#a lot of this fic was me being like 'what if i took the stock 2012 valvert fanfic tropes. but instead its the brick characterizations' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheollipop · 8 months

Note

congrats on 2k!!!! we love to see it 🌟

for the sleepover event hard/soft hours, all i’ll say is that soft dom sugar daddy (no daddy kink) seungcheol and jeonghan live in my mind rent free

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

what a lovely thought! ^^ *gripping the edge of my desk*.... no fr though, the idea of seungcheol wanting his pretty baby to model the gift he'd bought her for him,,, and jeonghan making sure to tease the both of them despite being hella turned on himself,,, ngh (had to bring out some pictures for this one grr). I ended up making cheol a lot whinier than I intended to, but sjkrbsbnlrk so yeah. also, I need to stop making drabbles fic-sized. no wonder it's taking me ages to get through these asks :"" happy reading~

pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader x yoon jeonghan

w.c.: 1.7k

tags: smut, older!jeongcheol, fingering (f), dry humping, lingerie kink, creampie kink, body worship (kind of?), idk but cheol is WHIPPED, and whiny, jeonghan's a menace (canon), nicknames/pet names

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Seungcheol dragged his finger over the sheer, lace cups, tracing over the slope of your breasts and up your decolletage, using the silky strap as his guide. You leaned into his touch, then back when you strayed too far from the warmth of the chest behind you. Jeonghan exhaled a soft breath onto the side of your neck, pressing his lips to your racing pulse point while Seungcheol’s hands continued exploring your exposed skin.

“Fuck, baby,” the older man’s eyes wandered up and down your body, stepping back to get a better view of the garter belt hugging your hips, the matching stockings digging into the plush of your thighs. “I’ll buy you anything you like if you keep modelling them for us like this. Will our good girl do that for us?”

You nodded enthusiastically, a breathy moan leaving your parted lips when Jeonghan tugged you back against him, but your focus quickly shifted back to the man in front of you, his eyes taking in the perked-up nipples pushing into the inelastic fabric. “Anything for you, I’ll be so good…”

“You always are, aren’t you, my darling? Always so good for us,” Seungcheol took a step closer to you again to trap you between the two firm bodies. He was never good at keeping his distance from you. “Can my pretty baby give me a twirl? Show me just how good my gift looks on her?”

The body heat was nearly dizzying, and the fingers that were previously teasing around your slit were now deep within you, pumping the slick that had been leaking out back into your needy cunt. You whined when Seungcheol restated his question, even stepping back to offer you the space to fulfil his request. But Jeonghan didn’t relent, smirking against the skin he’d been busy painting with bright splotches of purple and red, all while his fingers curled into your g-spot.

“Cheol, c-can’t,” you managed, your voice rising in pitch to pair with the loud squelch of your pussy, sending a wave of arousal straight down to his core.

And once again, Seungcheol failed to stay away. Holding your face with both hands, he pushed himself close enough to see the forming wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, close enough to feel his hardening cock pressing into your hip. Trapped within the confines of his luxury dress pants, he rutted the prominent bulge against the thin lace, locking his eyes onto yours while you melted into Jeonghan’s touch, fingers relentless as he pounded them into your tight heat.

“Let me have her. Fuck, please, I need to fuck her right now,” Seungcheol was firm, but the syllables elongated into a desperate whine which fed the younger’s ego. “Jeonghan-”

“Not until she comes,” he peered at Seungcheol over your shoulder, the glimmer in his eyes enough to elicit a protesting huff from the older man’s pouty lips. Pushing the lace at your crotch farther to the side, Jeonghan’s fingers sunk fully inside you, emerging back to shallowly thrust into your swollen gland. He leaned closer to your ear, hot air blowing over the shell while he whispered, “You know how fast Cheol can come when he’s like this. You might need to hurry if you want him to fuck you full.”

The drag of a zipper caught your attention, Seungcheol’s cock now pressing into your skin with one less layer separating you. Angling your head downwards, you eyed the darkened spot where his cockhead would be, mouth salivating at the memory of the tangy flavour on your tongue. One hand slid off your face to grope at your tits, pushing one into the other before releasing it to watch it bounce, his free fingers gripping your jaw to bring your gaze back to his face. A pretty pink painted his round cheeks, stray strands falling from the gelled-back fringe to paste onto his damp forehead, and his eyes—lidded with pleasure and lust—losing their domineering guise to make way for true want.

“My good girl can do that, right? Come for Cheol? Make a mess on Hannie’s fingers for him?” The gravelly tone made you shudder, and your hands slid up his abdomen to grab onto his blazer’s lapel.

