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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

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falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic

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elliespeach · 10 months

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tear you apart | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"if your friends won't watch over you, i will." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. heavily heavily based on the book/tv show "you" on netflix wordcount 4k warnings gosh where do i start, stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, she breaks into readers apartment and goes thru your stuff, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! authors note hi hello hi, i have been so excited to post this!! just wanted to clarify this rn, i am bringing in a LOT of elements from the book and show, especially in this part, if it seems very similar thats why. i don't plan on following the plot line for season one, but i needed a good base to jump off of, dont hate me. n yes, readers best friend is shauna from yellowjackets i couldn't help myself. i needed a girl group, sue me. cat is apart of this girl group, not ellie's ex along w dina, also not ellie's ex in this au lol

fuckin’ trash, ellie thought to herself, looking over the torn up vinyl in her hands. the guy who returned it obviously had no fucking clue how to take care of something. especially something so needing of love. she placed the vinyl down on the counter beside the register before stepping into the back of the store, grabbing her tools of restoration. as she rummaged through a drawer, the familiar bell rang from the front door indicating a new customer, but she ignored it and continued searching for the sandpaper she always left laying around somewhere. the last drawer she opened was the winner, taking her supplies, she emerged from the small room into the front of the store, the beads in the doorway swaying as she walked through them.

thats when her eyes found you, examining the vinyl left on the counter. you hadn’t noticed her yet, too engrossed in the mishandled vinyl. she watched you for a moment as you looked it over, tracing the scratches that lined it. to ellie, you looked to be the definition of a nice girl. sporting a flowy sundress that laid just below your ass. nice girl who likes attention, she thought to herself, looking you up and down from afar.

she played it cool, keeping her eyes on the sandpaper and cloth in her hands as she made her way back to the counter. you finally took notice of her when she stood in front of you. “oh, hi,” you smiled brightly, to which ellie looked up. “whoever handled this vinyl should be in jail.” a sense of humor, ellie smiled at you, letting a breathy laugh fall from her lips. and an appreciation for vinyls, rare.

“a life sentence, for sure.” she spoke, and you laughed. a laugh that was genuine, not forced by politeness.

“can you point me to where i could find a david bowie album, ellie?” you asked sweetly, and she had to remember she wore a name tag. flirting with me and you like david bowie? ellie’s grateful its a tuesday afternoon, the store is dead. giving her more time to talk with you. you, who seemed to never stop smiling at her.

“against the wall,” she pointed. “third box from the left.” she lets you wander over yourself, taking the time to admire the way you carry yourself. you had a pair of red, heart shaped sunglasses resting on your head. ellie could tell you liked to pay attention to details, it was evident in the way you matched your sunglasses to your dress, and she wondered just how many pairs you owned. both short dresses and uniquely designed sunglasses together. her head tilted at the thought, switching her over chewed gum to the other side of her mouth.

you rifled through the box as ellie’s gaze pierced your back, although you were seemingly unaware. david bowie, she thought again. not another stuck up gen z who only listens to who is in the top one hundred, no. no, you were special. ellie put her focus onto the vinyl in front of her, slowly dampening it with the cloth before grinding the sandpaper over the scratches. but she kept you in her peripheral vision and she couldn’t help but notice you were struggling to find a specific one, or at least it looked like it.

“need help?” she asked you, keeping her voice neutral.

your body turned to face her, meeting her eyes and a faux pout on your lips.“i think the only one i want isn’t here, or i’m seriously blind.”

ellie chuckled, coming out from behind the counter, “my money’s on blind, just organized this box a few days ago.”

you huffed lightly, standing to the side while she approached you and the box. “i can’t find the rise and fall of ziggy stardust, it’s one of my favorites.”

of course it is. ellie barely looked in the box before she saw the album, pulling it out and holding it out for you. “i’ll book your eye appointment,” she said with a light grin.

“ugh, my hero,” you gushed, taking the album from her hands gently. i’ll always be your hero, but something tells ellie that you didn’t really need her help to begin with.

“c’mon, i’ll ring you up,” ellie led you back to the register and you placed the vinyl down on the counter lightly.

“promise i won’t do what that guy did,” you joked, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

ellie almost wishes you would. you’d come in a few days later, apologizing for being so clumsy but asking if she could fix it for you. of course, she would say yes. how could she say no to someone like you? “you couldn’t if you tried, pretty sure he did it on purpose.”

“what makes you say that?”

“just a hunch,” ellie shrugs, scanning the barcode on the vinyl.

“maybe his dogs got it, or worse, his kids.” you kept eye contact as you spoke, which shocked ellie. a lot of people would break away, divert conversation, maybe even stay silent all together. but not you.

“if that guy had kids, i’d feel bad for them,” to a lot of people, this comment would rub them the wrong way, and ellie internally cursed herself for saying it. you’re a sweetheart in her eyes, someone who wouldn’t think things like that, but again, you laughed. the transaction was almost over and she was grasping at straws, so she kept going. “guys like him blame everything on everyone else, i wouldn’t be surprised if his kids actually hated him but,”

your head tilted, waiting for more. to ellie, it looked like you were hanging onto every word she said. and she relished in it. “–thats only if someone wanted to have kids with him, which i highly doubt.”

“from what i’m hearing it doesn’t sound like anyone would want to,” you’re trusting my judgment. ellie’s lips curled up with your words, and she bagged the vinyl in a plastic bag. you handed her a credit card, which was decorated with flowers along with your name. and you want me to know your name. you could’ve used cash, the vinyl was less than twenty dollars. but no, ellie knew better and she knew you better. your eyes found the scratched up vinyl yet again, “but you can fix it?”

ellie swiped the card against her own wishes. she’d give you the whole store if you asked with that pretty smile. “it’ll be back in the box within the hour, why? you like pink floyd?”

“yeah, for the most part. i haven’t listened to that album yet,”

“i can put it on hold for you.” ellie rushes out, and she feels like she came on too strong. you could easily listen to it on spotify but she reminds herself that you’re in her store for a reason. you probably own a vinyl player, an older model you got off of facebook marketplace because the newer ones don’t match your personality. maybe a pioneer or a yamaha, and now shes thinking about how you probably dance around your room listening to music. your response breaks her from her imagination.

“that’d be great, thanks ellie,” but she can see it so perfectly in her mind, you’d wear a big t-shirt and a dainty pair of underwear. twirling and spinning about, the t-shirt riding up as you did and as you stood in front of her in that short dress her mind seemed to unravel and she had to clear her throat.

“anytime–” she tacked your name at the end of her words with a smile, handing back your card which you very quickly put in your wallet. her eyes glanced down for a split second, admiring how the dress pushed your tits together before bringing them back up to your face.

“aren’t you going to tell me to have a good day?” you teased much to ellie’s enjoyment, reaching out for the bag she was holding for you.

“have a good day,” your fingers grazed hers, and ellie knew it had to be on purpose. a flirt, and a good one at that.

“you too, ellie. i’ll be back for that album.”

you left the store as quickly as you came, taking your sweet vanilla scent with you. ellie thought about your interaction all day, it consumed her walk home and when she entered her small apartment she fell to her couch and opened her laptop.

plugging your name into any and all social medias was easy, who could forget a name like yours? all your accounts were public, and very quickly ellie could tell just what kind of person you were. the sweet girl who loved vinyls who had an addiction to posting online. your twitter was filled with random, obscure thoughts and always with a hashtag at the end of them. from time to time you’d tweet about where you were, and ellie tsk’d out loud to herself. anyone could find you within seconds, you need to be more careful. you seemed to tweet about everything in your life and ellie refreshed the page, wishing to see a post about the cute girl in the vinyl shop who helped you find your favorite album.

yet, there was nothing. and for a moment it hurt her, but the more she thought about it, it was better you didn’t post about her. that means it was real for you, hope remains.

facebook provided the basics of your family, although the account was inactive. but your parents who divorced a few years back seemed to only post about your younger siblings, leaving her to wonder if they didn’t approve of your lifestyle in the city. she stalked their pages like it was her job and at this point it felt like it was. she discovered that your two younger siblings went off to college out west and your parents even sold their home to be closer to them while still living separate lives. ellie felt pity for you, how could they just leave you behind?

your instagram feed was an aesthetic one, pictures posted solely to appease your followers. a pretty sunset here, a mirror selfie there, a quick post about the food from the restaurant just down the road from ellie’s shop. there were also posts about your own art, colorful and detailed, just like yourself. a painting you did was the last thing you posted, but this one wasn’t like your other ones, it was black and white and had a lonely floating balloon in the center and the borders were lined with overlapping words. ellie could make out only a few of them, ‘melancholy’, ‘nobody’, and ‘distress’.

there were lots of group pictures of you with friends. ellie could see you looked more authentic than them, who all seemed to resemble something out of a factory for young adults. you were a pearl in a sea of clams.

out of curiosity, ellie brought herself to your friend’s pages as well. she needed to see the types of people you spent time with, seeing if they were someone she would approve of for you. one friend made an appearance more than others and she assumed that was your so-called best friend, a spunky city girl named shauna. her own instagram was like an influencer’s guide to posting online, and she seemed like someone ellie would avoid at all costs. shauna’s posts of you always had you in the background, or if you were directly in the frame it was a candid where shauna looked better. she's making herself look better at your own expense, can't you see that?

your other friend’s social media were bland and unhelpful. ellie brought herself back to the task at hand. she typed your name into google and watched the loading screen. your name brought up a string of links all connecting back to your art pieces you’ve submitted to local papers and art galleries. an artist in new york city, aren’t you ambitious. maybe your parents didn’t like the instability of being an artist. but yet, you still pursue your passion. its admirable.

what also popped up was a white pages link, with a few clicks, and a small charge to her credit card she found exactly what she was looking for. there wasn’t much she could do with your phone number, texting you would be creepy. there was no way for her to explain how she got it, so the next best thing was your address. which, lucky for ellie, was only six blocks from her own.

if she could find it this easily, she needed to make sure that no one else did. which is how she found herself standing across the street from your apartment, peering into the windows that had no blinds, no curtains, no protection from the outside world. you were on full display for all of new york. first thing were doing together is buying you blinds. you were lounging around on your coach, scrolling through your phone and periodically shifting in your spot to get more comfortable.

it was dark now, and again, luckily for ellie, someone standing on the sidewalk of new york wasn’t a weird thing to do and no one paid her any mind. for days she would stand in the same spot, studying your movements throughout your apartment. sometimes you would go to bed on the early side, but most nights you were fully awake, sipping something out of a purple mug which she could only assume was coffee, and drawing lines on a canvas.

everytime you would take a break and scroll through your phone, ellie would refresh every social media, waiting for a post. your fingers danced on the keyboard and after a few refreshes on ellie’s end, your twitter had a new post.

@yndoesartstuff: if anyone has tips on how not to procrastinate finishing a wip, please enlighten me

if you just put down your phone, i’m sure you could get it done.

one night she watched as you dipped your wet brush into the purple mug instead of the designated paint water cup. they didn’t even look similar, but ellie laughed to herself while you groaned, tossing your head back before getting up to dump the liquid out of the mug. this would also be the first night ellie gawked at you while your hands dipped below your shorts, she quickly looked around. no one else seemed to notice that you were pleasing yourself with your own gentle hands and her eyes found you again, sprawled out on your couch.

your back arched, obviously hitting your sweet spot and ellie swallowed hard. blinds. were getting you blinds.

some days, ellie was too busy with the store to watch over you and she hated herself for it. too tired to walk the six blocks and instead just looking over your social media again, looking through your friends posts to see if you’ve been up to anything. you had never come back for the album, which ellie had finished nearly two weeks ago now. but tonight, as she locked up the store she knew she was going straight to the sidewalk adjacent from your apartment.

when she arrived at her usual spot she saw you through the windows and you looked too well put together for a night to yourself. you were dolled up and ellie liked to imagine it was for her, you’d leave your apartment and head to the store for the album you said you’d come back for weeks ago. but her hope was squashed when a cab pulled up outside your apartment and a woman who looked way too old started to walk up the steps to the building and entered the main door. ellie had been here enough to know the general look of your building's inhabitants, and this woman wasn’t one of them. maybe someone's mom, maybe she's visiting a friend. she can’t be here for you. no way.

but through the windows, with no blinds, she saw you open your door for this woman and welcome her into your home. your mom. it has to be. ellie’s eyebrows narrowed when you pulled this woman into a hug, then pulled back and let your lips kiss hers. okay, so not your mom. who the fuck is this?

ellie, whose eyes were going from her phone to the big windows of your apartment, began to search through your online presence and found no traces of her. this mysterious woman who, now, you seemed to be having a highschool make out session with on your couch, was all over you, touching you, kissing you, and worst of all, pleasing you. that sweet smile that had previously been for ellie, was now for this woman and it made ellie’s stomach turn. but she didn’t leave, instead watched while the two of you began to peel each other's clothes off.

were getting you blinds and were getting rid of this woman.

the next day while she opened up her store, she couldn’t help but think about you and this woman. she was frustrated, of course. but she couldn’t blame you, obviously this woman was prying on your weaknesses for her own pleasure. taking advantage of you. it sickened her, and she had to know more. she had been through every following list she could think of and still, this woman was a mystery. and as she refreshed your twitter (a new hobby of hers), a new post popped up.

@yndoesartstuff: lunch date with @shaunamavisxx never felt so right – at hoppers tavern

seeing that, ellie locked up shop way too early. it was fairly easy to make her way into your apartment, all she had to do was play the part. “sorry, my girlfriend hasn’t given me a key to this door yet,” she said with a friendly smile to your neighbor, who out of the kindness of his heart let her into the building. she waited until he was in his own apartment before picking your lock.

it smelled like you once she stepped inside, and she let the aroma fill her nose as she walked around. it was messy, canvases piled up everywhere along with dirty paint brushes. clothes lined your floor from the bedroom all the way to the kitchen and she had to force herself not to clean it up for you. she examined your paintings up close, admiring how the strokes on the canvas looked. she noticed you draw a small bird in every corner, the bird is plump, uncolored and holding a small twig. it was your signature, and it matched you so well. but, what she really was after was your laptop, she found it sitting on your unmade bed.

no password? she was shocked, and made a mental note to tell you that you needed to secure your devices. it’s almost as if you wanted her to search through it to get to know you better, and ellie did just that. it was linked to your phone and as she went through your messages they all seemed to be relatively normal. for someone like you, at least.

loads of messages from a group chat labeled city gals, and she knew it wasn’t you who had named it being as you were funnier than that, and less basic. scrolling up, all the conversation in the chat was merely nothing of note, no mention of this woman to your friends which ellie found odd. maybe just a hookup? but even then, wouldn’t you tell your friends?

ellie could gauge your friends' personalities through the texts they would send, shauna was most definitely the unnamed leader of this group, probably also the one who named the chat. her texts were mostly about planning activities, meanwhile the others just tacked on with fake enthusiastic responses. even yourself.

leaving the group chat, she continued to scroll down your messages and found an unsaved phone number which seemed to be the winner. you don’t have her number saved, this is good. a lot of your texts to her went unanswered, left on seen and only responded once you’d ask for her to come over. that usually generated a reply within minutes from this woman, who ellie still didn’t know the name of. it angered her even further, realizing she was just toying you along. only using you for your body when you were so much more than that.

ellie jotted down the unsaved number into her notes app, saving it for later when she could find out just exactly who this woman was. it was clear from the texts that she wanted nothing to do with you, and you still kept texting her like a sad puppy. it was pathetic, really, but ellie didn’t judge. she knew that your attention seeking habits were brought on by your dysfunctional family, she just wished it was her on the receiving end.

she found herself in your emails and saw you had an abundant amount of unread ones. it was a lot of spam and a waste of time, so she moved on. she decided it was best to go into your search history, restaurants, art galleries that allowed online submissions, sometimes even silly questions that ellie would most definitely answer for you if you asked.

“how do magicians do their cutting in half tricks?” you would ask her from the couch while ellie made you both dinner.

she’d call out from the stove, “there’s a fake table, the girl puts her legs through that. the legs you see on the other end are fake, baby.” and you would giggle sweetly as you always did, thanking her for being a know-it-all.

but as she continued to scroll further and further down your search history, she saw that the day you two had met, you googled “vinyl stores near me” and ellie’s was the first to pop up. she thanked every star in the universe for such a coincidence, but the more she thought about it, it couldn’t have been a coincidence because to her, it was always meant to be.

suddenly your laptop dinged and a new message appeared at the top from city gals. it was shauna and she was proposing a night out and it didn’t take long at all for the rest of the chat to respond.

shauna: drinks at our favorite spot tonight?

dina: totally what time

shauna: like 8 ish?

cat: sounds good to me

shauna: im with our heavy drinker, she says yes too!! see u guys then

dina: hangin w out us :( rude

cat: yeah wtf

shauna: oh hush its no biggie, we’ll see you guys tonight

ellie sat back as the texts rolled in, heavy drinker? ellie didn’t like the sound of it, and your friends seemed to think it was funny. bet they don’t even watch over you when you’re plastered, leaving you alone where anyone could hurt you. a few clicks on your instagram and she found a group mirror picture in a dirty bar bathroom, and the location clear as day at the top of the post. she confirmed it with a few other pictures and a deep dive of your twitter. gotta stop putting your location everywhere.

ellie knew your lunch date with shauna would be ending soon and you’d return home to start getting ready for the evening. she shut your laptop down, placing it exactly where it was on the bed before and started towards the door to leave. as she was on her way out, a bright red thong caught her eye. it was so carelessly thrown between the couch and the table next to it and she stuffed them into her pocket before locking the door behind her on the way out. she knew you’d never notice, your apartment already looked like a tornado had been through it seven times over.

she played with the string of fabric in her pocket as she walked down the sidewalk back to her place, contemplating the night to come. if your friends won't watch over you, i will.

read part two here :)

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams au #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader

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lowkeycasanova · 6 months

Text

the fans love you

i feel like we all know that a lot of vinnie's fans send/spread hate whenever he's simply seen with a girl, but i decided to write this headcanon in which it's the opposite. where the fans absolutely love you

masterlist

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At first he didn’t know how to approach the situation. You know, finally telling everyone he has a girlfriend. He was also nervous about the reactions. Not that he gave a fuck about what people were to say about him, it was you he was worried about.

And how would he do it? Would he make a tik tok? Would he post a selfie with you on his Instagram story and let people put two and two together?

You told him you didn’t care about what other people thought. Well, maybe deep down you cared a little. Who wouldn’t? But at the end of the day, you couldn’t control what other people said about you and their jealousy.

Vinnie didn’t know the photo had been taken until Jett sent it to him. It was a picture of Vinnie sitting on the couch, you in his lap, kissing each other with your hands caressing his face and his hands wrapped around your waist. Whoever took it was at a distance and zoomed in to take it. It was a chill night at the house. You thought you were alone. Guess not.

Vinnie said, “fuck it”, and posted the picture on Instagram. It was the third picture out of six for his camera roll dump. And tagged you.

You braced yourself for the comments/notifications. Vinnie was giddy with excitement as he knew he just dropped the bomb and there was no going back now.

You told yourself that you were just gonna ignore it for now. Check back in maybe three days.

It hadn’t even been thirty minutes and you opened the app. Disregarding the new activity on your end, you went straight to his comment section.

