so many people loved you and wanted to be in your presence. You were everything I wanted to be.”

“You’re crazy! I wasn’t any of those things without you.” He kisses your forehead. “You are my best friend and I love you. I still do. After all this time, you’re still the person I want by my side through everything.” He smiles and runs his thumbs across your wet cheeks.

“I was so in love with you Eddie. A part of me still loves you. I’m so sorry.” You lean into his hand. “But you got with Steve and I was mad and it kept building when I would see you together. Then I thought he was hot and I wanted to fuck him and hurt you because I was hurt. I became this person who was capable of hurting my best friend and it wasn’t the person you needed in your life. Then I moved and I thought it would be what was best for you. I had no control over the move but I also didn’t fight it, ya know?” You rambled.

“There’s so much to unpack there and I don’t know where to start.” He laughs through his tears. Your hands rest in his wrists as he holds you close. “I’ve loved you. I always have. But you never seemed interested and I was exploring my sexuality. You’re right, Steve’s hot and all but we were both in a place where we just needed to experience things. We’re good friends now but that’s all.”

“I still hate you for that though.” You joke. “I know things are different now. I know we’re strangers but I need you back in my life Eddie. Whether that’s as a friend or lover or whatever. I just need you some way with me.”

“I need you too. I’ve always needed you. I’m not saying that to guilt trip you or make you feel bad, I just need you to know that I’m sorry and I love you.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“I’m willing to try to mend our friendship if you are. No bullshit or games.” You kiss his cheek.

“I’m not letting you leave me again.” He closes his eyes, “it hurt too much the first time. No one could fill that void.”

“I’ll forever apologize and try to make it up to you. You deserve love and happiness and all the good things in life.” You kiss his right palm.

“The only thing I want or ever need is standing right in front of me.” He smiles. He doesn’t kiss your lips as much as you both want him too. Instead he plants a kiss to your nose, slipping his hands down, yours follow with him. He laces his right hand with your left. “So? What next?”

“You can help me move in? And maybe stay the night?” You asks shyly.

“You sure? I mean, I may be trying to trick you and get payback for everything you did. I might try to curse every part of your place with my Satanism.” He shrugs and opens the trunk.

“Oh my god! Shut up! I’m sorry I said that okay!” You push his shoulder, laughing as he hands you a box. You’re both joking and laughing as if everything is the same it was years ago.

From across the street, Steve looks over at Eddie and meets Robin’s eyes. She had been watching him ever since Eddie left their group. He shakes his head as she gives him a sympathetic look. She says I’m sorry with her eyes. Steve says nothing as he gets back into the car and drives away without Eddie.

#eddie munson x reader

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