You nodded frantically, walls clenching around Jeonghan’s fingers and bringing out an amused chuckle from his lips. “Want you to fuck me after, please. Please, ‘wanna be so full of you,” you whispered, loud enough for both men to hear.

With a throaty growl, Seungcheol’s palm landed on your barely-covered ass, grabbing the reddening flesh to push you further into his body. “Fucking hurry, Jeonghannie.”

The corner of Jeonghan’s lips curled at his impatience, seemingly needier than you were. Leaning his head against yours, the rapid pace he’d been keeping up slowing into long, deep thrusts into your sopping cunt. “Oh? Is Cheollie that desperate to get his dick wet?”

Seungcheol’s breath quickened, rutting his cock into your skin while he stared down the younger man.

“Hannie, please, ‘wanna come,” you muttered, but when you twisted your head to gauge his expression, you recognized the playfulness in the small quirk of his eyebrow, his gaze fixed on the other man’s.

He wanted to hear him say it, and Seungcheol knew that. On any other day, he would’ve fought back, remaining silent to bore the man out of his own game. But today? With the expensive lace he’d splurged on hugging your curves, your thighs rubbing against each other while Jeonghan’s skilled fingers purposefully missed your favourite spot. He couldn’t help himself, his cock twitching in need, begging to be engulfed within your heat.

“Our baby’s been so good for us, hasn’t she?” Jeonghan’s lips pressed a fleeting kiss to the side of your neck, remaining there while his eyes met Seungcheol’s again, stretching into a coy smile while he spoke, “What about you? How good will you be?”

Seungcheol’s gaze lowered—perhaps in timidness, or shame—and he mumbled under his breath, snapping his focus back up to the other man when he clicked his tongue as a warning. “I’ll be good,” he repeated, audibly this time. “So good. Please, just make her come,” he breathed out, back to rolling his hips to seek some reprieve.

“Was that so hard?”

Seungcheol ignored Jeonghan’s teasing, fixating on the haziness clouding your eyes, glistening teeth peeking out between your parted lips, soft exhales blowing over his skin and the muscles of your abdomen contracting under his palm as Jeonghan returned to his previous rhythm, fucking his fingers into you with purpose. He built you back up to your high, your nerves on fire as he speedily guided you towards the edge, free arm wrapping around your waist so his hand could dip into the front of your panties.

“Fuck, s-so close,” your fingers gripped the expensive material of Seungcheol’s tie, breathing in the exhales leaving his spit-soaked mouth before he closed the gap between your lips.

Tongue running over the roof of your mouth, grazing your front teeth, he pulled back slightly when the oxygen in his lungs ran out, the brimming arousal sending waves of burning heat throughout his body and leaving him breathless. You breathed in the same air, so close your lips brushed against each other while Jeonghan fingered you to completion, collecting the slick oozing out of your stretched hole to draw circles over your clit, and you could feel Seungcheol’s hard length throbbing against you as it painted a streak of precum under your bellybutton.

Both men held onto your waist when your orgasm finally rushed through you, your thighs shaking violently while Jeonghan continued to fuck into your clenching cunt, swearing under his breath as hot streams of your arousal trickled down his fingers to his bent wrist. “There we go, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, easing his merciless pace when your hips jerked away from his touch. “Our pretty girl, so beautiful when she comes,” he slipped his fingers out of your fluttering pussy, tapping them over your clit once, twice, watching you startle and whimper before pulling away.

You craned your neck to plant a soft kiss onto his lips, and he placed another on the corner of your mouth before Seungcheol’s hand pulled your jaw away from him. You faced the front once again, met with burning irises staring right back at you, and you were reminded of the heavy member still grinding against your lower belly.

“Cheollie’s been good, hasn’t he, darling?”

You nodded, slowly processing Jeonghan’s words as you recovered from your high.

“I’ve been so good,” Seungcheol echoed, strong arms snaking around your waist to pull you away from the man behind you. He pressed his forehead to yours, the wrinkles by his eyes prominent as the discomfort of going untouched for so long caught up with him. “Fuck, baby. Can’t wait to have you, ‘need you full of my cum,” he rambled, pressing kisses to your browbone and down to your eyelids, moving to the side until he reached your temple, staring past your shoulder at the man behind you.