“oh so we hard launching now?”

“babe, that don’t look like me”

“This was my last straw”

“bout to take a bath with a toaster”

“I’m actually sick”

“Who tf is this?”

“SHES GORGEOUS”

“Y’all acting like he want y’all.”

“You two are so cute!!”

“W post”

Of course there were going to be negative ones. But to your surprise, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. There were also a good number of positive ones.

You go to your notifications and it’s flooded. Again, the negative comments were there. Some asking who you were and why you were with Vinnie. Some putting the throwing up emoji. Nothing that you didn’t expect. Even Vinnie was surprised at the response, so far. He was sure he was gonna have to tell some people off.

In the days to come, he started posting you more since it the relationship was no longer a “secret”. And honestly, it came natural, not looking like he was trying to show everyone he had a girlfriend. He posted you like he would post his friends.

You did the same. Although you both made sure that a lot of things were kept private.

His fans loved that they could see Vinnie from your point of view on your insta story. They loved seeing him act silly while y’all were out to lunch or out shopping because you dragged him. You liked being able to give them that content.

When he would post a video on tik tok and you were in it, some people would be like “she’s OUR gf” and he’d be like “bro what?”

You had an account of your own but wouldn’t post all that often. Vinnie’s fans would comment on his videos, telling him to tell you to post more.

When he streams, he’ll get a lot of “where’s y/n?” comments from viewers. Sometimes they would ask so much that he literally has to say that you’re not even there at the house. He would fake being offended that they weren’t playing attention to his game play. Not that he could blame them. He couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

There would be mail sent to the P.O. box with Vinnie’s name on the packaging label but every single item was for you.

When out in public, fans were just as excited to meet you. You can’t even count how many selfies you took with them.

Even the guy fans. Now, Vinnie isn’t the type to really get jealous, but you could tell something was up by how clingy he got after.

It’s like they loved you more than him and honestly, Vinnie couldn’t have been happier at the turnout.

#vinniehacker #vhackerr #vinnie hacker #v.hacker #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie x y/n #vinnie imagines #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker headcanon

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punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, violence, angst

A/N: this chapter might be a little slower than the rest, but I felt like it was important to establish how they are surviving. I tried to keep it spicy and interesting but please stay with me, I believe I have some great stuff coming up :)

Chapter Ten

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

October 2003

Pittsburgh, PA

It had taken you nearly a full month to make it 400 miles, having to stop frequently and rest for a couple days here and there, but you were halfway to Chicago. Your bodies were not used to the constant exercise, and it required you to rest more than you expected. Joel suspected you were both deficient in some capacity since all you had eaten was canned and processed food for a month and exerting much more energy than normal. You were holed up in a small cabin outside of Pittsburgh, about 10 miles away from reaching the city. Joel had broken into the cabin late last night, and the two of you collapsed into bed once he confirmed the place was empty. He had planned to stay here for a couple days, wanting to make sure you were both as well rested as possible.

The next morning, Joel was looking around the small basement of the cabin, his flashlight bouncing off the dirty concrete walls while you went through the clothes left in the dressers upstairs, determining which ones were suitable to swap out. With winter fast approaching, you both needed to find clothes with longer sleeves and extra layers.

His flashlight scanned over a rusted metal shelving unit in the far corner. He walked over to inspect the items, finding mostly cleaning products, insect repellant, paint, and other chemicals. At the very bottom he found a hunting trap which he picked up to examine, pleasantly surprised to find it was still functional. He took it upstairs and placed it on the small kitchen table, then went to find you in the bedroom, where he heard you opening and shutting the dresser drawers.

The queen bed was covered in clothes, women's clothes on the right and men's on the left. On the floor you had tossed three well-worn hunting jackets, and on the other side of the room was a pile of discarded clothes that looked like they were meant for warmer months.

"Makin’ some progress up here?” he asked, bending down to take a closer look at the jackets and opening the pockets to see what was left behind. He triumphantly pulled out a few batteries and a lighter, shoving them in his jeans pocket. He picked the jacket up and shook the dust off before trying it on.

"Yeah, we got some good options. I think the guy's clothes will fit you, her clothes will be a little baggy on me but that's fine, I can do layers," you said over your shoulder as you scooped up loose socks from the top drawer and tossed them on the bed, getting to work matching and rolling them up. "Did you find anything useful?"

Joel put the jacket back on the floor and picked up a second one, trying that one on before settling on the third, which was a little big on him, but the thick leather kept him well insulated. "Yeah, actually, I found a hunting trap. I'm gonna go out a little ways and see if we can catch somethin', I think we need more protein, we've been needin' to take too many breaks lately."

"You want me to come with you?" you stood up after matching up the last pair of socks.

"Nah, I won't be long, you keep workin' on this stuff here." Joel grabbed his rifle and the trap, closing the front door behind him and setting out into the woods.

The cabin was surrounded by a thick forest but there were a few trails that must have been forged by deer given how tall the grass and narrow the paths were. Joel walked carefully into the trees, staying alert for any threats. Out this far into the wilderness, infected weren't the problem. The pair of you hadn't come across any more people since that night in his apartment a month ago but he made sure you stayed off the roads as much as possible. You weren't as quiet or withdrawn anymore, but he noticed you were becoming hardened by the world you were forced to live in. He had seen the slow progression as you both learned how to take down infected as efficiently as possible. He remembered when you first had to do it: you were so scared he could see the switchblade shaking in your hand as you snuck up behind a dormant runner. As the weeks went on and you practiced more, you became more comfortable taking them down, but he also saw the hardness growing in your eyes. He knew it was just a product of your environment and it was essential in order to survive, but some nights when he was unable to sleep, he laid awake and imagined a world where he could be a shield for you, taking all damage, and you could be your warm and sweet self again, safe under his protection.

Being out in the wild without the comfort of an apartment helped quell his feelings for you a little. He was less distracted when he had to always be on high alert, forcing his thoughts off you and onto survival. But whenever you stayed in a safe spot for a few days, like this cabin, he eventually found his thoughts wandering back to how soft your lips were against his that night, the curve of your hips in your dress, or the way you moaned into his mouth. The forced proximity and the illusion of safety usually meant his body ended up finding yours in the middle of the night and pulled you close to him. You never mentioned it, and neither did he, but he knew it was a byproduct of trying to stamp out his feelings for you. It was almost like his mind was saying one thing, but his body was refusing to obey. So, whenever he woke and found himself tangled in you once again, he didn’t allow himself to savor the moment and quickly removed himself from you before his heart swelled and he would be lost in you all over again.

It was about a ten minute walk from the cabin before Joel found a good spot to place the trap. It was near a big bush that looked to be home to some kind of animal based on the prints in the dirt. He took a pink scarf out of his pocket and ripped a piece off, tying it to the tree branch above the trap. As he followed his footsteps back, every minute or so he tore another piece off and tied it to a branch until he reached the cabin. He pushed the door open and set the rifle down by the door. He heard you singing softly to yourself in the bedroom, completely unaware he had entered the cabin. The first instinct he had was to chastise you for not being more aware of your surroundings, but the part of him that was desperate to protect you ultimately won, and instead he stood in the kitchen to listen.

You left the bedroom with an armful of rags you had made from the summer clothes in the corner, lyrics softly leaving your lips when you saw Joel standing there and yelped out of fright.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed before taking your pile of rags to the couch and setting them down. “How long were you standing there?”

“Just walked in a minute ago,” he replied, giving you a small smirk. “Found a good spot for the trap, I’ll check it before sundown. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He shrugged the hunting jacket off and draped it over a chair.

You nodded and headed over to the cupboard to see what the previous residents left behind.

“Are you hungry? We have some soup here, and some canned stew. What do you want?” You turned to face him with your hand on your hip, but his gaze seemed unfocused and his thoughts far away at your question. Moments like this felt so domestic and it made him ache. What did he want? He wanted everything you had to offer. He wanted to turn back time and take back what he said to you, before he ruined everything. He wanted domestic bliss where you made him dinner and he had you for dessert. He didn’t want to be fighting for your lives while you ate expired Dinty Moore.

His gaze refocused on you and replied, “I’ll take the soup.” He reached into his jeans pocket and found the lighter from earlier and got to work setting up a small fire outside while you rummaged around for pots to heat up the canned delicacies that awaited you.

Joel had just left to check the trap before it got too dark, and you were left scrubbing the pots in the sink until your fingers felt raw. You dreaded any time he left. You hated being away from him, and not because you were scared, it was something more. You figured it out when one morning about a week ago you woke up wrapped in his arms again, for maybe the third time, but that morning was when you realized you only truly slept well when he sought you out in the middle of the night to pull you close and breathe you in. You were always disappointed when he woke up and pulled away from you so fast, leaving you feeling ashamed for being the only one who wanted it to continue. You had to constantly remind yourself it meant nothing, that Joel only had wanted one thing from you by replaying how mad he got for not sleeping with him that night. He never apologized for it, and you know you shouldn’t care anymore, but sometimes when you let your thoughts wander, it bothered you.

You put the pots back in the cupboard and raked your fingers through your hair aggressively, looking out the window to see if you could spot him. You hadn’t had any moments between you like that day in the subway when you saw the heat behind his gaze as you ran your hand up his arm. You convinced yourself afterwards that you had misread the situation, that the look in his eyes was not one of passion, but one of disapproval, and the embarrassment for the way you behaved sat with you for the next week. Eventually, the embarrassment faded when your focus was redirected to surviving in the wild and learning how to take down infected. You were both becoming pretty good at it, so long as you had the upper hand and noticed them first. Only twice did Joel have to use a gun to take one down, so your ammo reserve was still well stocked. But there was something feral that triggered inside you when you watched him kill: the little curl his upper lip made when he made contact, the fire in his eyes when the adrenaline kicked in, the way the muscles in his arms moved from the force of piercing a knife through their skulls. There had to be something wrong with you, nobody should find something like that attractive.

You heard his boots walking up the small porch, but you put your hand on your gun, just in case you were wrong. He opened the door, smiling proudly and holding up a dead rabbit to show you, and set the rifle back down in the corner by the door.

“I’ll go skin it, get it prepped for later. We can finally have a real meal for dinner.” Joel said, still holding the rabbit in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his smile faltering a bit when he noticed your expression seemed a little distant. You shook your head and smiled.

“Nothing, I’m fine, just distracted today,” you assured him, then turned around to find a small bag of rice you had seen next to the soup earlier. “I’ll make this to eat with dinner.” You plopped it down on the counter and went back to the bedroom to review the clothes you had set aside. Joel’s eyes followed you until you disappeared around the corner. He could tell something was wrong, but he knew better than to push it.

Joel was right about needing more protein and rest. You both felt recharged after just two nights but allowed yourselves the luxury of one more night indoors before heading off towards Pittsburgh. The morning you planned to leave was when Joel had let his guard down and you awoke entwined with him again. It was early, the sun hadn’t even risen yet. You knew the longer you let him do this, the more hurt you would ultimately inflict upon yourself, but as hard as you tried you just could not bring yourself to be the one to end the embrace. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself back to sleep.

Joel stirred when the sun shone into his eyes through the thin curtains, squinting and yawning. As usual, he detached himself from you quickly, frustrated with his subconscious once again. After using the bathroom, he went outside to start a fire. The air was crisp and there was a sharp autumn wind that took his breath away. He huddled in his new jacket and shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the fire to flare up. He looked up into the sky, trying to detect if any rain would be heading your way, but the forest blocked most of his view. He heard the cabin door swing shut and twisted around to watch you walk down the steps wrapped in one of the other hunting jackets and carrying a kettle in one hand and the jar of instant coffee in another. He reached out to take the items from you so you could go back inside and grab two mugs and a spoon. He sat down on one of the thick logs used for stools that were surrounding the firepit and waited for the water to boil. You came back out with the mugs but also had a couple bowls and packets of instant oatmeal.

“’Morning,” you greeted groggily, setting the items down on one of the empty logs and choosing a spot next to him. You yawned, looking around the forest and buried your face in your coat when the wind picked up.

“Sleep ok?” Joel asked you, knowing full well he was setting you up to ask about the way he woke up clutching you, but much to his relief, it seemed as though that topic was never brought up.

You nodded, saying, “Yeah, better than usual.” And left it at that.

Neither of you were morning people and generally didn’t speak much until coffee hit your system. You had been lucky so far and found reserves of it at most of the places you stopped, but you had to dip into the stash from your apartment when you made camp in the forest. You sipped your coffee and ate your oatmeal in silence.

“Next time we find a sporting goods store, we oughta look for a bow and arrow, somethin’ silent,” Joel mused as he scraped his bowl. “We should learn to hunt out here. With winter comin’, it would be a good skill to have.”

You agreed, grabbing both bowls and the kettle while he picked up the mugs and snuffed out the fire. It was probably pointless, but you cleaned your dishes and put them back. It was unlikely the owners of this cabin would find it again, but it just felt wrong to leave things messy. This cabin provided for you both when you needed it and keeping it clean and in its original condition felt like the best way to thank it.

After breakfast, you packed up all your new clothes and replenished any food and rags you could fit in your packs and headed back out on the trail towards Pittsburgh. The forest was thick and lush, and offered a lot of cover, so you were able to make decent time getting to the city, arriving in the early afternoon. You approached a cliffside, stopping there to eat lunch and rest for the first time since you left the cabin. Joel didn’t want to start a fire and attract attention, so you ate some granola bars, peanuts and shared a can of peaches while you surveyed the city in the distance.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked him, taking a sip from your canteen.

“Well,” he began, shoving the wrappers from the granola bars into his backpack, “I figure we should steer clear of the city proper best we can, especially the QZ. They won’t ask questions; they’ll just shoot on sight if they see anyone.”

You looked up at the sun in the sky, trying to determine the time. “We will have to find somewhere in the city that’s quiet, we won’t make it through before sundown.” You told him, looking back from the sky to meet his gaze. He nodded, impressed.

“Yep, you’re exactly right. Good girl.” he said, the compliment making you flush. “If we stick to the outskirts, maybe we can find a small shop or somethin’. But we’re gonna have to take turns takin’ watch, I don’t trust bein’ this close to soldiers.” he warned you, and you nodded in understanding. After you had spent a few minutes resting, Joel stood up, checking his revolver and tucking it back into his pants and zipping his backpack closed. You followed suit, shoving a rag back into your pack that you used to wipe some sweat off your forehead, and you both soldiered on towards the city.

It was approaching dusk as you and Joel finished clearing out a gas station in a quiet part of the city. There were only three runners inside, and you made quick work of taking them down silently. You helped Joel drag the last body into the men's bathroom, closing the door behind you. Joel wasn't thrilled with the building: it was filled with huge broken windows and left you too exposed for his liking, but the sun was waning, and your choices were limited. There was a small office tucked in the corner that you had emptied of the rolling desk chair and a few boxes of receipts so you could spread out your sleeping bag on the floor. Joel insisted on taking first watch, and you propped the door to the office open with one of the boxes so you could hear if there was any trouble before tucking yourself in.

Joel sat on the rolling chair by the front door, hiding in the darkness behind an aisle, every so often standing in a crouch to glance out the large windows for any movement. He was getting tired, but he still had a couple more hours left on his watch before he woke you. In an effort to keep him awake, he wandered over to the small electronics section behind the cash register, perusing the items on the shelves. His gaze settled on a Timex analog watch. He pried open the package and attached it to his wrist, adjusting the time to match the clock on the wall, assuming it was correct before sitting back down in the chair.

You had about 20 minutes left before he planned to wake you up. Joel was just finishing some beef jerky when he saw flashlights bouncing off a building about a block away. He straightened up in his chair, tossing the bag of jerky to the side, and hoisted the rifle onto his shoulder so he could see through his scope. He watched behind the aisle as a group of four men walked down the street in the direction of the gas station. He could see they were armed, noting knives in their boots, pistols holstered at their hips and two of them held military grade assault rifles. As they came into view, Joel scanned their clothes for any type of military insignia but found none. How did they get those assault rifles?

They were getting closer, but Joel still couldn’t tell if they were planning on entering the gas station or if they were just passing through. His hands began to sweat as he gripped his rifle tighter, his body tense and ready to strike. They were about 50 yards away when one of the men laughed at something one of the others said. The rest immediately shushed him, but it was too late. They froze as an unfamiliar noise echoed through the air from a dumpster they had passed half a block ago. Joel frowned, unable to identify the noise, but based on the reactions of the men, they knew. They whipped around, their backs now to the gas station, all four aiming their guns in the direction of the noise. It sounded like a high-pitched screech mixed with a gasp, then a distinct click, click, click. He heard one of the men swear under his breath, his voice sounding shaky as he shifted his weight back and forth nervously. The one next to him tried to get him to be quiet, but his nerves got the best of him, and a shot rang out, making Joel jump in surprise. In his peripheral, he saw you fly out of your sleeping bag, scrambling for your gun. He crouched as low as he could without sacrificing speed, and made his way over to the office, wrapping his hand over your mouth as you twisted around about to shout out to him. He put a finger against his lips, and only when you hastily nodded did he slowly remove his hand, turning back around to hide behind the front counter with you peeking over his shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

Two infected came ambling towards the group. At first, they stumbled and were slow, but when one of them shifted his weight and slid on some loose asphalt, they both let out a horrific scream unlike anything you had heard before and charged towards the group. Neither of you could understand the creatures you were seeing: they had a fungus growing all over their bodies but primarily on their heads, a mouth was the only facial feature you recognized since the fungus had completely grown over the rest of their faces. Blood had stained their throats and chests, their clothes were ripped and barely hung on, and underneath their skin looked wrinkly, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be more layers of fungus.

The assault rifles were spitting bullets and bouncing off the clickers, as if the fungus acted like some type of armor. One of the clickers jumped on the man who had slipped, viciously ripping into his throat while its fingers dug animalistically into his chest and blood pooled in the street below him. Another man saw his opportunity and pressed his pistol to the back of the clicker’s head, firing and watching its body drop to the pavement. Then without hesitation, he aimed his gun at his friend’s head and fired, his body jerked once and stilled. In the meantime, the second clicker had made short work of the other two men, one already ripped apart on the ground while it continued its assault on the other. The man did the same thing: walked up and shot the clicker in the back of the head, and for good measure shot the other two men on the ground. He was now the last man standing, panting for breath as he bent over to rest his hands on his knees. That was when he noticed the blood seeping through his jeans and trickling down to his sneakers.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, sitting down in the road to lift the pant leg. Joel could see the telltale imprint of teeth and blood when the man aimed his flashlight at his leg. He dropped the pant leg back down and hung his head between his knees. Joel tightened his grip on his rifle, expecting the man to come to the gas station in need of first aid, but before he could blink, the man lifted his pistol up to the side of his head and fired, dropping lifelessly to the side and joining the pile of dead bodies in the road.

Joel twisted around to try to shield your eyes, but it was too late. You let out a shaky breath, one tear sliding down your cheek as you looked up at him, his face full of concern. His eyes traveled down and reached his hand out to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping the tear away. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you had to resist the urge to lean into his touch.

"You alright?" he whispered to you in the dark. You nodded, breaking the contact and standing up.

The whole attack took less than five minutes. Joel approached the broken window and leaned out, listening intently to see if the noise had attracted any more infected or people. You waited as Joel went to each window multiple times to confirm nothing else was around. Satisfied, he turned back to you, your eyes wide and still gripping your gun at your side.