He left his hands to wander your body, squeezing your ass and spreading you open, slamming his palm down onto the soft skin in which he plans to bury himself into, all while his eyes remained on Jeonghan, taking in the grey hair he didn’t bother with concealing, plump lips parted while his tongue glided over them, Seungcheol’s gaze following the motion. Noting the distinct tenting in his branded pants, Seungcheol’s fingers tickled up your spine to toy with your bra strap, pulling it away from your heated skin and letting go, taking in how Jeonghan’s eyes leave his to watch the goosebumps rising on your body at his touch, how you jerk at the sudden pain, but don’t ask for it to stop. Seungcheol’s lips grazed the shell of your ear, a shiver shaking your body as his honeyed tone caressed the cartilage,

“Gonna make a mess out of you, leave your pretty pussy dripping with Cheol’s cum,” his eyes flicked up to meet Jeonghan’s, “we both know just how much Hannie loves cleaning you up.”

#panda's 2k sleepover o(≧▽≦)o #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol imagines #yoon jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Note

I searched for Feysand x reader all over tumblr and you were one of the top creators so I looked around and fell into the rabbit hole of masterlists… I’ve been on your page for hours now and i’m not tired at all.

And I saw your request were open and i’m so happy bc I wanted to ask if i could request feysand x reader where feyre and reader are pregnant at the same time. Like we all know how protective rhys was in the books, now imagine two mates at the same time. Like his instincts wouldn’t let anyone too close to them bc his mates are in vulnerable situations. Maybe someone like Beron or Tamlin jokes around and Rhys doesn’t handle it well or smth plssss🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Double Trouble

Feysand x reader

A/n: omg thank you 😭😭 I get nervous that I write too much and that ppl will get sick of me lol. So thank you for reading my fics 💕

Warnings: Tamlin being a douche

Rhys has been more paranoid since you and Feyre both started showing. The revelation of both you being pregnant excited and frightened him at the same time. Causing his over protective mate instincts to kick in. The two of you had tried to get him to rest knowing he had a High Lords meeting coming. But the stubborn male insisted he was fine.

A few times when you got up to pee in the middle of the night - a new routine thanks to your pregnancy - you found Rhys wide awake. He would watch over you and Feyre like a hawk until he fell asleep sitting up.

Yesterday Rhys had insisted he could skip the meeting and just stay with the two of you. It was a day long battle for a compromise. “Rhysand. We will be fine here with Amren watching over us and Nyx.” Feyre said sternly as Rhys came to tell you he changed his mind about your plans, again.

He shook his head vehemently, “Nope. I need to be here.” You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your mate to go away. “What will it take to get you to go to this meeting?” You sighed out.

Feyre perked up, wiggling her fingers, “Oh, I have an idea! What if we come with you. Helion can have a room for us, Cass, Az, and Mor will be there, it’ll be so easy.”

You could tell Rhys was considering it from the pensive look on his face. And he didn’t immediately shut Feyre down.

He nodded, mumbling out ‘I’ll think about it’ before heading back to his office.

You shoot Feyre a knowing look, “You just want those bonbons Helion gets.” “Yes! I’ve been craving them for months. And I want them fresh, not in a box.”

Snuggling up next to your mate on the couch you place a hand on her bump. Feyre does the same to you, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t blame you,” you giggle out, “I’m happy I get to experience this with you Fey. Even if Rhys is being a mother hen.” She lightly pecked your lips. “Me too y/n/n. I love you”

———

Thankfully Rhys had agreed to you two coming along to the Day Court and you’d spend the night. Winnowing took a lot of energy from you and Feyre, so Rhys was adamant about you two resting as much as possible.

Before leaving you all gave Nyx hugs and kisses. He would stay with Elain and Nesta while you were gone. He hated when you left but enjoyed his time with Aunty Lain.

Winnowing to the Day palace Helion was waiting to greet you. “You’re the first to arrive.” He said cheerfully. The two High Lords shook hands as Helion guided your little group inside. Cassian offered his arm to Feyre while Az offered you his.

“I set up a very comfortable room for you two to relax in. No meeting for you, I’m sure there’s enough stressful things around you these days.” He says, eyeing Rhys. “Thank you Helion.” You say sweetly. “And you got our snack requests?” Feyre asks.

Helion throws his head back, laughing at her blunt question. “Of course I did. You’ll find you are well stocked on any foods your hearts desire.” You and Feyre smile at each other knowing you’re about to have the best snack and relax sesh.

You walked Rhys to the meeting room, like you promised, before leaving him. He takes one of your hands in his, giving you both a loving look. “Do you need anything? What can I do for you before everyone gets here?” “Nothing my love.” Feyre says softly. You bring a hand up to caress his cheek, “We’re just fine baby. You focus, do your thing and help Prythian, yeah?”