"I don't think anyone else is around," he said, placing the rifle next to the office chair. You nodded, tucking your gun in the back of your jeans.

"What the fuck was that?" you asked, staring at the bodies. "So these things are evolving now?"

"Seems that way," Joel answered, leaning tiredly up against the wall. He fought to keep his eyes open, but you could see he was exhausted.

"Go get some rest, I got this," you told him, "I'll wake you if I hear or see anything at all, I promise."

Joel wanted to resist and tell you he wasn't tired, but a yawn pushed through and gave him away. "You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead. You need your rest, and we have to get out of this city tomorrow." You waved him off towards the office and went to sit in the chair after you grabbed his rifle, using the scope to get a better look at your surroundings.

Joel didn't bother rolling out his own sleeping bag, he just tucked himself into the one you were using, your scent enveloping him as he drifted off.

The sun rose about an hour ago. You waited as long as you could before deciding to wake Joel. He seemed so tired last night, you wanted him to get as much time as he could, but you knew you needed to leave. Once you got back into the forest, you could rest again. You went to the back office, carrying a to-go container of dry cereal in one hand, and found him snoring on his side with his back to the door. You popped a few pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in your mouth and leaned down to gently shake his shoulder.

Joel whipped around at your touch and grabbed your wrist firmly, his eyes wild. You dropped your cereal in surprise.

"Joel! It's me," you yanked your arm, but he still held your wrist in his grasp and it was starting to hurt. "Joel!" you said again as loud as you dared. He finally realized and let you go, stumbling back a bit as you rubbed your wrist.

"Shit, sorry, must have been havin' a bad dream, you alright?" he asked worriedly, opening the sleeping bag and reaching forward to examine your wrist. He brushed his thumb tenderly over the red mark he left, the gesture making you melt and leaving you with a pang in your stomach.

"I'm fine, it's ok," you said, taking your wrist back and turning away from him, trying to create some space. "We should get going, eat something quick and I'll refill our packs with any supplies I can find."

"You sure you're ok?" he eyed you carefully. He hated how you shied away from his touch. You nodded, opening up another cereal from the shelf and continued to eat while you inventoried the food in your packs.

You shouldered your backpacks and guns after you ate, getting ready to head out. After stepping out onto the road, Joel frisked the dead bodies and picked up some more ammo for your handgun, along with two extra flashlights. He checked the assault rifles, too low on ammo for him to consider taking one, but he did remove two of the knives and sheathes strapped around their ankles, handing a set to you. The roads seemed quiet, so you took advantage and got a move on, silently threading your way through the city.

November 2003

Cleveland, OH

The weather was turning cold and rainy, even a couple nights leaving a dusting of snow that melted early the next morning. You trudged along behind Joel in the pouring rain, trying to stay hidden and dry by walking underneath a raised highway. It was risky, being close to the roads, but Joel didn't see much choice. The weather hasn't been cooperating for a couple days now, and your journey had significantly slowed down. He glanced at his watch, seeing it was around 4pm. It was getting darker earlier now, and the storm clouds just made it worse. He sighed, shaking the water droplets from his curls, and looked around. You were near an exit ramp. He saw it led to a suburban area maybe two miles away, clusters of smaller one story homes that the builders made as close as possible to one another in order to sell more houses.

"C'mon, this way," he said over his shoulder, bringing you out of your reverie. You looked in the direction he was leading you and quietly celebrated to yourself. You were tired and soaked, you didn't want to set up camp outside again and the possibility of sleeping on a mattress gave you a second wind.

The two of you hid in some thick decorative bushes looking down a road called York St. All the houses looked very similar and close together, the biggest differences being the color the owners had chosen for the siding. Joel had kept watch for about an hour in this position, waiting until it got dark so he could see if any of the houses had flashlights or lanterns inside. You were squatting next to him, trying to control your shivering but the rain was pouring down hard, and your clothes were dripping wet, even under your jacket. Your teeth chattered as you inadvertently leaned against him for some warmth. Focused intensely on the homes in front of him, Joel's body tensed at the unexpected contact. He glanced down at you and saw your soaking wet hair and your lips a darker shade than normal.

“Alright, let’s see if we can get into this one right over here, follow me.” he said, helping you stand into a crouch as you jogged over to the yellow house on the corner. Joel peered inside the windows for a minute while you stood watch with your arms crossed, keeping an eye out for any light or movement on the street or houses. You heard a snap behind you, and you turned to see Joel had used his large hunting knife to break the doorknob. You sighed with relief as you followed him inside, shutting the door behind you.

You swung your flashlights around the room, Joel rushing to the windows and closing all the curtains as you inspected the house. It was small: a living room, kitchen, one bathroom and two bedrooms. Joel went down into the basement to make sure it was clear while you emptied essentials from your pack in one of the bedrooms. You pulled out a somewhat dry set of clothes and tucked them under your arm, heading towards the bathroom. You took your jacket off to hang up on the shower rod to airdry and got to work peeling the soaking wet clothes from your body. You figured you could just toss the shirts you were wearing and pick up new ones here, but you really liked the jeans you had so you did your best to lay them out to dry in the tub.

After you put some dry clothes on, you started to feel a little better, but you still couldn’t shake the shiver in your bones. Joel mirrored your actions after he came up from the basement, changing into fresh clothes and hanging up the wet ones to dry, making sure to take the keychain out of his pants pocket and transferred it to his new ones, and then met you in the kitchen where you were rifling through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating. You pulled out a bag of trail mix, some canned tuna, and a few cans of mixed fruit, setting them on the small table while Joel rooted around for some forks.

You were hungrier than you realized and ate quickly, all the miles you walked today catching up with you. Joel finally broke the silence after he finished a can of fruit.

“Which room did you want to sleep in?” he asked. This was the first time you stayed indoors where there were two sizeable beds. He wanted to give you the option, give you your space. You kept your gaze trained down at the bag of trail mix in front of you, considering his words. You knew he was giving you a choice, and it was completely up to you now on what the sleeping arrangements would be.

“I liked the room I put our backpacks in, why don’t we stay in that one.” you replied, still not looking up. We. Joel’s pulse sped up and he tried to hide his grin. You made the choice to stay the night with him, you wanted to be with him. It was probably just a habit for you, or maybe you were afraid to be on your own, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be apart from you, either, regardless if his reason differed from yours.

That night, he heard you softly snoring, laying on your side with your back to him like usual. This time he deliberately turned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He breathed in your scent and nestled his face at the back of your neck as you let out a contented sigh, and small smile played across his lips as he closed his eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Taglist: @chiogarza.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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bradshawed · 1 year

Note

OKAY OKAY YOU DONT HAVE TO LISTEN TO THIS AT ALL BUT YOU SHOULD WRITE LIKE A STEVE ONESHOT THING WHERE HES DATING (Y/N OR OC IM NOT PICKY) BUT HES STILL PINING FOR NANCY AND LIKE STILL IN LOVE WITH HER SO HIS S/O BREAKS UP WITH HIM BC SHES TIRED OF BEING LIKE "A BACKUP OPTION" AND ALWAYS SECOND CHOICE TO NANCY AND ITS LIKE SUPER ANGSTY AND BASICALLY IT TAKES BEING WITHOUT THEM FOR STEVE TO REALIZE HOW MUCH HE LOVED THEM AND THEN THERES LIKE A LOVE CONFESSION. (THAT WAS A CRAZY RUN-ON SENTENCE OMG)

YOU CAN IGNORE THIS IF YOU DONT LIKE THE IDEA THO <3

Second Best — Steve Harrington

summary — nancy wheeler, the one who got away. she’d always be his first love and you’d always be second best so what was the point of pretending he could love you even just a little?

warning/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, angst, steve being dumb, swearing, bits of stancy, arguing, fluff, the gang scheming

note — thank you so much for requesting! I absolutely adore this idea and loved writing it so so much, I hope I did it justice even if I did slightly go off the prompt. you’re an incredible writer, one of my favourites on wp, and I can’t wait to read your works on here too. I love you tons! thank you again and I hope you like it <3 also, credits to soph for steve’s middle name, ilysm!

word count — 2.5k words

This was the third time in the space of a couple of minutes that you’ve caught Steve staring at Nancy from where he sat on the couch, to say you were sick of it would be an understatement.

It had been movie night with the whole group which had truthfully been long overdue and very much needed but surprisingly difficult to plan with everyone’s hectic schedules. But here you all were, finally relaxing for the first time in months in Steve’s spacious living room among a bundle of cushions, in what should’ve resembled a fort built by the boys. The second movie of the night was playing on the projector that Robin and Max had set up and an abundance of snacks and sugary drinks had been brought beforehand to account for everyone’s tastebuds. With the way things were going, however, it seemed like staying over at Steve’s after the night was over was simply out of the question.

Dustin sent you a sad look from his position on the floor smothered by multiple duvets. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been for the situation. The room seemed to cool another ten degrees when Steve unwrapped his arm from around your shoulders mid-scene, shifting away from you slightly. You were both oceans apart and yet he didn’t even seem to notice the space between you. And this wasn’t the first time it had happened either.

The credits rolled in and Nancy offered to grab more snacks while the kids decided on the next movie. Steve practically jumped at the chance to follow her to the kitchen, or maybe you were just overreacting like usual. It didn’t matter anyway, the fact was that he was with her, not you and the way he looked at her told you everything that had been left unsaid.

You quietly got up from your place on the couch, surrounded by colourful blankets and softly padded around the room, picking up your car keys from where you’d left them and moving to the hallway to put on your coat and shoes. El moved to stop you but Eddie gently placed a hand on her shoulder, letting you go with a sad nod. You couldn’t stay, they knew that, but still, some part of you wishes they would’ve asked. You might have not been there from the beginning but they loved you all the same, if not even more and vice versa. You were the missing piece in their family and for them, you’d do anything even if it meant watching Steve pin for his ex girlfriend.

You’d almost made it to your car before Steve appeared at the door, the expression on his face a mix of everything and seemingly nothing you were looking for all at once. “Where are you going, the movie’s about to start. Mike’s picked out some cheesy horror movie which I know you love to watch and Nance has opened up the last pack of those giggles cookies you love with the weird faces on them-” You hated horror movies, regardless of if they were cheesy and predictable or not, and those giggle cookies with fudge and vanilla cream in them- god you hate them too. You’d eat fudge by itself but for some reason when it’s added to something else it just doesn’t taste right to you.

“Steve.. I’m not feeling great, I’m gonna head home a little early.” You knew he didn’t believe you. You never could lie to him, and his judging eyes told you enough. Not to mention you called him Steve, you never call him Steve, but he didn’t notice.

“You seemed fine a while ago to me. What’s wrong, maybe you can lay down in the spare room?” There he goes treating you like you’re one of the kids and not his girlfriend but that’s not what irks you the most, it’s the fact that mentions the spare room. Not his room, the spare. “Nance can give you one of her green teas, they’re magical I swear, you’ll feel better in an instant. Actually, let me ask her now.” He walked away towards the door, completely disregarding anything you’d said, acting for a moment that he was even paying attention to you tonight bringing up Nancy again and suddenly, you’re done.

“No!” Steve pauses mid stride, hand on the half opened door, slowly turning around shocked by the volume and the panic in your voice, “I’m done Steve, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Wh-what?!”

“You’re in love with Nancy.”

“I’m what-?!”

“Ha, see you can’t even deny it.”

“Because there’s nothing to deny!” His voice raises even further. He’s never raised his voice at you. He knows how much you hate it and it reminds him of his father so he never did; guess there was a first time for everything.

“Don’t. You don’t love me, you never have. You don’t even know my favourite movie genre or my favourite snack-”

“Yes I do, I just told you!”

“Those are Nancy’s fucking favourites! See you’re pinning after her with those love sick eyes of yours and you don’t even know it.”

“What so not knowing your favourite movie genre or snack is a crime now?! So I’m expected to know everything about my girlfriend?” This elicits a rather loud scoff from you causing Steve to clench his fists in frustration and anger. “We’ve been dating for almost a year so yes, I do expect you to at least know those two things.”

Steve starts again but you cut him off fearing that if you don’t get it out now then you’ll go back to apologising to him the next day and burying it even deeper within you. “It’s her, it’s always been her. I don’t know why I even bothered but I thought you were over her, I truly did. But every time she walks into a room your eyes brighten and they don’t leave her for a single fucking second. You bring her up into every single conversation as if her ghost wasn’t already haunting our relationship and I feel like I’m always being compared to her in everything that I do. Stevie I love you, I truly do but I’m sick of feeling like I’m second place.”

Silence. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like forever. You wished he’d say something, anything, do something to prove you wrong, to tell you it was all in your head or that he’d change, that things would get better. A flash of emotion appears on his face before he puts back on his ‘King Steve’ mask. He never used that with you.

“Okay.” That’s all he says before turning back towards the door and leaving you standing out there in the cold.

That was months ago and here you were with the gang calling you from a pay phone on a Sunday. It seemed like your plans of crying your eyes out to another sappy romance movie that reminded you of your relationship with Steve had been ruined. “Heyyy Y/Nnnn”, came a sheepish voice from the other end of the phone call.

You knew they could feel your eye roll from there, “What do you guys need?”

“What, can’t we call our favourite adult and tell her that we miss her?!”

“Ignoring the fact that this is the first time you’ve called me in months, no Dustin, you can’t call without wanting something first. And favourite?! Ha, nice one. What do you want?”

“Can you please pick us up from the skatepark?” At least he had the common sense to give the phone to Max when the gang wanted something, they all knew she was your soft spot. Then for the millionth time that day, like every other day, your mind went straight to Steve. Where was he? Shouldn’t he be picking up the kids? Why would he just leave them there? They could’ve called anyone else, so why you? And then as if she knew the thoughts running through your head she added, “we didn’t want to bother Eddie and Steve was meant to pick us at two but we got bored and felt bad for asking him to pick us up earlier when he was already in a bad mood this morning and-”

“It’s okay sweetheart, hang tight and I’ll be there in ten. Don’t go anywhere and stick together okay?”

“Yes mum.” And Dustin was back.

He hung up the phone and you went to get changed as quick as you could, sliding along the wooden floor in your socks. If Steve was here now, he’d be laughing his beautiful laugh, teasing you before acting out the scene from ‘Risky Business’, maybe even twirling you around the living room. Shaking your head to prevent more tears from falling, you grabbed your coat and car keys and made your way out the door.

There was a catch. Of course there had to be a catch. Why didn’t you think about this before?!You’d successfully picked up the kids and they’d all piled into your car with their gear when Dustin remembered he’d left something important at Steve’s and needed to pick it up. So here you were driving to your ex boyfriend’s house cursing wildly in your head. It would be fine. You were only going to stay in the car. You wouldn’t even have to see him… right?

Wrong. Fate, aka the kids, had different plans.

Pulling into the driveway, the first thing you noticed was the fairy lights stung around the house. It was still light out, Christmas and New Years were over, Valentine’s Day was even further away, so why were there fairy lights? Why were there sunflowers lining the driveway? Had you stumbled upon Steve’s love confession to Nancy. Oh god. You hoped not.

Here you were, standing on Steve’s porch, knocking on his door instead of Dustin and you hadn’t the slightest clue of how you got there except you figured you’d been roped into some wild scheme that wasn’t going to end well. Fuck me.

Steve Willow Harrington opened the door in all his beautiful glory holding a bouquet of sunflowers, a pack of care bear waffles and ‘The Breakfast Club’. Who the hell allowed him to look so good?!

“Hi.”

No, this was absolutely not happening. He would not turn your heart into mush with one syllable. You started to turn around to leave but his reflexes were faster and he grabbed your hand, the skin heating up under his touch and your heart kickstarted into motion at the electricity that danced along his fingers onto yours. “Please. Don’t go.”

You froze in place. Head and heart conflicted but once you saw the expression on the kids’ faces you understood. He gently pulled you towards him, albeit with a little caution, turning your body but still you refused to look at him. “These are for you.” You accepted them, focusing on the sunshine petals instead of his face until your felt his fingers gently gripping your chin, tilting your head upwards so you were looking into his eyes. Steve’s eyes shone with the telltale sign of tears and regret and something else that you’d only seen when he looked at her. It was love. No. It couldn’t be. You took a step back needing the distance to gather your thoughts. He didn’t get to do this to you, he didn’t get to hurt you all over again.

“I’m sorry. I-” you shook your head, your own tears glistening your eyes making them shine in the fairy lights. “I had a whole speech planned out funnily enough but I see you again for one second and you’ve got speechless. God I- I drove over to your house in the middle of the night to apologise after that day and I chickened out every single time until they all knocked some sense into me.” He nodded behind you towards where the kids were anxiously watching the scene unfolding before them.

“I thought I heard your car but every time I’d look out the window there was no one there so I stopped looking.”

Steve sighed sadly, “You deserve better- you deserved better. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I shouldn’t have taken you for granted. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were second place, not to Nancy and not to anyone. I should have showed you I cared, that you mattered, that I did know you loved binge watching those sappy romance movies and pointing out bits that reminded you of us and that your favourite snack were those ridiculously overpriced care bear waffles with the rainbow specks of berries because you’d had them since you were a child and refused to give them up. But I didn’t do any of the things I should have. I fucked up and I don’t deserve you. And the worst thing is, I don’t even have a reason why I did them. I think some part of me was terrified of the uncertainty, of the unknown, of how it felt to have someone I was scared to lose. So I buried how I felt about you and turned to something familiar, to something that I could hold onto even if I didn’t actually care about them. It took losing you to realise just how wrong I was and how badly I’d treated you. And I know it doesn’t justify any of what I did to you but I want you to know that I’m sorry and if I could do it all over again, I would do it differently. I would fight for you instead of leaving you there and I would show you exactly how I feel about you.”

You were both crying now, “and how do you feel about me?” The air stilled in anticipation, your fingers twisting around the fabric of your sleeve in a nervous dance.

“I love you.”

That admission of love, and the fact that he said it so easily like it was a fact that everyone should know, knocked the air out of your lungs. You felt breathless after his speech.

“I won’t deny that you hurt me and maybe I do deserve better but I know you can give it to me just as I hope I can give it to you. It won’t be easy and it will take time and a lot of work to get to- to us but if you’re willing to put in the work…” Steve nodded his head enthusiastically, tears slipping down his cheeks for he’d feared the worst, “then I am too.” Then came his megawatt smile, eyes crinkling at the edges from pure happiness. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders delicately so as to not damage the flowers, while yours wrapped around his waist. The kids were dancing by your car, pumping their fists into the air but neither of you payed any attention to them.

“And for the record, I love you too Stevie.”

#✉️#drew writes!#stevie <3 #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader angst #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff

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respectthepetty · 4 months

Text

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 6

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

I found out Charlie and Way's superpowers last week from the tags on my post, so let's pray those blue gloves Babe just gave Charlie stop him from -redacted- and lying.

Wait a minute! I thought that was a flashback. Barbara is racing too?! Now, I'm confused about the plot because I thought the team needed to fill Babe's spot, but . . . they need a third racer? Is this you rethinking the plot, Barbara? Or did your special superpowers heal you already and you're thinking about letting Charlie win? But you didn't have superpowers last week. What is happening?

Dean, I know you are going to screw everyone over because you now have to race Charles AND Barbara, but you are already sitting in the red. Damn, sir. No need to spoil the plot development.

Babe won, so what was with all those *looks* from him? And I want to hate Way, but he is the only one who is feeling like me as Charlie's RED IS EXPOSED! Dean, go ruin everyone's life. You have my permission.

Alan, you have tattoos, and you are the only man I trust in life and love, so I'm gonna ignore these red gloves. Not every show can be Wandee Goodday and get color-coded boxing gloves.

Charles wore Babe's black in episode three after sleeping with Babe, then Babe got the picture of Charles getting into the red car. I want to trust Charles and this color exchange, BUT HE IS LYING!

I wish the cards could have stayed in Thai. I did not need to know Alan was apologizing to Jeffrey as he sits there in blue, with that red bag and red smoothie (it's pink, but I'm seeing red, dang it!). Don't throw out those cards, Alan. Jeffrey is gonna need them when he has to apologize for LYING all this time!

CHARLES AND THAT DAMN RED!

Barbie. Stuck between the blue and red. He deserves better.

You know what makes a sky look purple like that? Blue and red. Which is really odd, SINCE BOTH OF YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE BLUE, CHARLES!

It's turning pink! STOP HURTING MY FEELINGS!

No. Putting Barbie in glasses will not make up for the pain I just suffered.

To go from that locker room scene to Waymond looking so sad only for PETER TO BE WATCHING HIM IN THE PINK TOO! I knew they were gonna be an item, but Peter, my man, have you loved Waymond for a while?! Did you know him before you shook his hand and that's why you hesitated? Patricia, I have questions!

Yellow is my favorite color, but, Sonic, why can't you wear blue? I know you like North. You are protecting him right now. But just wear more blue beyond that small stripe on your shirt, so I can trust you!

Jeffrey is back in the red, Alan. Get out now or he'll take you "home" aka Big Red's house that he doesn't know how to get to without the GPS because it's hard for liars to keep track of all their lies.

I won't be crazy and mention the red house showing through the window behind Charles. No. Never.

What do you see, Jeffrey?! That your roommate is gonna break Barbie's heart?!

My God, this episode is laying it on thick with Charles constantly in the red. I get it! He is lying! I KNOW!

Waymond just had to remind me his ass is red too. You're lucky Peter has been in love with you for a minute apparently because I like Peter. But you, sir, are on thin ice.

Did Charles post that picture?! (Sonic, wear blue damnit!)

Barbara, you're fucked up. It's clear that Waymond loves you, and you pull stunts like this. Rude. Selfish. Let the boy brood in peace. You make me feel bad for him, and I don't want to feel bad for him because I know his superpower now, and he keeps trying to touch you.

Every now and then, the show must remind me that Barbara was originally red.

Are you conflicted, Waymond? Because this purple is telling tales that you are in-between the two. Where do you stand, Waynette? Blue or red? TELL ME RIGHT NOW!

Wait a minute!

Before he was a Slut for Christ, Barbara gave you the steering wheel necklace?!

Fuck! Waymond, no! Turn away from the red, bruv! DON'T GO FULL DARK SIDE!

PETER LOVES YOU!

But eff Charles!

Jeffrey has red on again. Someone is dead under that car, so since he is talking to Charles and there are only two drivers now (is Babe still driving or no?), I'm hoping he saw Charles dead and not Waymond. Can I get a Christmas miracle?!

KIMBERLY, MY BELOVED! Please go collect your husband, Kenta, and fuck Big Red up!

In short,

I'm conflicted about Waymond.

I want to know how long Peter has loved Waymond.

I need more of the Kardashians, Kimberly and Kenta.

I still hate Charles because the show is constantly telling me he is red.

I'm happy there was no Whiny Winifred.

I'm okay if Dean messes up everyone's day.

I need Jeffrey to grovel to Alan when his time comes.

#pit babe #pit babe the series #the colors mean things #and they will guide me the whole way through #color coded boys in love #Be blue Waymond #or be pink in love with Peter #BUT DON'T GO FULL RED!#episode 6

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credince--writes · 1 year

Text

Jitters, Chapter 1 (Remastered)

Chapter One: Security Protocol

Jitters is a PMC brought onto the support 141 operations, much to the distaste of the 141 group of PMC's.

The Remastered version of the original Jitters.

A/N:

Welcome to the rewrite guys! I actually will have my shit together this time, so that means tag lists will be happening! Lmk if you wanna be on it *as I sensually waggle my eyebrows at you*

This wasn't the first time she was sent out to a base.

This was probably the third, actually.

Laswell would send her where she was needed, so a lot of the time she found herself drifting around. She'd be stationed somewhere, finish up the needed task, and then run back to Laswell like a lap dog waiting to go fetch the ball again.

It sucked,

but so would sitting in a jail cell, so this would have to do.

The particular team she was stationed with was once again some kind of special force needing someone behind a screen that knew what they were doing, mainly to route them through a complex series of tunnels while avoiding security systems. Shutting off power when necessary.

Teaming up with some British team, she couldn't exactly remember the name she was too busy directing Sergeant Dumbass through a tunnel.

"You're going to have a series of laser security systems roughly twenty feet in front of you. Big red door next to it. Don't pass it until I give you the clear." Jitters spoke into her microphone.

"How the hell do you know it's red?" There was a gruffness to his voice, there always was whenever she spoke to the special forces guys- always a bit of a ruggedness at the edge of their voice as they’d trudge through shitty abandoned building after the next. She supposed after long enough they were in it for the thrill- when the glamorized ‘saving the world’ complex wore off. Hunting for adrenaline, pushing until the blood pounding in your ears gave the high they were searching for.

"I'm looking at you. I can see your bald spot." She responded, sighing after the mic cut off and leaning back in her chair.

It was as if they’d never really believe her- as she watched overhead. Either from their trackers or through the cameras scattered throughout a building.

The man she was observing through the screen turned around to face the camera and flipped it off before following his directed path.

"Alright... Hang tight for a moment please." She says, tapping into a separate comm unit.

"Miles this is Jitters, what is the status?"

"Dealing with some issues." His voice calmly- too calmly replied. The kind of shutoff you layer over when something is going wrong and before everything goes to shit.

"What kind of issues?" She cranes her neck over, glancing at the wall that separated the two of them. Her eyes narrowed on the concrete as if she were ready to melt through it-

But it was always like this, and even though she was confident that it would be resolved, that everything would be ok in the end. The tremor in her hands always found itself present, the jittering of her fingers on the keyboard as the anxiety and adrenaline started flowing.

She could never understand why people would seek it- the feeling of adrenaline in their veins.

"They're being resolved don't worry about it." His clipped voice spoke again.

"Miles I have three minutes before I lose stability on my end. Whatever issues you're running into need to be resolved fast."

There was silence on the other end.

It always died into silence.

…

That wasn't the last time Miles had become a major threat to the welfare of a mission, that and pain in her ass. It wasn't that he was totally incompetent- just enough that he was constantly putting teams in danger. A combination of spite and pride. Something she was familiar with, as much as she’d stuff it deep down and ignore it.

Constantly putting people in danger, either because he was still too bull-headed to accept help when she was trying to give it or was trying to prove himself in some respect.

That was until the current team they were assisting left, leaving the two of them with the base squad while another task force was brought in.

It was always some kind of task force- special operations unit, reacted names, and masked faces.

She had heard in rumors around the base that this Task Force- 141 is what it was called was something different. She was never given any real background on the teams, or redacted information but enough to get by to understand the premise of the operations. They were put on the real dirty jobs. The things that needed to be kept quiet.

Things she always ended up in her lap.

She was disposable- not that Laswell would ever explicitly say it.

She’d never be a liability because she no longer had the same ‘free will’ another had.

There was no going home,

Only the next mission.

The next dirty job.

She realized this when she was put into a separate briefing room from the rest of the squad she was stationed with. She was going to know more sensitive information, her and Miles, that is.

It was a pretty simple mission, but from what she understood very bloody on one end. It was infiltrating an enemy base, force, or stealth.

Whatever was necessary.

The day 141 arrived she was sitting on a crate fidgeting with one of the radios a private had brought up to her needing to be fixed. The pleading looks on his face to keep it quiet before his Sergeant found out and ripped him a new one. She didn't know what was up with them, but they seemed absolutely prone to breaking things in the most moronic ways. Made sense though, she saw a group of them dragging a fellow private around the warehouse floor as a mop.

The sound of a helicopter landing could be heard in closer proximity than normal, and the rolling doors opened to reveal the awaiting squad.

One thing Jitters always found amusing was the strange choices of hair, facial hair, or not that the men in the military would choose. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Miles approach, his chest puffed out in an attempt to stand taller as he approached her.

"I want Skull." He said.

She quirked a brow. "Bet he'll chew you up n' spit you out." She responded.

"Masked ones are always important." He responded. "You can take whatever team the skull guy isn't on."

"Hm." Leaning back and resting her hand against the crate trying to push down the dread that always seemed to rise up in her throat like bile when a new mission was presented. They were definitely observant, they had to be or they would be dead. Scanning and surveying the room. She watched as a grown-ass man with a mohawk stared at the two of them.

She matched his gaze, returning his intensity before he blinked and looked away. Miles had already left her side, walking to the debriefing room where the new arrivals were headed too. She sighed and stood up, following Miles to the room where the men had already gathered and seated around the table. Peeking her head in after Miles, she stepped in.

"Right on time you too." She heard Lt. Gulch say, he was heading the front of the table. Getting ready to explain new developments that had occurred in the last hour or so- papers scattered below on the table. Manila folders and ramblings in his oh-so-familiar chicken scratch tacked to the walls.

Jitters settled at the back of the table, sitting next to a man with a unibrow of a mustache on his face while Miles scurried over to sit in the general proximity of the masked giant at the table. There was a tension within the room- which was to be expected. The task forces were one and the same, usually tight-knit groups of men who would rather die than put their lives in the hands of someone they weren’t familiar with- someone they didn’t know they could trust.

Gulch began to lecture on about developments, explaining that the team would be split into two. One going from under, another storming in from the top of the building to sandwich in the center, then moving on to secure multiple other locations. Usual clearing tactics, no NVG, quick and dirty if need be, but keep it as clean as possible in respect to making cleanup easier. The navigation of the building would be difficult- security constantly changing but a recent finding of a lack of protection in their digital space provides an opportunity for them to breach.

"Which is why we have these two here today, one will be assigned to each of your teams. I'll allow you to choose as they will be a part of your respective teams for the next week." Gulch continued.

She always dreaded this part.

Introductions.

As if they really cared about who they were, and what they really did. Moreso once they understood what she was, her presence here.

Not that they’d ever question it, it seemed that all of them were connected one way or another to Laswell, and with her ‘stamp’ of approval, or ownership they wouldn’t ask many more questions.

Miles stood up, introducing his name and rank, and then sat down.

Jitters looked at him, then looked around the room not bothering to stand up. Avoiding every contact and trying to keep her voice even level. Not to stand and show the shake of her hands and the anxiety that these introductions always brought her. "They call me Jitters."

There were a few questionable glances given in response. Mustache piping up from next to her. "What about your Name & Rank?"

Gulch piped in. "Classified, and Jitters is a PMC sent in specifically for this assignment."

She watched as Mowhawk sat back in his chair and grumbled something to Skullface. Before he piped up. "Why is there a PMC on this job, do we not have techs?"

"Laswell had her sent in specifically, I'm under higher orders from General Spots, and advisement of Laswell. Which I don't plan on ignoring, is that a problem MacTavish?"

Mowhawk MacTavish sighed, and sat back. "No. Ghost and I will take Miles then."

Skullface nodded.

Apparently, his name was Ghost.

Mustache nodded, "Alright then. Jitters." He said with a little bit of hesitancy. "You, Gaz, and I will be the second team infiltrating from the top of the building once our first steps are secured."

She gave him a nod. "Is this still a pack & pull operation? Two, one, and gather?" She asked to the inhabitants of the room.

"Yes," Gulch started. "Team two will be in the field for two days while Team one remains in the field for one, returns to drop off, then stays until Team one meets back. Both teams will then follow to finish in one day- or however long it takes to fulfill the remaining objectives."

Jitters leaned back in her seat. "Are they aware of how it's going to work?" She nods her head back to the man behind her.

Gulch shrugs a little. "Was hoping you could explain, you start losing me when you're going on about satellites."

“Well-” She opened her mouth to speak.

"I can." Miles volunteers, standing up, cutting her off with the ever-present smirk on his lips.

"We are going to be equipping you all with specialized comms' routed through one of our satellites for this mission. We will be able to remotely access cameras throughout your route and give information as needed. Once you reach your target point, question and deal with the target then we will work on acquiring intel in either of these two points." He points behind him at the map. "Once the initial is finished, your teams will separate once more to finish out delegated tasks. The comm. systems are separated to further security, so all traffic will need to be routed through us."

"Why will our comms be separated?" Gaz asks.

"Well…" Miles pauses, faltering for a moment to gather his words.

Skullface scoffs.

She could see the embarrassment burn knot Miles face, hands clenching together at his sides.

"It's in case one of you is KIA, or have your communications compromised. Doesn't compromise both groups, keeps it segregated into one team." Jitters bumps in, shooting a side glance to Miles as his head snapped over to glare. "Miles also forgot to mention the lockout segments of the map where no one will be able to get any communications out. From what we know they lined these segments well enough to half any communication traffic through their walls. You'll all have to resort to more unique means of keeping the communication line open."

"Enlighten us." Ghost said, crossing his arms.

"One of each of your team is going to have to secure access to the vent system once you gain access to the fortified rooms. Your partner will be able to hear you through the vent, and the partner inside the vent will be able to further communicate."

"I won't fit in a vent," MacTavish says matter-of-factly.

"I'm sure you'll manage." Gaz replied.

The door opened, and one of the other Luitenants’ heads popped in "Jitters, you're needed immediately." There was that tone of urgency- not one of dire the world is going to end.

No, that was usually the pre-mission ass-chewing.

Gulch shot a glare. "What is it?"

"Laswell is on the line right now." They responded.

"God Damn it." Jitters groaned. Standing up and turning "Yea, Yea, I'll be there in a second. Miles finish where I left off and don't forget half."

He glared in response.

...

Had the call been important? Not really. It was more as if her mother had called to give her a preliminary chewing out before she was sent off to summer camp. Finishing off the call with "Don't let anything get in the way of this mission."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Walking out of the private room she was pulled into the take the call with Laswell, mind running through the different scenarios of things going wrong and how to fix them all before they actually happened. Taking a stride down the hallway as something bumped into her shoulder. Looking over she was met at an equal height with Miles.

"Don't. Ever." He pushed her shoulder against the wall and leaned up to her, "Pull what shit again in a meeting again." She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, the venom that dripped out of his words, and the anger that flashed in his eyes when he spoke. She almost wanted to laugh- him making a fool of himself in the briefing and acting big and strong and smart. Only for it to blow back up in his face.

Did she need to call him out in the meeting in the way she did?

No.

Did she do it anyways?

Of course.

"Kids. What the fuck are you doing?" They heard Gulch's voice.

"Nothing Luitenant." Miles answers quickly, before leaving.

"Captain Price and I would like a word," Gulch says nodding his head over to a door, before leading her and Price into the same meeting room as before.

"I need to know that you'll have our backs." Price says, tilting his head down to match her gaze. "We've had a... Bad track record with PMCs." There was a graveness to his tone- one that didn’t feel fabricated in the way the Captains and Luitenants and Seargants would always create to seem more serious. To try and scare someone into submission. But it felt real- a layer of pain beneath the surface of the simple words ‘bad track record’.

There was a history behind them, and it put her on edge.

It was already a losing battle gaining their trust for a short mission, but to already be put so far behind and to have this layered on top of it would spell disaster for the operation as a whole. It made dread crawl up her throat, fingers digging small crescents into her palms before sucking in a breath and leaving her tone out to portray confidence.

She shrugs. "I don't think Laswell would've sent me here if I wasn't going to cover you. I was briefed on the mission before you came here, when it was still supposed to be in the Nordics."

"How do you know Laswell?" Price asks.

Jitters looks to Gulch, nearly desperate to explain why, who shrugs in response.

Asshole.

She couldn’t- wouldn’t lay it all out on the table. It would be stupid to, and he had no reason to know, no right. It wasn’t his place, Captain or not. Even so, she could feel the cocky energy radiating off of Miles hoping to watch her stutter, to watch her fail and prove she wouldn’t be reliable for the mission.

She was sure he wanted her pulled from it.

Fake it til you make it, isn’t that what they say?

"I'm who Laswell sends out when things need to be done right… if that makes any sense." Jitters replies simply. Maybe it was a mild middle finger to Miles, who always seemed to find a hiccup and magnify it until it nearly ruined an op- but it was who she was.

She was sent to these jobs.

She read the redacted paperwork.

And she worked in the background, trudging behind a soldier to download files in the field or to hide behind a screen and direct.

Price nods. "Perfect. See you in the morning."

"Yea..." She says, watching everyone file out, leaving her in the empty room.

Waking up bright and early- it couldn't even be called that. It was nighttime. Dark. And fucking cold. That's what it was. Waking up dark and cold.

Jitters grumbled to herself, pulling on her clothes for the day and picking up two gadgets off of her work table, and making her way outside.

"Good to see you're finally up." She heard Miles say from the side of her as she walked into the warehouse where the men were suiting up.

She walked up to Gaz and Price who were prepping their weapons and gear. "Come here please." She says, rubbing her eyes.

"What's up?" Gaz asks.

Jitters reaches into her pocket and pulls out two small button-like forms. "These are vibrators- God." She groans, face heating up at the statement and realizing once the words left her mouth what a shitty idea naming them was. "Not like that though, here." She quickly adds, seeing the twitch upward in the two men’s lips. She reaches out and grabs Gaz's hand, pulling him a little closer to her. Grabbing his glove and sliding it into the center of his wrist.

"If you're in a situation that you can't verbally respond, you buzz me. I'll be asking yes and no questions. Two for no and three for yes." She explains, handing the other to Price before looking at her watch. "Example." She taps on her wrist twice, and the two men look down at the feeling of the little machine buzzing on the top of their wrists.

"I'll be asking you something along the lines of checkpoint reached. I know this is going to be a stealth operation so minimizing any potential faults in your navigation is at the height of my priority."

"Thanks, neva' had something like this before." Gaz says.

Price nods, "We will establish a connection when we reach point A."

Jitters nodded, "Copy that."

Once she had finished with Price & Gaz, she’d hung back for a moment to watch Miles sputter and suck up to the two other men. It was almost comedic- watching him try and flex his theoretical muscles of technical operations as if they really cared. "You got some brown on your nose." She comments to him.

"Fuck you."

....

After the connections were established, the teams had moved out. From what she gathered Miles was having to deal with all of the feedback from water sloshing in the comms.

Have fun with that, you prick.

Advancements on her end were made quickly and methodically, leading the team through their routes with limited enemy casualties to maintain the stealth the mission required.

Soon enough the garble could be heard over the comms.

"Entering blackout area, be advised. Notify when placement is established overhead."

She waited.

And waited.

In reality, it was only a few minutes before she felt three buzzes on her wrist.

"Establish a connection, notify when established."

Soon enough, three buzzes were felt again on her arm.