He gives you and Feyre a quick kiss before Helion’s personal guard escorts you to your rooms.

Opening the door your senses are overwhelmed by the scent of the sweet treats spread out for you. You and Feyre look at each other licking your lips in excitement. You wasted no time sprawling out on the lounges, digging into whatever was in arms reach.

Hours later Rhys, Cass, Az, and Mor joined you. Rhys was overjoyed to see you two after being separated. “You should’ve seen him when Kal asked where you were. He snarled.” Cassian teases as Rhys nudges his way to sit between you and Feyre. “I did not.”

Mor rushed over to you, lightly placing a hand on each of your bellies. “How are both Mor juniors doing.” You giggle at the blonde, “They have been perfect little angels.”

“No discomfort, extreme fatigue, or -“ “Rhys, we were fine.” Feyre cuts him off. He seems to relax at that. The tension in his shoulders loosening as he bats Mor away so he can feel the babes kick. Rhys lets out a breathy laugh as little feet push against his palms. “Hi angels, did you miss daddy?” Two more kicks in response.

The babes love the sound of Rhys’s voice. Like with Nyx, he talks to them every night. It doesn’t matter if you and Feyre are awake or asleep, he will always make time for the babes.

“Don’t forget,” Azriel speaks up from his spot in an armchair. He’s picking at a bowl of chocolates you hadn’t gotten to yet. “We have dinner in about an hour with everyone.” Rhys wasn’t pleased by the reminder. Something tells you that he was never going to tell you and Feyre about dinner.

Feyre stands, pulling you with her. “We will go get ready then.” She says happily.

You exit the bedroom with a few minutes to spare. Feyre chose a glittering black dress that hung off her shoulders. She decided to leave her crown behind for the night, putting her hair half up with small braids meeting in the middle.

You had decided on a midnight blue dress specked with pearls. The flowing fabric on both your dresses not hiding the fact that you’re pregnant. Rhys eyed the two of with lust sparkling in those iridescent violet irises.

He offers you each an arm to walk down to dinner. Rhys walks at slow pace for the two of you. When Feyre noticed she rolled her eyes and you both pulled him along. When the six of you enter the grand dining room you feel eyes on you. Thankfully not autumn ones. Azriel told you Beron and his court left after the meeting was over. Very typical of Beron to come and complain then leave, making no effort to improve court relations.

Viviane and Thesan shriek in excitement at the sight of you. “Congratulations! How did I not know?” She said excitedly. “When are you due?” Thesan asks immediately after her. The pair continue their onslaught of questions as you answered before the next question came up.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Tamlin tensing. Clearly unhappy about the topic of conversation. Feyre and Rhys caught on to his unhappiness as well. Feyre tried to change the topic, asking Thesan about how things were going with his lover.

Tamlin and Rhys made uncomfortable eye contact. The males looked like they were about to jump across the table at each other. Rhys pulled your chair closer to him so you’d be away from Tamlin. He was across the table diagonal from you. It’s not like you were that close him but if it made Rhys feel better.

“Do you have something you’d like to say, Tamlin?” Rhys snapped. The High Lord of Spring scoffs, a wicked smirk on his face. “Well I just think it quite odd they’re both pregnant. Why on earth would you want two more.”

Everyone stopped speaking, looking anywhere but at them. Even you and Feyre looked at the table. You could tell she was fuming about Tamlin’s joking tone. “Is that an insult about my son? Or perhaps you’re angry about your situation. If you need to talk about it I’m sure you can find someone who will listen.” Rhys gave him a fake smile and went back to his meal.

Conversation slowly started up again. Tamlin excused himself, only saying goodbye to Helion before stepping out into the hallway to winnow home.

Once back in your rooms for the evening Rhys had you and Feyre cuddled up on either side of him. “Thank you for standing up for our family.” Feyre whispered. “I always will darling. You’re the most important people in the whole world to me.”

You let out a yawn and snuggle close to Rhys. “Let’s get some sleep. This little angel is kicking me for some shut eye.” “This one too.” Feyre yawns out. “Awww, I’m sorry I’m keeping your mommy’s up.” Rhys whispers. He kisses both of your bumps as you drift off.

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readychilledwine · 3 months

Text

Pet Play

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

If you like total power play exchanges, welcome to the world of Pets.

Pet Play is a type of power exchange, typically a total power exchange, between a dom and sub. Your dom in these situations typically falls into 1 of 4 categories: owner, master, trainer, or alpha-pet. There are a variety of different roles the subs can take, but the most common are puppy play, kitten play, bunny play, or horse play, and each type of pet play tends to lead to different forms kink mix ins, how play is handled, and what role the dom falls into.