"Maintain your location until advised. Waiting for the crash."

One,

Two,

Three.

Yes.

She stood up, looking over to Miles who was frantically typing. Why was he typing? Had they already trigged a security protocol in the building? How hard was it for him not to fuck something up- for once, one time, she begged in her own mind. Just once, for everything to go smoothly.

Maybe when hell froze over.

"Miles I need an ETA."

"Dealing with complications." He mutters out.

She almost wanted to sneer back ‘all you have is complications’, but she held it back. For now.

"Miles I have limited time, sort your shit out, and do it quick."

"Location compromised," Miles yelled out, throwing his back against his chair and tossing his hands into his hair, and groaning, quickly slouching back forward to continue back on working on whatever he was frantically typing for.

"Fuck." Jitters whisper yelled. Rushing back to her desk she established a connection with Price and Gaz. "Changing plans, begin upload procedures now. You'll be seeing friends in less than five."

One,

Two,

Three.

Leaving her desk, but keeping the earpiece for her team in her ear she marched over to Miles. "Tell me what's happening."

"Triggered security protocol Alpha-3."

Her gaze hardened on him. "You're shitting me."

"No!" He whisper yelled back, trying to keep his voice quiet, even though it wasn’t calm by any means. “Why would I be shitting about that?”

"We need our eyes here Miles." She could hear the voice of Mactavish through his earpiece.

"How could you of fucked it that bad?" She asked, hand reaching up and gripping onto his chair, leaning over to take a look at his screen.

"Shut up!" Miles snapped back at her.

That horrible feeling crawled up her spine, the feeling of it like the legs of a spider creeping up to her neck. If neither of them did anything, if Miles didn’t do anything and quickly the entire operation would be a bust and not only would the current operatives in the building be in danger, but more importantly- at least to Jitters- the mission would be a failure.

And Laswell meant what she said on the call.

"Don't let anything get in the way of this mission."

Her arm reached out, grabbing Miles shoulder and pushing on it, trying to get him out of the seat while she pushed forward trying to slot her hips into the chair. "Move."

"What?" He asked, eyebrows raising as if he didn’t hear her the first time, as if her words weren't clear enough. His body pushed forward and he leaned back against it, fighting the of her hand against his shoulder by simply leaning into it and ignoring it.

"You heard me. Move." She urged again.

"Miles!" MacTavish emphasizes in his comm.

"Fuckin', move." Jitters removed her hand, sidestepping behind the chair and pushing his back forward while pulling his chair out simultaneously, his body lurhcing forward then leaning back to no longer be met with the chair, flat backing onto the floor as she quickly slid into the seat. Arms stretched out and tapping a few letters on the keyboard.

"What the fuck is going on over there." Ghost hisses through the comm.

"There is a room 200 feet to your left. It will be next to the main line in the underground system. Get there now." Jitters orders.

"What?" Mactavish asks.

"Move your ass. Now!" She all but yells into the microphone.

"Jitters how copy?" She can hear Gaz ask.

"Hold." She says, merging the two communications teams together.

"Sounded like you were fighting back there." Gaz comments.

"I was. connection established- both ends. Can you hear us?" She asks.

"Affirmative." The four men all but say in unison.

"Security protocol Alpha-3 has been activated, meaning I am going to need some coordination on both sides. Gaz I need you to slide back to where you were a bit ago- the panel with the blue lights."

"Copy."

"Price you'll need to take that cord you've got plugged into the system and remove it, ignore the lost progress it doesn't matter what matters is making sure this isn't fucked."

"Copy."

"Ghost I need you to cover while Mac' opens up the panel that should be next to the outgoing pipe. That is a centralized break. One of them should be labeled with a XX83. When I say, flip it and get ready for it to go dark. You'll need to use your night vision to move through the rest of your trajectory. We are trying to make this look like a simple malfunction in the security system. A glitch."

"In the location" Gaz affirms.

"Gaz remember those two wires I just had you cut?"

"Yes."

"I need you to cut the third to the right- white with writing on it. And You're gonna need to stick the two hot ends together. it's gonna make a light show so don't stick your head in there. Notify when complete."

She waited a few moments, nearly feeling the cold sweat collecting on her neck. The feeling of adrenaline, of anxiety creeping up and making her ears feel hot. Feeling her pulse in her fingers as her hands moved furiously to input information as needed to make sure that the mission was not compromised.

"We have inbound security patrol." Ghost replies.

"Copy. Standby." She replies.

"It's complete," Gaz Responds, a slight crackling in the background of his comms. "You were right, made a hell of a show."

"Flip it now MacTavish."

"Copy."

"Lights will be down for roughly 45 seconds. You need to move now you too. Price, plug in now."

"Copy."

"Established."

"Alright, the security system is resetting. Clear, for now, finish that download and get the fuck out of there."

She leans back in her seat, glancing over to meet the glare of Miles. Disconnecting the Coms from each other she shot him a glance. "You want your job back? Or are you gonna fuck it up again?" She sneers.

"Get out of my chair." He grits out, jaw tense as he stands.

She pulls his earpiece from her head, tossing it at him and standing. No so gently tossing his chair to the side and listening to it clatter on the ground as she makes her way back to her chair.

"Fine by me, this chair smells like shit anyways."

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

BWFW

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: You and Joel call a truce [3.8k]

Author’s note: dude I’m having so much fun writing this (PS this song is named after BWFW by Blunt Chunks)

Warnings: smoking (don’t smoke kids (drunk cigs don’t count)), Joel being an asshole momentarily, spicy thoughts (no smut), enemies to ???

Joel Miller Caught Kissing Actress After Date: Everything We Know About Her

Hollywood's Newest Power Couple?

Joel Miller Has A New Boo, And We're All A Bit Jealous

Who is Joel Miller's Newest Girl? Everything Their Waitress Told Us About Their Secret Romantic Date

Pictures of you and Joel making out against your front door are everywhere. You can barely log onto Instagram without being bombarded with DM's, comments, and tags in news articles about you two. Melanie even texted you with several headlines attached and a "Great job, kid!" Even your mom texted you about it. Granted, it was a screenshot of a Buzzfeed post, and all she sent you was a bunch of question marks, but she texted you. You try to put it out of your mind by leaving your phone in your trailer when you go to set instead of handing it off to a PA.

You decide that Joel Miller isn't worth more brain power than absolutely necessary. He has his own life, and you doubt he's thinking about you, and if he is, it's probably plotting his next reputation-saving move. The only thing you can do is work, make the best movie possible, and move on with your life until he summons you for another contractually obligated date. It's only a few months. You can make it, right?

You were asking the director about a scene, script in hand, when Ryan strolled up to you with a mischievous look. You ignore him and listen to Greta give you notes and ideas for the next movie sequence. He waits for you to be done with the conversation, like a third grader, before grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing Joel Miller?" He asks, and you laugh. He walks you to a more secluded part of set, hiding from eavesdropping extras and chatty interns as they set the sound stage for the next scene.

"It didn't seem relevant to work."

"Not relevant? This is huge," he says, somehow more excited about this than you are, and you cross your arms over your chest. "You haven't dated at all since you made it big."

"Okay, that's not true."

"Really? Before last night, when was the last time you went on a date with anyone? Famous or not?" He asks. You open your mouth to answer, but your brain short circuits as you search through your memories. You're ninety percent sure that your last date was with the guy you had a showmance with before you moved to California. He was tall, handsome, and full of himself just like every other actor. You vaguely remember telling him you booked your first movie with A24, and he said you didn't have the "right look" for A24. Last you heard, he was living with five other roommates in the Meatpacking District back in New York.

"Okay, so maybe it's been a while," you admit, and he raises his eyebrows at you. "Please, don't make this a thing. I've already had enough people clawing at me for answers about it, and I'm exhausted."

"Fine, fine, but you have to promise you'll go out for drinks with me and Carolina on Friday. She's been dying to make couple friends, and I need to make sure he's good for you."

"You don't need to do anything, but sure. I'll talk to him and see what he thinks." You say, and he smiles. Before he can grill you any further, your names are called over the intercom, announcing that they're ready for you, and you silently thank whatever god is out there for getting you out of that situation. You and Ryan walk back to the sound stage and get flanked by people from makeup who need to touch you up and frantic ADs who repeat the same notes the director already gave you. You swear if their heads weren't attached to their necks, they'd run around looking for them at all hours.

You do several takes of the same scene, yet another scene of your characters arguing, this time about what they'll do now that your character is pregnant. Ryan progressively gets more despondent as he sinks into his character, frustrating you as his scene partner and the pregnant woman you're playing. After about two hours of running the same scene over and over again, you're at your wit's end and need to do something different. Everyone on set freezes when you shove at Ryan's shoulders and force him to look you in the eyes for the first time since you started filming. The entire scene shifts as you continue to push at him, tears unexpectedly falling from your eyes as you beg him to say something. It hurts more when he walks out the door without looking back. When Greta cuts, Ryan all but runs back in the door and wraps you in a big hug.

"You're gonna break my heart if you keep doing that!" He says, and you laugh as you wipe away your tears. You watch the scene back together, and jump up and down at how much better it flows. It feels like you're watching magic. Times like this remind you why you became an actor in the first place.

You film a few more scenes before breaking for the night. Your body hurts from carrying so much emotion as you walk into your trailer to gather your things to go home. You barely grazed the door, dinner plans already filling your head, when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. It's a text from an unsaved number, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it's from.

The lipstick on the collar was a nice touch, he writes, and you sigh.

That almost sounds like a compliment, Miller, you shoot back.

You're not even halfway to your car when your phone buzzes with another text from Joel.

Paul is really happy with how everything's going. He said he wants us to see each other again before I go back to Texas.

Good timing because my costar practically begged me to go on a double date with him and his wife.

We're already in double-date territory? How official.

Har har. How's Friday night sound?

Sounds like Paul is going to be very happy.

That makes one of us.

The rest of the week flies by with you dodging the online chatter about you and Joel somewhat successfully, but Ryan keeps reminding you how excited he is to hang out with you and your new "boy toy," as he has affectionately nicknamed Joel. You hate it, but he thinks it's funnier that way, so he just keeps calling him that. You swear Ryan was your annoying older brother in another life.

You're curling your hair when he texts you a cute picture of him and his wife in the car with the message, "Ready to interrogate JM." You laugh and return to messing with your hair, mentally going through every possibility that tonight could bring. You're wearing a pink tank top and jeans with pink heels. Nothing super fancy, but it's definitely more dressed down than your first date with Joel. You debate on which necklace to wear and wrap the final piece of hair around your curling iron when your front door opens.

Joel calls your name as he shuts the door behind him. You almost throw the hot iron down as you step into the hallway to face him. He's wearing a black shirt with a matching black leather jacket and jeans. He looks you up and down unapologetically, and you roll your eyes.

"Who told you you could just walk into my house?" You ask as you duck into the bathroom again. He leans against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you spray your hair to help it withstand the California heat.

"Hello to you too, darlin'."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

"So, what can I call you?" He asks with a smirk pulling on his lips. You grab your bag off the counter and move to leave the bathroom, but he doesn't budge. You huff as you look up at him.

"Move."

"Answer the question." He says. You think about pushing him out of the way, but he's broad and has those strong guitarist arms and probably wouldn't even flinch. You copy his stance as you rack your brain for an acceptable answer.

"Well, you could start with just my name," you say, and he laughs. "But other than that, I don't know."

"Baby?" He suggests, and you almost gag.

"Absolutely not."

"Which do you hate more? Darlin' or baby?"

"Baby."

"Alright, then, darlin'," he says, stepping out of your way. You scoff and walk past him into the hallway. "You know, you really should get a dog or somethin'. It's not safe for you to just leave your door unlocked like that."

"Oh, with all the psychos running around my neighborhood? I can handle myself but thank you for your input." You say, and he laughs as you do one last sweep of your living room to make sure you didn't forget anything. Once again, Joel opens your front door and the passenger side door of his car for you. You can say many things about Joel Miller, but one thing you can't say is that he's not a gentleman. You think it has something to do with his Texas upbringing, or it might just be a testament to the kind of woman his mother is. You don't say anything the whole way to the restaurant, saving up your mental energy to deal with him for the whole night, and he doesn't fight you on it.

When you get there, you can see Ryan waiting near the host stand through the windows, obviously ready to escort you and Joel to the table. You're surprised that the sidewalk isn't flanked by photographers, but you take it as a good sign. Joel parks the car and reaches for your hand as he locks it. You almost smack it away before remembering you're in public and take it in yours. The smooth ring on his middle finger is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to his calloused palms. Ryan lights up when you two step through the doors, and he quickly wraps you in a warm hug. He introduces himself to Joel and holds his hand out for a handshake which Joel reciprocates.

When he walks you to the table set for four, Carolina smiles and stands to hug you and Joel in true Carolina fashion. Joel doesn't hesitate to pat her back and smile as Ryan jokes about having two of the prettiest women in the restaurant sitting at his table.

"Sorry, I'm a hugger," Carolina says as you sit across from them. Joel lays an arm across the back of your chair like this is a perfectly normal thing he does all the time.

"That's alright, ma'am. I don't mind." He says, and Carolina gives you a look.

"Ma'am? I like him already." She says, and you laugh.

Joel settles into the dynamic between the three of you easily and listens as Ryan tells stories from set and press events. It's no small feat that you let Joel meet two of the most important people in your life, and even though you didn't tell him to be, he's on his best behavior. He doesn't try to annoy you or do anything inappropriate in front of them. He compliments Carolina, calling her ma'am even after she told him he didn't have to, and exchanges dude-bro stories with Ryan all night. Except for the arm on your chair, he doesn't make any affectionate moves which you're grateful for.

With Ryan and Carolina there, it almost feels normal. It could also be your third glass of wine helping you relax too. Ryan makes a snarky comment about your drinking, to which you flip him off. "I'd be drinking too if I had to work with you all week!" Carolina says. Ryan feigns a blow to the chest, and she smacks his shoulder. "Did he tell you that Elizabeth started calling you Ryan's movie wife?" She asks, and you laugh.

"God, I hope she doesn't repeat that at school. Otherwise, you," you point at Ryan. "Are going to have a lot to explain to that poor teacher."

"Who's Elizabeth?" Joel asks as you take a bite of food. You hum to let him know you'll answer in a second, but Carolina beats you to it.

"Elizabeth is our daughter."

"And my goddaughter," you jump in. "She's the best kid in the world."

"Well, of course, you think that because you're not there for bedtime," Ryan says, and you roll your eyes.

"You're just mad because she's as stubborn as you are."

"That is... not entirely untrue."

You spend the rest of the dinner laughing and messing with each other. You even catch yourself leaning into Joel's side because he's so warm and comfortable, and the wine is making you deliriously happy. When the bill is placed on the table, you all fight over who gets to pay until Carolina chucks Ryan's card at the waiter. Joel holds his hand over the table, and Ryan shakes it in a form of masculine affection. "You really didn't have to do that, man," Joel says. "Next dinner is on me, alright?" He could be saying it to save face, but the idea that Joel likes Ryan and Carolina makes something in your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

Ryan practically carries Carolina to the car so they can relinquish the nanny for the night, but you and Joel go upstairs to the rooftop bar. You reason that it's high enough to hide from paparazzi, and you also needed an excuse to get some fresh air. You both order water and perch on a couch in the corner. At first, you don't say anything. Not because you're mad at him but because you're worried you'll ruin the night if you do. However, you don't need to exchange words for Joel to see you shivering and put his jacket over your shoulders. You smile and turn to look at him.

"This is the second time you've given me your jacket."

"Want me to stop?" He asks, genuinely curious, and you shake your head. A soft smile takes over his features, and you have to look away before you get sucked in.

"What'd you think of Ryan and Carolina?" You ask as you take a sip of water. His arm rests behind you again, and he adjusts to get more comfortable.

"I really liked 'em. They seem like good people."

"They are. Ryan and I were friends before I even moved to LA," you say. "I think they liked you too."

"Yeah?" He asks, and you nod. You meet his eyes again and hope he can see your sincerity.

"Yeah. Thanks for not being a total dick to them." You say, and he laughs. He puts his water on the table in front of you before reaching across you to dig into his jacket pocket. This close, you can smell the detergent he washed his shirt with and see the freckles faintly littering his skin. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter out of his jacket before relaxing into his spot again. Maybe it's the wine in your system or the joy from the night still filtering through your skull, but you don't take your eyes off him as he lights a cigarette. The ember glows brighter as he takes a drag and turns away from you to exhale. His jawline is sharp, and his neck looks especially pretty as he takes a breath.

"What're you thinkin' bout, pretty girl?" He asks, breaking your train of thought, and you smirk as you lean forward. His eyes drop to the neckline of your tank top, giving you the perfect opportunity to snatch the cigarette out of his hand and put it to your lips. He watches as you take a drag, your lipstick staining the filter, and exhale with a sigh.

"Thinking bout you."

"Me?" He raises his eyebrows as you pass him the cigarette back. His thumb traces your lipstick stain before he puts it back in his mouth. "What about me?"

"About how stupid this whole situation is," you gesture vaguely around you. "About how we really shouldn't be so mean to each other."

"You're a sentimental drunk," he says, passing you the cigarette without acknowledging it, and you smile. It really wouldn't be that hard to pull another cigarette out of his pack for you, but he doesn't. Your fingers graze his as you take it, flicking the ash to the side. He waits until you blow smoke out of your nose to mess with the sleeves of his shirt and nod. "But, maybe you're right."

"Oh, say it again." You say, and he gives you a look. You pass the cigarette back even though about half of it is burned down from you two sharing it. His long drags don't help salvage it.

"I really shouldn't have said what I said bout you sleepin' with people to get famous. That was really fucked up, and I'm sorry."

"It was really fucked up. And unoriginal. And fucking stupid. And completely untrue," you say, and he looks a little worried. "But, thank you for apologizing." He nods and offers you the last little bit of glowing cigarette.

"Can we call a truce?"

"A truce?"

"Yeah. We'll stop goin' out of our way to make each other's life fuckin' miserable and move on. Maybe at the end of this, we could even be friends." He says, and you take a deep breath as you take the cigarette from him.

"You always make peace agreements with nicotine?"

"You're my first, pretty girl."

There's that fucking nickname again. It's better than darling, and you should hate it, but the way he says it makes your head swim. You inhale the last drag and stub it out in the ashtray next to your water as you try to get your thoughts under control again. You catch the bartender looking over at you and Joel, and an uneasy feeling crawls up your spine. You swallow it down and look at Joel.

"I'll agree to a truce." You say, smoke leaving your mouth as you talk, and he smiles.

"Should we shake on it?" He asks. You glance between him and the bartender and scoot closer to him. His eyes flick from yours to your lips and back up to your eyes.

"I would say yes," you whisper. "But, I think that bartender figured out who we are."

"So, what should we do instead?" He asks, his voice so low that you almost miss it over your own heartbeat. You want to roll your eyes at how stupid his question is but kiss him instead. His hands come up to your jaw, and you wrap your hand around his wrist to keep him there. There are traces of nicotine and tequila on his lips, but you can't focus on it too hard before his teeth graze your bottom lip. He swallows your gasp and soothes the sudden pain with his tongue. You would push him away and yell at him if it didn't feel so good. You can’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like on your neck or your thighs. You wonder what pretty girl would sound like in between pants and broken moans. You wonder if he’d leave bruises on your inner thighs for you to find in the morning. The thoughts startle you out of the moment, and you pull away from him, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist.