In pet play, a variety of kinks can be mixed in, such as bondage, degradation/humiliation, punishment, praise, and reward. It also isn't uncommon to see food play, breath play, and collar and leashing (a kink we will dive deeper into with Hunt) as well. Pets will have a variety of outfits based on their moods, from full latex hound masks to something as simple as a pair of bunny ears, subs get to decide how deep into play they are before handing over their submission.

One consistent with pet play from everyone I've asked in the community is tails and ears, especially in bunny play, which won the poll post. Bunny play is known to be a gentle form of pet play typically done with a submissive who enjoys praise, cuddles, and more of a gentle interaction but enjoys being "fucked stupid like a dumb little bunny." And let me tell ya, hearing that come out of the doms mouth has me sweating.

I hope any of you who partake in pet play enjoy this fic, and those of you who don't still enjoy Eris and reader banging it out. This is a type of play I've always found interesting but never tried, so I did a lot of digging and talking to my friends and people in the BDSM community who do partake

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - degradation and de.... defaeitazation of reader, reader sleeps in a cage, bondage, tailplug, smut

The growl that left Eris was primal and dark as he made eye contact with you. You sat in your little cage on your calves, wiggling with anticipation. "Did you get out and get dressed all pretty for me, baby?" You only smiled waiting for him to open the gate and let you out despite the fact that you could, and clearly had.

During his meeting with his father, you changed out of the pink lace babydoll you had been wearing and into a tight white corset with white lace panties and stockings. You had put in your bunny ears after curling and putting your hair in low pigtails. Eris knew there was a fluffy little tail waiting for him in those crotchless panties.

This was his favorite bunny outfit you owned. You wore it on nights when you knew Eris needed two things:

1) a submissive sweet little bunny to love and cuddle.

2) a sweet little bunny who loved nothing more than himself cock pounding into her until she couldn't think.

He picked up the collar and leash, bending his knees to be eye level with you, and opened the gate. He secured the collar around you, kissing you gently before standing and walking. You stayed on all fours, following him while looking up to him and waiting for commands. Eris settling into the sofa, coiling the leash around his hand a few times before yanking you between his legs.

His cock was already straining and leaking in his pants. Your submission alone was enough for Eris, but the outfit, the trust in him, that really got the heir.

He felt you kissing and mouthing at his pants, already aching for him. "Gods, you are a desperate little thing, aren't you? My sweet little bunny with not a single thought in her head but my cock, isn't that right?"

He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to nod while he smirked. "The big question is, do I pamper my little bunny tonight, or fuck her?" You didn't let the whine escape, continuing to look at him with wide desperate eyes. He chuckled darkly. "You should have thought about it harder when you agreed to no noises or speaking until I gave permission, huh?"

You didn't nod, blinking twice at him and wiggling again. You were shamelessly and completely soaked, mind falling into that pretty petspace as you waited for play to begin.

He began unlacing his pants, pulling them down enough for his waiting cock to spring free. He yanked the leash again, forcing your face against his length. "Well? Go head, bunny. Master doesn't have all night."

You wasted no time. You ran your tongue up his length before taking it into your mouth. Eris used the leash to guide your speed as you bobbed up and down, sucking and licking as you went. You smiled when he released a loud groan, head falling back to the couch and relaxed. You began using a hand to work what wasn't in your mouth, pumping and twisting in time.

You could taste his precum, causing a soft whine to leave your throat and your thighs to press together for friction. Eris looked down at you through his lashes before putting his leg between your thighs. "That's all you get until I say so, bunny. If you want to get off, there's your treat for being good."

It would have been more humiliating as you rolled your hips along his boot and shin, relishing in that much needed stimulation, but you couldn't find it in you to feel shame. Eris was moaning above you again, sighing in bliss as you picked up pace, needing more of his taste in your mouth.

You had soaked through his pants, moaning softly as you brought both of you closer and closer to the edge. He pulled your mouth down onto him all the way unexpectedly and came, releasing into your mouth for a few moments before pushing you back and working his cock to shoot the rest of his cum onto your tits and face.

He leaned back again, looking between you and his leg slightly annoyed. "Did I say stop, sweet little bunny? Get yourself off on my leg, and I will consider fucking you." You leaned back slightly, using your hands to brace yourself a little more and feeling that leash pulling taunt.