"'M getting tired. Can you take me home?" You ask. He looks like a kicked puppy but nods anyway. He holds your hand the whole way down the stairs, through the restaurant, and to the car. You make shitty small talk the whole way back to your house like nothing happened, but you're grateful to have moved past the suffocating uncomfortable silence. He taps on his steering wheel again and changes the station when his own song comes on the radio, making you laugh. When he pulls into your driveway, you linger for a moment and look at him through the darkness. "Thank you for being so nice to my friends."

"I really did like 'em," he says. You pick at your nailbeds as you try to find a way to apologize for abruptly ending the evening. You feel bad for some reason. You were actually having a good time together, and then you made it weird. "Can I walk you to your door?" He asks, and you take a deep breath.

"I think I can get myself inside. Thank you, though."

"Welcome." He says as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. Joel's jacket shifts around you, and you suddenly remember that you're still wearing it.

"Oh, here. Let me give you your jacket back before I forget."

"Don't worry about it." He waves you off, and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"What do you mean don't worry about it? I'm not gonna steal your jacket, Joel."

"You're not stealin' it. You're just borrowin' it, right? I bet tabloids will eat it up if they see you wearin' it," he says. "Besides, it looks better on you anyways." You laugh and shake your head as you adjust your purse on your shoulder.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"G'night, pretty girl." He says. You shut the door and walk up the sidewalk to your front door, secretly cursing that stupid fucking nickname and how weak in the knees it makes you. His car lingers in the driveway until he sees you unlock the door and flicker the front lights at him, letting him know you got in safely. He honks twice before pulling away and driving off into the night.

You make a point to lock your door behind you and lean against it. You let out a shaky breath like it will expel his voice from your head and jump when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. When you pull it out, a bright text from Melanie stares back at you.

Two dates in a row?! You're killing it! This will be over before you know it <3

And attached to her scarily cheerful text is a picture of you and Joel kissing. It's blurry and obviously taken from far away, but it's there nonetheless. You pinch the bridge of your nose and send her a thumbs-up emoji before sending Ryan a "made it home" text and turning your phone off. The image of Joel's teeth scraping your bottom lip burns into your eyelids as you close your eyes and try to figure out where the fuck you go from here.

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #joel x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x female reader #rockstar!joel miller

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amberlynnmurdock · 7 months

Text

Blind Faith (Ch. 13)

Chapter Thirteen: The Devil Has Many Disguises

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You take up Zach's offer to have dinner at his apartment.

WARNINGS: attempted assault, getting drugged, losing consciousness, side effects of drugs

A/N: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! This was a tough chapter to write because I didn't want to write anything too crazy but also not anything not-crazy... this was always in the plan/outline. PLEASE be aware of what you drink when you go out! It's a crazy world. I know this subject can be sensitive. I KNOW. I took this seriously in school and something I always thought was I wish Daredevil was real so sick people could get the justice they deserve! With that said, I hope you like this update, because I can't wait for the next one!

Tags at the end!

Ao3 Link

2 Corinthians 11:14-15 And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.

Office of Nelson & Murdock

Rain pattered softly against the windows of Nelson & Murdock. It was a quiet and calm day, completely opposite of what you felt inside. Inside, your heart was racing at the thought of your plans tonight, your mind felt like you were thinking a million different things at the same time, and in the pit of your stomach was an excitement you hadn’t felt since the beginning of summer.

A week had gone by since the Bar dinner, and Zach was successful in his attempts to ask you out on a date—was it a date? Tonight, you were to go to his apartment just a little uptown to have dinner and discuss all things LSAT and law school. What really won you over was his genuineness, even over the phone.

Gone was the slightly cocky, sure-of-himself lawyer you met at the dinner. Instead, Zach actually seemed shy and sweet on the phone. He blamed his attitude on the alcohol, which you’ll admit, you blamed yours on that as well. If you were comfortable enough to come to his apartment, he offered to have dinner there and show you his library of law school books and whatnot.

“Excited for tonight?” Karen asked as she walked past your desk to drop off a few files for you to input into the system. She smiled and sat on the corner of your desk, pushing a strawberry blonde strand behind her ear.

“I am,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks turn hot. You spoke in a low voice, so Matt or Foggy couldn’t hear. “I mean, a free fancy dinner and LSAT help? It really can’t get that much better for me right now.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” Karen said. “Text me, though, if you feel uncomfortable at all or if the date seems to be going wrong, or if he just grosses you out. I’ve had my fair share of dipping on dates early.”

You laughed, “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t go down like that.”

Karen told you more about the files she dropped on your desk—most of them didn’t have to be put in until Monday, and instead you could use most of the day to read and learn them first. Foggy came out of his office, whooshing past you and Karen, and straight into Matt’s office.

Matt locked himself in his office all week, seemingly avoiding any small talk or conversations. He must’ve been busy with his cases—there were a lot more coming in this week—or so you thought. No, Matt’s mind was occupied with something else, something that’s been slowly eating at him since the Bar dinner last week.

He sits in his office quietly, one earbud connected to his Orbit reader, the other trying not to eavesdrop on your conversation with Karen, but who was he kidding? He knows Zach has been reaching out to you the entire week, trying to invite you to his apartment for dinner… but something wasn’t right. Matt didn’t know what it was, but something didn’t feel right.

So what did he do? What he does best—investigate that annoying, hard-to-ignore intuition. Earlier this week, he decided to pay a visit to Landman & Zack on his lunch break without telling anyone. Like clockwork, Zach’s been calling you right at 1:00 p.m.

Matt was able to listen in from the third floor of Landman & Zack’s building, from the inside of a broom closet, all the way up to the 10th floor where Zach’s office was.

“Hello?”

“Miss __,”

“Is this Zach?”

“It sure is,” he chuckled lightly over the phone.

“How can I help you, Zach?”

“Well, I—I haven’t stopped thinking of our meeting at the dinner last week. I was wondering if I could see you again.”

“You were, were you?”

“Yes,” Zach said, with a hint of impatience only Matt could hear. “I was.”

“Hmm.”

“I was serious about the LSAT help, but I was also thinking we could combine dinner with that, at my apartment uptown?”

“I’m not usually one to go to someone’s house on a first date.”

“None of that,” Zach shook his head. “I just want to help, that’s all. And treat you to dinner, of course.”

It wasn’t the way Matt could hear Zach tapping a pencil on his desk, or the way Matt knew the palms of his hands were sweaty that was off-putting, but it was the way Zach’s heart was beating when he spoke those last few lines to you—about wanting to help.

He was lying.

And since that moment, Matt’s been contemplating what the right thing to do was. So, by locking himself in his office and avoiding your presence, he thought the answer would come to him—well, it was clear, but it was a matter of whether he should ignore it or not. He listens to you as you gush to Karen about your plans with Zach tonight. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s clenching his jaw until Foggy walks into his office, seemingly picking up on what your plans are.

“Hey man,” Foggy greets casually, “can we talk?” Matt leans forward on his desk as Foggy shuts his door.

“What’s up?” Matt asks.

“I didn’t want to ask to be weird, so I figured I’d come to you. Did—what happened at the Bar dinner last week? We sort of talked about it, but I don’t think I got the full scope,” Foggy explained, gesturing to you and Karen.

Matt sighed and ran his hand over his cheek in annoyance. “We ran into an old colleague of ours,” Matt said with a forced smile, “Zachary Zack.”

“I gathered that, but—is—don’t tell me that asshole is coming onto her,” Foggy said. He runs his hand through his long blonde locks. “That guy got everything handed to him at that firm because of his father! And now, he thinks he can just cozy up to one of our employees and bribe her to leave us?”

“He’s not bribing her, Fog—he’s trying to win her over, see her—I don’t know,” Matt said exasperated. “You should’ve heard him at the party. He’s the same pompous asshole as he always was.”

“What, you mean like ask her out on a date?” Foggy asked with concern. “He asked her out, and that’s what she and Karen are talking about?”

Matt nodded his head slowly. Hearing it said out loud caused Matt to feel an uncomfortable rush in his chest. He hands turned to fists as he took a deep breath.

“He gave her his number at the party. I’m assuming she must’ve messaged him because he’s been calling her every day. Yesterday, he finally asked her to dinner at his apartment and to help her with the LSAT.”

“Jesus…” Foggy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to scare her or tell her what to do, but Zack was bad news back then. I wouldn’t want him to hurt her or take advantage—what’s his intention?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said cooly. “But I do know he lied to her about wanting to help.”

“Lied—how do you know?”

Matt sighed and took off his dark red glasses.

“The other day, I took my lunch and decided to go to Landman & Zack, right before I knew he would call her. I…listened to their conversation and could hear Zach’s heartbeat. He was lying, Foggy,” Matt whispered. “I don’t like that.”

“What should we do?” Foggy asked.

“Not we,” Matt shook his head. “What am I going to do.”

“God Matt,” Foggy shook his head, “you really think it could be that serious?”

“I don’t know,” Matt answered. “Just to make sure she’s safe, I’ll follow her. That’s all. If he seems fine, then I’ll leave. Maybe his heartbeat was a product of nerves asking her.”

“Maybe,” Foggy said. “Well, be careful. And make sure she’s safe.”

Matt nodded as Foggy left the room. He sat there for a moment, thoughts swimming in his head—he thought of the last night you banished him from his life, as the man in the mask, as Daredevil, as your savior. He thought of the very first night he ever met you, the first night you shared on your rooftop. This wasn’t about his feelings for you anymore, or his heartache, or yours—it was about making sure you were safe.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Entering the last case in the system, you nervously watched as the clock finally struck 5:00 p.m. Karen was gathering her bags and jacket and Foggy was almost halfway out the door. He stopped in Matt’s office for something and then wished you a good weekend, and to be safe.

“You too, Fog,” you smiled. He looked at you with a soft expression before heading out. Karen walked by your desk to wish the same thing.

“Let me know how it goes,” she said quietly. “Great job today, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “Have a good weekend!”

She said goodbye to Matt and shut the door quietly. You finished typing your last sentence before you began to pack your own things up.

Zach said to come by his apartment anytime after work, so you weren’t going to put pressure on yourself to get ready in a rush. Though, you did want to get there at around eight o’clock.

As you were about to head out, you noticed Matt was still sitting at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers, running his fingers over the braille. He was so concentrated, you weren’t sure if you should slip out or wish him a good weekend. He may have felt your presence, you weren’t sure, but he looked up behind his dark red glasses as you stood in the doorway.

“Heading out?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just wanted to say goodbye and have a good weekend. Got any plans?”

Matt chuckled a little as if to say, me, plans?

“Not really,” Matt answered. “Think I’ll take this weekend to relax, maybe catch up on work.”

“You’re always working,” you smiled and spoke softly. “Why don’t you take a break and actually relax?”

“I take a break, the cases pile up even more,” Matt said. “Do you have any plans?”

“Not much going on. I am—I’m going to have dinner with that old colleague of yours, Zach?” You told Matt. “Took him up on his offer to help me with studying. He’s making dinner, too.”

“Hm,” Matt replied, “that’s good. A date?”

“I’m not sure,” you laughed nervously. Telling Matt these things treaded weird territory, but you felt comfortable enough to talk to him like this. You remembered that night outside of Josie’s when you confided in him about your savior. “What was he like? When you worked with him, I mean. How was he?”

Matt shifted in his seat. You wanted to say never mind, but then he started to speak.

“He was… loud.”

“Don’t hold back now,” you smirked.

“He was a little pretentious. I don’t know if you know, but his father is the elder Zack. I never worked that closely with him, but everyone knew who he was.”

“Hm,” you answered thoughtfully, “why did you and Foggy leave?”

“We didn’t agree with how they ran their firm,” Matt said.

“Interesting,” you replied. “Well, I guess I’ll let you know if he’s still pretentious.”

“I’m sure not much has changed,” Matt laughed, “But I hope it goes well. I really, really do.”

With that, you smiled once more at Matt, before leaving him alone in his office.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓ Uptown 8 PM

Zach’s apartment was a little bit uptown, but not much. Just like you were stunned at the venue of the Bar dinner, your reaction to his apartment was no different. On the 12th floor, his apartment had a beautiful view of Manhattan, especially at night—the building lights twinkled as you looked out his giant living room windows. He had an open floor plan, so when you first walked in you basically saw almost all of his apartment. To the right was a kitchen with a white marble countertop, and to the left was a small dining room with the same countertop. In front was the large living room, and beautiful large windows.

He was in his kitchen, keeping an eye on the linguine he was boiling. That and the shrimp in the pan smelled delicious.

“Like the view?” He called from the kitchen. Separating you was his large living space, with a tan suede moon crescent-shaped couch. The ceiling had a diamond chandelier and a glass coffee table. You were happy you opted to wear a white silk shirt and matching skirt. For some reason, you had a feeling his apartment would be minimalistic and classy.

“I do,” you answered, “but nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He laughed as he stirred the pasta. “Guess the view of the city all depends on where you stand. Wait til I show you my library.” You looked at him—he wore a white button-down shirt and khakis. His blonde hair looked more warm in the lighting.

“The library,” you repeated. “Where all your law books are?”

“And even more,” he smiled brightly—his chiseled smile caused goosebumps to form on your arms. “Do you want some chardonnay?”

“Please,” you accepted his offer. He turned the stove on medium heat before grabbing a brand new bottle from his separate wine cellar. Bringing out two large wine glasses, you watched as he poured you the cold, golden liquid.

“Say when,” he said, catching your eyes. Your heart leaped.

“When,” you smiled.

Zach raised his glass—you mirrored him as the wine glasses clinked. He held your gaze for a moment before you both took a sip of wine. It tasted sweet. You blushed and looked away.

Suddenly, the pot on the stove overflowed. Zach immediately turned the stove down and took the lid off the pot, scratching the back of his head.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I’m not much of a chef. Why don’t I show you the library now?”

You laughed, sort of caught off guard by how he seemed unsure of himself. Taking another sip of wine, you nodded your head.

He walked you down a narrow hallway in his apartment. At the end of the hall was a glass door, away from the view of the city. When Zach pressed a light switch on the wall, the room lit up a soft glow and your reaction was similar to the first time you saw the giant blue whale hanging in the middle of the Museum of Natural History. You were in awe.

“The rest of the collection is at my dad’s,” Zach laughed as he watched you gape in the room. Against each wall were bookshelves lined with the most beautiful leather-bound books. Between blank spaces were the scales of justice, or a mini statue of lady justice. At the front of the room was a long mahogany desk with two lamps on either side and a quill and ink bottle for style. You gravitated towards it, running your fingers over the smooth wood.

“Where are the LSAT books? Could we take a look?”

“When dinner’s over and we have some more drinks in us,” Zach smiled. Part of your heart fell from disappointment, but it made sense to not rush into what you came here for. Plus, you were really hungry. And this wine was delicious.

By the time you made it back to the kitchen, you finished your wine. You took a seat in a golden chair at the marble table and looked at this side of the room. There was a long mirror against the wall and some house plants in each corner. Zach wasn’t much for decorating, you could tell.

With his back to you in the kitchen, Zach poured you another glass of chardonnay. He brought you your glass before he went back and prepared two plates of shrimp linguine. You drank from the wine glass and started to feel that familiar buzz wine gave you.

“Dinner’s served,” Zach smiled as he sat in the seat next to you. It smelled delicious—you wasted no time twisting your fork in the pasta and taking your first bite with a small piece of shrimp.

“This is amazing,” you breathed, “wow.”

“Thank you,” Zach nodded, “it's a recipe from my grandmother. It goes perfectly with the chardonnay.”

“It really does,” you said, taking another sip of the wine. “I’m actually not much of a wine drinker, but I do enjoy it occasionally with dinner.”

“I love it,” Zach smiled.

“So, I have a question,” you began. “What was it like working with my bosses?”

“Nelson and Murdock?” Zach questioned, “I didn’t work with them that closely. They weren’t even there that long. To be honest, they seemed a little too soft for this field.”

“Woah,” you said in defense, “these are my bosses you’re talking about—be careful, Zack,” you squinted your eyes playfully. Zach shrugged his shoulders, seemingly serious about what he was saying.

“Being a lawyer isn’t all about justice. I learned that the hard way,” Zach said, “it’s more than just lady justice and good vs. evil. It’s a business. You’ll learn that in law school.”

You didn’t agree with what he said. The whole point of the justice system was to serve justice—it’s not all business and it’s not all money.

“Maybe it’s business for Landman & Zack, but not for Nelson & Murdock,” you gently argued.

“That’s why our building is on Fifth Ave and yours is off a corner in the Kitchen,” he said rather smugly. Not wanting to push the matter further—clearly, there was some weird tension between Zach and your bosses--you smiled and took another bite of linguine.

After your next sip of wine, you placed the glass next to your plate, and there was something unsettling about the way the liquid splashed on the glass. You watched curiously as if in slow motion, as the cold wine splashed outside the wine glass and on the back of your hand. You felt an inclination to react, but you sat there, staring in confusion.

“You okay?” You heard Zach’s voice, which strangely sounded muffled. Were you drunk already, after only one and a half glasses in? You knew wine could have this effect on you—your wine drunk was different from your tequila drunk—but why were you such a lightweight tonight?

“Yeah,” you said or tried to say—your voice felt like it was a thousand miles away from you, and you were still staring at the glass and your hand covered in the sweet, sticky liquid. Did you even hear your voice? Were you going deaf? Where did this loud ringing sound come from?

You watched as Zach dabbed your hand with a napkin. You flinched at his touch and tried to bring your hand close to you, but it felt like it weighed a ton. You couldn’t move it. It was like when your arm fell asleep from sleeping on it wrong—not even a pinch you could feel. Your eyes fell to your shrimp linguine, which suddenly was nauseating to look at, even smell. The linguine noodles looked like a bowl of just yellow, with a few orange dots that tried to be shrimp. You shut your eyes, blinked really hard, and opened them to feel even more dizzy.

“Something’s not right,” you said weakly, so softly you weren’t even sure Zach heard you. Your tongue felt thick. Your heart started to pound, no, hammer in your chest—not a rapid beat from adrenaline, but an agonizingly slow and steady beat—you could hear it in your ears, your pulse, like a hammer was hitting your chest from the inside, telling you that something wasn’t right. An impending feeling of fear washed over you like an ice-cold wave, but at the same time, everything started to feel too hot.

“Let’s lay you down,” Zach’s muffled voice said. You tried to get up from the seat but even that was too difficult. You could barely hold onto the armchairs. Zach expertly got up and pulled your seat out, lifting you from behind. You stood on your feet but nearly fell over the table. Your glass of wine spilled across the table, the glass shattering into pieces. “Let’s lay you down,” he says again.

“I don’t feel good,” you slurred. It was the strangest thing you’ve ever felt, a mix of terror and confusion. You were still wondering how you ended up so drunk, and why you suddenly felt a strong urge to go home. You could barely walk, let alone stand. Zach was practically dragging you to the long, suede couch. And you’re not sure if you tripped, but you flung onto the couch and landed on your side, feeling your whole body weigh you down like you were made of sand bags. Your heart was still hammering slowly in your chest, and you felt like you were sinking. Sinking into doom, into fear, into an abyss you couldn’t crawl out of. Sinking in a dream you couldn’t wake up from.