The angle you were at gave Eris a better view of your puffy glistening folds as you continued riding on his boot and lower leg. He switched the angle of his boot, forcing your clit to be in constant contact with him as he watched you move faster and faster. Moans and whimpers were constantly leaving your mouth, making his length hard all over again. "Cum," the command was gentle. "Been such a good girl. Need you to cum."

A desperate cry left your throat, head tilted back as you came. You continued to ride him through the high, soothing yourself as could. Eris stood, lifting you once you were finished before walking up to the bed. "Y/n," you broke character at the name, looking up at him. "I won't last long tonight. I've been pent up thinking about this all day."

You smiled at your mate, kissing him before bending over the mattress and allowing him to secure your ankles to the spreader bar that was built into the frame. "Me too, Eris. Missed you all day."

"I know. I felt it." Flames came tying around your wrists and pulling to ensure you could not move away. Eris ran his cock through your folds once, twice, and then pushed home, a needy noise escaping you as he did.

Eris began slamming into you. Hands holding your ass so he could admire your little tail. The plug had your walls feeling tighter than normal. Doubling the pleasure of each drag for both of you.

He opened the bond completely, the constant flow of pleasure sending shockwave after shockwave through you until you were no more than a drooling mess. "Fucked my sweet bunny dumb already I see." His voice was airy, strained with soft moans mixing in. He was so close, and you were too.

He reangled you, arching your back more to ensure he was brushing your gspot with each movement. At the same time, a hand went to your swollen bundle of nerves, making you scream in surprise and pleasure. "I know you have another one in there," he grumbled more to himself than you. "Cum little bunny. Cum on master's cock."

One more harsh thrust has you seeing star light and flames dancing in your vision as you came. Eris's name was a mantra on your lips, tumbling through them over and over. The squeezing of your walls on his length had him following behind you, sloppy deep movements ensuring not a drop of his cum was wasted.

The fire and spreader bar disappeared, allowing you and Eris to fall forward and completely into the plush mattress. You both laid there, deep breaths panting in and out as you did.

No words passed as he began to care for you, unlacing the corset, removing the ears and plug, getting you comfortable and naked before moving you both to the bathroom.

"Such a good bunny," he praised as you fell asleep in his arms. "And all mine," he whispered to himself. "My beautiful sweet little bunny."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra smut #eris x yn #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #eris smut #eris acotar #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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manjiroscum · 1 year

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MARRY? KILL? FUCK!

CHARACTER/S: Bonten

WARNINGS: f!reader, explicit sex, mature language, threesome, a bit of slut shaming, bonten just being bonten, doggystyle, full nelson, protected sex (use of pills), creampie, just a lot of filth :p, sanzu's a bit of an asshole, strip game, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

NOTE: hi! here is the third fic for the collection :) took a lot of time bc uni and life got too hectic huhu anyway, i hope you enjoy it! (⁠ノ⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠)♪

MASTERLIST

SYNOPSIS: Another slow day at work meant more shenanigans to occur. Haruchiyo Sanzu was adamant to cause trouble and to have you bent over the desk for everyone to see.

WC: 1k

The chances of being shot in the head by Bonten’s notorious pink-haired assailant had a much lower probability of happening than the wine bottle never landing on you. The whole ordeal wouldn't have been daunting if it were a normal truth-or-dare game. But of course, the rest of Bonten’s higher-ups were bored out of their minds and suggested a little twist in the game. It was either you picked truth or dare and did them… Or avoid it and strip. Lips in a grim line, you ignored the drunken hollers by the Haitani brothers as you unbuttoned your blouse. There was no way in hell you would admit that you slept with Takeomi in Mikey’s office due to a bet you made with Rindou.

No way in hell.

Curse these bastards for inviting you, their ever-lovely secretary, to this stupid game when you could've gone home early since Mikey wasn't around. When the big cat wasn't around to intimidate, every rotten mouse was up to play. And play, they did. Sanzu was even more adamant about making you answer the most difficult questions because it was fun to torment you especially now that you were only clad in your stockings, pencil skirt, underwear, and bra.

“Seriously, this game must be rigged!” You sat back down, brows furrowed and unaware of the lingering gazes on your supple breasts covered by a lace bra. “Most of you guys haven't even stripped much. Why am I getting the craziest dares and questions, huh?”

This was definitely to teach you a lesson not to get ahead with yourself thinking you can best these men in a game. As much as you knew their dirty secrets within the organization, they too, knew yours. What made them annoyingly frustrating to deal with was how they utilized it to bring you to your knees.

“Alright then,” Rindou rubbed his hands as if he has foreseen the future when the bottle pointed at you and him. Fighting back the urge to slap yourself for joining this stupid game, you listened as he gave you the options. “Truth or dare, princess. What do you choose?”

To use your answers against you was what Sanzu Haruchiyo and Haitani Rindou were begrudgingly good at. This tactic had you stripping your pencil skirt when you refused to answer the question Rindou gave you and the dare option was as equally brazen. Perhaps after a few more rounds, you were sure you would exit the building all nude. However, just as you were about to spill your woes, the pink-haired man got up and instantly pulled you from your seat without breaking a sweat. The next thing you know, you were bent over Mikey’s desk. Eyes wide, you blinked twice.

“W-what the—”

“Why won’t you answer the simple question, sweetheart? We’re not gonna kill ‘ya if your pussy decides it likes me better than Ran.”

“Sanzu, you dick, I heard that!”

The scars on either side of his lips stretched as he grinned down at your vulnerable form, his hard-on pressed against your ass that was too difficult to ignore. Wishing for it to go away would be stupid to do as well.

“I mean, aren’t you curious boys? A simple question as to who she wants to kill, marry or fuck isn’t something that’ll cause us to slit each other's throats. A slut like her should be shared by us.” Pulling back, Sanzu stepped aside for everyone to see your ass still clad in your panties. But not for long as he hooked his finger and pulled down the lacy thong, tongue tucked between his lips as he did so.

Such an obedient thing you were, spouting for him to stop yet doing nothing to make him halt in his actions. A few of the men swallowed hard at the sight of your bare ass and damp pussy lips, aching to fill your holes.

“Gonna ask you one last time, sweetheart. Be a dear and answer Rin’s question. He thought long and hard about it, you see.” Ignoring the huff the younger Haitani made, Sanzu smirked. “Fuck, marry, kill? Unless of course, you’re such a big slut that you want to fuck us all?”

The safest answer you took was what led you to be on all fours, Ran’s cock in your mouth and Sanzu thrusting his from behind. Rindou’s thick fingers were busy toying with your nipples as Kakucho rubbed himself to the sinful scene in front of him. Milky semen coated your back, belonging to the brothers and Kakucho after being coaxed by Sanzu to see who has the thickest load that will definitely knock you up. You ignored their silly banter, trusting the pill you religiously took. The air conditioner in Mikey’s office was either broken or was blowing cold air quite poorly due to how hot your flesh felt against their cool skin. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh echoed around, driving you all insane. Your eyes rolled back at Sanzu’s long cock hitting that favorite spot of yours.

They continued to switch positions, adamant for everyone to have at least a turn inside your cum-filled pussy. You felt your lower stomach bloat up at how much semen was inside. The game and wine bottle were forgotten, replaced with a much more engaging game where nobody loses. This was what you’ve always wanted, a secret you’ve kept to yourself. And now that it was happening, perhaps the teasing at the strip game earlier was worth going through.

“Too bad Takeomi and Mikey are missing out on this cunt.”

“Nah, the old man would probably complain about his back and Mikey’s not interested whenever we’re around.”

“Hey, Kaku, she’s blacking out. Wake her up.”

Kakucho hoisting you up and doing the standing full nelson position wasn’t something you anticipated. Everyone was amazed at how much of their cum spilled out when he thrust his thick cock inside your weeping pussy, your teeth gritted at the tight fit. He has always been the biggest of them, rendering you a bit dizzy as he pistoned his hips. Not minding your fucked up state, Sanzu bent down to be on eye level with you, a grin on his pretty face.

“What do you say after we grant your wish, sweetheart?”

“T-thank, a-ah, hu…♡”

taglist: @imkumichan @pyrsqrd @ploylulla @wakaslut @ranilingus @tobidabio @zuuki @leavemealonebutinpink @kamisoria @wakasa-wifey @keijisprettygirl @marism-tr @stffychn @manjirousagi @tokyometronetwork

#pat.✍️fics #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tr smut #tokrev smut #tr x reader #bonten smut #bonten x reader #tw.threesome

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feelmyskinonyourskin · 7 months

Text

It's Hard to Dance With the Devil on Your Back [Soulmates AU]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Soulmates AU Alternate Universe 1. A story set in a world where everyone has a soulmate, and something to indicate to them who their soulmate is and when they meet them. "You live in a world where soulmates are connected by their injuries - a new scar appearing wherever your soulmate has one. So why is your soulmate so hell-bent on getting injured?."

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Reader pronouns/gender not mentioned. Description of blood, implied that the reader was getting mugged just before the story starts.