The only way you could describe it was like being in the middle of a terrible, terrible nightmare—the worst you could think of—and just as things were about to get terrifying, just as whatever dream-maker had control over your dreams was going to commence the final act of doom, you think you will wake up to sweet relief and reality—except, the nightmare keeps going, and this is your reality. Tunnel vision now. You can barely see.

“You said you wanted to lay down,” Zach appeared over your head now, his once-blue eyes now beady as he looked down at you. His fingers felt meaty as they forced you to look up at him. You furrowed your brows—I wanted to lay down? I asked?—you tried to wipe your hair out of your face but an unpleasant grip took your wrist and threw it above your head. You felt heavy, numb, powerless.

“Shh,” Zach cooed in a sing-song voice, “it’s okay, you wanted this. Remember?” He’s leaning over you now, and you’re watching as he begins to unbutton your white shirt.

You don’t remember. You don’t remember how you ended up on the couch, and his voice made you turn your face and push into the soft velvet cushion, away from him, an attempt to escape. An attempt to have any kind of control. To hide.

And then suddenly, his body weight on top of you was gone, like an intense pressure on your chest immediately disappearing.

You looked at the soft, suede, tan-colored couch. The sort of color that reminds you of old peeling wallpaper in a doctor’s office; uninviting, ugly, yellow and dry. Before, the color of this couch was ordinary—but with your cheek pressed against it and you lying on your side, you see the color for what it is. Boring, ugly, and something you absolutely hate to look at. And you want to hold onto anything familiar in your mind—a familiar feeling, a familiar image, but you can’t. You’re breathing heavily, and your eyes feel like they weigh a ton. You struggle to keep them open but now the room looks like it's spinning from the way you lie—like a washing machine. You see a figure in black moving around before black is simply all you see.

Hell’s Kitchen 12 AM

The first thing you wake up to is your uncontrollable shaking. It reminds you of a time when you were in middle school and you came down with the flu. You remembered being wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants and socks, under thick blankets, and shivering like you were out in the cold. Your mom brought you chicken soup and your dad put on your favorite cartoon. There was a huge difference between then and now. You were shivering, but there wasn’t that familiar feeling of home. Only panic.

Your eyes shoot open and it takes you a moment to realize you’re not in a room you recognize—your eyes first land on dojo-type sliding doors, a soft glow coming behind them. You look around a little more, and there’s not much in the room except for a wooden armoire tucked in the corner and tiny windows in the front. Bright, neon lights shine through them before they disappear again. You shut your eyes once more. It’s then you realize you have an IV in your arm. A strange, tight pinch in the middle of your arm, on your most delicate skin.

You shoot up in bed, shaking, and your head pounding. The bed you were in must be king-size, covered in dark silk sheets. Black or dark blue, you couldn’t tell. You’ve never slept in silk sheets before. At the edge of the bed are more folded blankets, and you immediately grab them, desperate for some more warmth. Throwing them over yourself, you immediately lay back down, cautious of the IV in your arm. Your teeth started to clatter.

You’ve been wanting to avoid the only answer that brought you here. You didn’t even want to say his name, think of him, or that God-awful voice he used…

Tears welled in your eyes—you can’t remember much other than that. You don’t remember how it happened, all you know now was you were in bed, with an IV in your arm. Tears streamed down your face, and the familiar hammering heartbeat started in your chest again. It wasn’t from terror, but sadness. You felt so incredibly sad, and you didn’t know why. Your whole body felt weak and cold. Your chest felt heavy.

You jumped when you saw the dojo doors slide open slightly. Wiping your tears and holding your breath, you looked around nervously for a weapon to use against whoever stood behind the doors.

You felt immense relief and confusion when you saw your savior step into the room—his room, you concluded. It had been months since you’d seen him, the lightness that filled your chest was telling you—that you missed him, so much. But what strange circumstances were you in now?

“M-Mike?” God, even your voice was quivering and hard to mask. “What—you brought me here?”

He was silent in his movements, his face half covered and in his usual black outfit. You were relieved it was him but confused all the same. Did he know where you were? How? Did he save you?

Of course, he did.

“Yes,” he said, slowly walking over to you. You flinched, for some reason, like second nature as he got closer. He stopped in his movements and held up his hands. “It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said in a shaky voice, pulling your knees to your chest. “I don’t know why I flinched.“

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, more like a desperate plea. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he nodded, and you scooted over a little to give him room. The bed dipped when he sat down. You stayed in your fetal position, shaking. You wanted to reach up and touch him, but you were all too weak. “How do you feel?” He asked, even though he knew the answer was obvious.

“I can’t stop shaking like I have a fever,” you said. “My head is pounding. My throat is dry.”

“You do have a fever, but the IV is helping bring it down,” your savior explained softly.

“Did you hook me up to it?”

He shook his head. “No. A friend did.”

“Mike,” you whispered, “what happened to me?” Your voice cracked at your question, and your savior’s throat bobbed, like this was hard for him, too.

“Nothing happened to you,” he said softly. “I didn’t let him.”

“Did he… I felt like everything was fine and then suddenly I couldn’t walk. Did he slip my drink something?”

Your savior didn’t speak, he only nodded. “You’re experiencing the side effects now. It’ll be in your system for 12 hours, but the IV is flushing it out.”

“Oh my, God,” you cried, “oh my, God,” you cried into his silk pillow, feeling something tighten in your chest. You felt his warm hand on your shoulder, caressing your skin. You sobbed, hiccuping cries, and your savior stayed there, holding your arm.

“__,” he said your name after your cries softened. “You’re with me.”

You opened your eyes and wiped your tears, looking at your savior. Slowly drawing his hand away from you, he reached behind the back of his head and pulled his black mask loose. With his head down, he slowly drew it back and off his face, and you swore you couldn’t tell if you believed who you saw or if the drug's side effects were still in your system because you were looking at Matt Murdock right in his hazel-brown eyes.

_____

TAGS:

@starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock (please let me know if I missed you!)

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #marvel #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #blind faith #daredevil x reader #matt murdock imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil born again #foggy nelson #karen page

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

Helllooo, it's been a while since I've last graced your asks with my nasty thoughts 😂 I'm going back to the loml, Joshua, with this ask.

So there's a video of him going around saying "kaya mo yan, baby" and "you can do it, baby". Now the latter message is what I'm so obsess with because of HOW HE SAYS IT.

IMAGINE MEAN JOSHUA. LIKE I KNOW HE'S A GENTLEMAN BUT JUST IMAGINE MEAN JOSHUA.

You're shaking and your mind is no longer in the right place because of the fact that it has been your third time finishing for the night and it seems like Joshua doesn't have any plans on ending it there. You try to close your legs but Joshua uses both of his hands to keep them open. Before he brings his face close to your heat, he meets your eyes and says, "one last round. you can do it, baby."

Pairing: joshua x afab!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 950

Tags: e2l, perfect joshua, reporter!reader, oral (recieving), mean joshua, drabble

author note: hi im so tired, idk what i wrote, i was in a horny daze

Joshua knows how people see him. He donates to charity, is a spokesperson for his community’s youth, and damn well the most eligible bachelor for anyone’s child. He’s a role model in his community and perfect in bystanders' eyes. There isn’t an apparent thing wrong with him on paper. You thought that at first too, until you realized that facade that is.

You learned quickly that he loves to put on a show. He lets others see a side of him more appealing, family-friendly to put it in simple terms. It was when he got you alone he was someone else entirely different. He’s far from the rumors or what the local news stations report behind closed doors.

You would know being a low-scale town reporter, writing for one of the least popular chronicles around in these parts. Whether it was regarding the local dumpster fire of a diner’s rat infestation, or city hall’s totalitarianism in the works, you’d catch it with a flash of your camera or the scribble of your notepad. This week's latest was Joshua Hong: the town’s golden child. Well, he is not the golden child everyone believes him to be; you found that out rather quickly.

“That can’t be all you got.”

You were panting against the bed frame, forearm over your sweaty forehead and closed eyes in exhaustion, trying to recover from the several hours of exerting yourself in his submission. “S-shua, I can’t.”

“That’s not what you said when you said you’d beat me under any and all circumstances.”

That was your mistake for thinking you’d be right.

You took the first steps in gathering evidence, anything to point in the right direction. You thought you found it until he trailed after it. When you pushed, he pulled. When you took the road less traveled, he followed. He was somehow always a step ahead of you, and you despised him for it. He was playing dirty somehow, you felt it in your gut. He to have heard of your investigation. That meant he had eyes everywhere. It’s what kept him afloat.

“I overheard your convo with your little reporter buddies at Blueberry House Cafe yesterday. Is your pathetic little column embarrassing enough?”

He confronted your lurking finally at some point, given you took your time and energy to make it all the way to his house in doing so, and willingly let you inside strange enough. You clutch the messenger on your shoulder, staring at him straight on, breaking a bad sweat. He returns your glare, not so much of resentment or disdain, but almost one of interest.

You scoffed. “Yeah, then you also heard I hate your fucking guts.”

Being caught in the act didn't mean you’d back down, it mean you had to push harder.

“Well,” he trods to you methodically, staring down at you with unadulterated confidence, and leveling your gazes as he presses you up against the wall behind you. His breath was warm and candy apple scented, too tempting to ignore, “I’m about to rearrange your guts right now.”

You take a beat, falling back on the wall with matching the aloofness he exudes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Anything as long as it gets you begging for my mercy.” He deeply chuckles under his breath.

You should’ve been scared by the fact you were so close, infamous murderer or sex fiend, he could be on the news for something nefarious thanks to you. However, you succumb to your own internally hormonal desires, taking on the challenge of the very man you promise to expose.

“Then I’ll have it be under any and all circumstances that I’ll overcome it. Overcome you.”

“Baby…Cumming is all that you’ll be doing.”

And here you were eating your words and swallowing down his.

The man eats like a common animal, lapping up every drop in sight, coating his thick and wet tongue in your arousal skillfully. It made you clench your legs in desperation, begging for a minute of rest after he unwillingly retracts himself from you, his name burning on your tongue. He takes all the strength of his arms to pry you open, his girthy fingers and palms on either thigh to pull you apart.

Your throat runs dry, digging the back of your head into his pillows. “Three times,” you’d repeat.

“And what’s one more? Or two? Or five?” he chuckles to himself.

You whine, having hardly the energy to resist his advances. He grips you still, his face so close to your tired heat, that he basks in its familiarity, your release still fresh and seeping out of you like ambrosia. He meets your eyes, insatiably hungry.

"One last round. You can do it, baby."

Before you can fight it on its own last time, his tongue hits the taste of your warmth once more, dragging it in stripes, and sucking down your clit like he would a straw. Your fatigue eyes flutter and your voice soon embarrassingly relentless, moaning from the top of your lungs. His lips then attach to your core, blurring the boundaries of his mouth and your pussy, ultimately becoming one.

You wretchedly squirm in the process of your overstimulation, your stomach practically churning like a hot pot while your heart pounded in your ears. He loops his arms around your legs, and squeezes your thighs between his biceps, digging his tongue deep and flicking faster inside you. His ears perk at your violent groans, languidly moving his mouth to see how much louder you can really get, getting you to regret ever doubting him, ever underestimating.

“Have..mercy…” You gasp.

“That’s right,” He whispers tauntingly in your heat, “You’re at my mercy.”

#joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #seventeen smut #hong joshua smut #seventeen joshua #seventeen #joshua hong #hong joshua #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jisoo #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #hong joshua x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months

Note

omg hi-- can you do 89 for the writing prompts thingy? it made me almost laugh out loud at work & i think twould be very funny so !!<3

(also you are doing so good & i am loving what you're writing !!!!)

HI! This one is hilarious and I am so amused by the versions I've already read: 89. "YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"

Rated M | tags: mention of nude pictures, language, allusions to sex, this is borderline a crack ficlet because it's funny and absurd, modern au, rockstar eddie, corroded coffin guys

📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱📱

Steve hadn't moved from bed all morning, couldn't even try at this point.

He was a little sore from Eddie's homecoming last night, but that was to be expected when he'd been gone for a month.

But he could accomplish a lot in bed, even if Eddie had to go to some stupid meeting this morning with the band.

The photographic evidence of all the things he could accomplish were sent and Steve was just waiting for the hilarious emoji response that was sure to come.

But minutes went by and he got nothing.

Eddie had definitely seen the pictures, the little 'Read 10:06am' popup under the set of four images showing he'd seen them immediately.

By 10:15, Steve was sitting up in bed, biting his nails, a nervous habit he'd picked up during his senior year of college and hadn't been able to kick.

His phone started buzzing, Eddie's contact photo filling the screen.

"Eds?"

""YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"

"No, I sent you four pictures of me naked while you were in a work meeting," Steve replied, smirking to himself.

"And you didn't think that maybe that wasn't the best idea? That maybe someone sitting next to me, or two someones sitting next to me, might see these pictures? That thought didn't occur to you?" Eddie sounded mad.

Which was something Steve wasn't used to.

No matter what, Eddie was never mad at him. He'd never raised his voice, never ignored him on purpose, never done anything to show anger.

Except now.

Steve bit his lip, pulling the covers over himself and curling into a ball.

Eddie sighed.

Steve could picture him running a hand over his face, tugging on his hair, closing his eyes, all the things he did when he was stressed.

"You look beautiful, Stevie, okay? I'm just, I'm stressed and the meeting was really important and our producer saw them. He's such a creep, and then Jeff accidentally saw them when he heard my phone vibrate, and he won't even look at me now, and it's just not good timing."

Steve nodded to himself. He probably should have thought about that, but honestly, he was so high on having Eddie back, he didn't consider much of anything beyond showing off how his morning was going.

"I'm sorry, Eds."

Steve wasn't crying, it was clear that Eddie wasn't actually mad at him, but his voice still came out a bit broken, a bit sad.

"Sweetheart, I promise I'm not mad about it. I'm gonna be home soon and I'll show you just how much I loved the pictures, okay?"

"Okay." Steve smiled to himself. "Maybe we could take some new ones together?"

"What, and send them to Jeff? He might leave the band," Eddie joked.

Joking was good, it was their baseline. Steve could handle joking.

"As if he hasn't been sneaking looks at my ass for years."

"Hey!" Jeff's voice yelled in the background. "It happened, like, twice!"

Steve giggled.

"It's okay, bud, it's very distracting," Eddie said to Jeff. "Let me just grab some coffee with the guys and then I'll be home to take care of you."

Steve let out a moan, tried to hide it in his pillow.

Eddie wasn't mad, but Steve heard the tone of his voice, knew exactly how he'd be taken care of when Eddie got home.

"I was gonna get dressed and go to the store," Steve lied.

"You won't. You'll stay right there." A door closed as Eddie spoke and Steve knew he'd just found a room to talk to him privately. "You won't put any clothes on, and you'll stay in bed with your fingers keeping you ready for me just like in that third picture you sent me."

Steve was gonna scream.

"But I was gonna run errands..."

"You aren't going anywhere until I've made up for the last month. We'll have food delivered. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." The door opened. "Do you want me to bring you any coffee?"

Steve snorted. "Nope, I think you'll keep me awake just fine."

"Why do you even have him on speaker right now?" Gareth's voice said, faked annoyance in his tone.

"Because I have my hands full!"

"We know!" everyone yelled.

"Not like that!" Eddie yelled back. Then, "Okay, a little like that."

"See you soon, baby," Steve smiled into the phone. "Sorry about the pictures."

"You can say you're sorry when I get home," Eddie replied. "Love you."

"Love you too."

When Steve ended the call, he was sent a steady stream of texts:

Jeff: i swear i don't look at your ass. it's a nice one tho

Gareth: literally i don't wanna look at eddie anymore please make him come home now

Gareth: seriously please he doesn't need coffee he's already annoying

Grant: that's a good angle

Eds: be home soon 😉

An image came through a few seconds later, one that was clearly taken while he was talking to Steve, probably when he hid in a room.

It was just a dark shot of Eddie's crotch, pants unbuttoned and unzipped, showing absolutely nothing.

Steve shook his head and replied: you're not very good at this. love you though.

He would just have to show Eddie how to get a good angle for his next attempt at sending something suggestive.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #make me write #modern au

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gay-opossum-in-the-garbage · 22 days

Text

Heh…Birds

Pairing: Medic/Scout

Rating: T

Word count: 1196 words

Other tags:

Awkward Flirting, Medic being weird, Bird Attacks, Crushes, Not Beta Read, Brief Descriptions of Violence, Engineer showing up at the end, They're crushing on eachother, third person, crossposted on AO3

Medic spent his time in the RED base’s infirmary doing the most important thing he could be doing; spending time with his birds. The pure white doves that he himself had rescued from a Prime Minister’s wedding were his utter pride and joy.

Whether it was playing with them or cleaning the blood off of his favorite, Archimedes, that was when he felt happiest. Besides when he was on the battlefield of course, the glorious sight of blood gushing from his enemies couldn’t be topped.

Though, even then, the birds were always nearby. They would always fly out when he walked out the steel doors and into the conflict, Archimedes propped on his shoulder. He was always just as excited as his owner when they were splashed with a BLU’s blood and guts, that’s why he was Medic’s favorite.

But of course, the Medic loved all of his doves. Though, right now it was just Archimedes and another one of his doves, both perched on his shoulders, while he wiped down his bonesaw.

They had just returned from a successful battle with the BLUs, a quite bloody one at that, and Medic of course needed to keep his tools looking clean enough. How else would he be able to convince his teammates to let him do surgeries on them?

While he cleaned the weapon, his mind seemed to wonder off to where it usually went during these rare moments of quiet: the Scout. Those adorable buck teeth, his freckled face, and those thrilling shrill, high pitched screams of his.

He drifted back to the initial celebration they had when they had killed the last enemy merc. The hooping and hollering of his excited teammates were ignored as all of his attention was on Jeremy, the Scout.

He was congratulating himself, pointing with his steel bat while exclaiming how amazing he was and how many “suckers” he had killed. While many of his other teammates found this behavior annoying or childish (and maybe it was), Medic found it endearing.

Medic laughed to himself as he sidestepped and pulled the Scout into a side hug, Medic’s hand placed on Jermey’s left shoulder with Scout’s face pressed against the Medic’s bloodied chest. He yelled out a congratulation to the team before patting his shoulder and letting Jeremy go.

When they all dispersed to go to their areas for a much needed break, Medic caught a glimpse of the Scout rushing to his room. He was pushing the brim of his hat down to cover his reddened face that was nearly the same color as the small splotch of blood on his cheek, mumbling something to himself while watching his feet. Medic felt his heart flutter a bit as he watched him speed-walk away.

Medic sighed to himself, putting the saw down before hearing a scream ring through the building followed by the sound of many tiny wings beating as once.

He flew around to see the Scout fly through his doors while being tailed by five hungry birds.

“Medic! Get your damn birds dude!” Scout shrilled as he pointed at the flock of birds

Medic whistled and had his precious flock settle down on the table he was cleaning his tools on.

“Ah, I do apologize Scout. They can get quiet…excited when they see you,” Medic laughed as he helped the two other birds off his shoulders.

“Medic, you gotta get a control your birds man. I’m getting real sick and tired of getting scratched,” Scout said as hopped up on the examination table. This had happened three times already, Medic had to admit, but it wasn’t his fault his birds loved the Scout so much.

Scout WAS very scratched up, though the wounds weren’t too deep and could probably be healed relatively quickly.

“Oh do not worry Jeremy, I will have a stern talking to with them,” Medic laughed as he hoisted up his Medigun on his stand and turned on a low stream of Über directed at the Scout.

He pulled up a chair and sat, looking up at the still bloody face of the younger man. It seemed that he couldn’t get to his room quick enough to get the blood off his cheek before getting swarmed.

Medic stood up, grabbed the rag he was using to clean his tools, and pressed it into the Scout’s cheek, trying his best to clean his face with the bloodied cloth. Medic watched as Scout averted his eyes while his cheeks became a rosy pink.

Medic smiled to himself as he sat back down put the rag in his pocket. He clasped his hands together and rested his head on his hands, just staring.

Scout kept making quick glances at the Medic while twiddling his thumbs.

“Uh, Medic, don’t cha think that you could, you know, up the Über?”

“Now why would I do that? I don’t want to waste all of my precious Über on some scratches”

It didn’t actually save Über.

They continued to simply sit in silence, Scout’s face progressively getting hotter as his wounds slowly healed. Medic eventually, out of nowhere, scooted forward and grabbed Scout’s wrist to inspect his arm.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have amazing veins, Scout?” Medic smiled up at the other man.

“Uh…no?” Scout questioned.

“Did you know you have -O blood? That means are a universal donor”

“Uh, cool? I guess?”

“You should really let me draw some of your blood sometime. For the good of the team”

Due to the concerning amount of radioactive energy drinks the Scout drank, Medic questioned whether or not his blood would even be safe. He would have to test that next someone needed a transfusion.

But of course, he didn’t say it as a serious suggestion. In Medic’s mind, this was flirting, in Scout’s mind, this was a threat.

Even then, Scout still blushed while praying that the damn Medigun would heal him quicker. Medic let go of his wrist and simply watched him as the last of the cuts finally healed themselves.

He stood up and switched off the stream before getting a spare set of clothes for the Scout due to the ones he was wearing being shredded. Medic always kept a spare set of clothes for the Scout, just in case.

Scout had already jumped off the table, taking the clothes and making sure to keep his distance from the birds that seemed to eyeing him down.

“Well Scout, be safe, and watch out for birds,” Medic smiled as he patted Scout on the shoulder.

“Thanks, for the clothes and stuff. And control your birds!” Scout mumbled as he walked out the doors and down the hallway.

Medic watched him walk away, leaning on the doorframe and sighing to himself. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear the footsteps of the engineer behind him.

He was only alerted to his presence when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Doc, you gotta stop putting birdseed in that poor boy’s pockets,” Engineer frowned.

Medic simply giggled to himself. He definitely wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Not his fault that he loved him.

#fanfiction #this is probably a bit ooc #first time writing this pairing #mediscout #blunt trauma #quick fix #cross posted on ao3 #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 medic #tf2 scout

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 7 months

Text

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 1)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 1, 27 (details at bottom) Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships) Summary: Best friends Bradley and Jake arrive in a snowy forest for one of their monthly trips together. And now that everything is all set, it's time to let the fun begin... Word Count: 1523 TW: The warnings are in the tags and at the bottom of fic, but please avoid if possible due to spoilers Notes: This is the first part of a mini-series (linked below). I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @loverhymeswith and @lorecraft for all of your help!💕 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Series Masterlist

“Come on, man. I’m freezing my balls off out here.” Jake jams his hands into his jacket pockets as he bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, his breath pluming in front of his face. “Can’t we wait and do this during the day when it’s warmer?”

Pulling the Army surplus bag from the backseat of the pickup truck, Bradley rolls his eyes at his friend. “What, and increase the chances of someone stumbling across us? Don’t be stupid. Just be glad it’s a full moon so we can actually see what we’re doing. We don’t need a repeat of last time.”

“I told you we were starting too close to that cliff but, of course, no one ever listens to me,” Jake mutters under his breath, looking around the clearing. Then, louder, he says, “Can we at least build a fire or something? Just while we’re setting up or waiting for them to get here?”

“You know we can’t. Stop acting like this is our first time doing this and just help me already.”

But Jake ignores his request as he throws his hands up in the air. “Well, whose bright idea was it to do this where there’s snow? We could have planned a trip to Florida or Texas o-or California. You know, someplace warm where I can actually feel my fingers and the girls are still showing some skin. I swear, every person at that bar had at least four layers on and that one chick looked like the kid from A Christmas Story.”

Finally unable to put up with Jake’s whining any longer, Bradley hurls the bag at his feet. Jake scrambles back with a yelp, his eyes wide as he throws his hands over his face. But after a moment when he realizes the snow has cushioned the bag’s landing, he relaxes but glares at Bradley. “What the fuck, man?”

“First of all, dipshit,” Bradley says, stalking over to drive his finger into Jake’s chest. “It also snows in Texas and California. Second of all, we didn’t drive all the way to the middle of fucking nowhere just for you to drool over every pair of tits you see. You know the rules. No fucking random girls on these trips.”

“I wasn’t gonna fuck them. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little look—”

“And third of all, we decided to come up here because you were tired of the same old, same old, and proposed changing it up. You wanted more of a challenge than empty desert plains or summer mountainsides, so we said we would either try the snow or the swamp this time. But since you were too scared of gators—”

“I didn’t say scared, I said concerned—”

“Scared—we decided on snow. So if you have a problem, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Bradley jams his finger deeper into Jake’s chest before turning around and walking back to the truck. “Now, if you’re done complaining, we have work to do. And the sooner we get everything ready, the sooner we can have some fun.”

Jake swears under his breath, but this time he sulkily trudges over to help. Bradley gives him a small smile and a nod as he hands him another one of the bags. Jake could be a real pain in the ass when he wanted to be, but the two of them had been friends since the first day of college so Bradley had gotten used to it for the most part. And at the end of the day, there was no one else in the world he trusted more. Plus, with everything Bradley was dealing with at work and with his family, it was nice to be able to just get out in nature with his best friend and let off some steam every month or so.

And, despite the cold, this location is perfect. The moon reflects off the fresh snow illuminating the area and the pale trees surrounding them stand like silent guards as the two men unload their supplies. Twenty miles or so from the nearest town, it is the ideal place to set up camp with little chance of being disturbed.

Bradley closes his eyes and takes in the sounds of the forest around him: the rustle of the frosty wind, the soft creak of the trees as they shift and bend, the low hoot of an owl as it takes off somewhere in the distance. The only man-made noise that can be heard is the crunch of snow beneath Jake’s boots as he walks over to place his bag next to the one already lying on the ground. They couldn’t have asked for a better spot.

Though he wasn’t going to admit this to Jake at the moment, Bradley is excited at the prospect of trying this in the snow. For the past ten years or so, he and Jake and occasionally a few other friends had been organizing these trips. And while he still enjoyed each and every one of them, things had started feeling a bit repetitive. He wanted more of a challenge, an extra layer of excitement and thrill that he just wasn’t feeling anymore. And this feels like it might be just the thing to recapture that spark.

They haven’t even finished unloading the truck and already Bradley can feel a crackle of energy in the air that usually isn’t there. It’s as if the entire forest is holding its breath, just waiting in anticipation for the real event to begin.

And who was he to keep it waiting?

As Jake places the last bag on the pile, Bradley scans the surroundings one last time before giving it his nod of approval. “I think we’re good to go. We still have to wait for them to get here, but I don’t see why we can’t get things rolling until then.”

“It’s about fucking time!” Jake whoops loudly, charging over to the truck.

“Idiot,” Bradley mumbles softly to himself as he shakes his head, yet he can’t deny the adrenaline pounding in his veins at the thought of what comes next. He had been waiting almost two months to do this again, and now the time had finally come.

Jake runs over to the truck's left so Bradley takes his place on the right. As they both rest their hands on the massive metal toolbox in the back of the truck, Bradley catches Jake’s eye. The blonde is grinning like an idiot and practically vibrating with excitement. Bradley smiles back, and on the count of three, they both open their side of the toolbox.

As the winter air rushes into the box bringing the falling snow softly floating down inside of it, you begin to stir with a low moan. The drugs Jake had slipped in your drink must be beginning to wear off. You shift slightly in your cramped container but the ropes tightly securing your hands and bare feet prevent much more than that.

Bradley watches with rapt delight as you flinch at the cold kiss of snowflakes settling on your cheek and, with what seems like a great effort, your eyes drag themselves open. For a moment, you stare up at Bradley and he sees nothing but hazy confusion in your gaze. But as Jake comes around the truck to stand beside him, twirling one of his knives as he grins down at you, that delicious dread-filled look of terror blooms in your eyes and you begin thrashing around in the toolbox, pulling on your bonds.

So predictable, and yet, Bradley never got tired of it. The fear and helplessness that radiated from their prey was like a drug to him with a high that no other experience could match. Already, he feels the endorphins and dopamine rush flooding his system and he hasn’t even laid a finger on you yet. But once he had…

You begin hollering for help at the top of your lungs, the sound muffled slightly by the wonderland of snow all around you. It’s an understandable response and one that each and every girl they had captured over the years had tried. However, this time something is different. This time there are no tears or sobs mixed in with the screams. There is still fear, yes, but along with it is a determination, a fire they had only ever seen in a handful of prey.

Jake chuckles and nudges Bradley, his knife spinning faster as he soaks in the screams that only the two of them will ever hear. Bradley nods back, knowing they are thinking the same thing. This one is special. This is going to be a hunt to remember.

Several minutes later as your voice grows hoarse and falters with the realization that no one is coming for you, you curl into yourself as much as the box will allow—as if that could save you from them.

Climbing up the side of the truck so he towers over you, Bradley smiles, his eyes roaming every inch of your body. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?”

Part 2 coming soon!

TW: Dark!Bradley, Dark!Jake, Locked Away, Drugged, Explicit Language, Hunted for Sport, Mentions of Past Kidnappings

Taglist: @green-socks, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @wanderdreamer, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @footprintsinthesxn, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @clancycucumber230, @mayhemmanaged, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @sunlightmurdock, @roosterbruiser, @sparrows-corner, @ryebecca, @mads-weasley, @trencher4lyfe, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @tellrock35, @shanimallina87, @mak-32, @blue-aconite, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @desert-fern, @withahappyrefrain

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maochira · 1 year

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(omg u can ignore this if u want i just wanted to interact with another fellow Dad! Ego enthusiast)

Just thinking about Dad! Ego and how he distances himself away from his child constantly due to Blue Lock and is always ignoring them and then the child has enough. Once Dad Ego has time to start spending time with his child again, they start purposefully being aloof and ignoring him to give him a taste of his own medicine and maybe even considering someone else as their father figure (Noel Noa… 👀). A whole punch to the stomach—

Like imagine how confused and hurt he’d be like ‘why is my child avoiding me?’

I actually got a super similar request like this last week!! Just haven't gotten around to writing it,, so before I let this one get drowned in my inbox, I'm doing it immediately after seeing the notification LMAO (also to the other anon who requested something similar, I'll write that later or tomorrow <3)

Requests open! - dad!Ego masterlist - regular masterlist

Tags: gn!Ego's child!reader, reader is a teenager, for logic purposes Ego is a bit older and I guess Noa as well?, a bit (a lot) of angst you guys know what I like to write

-during the entirety of the first until the third selection, up until the beginning of the Neo Egoist League, Ego was busy all the time. He never took any time off to spend with you and would send you away if you asked to talk to him

-that led to him neglecting you and not being there for you when you needed him. He also stopped telling you he was proud of your achievements and in general, he just became very emotionally absent towards you

-Ego was so focused on Blue Lock, he didn't notice how much damage that did to you

-when the Neo Egoist League started, Ego finally less work to do because the other coaches would be the ones occupied with the players instead. Sure, Ego still had work to do. But it became significantly less than before

-and out of nowhere, he tried being the nice and caring father he was prior to Blue Lock again. But you were scared of him switching back to only focusing on Blue Lock again, so out of self-protection to not get hurt like that another time, you were cold and absent towards your father

-it confused Ego, and he really tried putting more effort into you. But you were too emotionally absent towards him to give him another chance

-to improve your own soccer skills, you often joined Bastard München's training, and that's how you got somewhat close to Noa

-occasionally you were alone with Noa, and that's when he would ask you questions about your father. It doesn't take long until you open up about the way you've been neglected by Ego for the past months

-Noa doesn't really know what to think about that, but he has some sort of parental instinct that wants to be there for you

-Noa becomes a father figure to you. He's careful to not act like an actual father, but he does treat you more gently than he treats the Bastard München team

-after a few weeks, Ego sits down with you to properly talk about what's been going on. He intended it to be a calm conversation to fix things, but it escalated into a huge argument

-you and Ego have never had an argument as big as this before. But all the bottled-up frustration and pain inside of you is just too much to keep in now

-it's something you definitely regret at some point later, but you yell at Ego about how Noa is a much better father than he's been in the past month. And sure, in some way that's true, but Noa never intended to take a proper father-role for you

-hearing that is like a punch to the gut to Ego. He yells back at you, but not for long. After that he actually can't handle looking at you anymore, so he sends you to your room

-Ego thinks more about the way the last months had been. And he realizes you're right. And he also realizes the part about Noa is probably right as well. He hates himself for failing as a father like this, but he has no idea how to fix this

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fortheloveofbuddie · 8 months

Text

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by the lovely @watchyourbuck 💗

Didn’t quite make it for Friday but anyway here’s my first ever attempt at posting some of my writing ahhh

Also I apologize for any typos lol, I have not read it through ✌🏻

Eddie was barely awake when his phone vibrated on the night stand right next to his head, casting a blue hue onto the ceiling.

He normally put it on silent during the night but this night was different. He had had an argument with Buck a few days ago and they hadn’t made amends. So he didn’t want to miss a single opportunity to talk to him.

2:47 AM

“Really?” Eddie mumbled to himself and put his phone in front of his face, the words on the screen fading into one another the longer that he looked at them.

His eyes started to slowly close again but shot open as his phone vibrated once more. And again. And again.

6 unread messages

Eddie sat up further in the bed, trying to make sense of Buck’s texts that mostly just looked like he had typed while almost dropping his phone. Or had it in his back-pocket. Or a combination of the two.

Rubbing his eyes made the words or at least, letters, in front of Eddie become clearer by the second and by his third, possibly fourth re-read, Buck’s messages started to make sense. It wasn’t Eddie’s first time decoding Buck’s drunken texts.

I know that it was my fault

I’m sorry

I was wrong

Eddie don’t answer now

I need to say this

I love you

The last message was the only one without any spelling errors and it was like Eddie’s heart stopped in his chest, his mouth dried up and his phone suddenly weighed the same as a brick, his palms dropping to his thighs. He lifted the phone back up to his face, thinking that the words on the screen might have changed since then.

I love you

They had said it before but that was before they got together and it just held so much more meaning now. Yet the first time that Buck told him this was in a drunken haze and suddenly it didn’t feel that great anymore.

So he left the messages unanswered. Read but unanswered. He crawled back under his duvet but wasn’t able to sleep.

I love you too, Buck

The words were typed out, staring him right back in the face, almost provoking him to do it. Not like this.

He didn’t remember falling asleep but he was woken up by knocking on the front door. It became more and more persistent when he tried to ignore it.

Eddie got out of bed and pulled on a shirt, his head heavy after tossing and turning all night.

He unlocked the door and right as he was about to open it, someone in the hallway pushed it open and Buck stood in front of him with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Buck” Eddie breathed out like he wasn’t expecting to see him and the well of feelings that had come over in him in the night hit him like a wave. He swallowed harshly and took a step backwards into the living room, letting Buck walk past him. Eddie crossed his arms firmly across his chest, letting his eyes wander over Buck’s body and face.

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to use my key or not” Buck smiled briefly and held the key out in his hand before placing it back in his pocket.

“No, it’s fine” Eddie said, nodding slightly before he dropped his arms to his sides and walked into the kitchen.

Buck was freshly showered, the scent of his cologne following him like this delicious smelling cloud that Eddie couldn’t help but to discreetly inhale. He could never get enough of that. Buck’s baby blue eyes were however glassy and somber, now showing how he truly felt as he stepped closer to Eddie.

“You left me on read” Buck stated as he leaned against a counter, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Yes” Once again, Eddie’s voice sounded harsher than he intended for it to be but he also couldn’t help it. “I did” He continued, leaning against the counter opposite Buck.

“I’m sorry. For all of it. I shouldn’t have said what I did the other day, it was out of line. And last night, I shouldn’t have..” Buck hesitated as he caught Eddie’s eyes with his.

The pause in Buck’s sentence didn’t help the uneasy feeling that Eddie had in his stomach and he rubbed his hands across his face to hide how it was affecting him. The only problem with that was that Buck knew him well enough to know why he was acting like that.

Buck took a few more cautious steps towards Eddie, closing the distance between them by gently placing his hands on Eddie’s hips, watching for a reaction and when Eddie didn’t move, neither did he.

“Eddie, what I said last night, I shouldn’t have written that in a text. I don’t want you to think that I only said it to end an argument because that’s not why. I said it because you make my life better. I said it because the way that I feel for you, I don’t and have never felt for someone else. Because you help me heal. In here” Buck took Eddie’s hand and placed it above his heart, Eddie keeping it steady there.

Eddie dropped his hand and moved it under Buck’s shirt, tracing the soft skin right above his hipbone. His heart was pounding against his ribs and he was almost convinced that Buck was able to hear each individual beat.

“You left me on read” Buck chuckled lightly, the tension between them slowly becoming less tangible as Eddie finally dared to make eye contact with the man in front of him.

His boyfriend. The man that he loves.

“I did” Eddie confirmed once again and Buck wrapped his arms around the back of Eddie’s neck, letting their chest touch against one another and Eddie knew that Buck would have to be able to feel his heart racing like crazy. And he was right. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before Buck glanced down between them and then back into Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie felt his cheeks slowly becoming heated and he leaned slightly away from Buck but it was too late.

“I just..” The words got caught in the back of Eddie’s mouth and he had to close his eyes briefly to compose himself. Buck closed the distance between them once again by planting a gentle kiss on Eddie’s pink lips, it was so gentle that it almost tickled instead of anything else.

Eddie ran his hands over Buck’s back, let them move across his shoulders and up to the back of his neck, his fingertips touching the soft curls that he loved so much. He kissed Buck a bit more firmly and when they broke apart, Buck’s eyes were looking softly back at him.

“Eddie?” Buck said, now feeling his pulse rise too.

“Yes?” Eddie replied, watching Buck’s body language change, his shoulders tensing slightly as he got nervous.

“I love you” Buck’s voice was filled with joy and nothing but confidence radiated on his face as he finally spoke. He loves Eddie Diaz. He loves him so much that it makes his entire body ache for more all the time. He loves him so much that he’s almost scared to say it out loud.

“I love you too, Buck. You have no idea how much” Eddie eventually said as he got over the initial shock of hearing it for the first time instead of just reading it on a screen. He loves Evan Buckley and every fiber of his being.

Tagging: @buckleyobsessed @eddiediaztho @buckleydiaz @belovedbuddie @barbiediaz @cinematics123 @buddiex 💗 (lemme know if you don’t wanna be tagged in the future)

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