A/N: So in this AU, you and your soulmate share scars. With Matty, we know it's a lot. I tried to be as vague as possible about how the scars show up on the reader's skin in order to be inclusive, but if you have any suggestions for edits of how I could better describe things to make sure I'm being inclusive for readers of all skin types/tones, please DM me! I'm totally open to that feedback and making those changes!

WC: 550

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

There was blood on your hands. Crimson and sticky; and fortunately (or unfortunately, you weren't sure which) not yours.

Your savior hunched over, a shadow in the already dark alleyway, gripping onto his side as the wound you were trying to help him suture gushed all over your hands.

Three unconscious bodies were around you; would-be muggers beat to a pulp with acrobatic-like precision. He saved at least your wallet and your sense of safety in this city, if not your life.

You’d heard of his reputation around town – The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen – and now were face to face with the man himself.

“Come with me, my place isn’t far.” you offered. It was the least you could do.

He was too woozy and injured to resist, using your body as a makeshift crutch as he hobbled down the street beside you.

Manhattan rent is stupid expensive, so you shuffled around him in your miniscule bathroom while he sat on the lip of your bathtub, still breathing heavily. You mentally cursed yourself for not having a better stocked first aid kit.

Reluctantly, he let you remove the mask. His hazel eyes darted at nothing as you drank in the identity of your rescuer.

You had a million questions, mostly about how a blind man spends his nights expertly beating up criminals, but you saved them for later, too preoccupied with the gash crossing his left ribs.

“Your soulmate is gonna have a hell of a time with this one.” you commented as you poked and prodded at the wound, pushing aside the shredded black fabric still covering most of his torso.

“My soulmate is probably used to it by now.” he replied, removing the useless shirt so you could work on his injury, exposing his entire torso to you.

A flash of heat washed over your whole body at the sight before you and the realization it brought on, starting at your head and finishing at your feet like a bathtub draining quickly.

His body was littered with the evidence of what he does every night, what he’s been doing for years. You had a good idea of when he started.

“What? What is it?” he asked, head tilting in concern, reacting to a gasp you hadn’t realized escaped you.

You took his hand, guiding it under the fabric of your shirt and traced his fingers along the skin of your stomach. The scar had faded over the years, but still remained raised and bumpy. It appeared there several years ago.

He licked at his pouty lips, brows furrowed as he ran his calloused fingers over your flesh.

You guided his touch to another, across your collarbone, still as red and jagged as the day it appeared.

And then he knew.

“You – you’re my…”

“Yeah.”

There was so much he wanted to explain to you, but he knew there would be plenty of time. Instead, he pointed to his left knee, curious about what was on his skin under the dark fabric of his pants. You chuckled.

“I fell off my bike when I was nine. Guess it’s not as exciting as the stories you can tell about yours.”

“No, but I’d like to tell them to you, if you'd let me.”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #nmcu fic #mcu fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x you #marvel daredevil #daredevil imagine #soulmate au #tropes de sept #trope

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mylostloversbookmarks · 1 year

Note

thank you!! My request is: Joel x female reader. Age gap. They met after Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, they started to know each other, at first they kept it a bit like a secret but then, when things started to get more serious, they didn’t hide anymore. Things got so serious that after a while (not immediately, like a year or two) Joel asked reader to move in with him and Ellie.

Ellie loves reader and she’s more than happy that Joel found his special someone. Could you add a scene where reader is with Ellie one afternoon and they see Joel with a woman, acting really intimate, which connects to reader’s thoughts about Joel being a bit weird the previous days. She thinks he’s cheating on her, also because the woman is really close and intimate to Joel in that situation.

She wants to leave before he sees her but Joel notices her presence, tries to talk to her but doesn’t deny the accusations at first, (so a lot of angst!!!) which makes reader think she lost the love of her life.

They don’t talk for a few days and try to ignore each other when possible, despite living together. Ellie is sad and suffers from this situation. Joel loves reader too much to ruin things so he puts his pride aside and tries talking to her. They eventually talk it through, he was not cheating (choose whatever the alternative to that is!!) maybe a little fluff at the end or also something else? You choose!

also, if you have any rules or have triggers about something that I requested please let me know and change the story how you need to.

And I’m extremely sorry if this request is too long and detailed.

thank you!!!

Guiding Lights - a Joel Miller one shot.

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count - 8.7K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol consumption, , Sus!Joel, Soft!Joel, insecurities, suspected cheating, no actual cheating, I think thats all?

A/N - @addictedtotlou This is my first ever fic request and I cannot thank you enough for sending it through, and also for dropping into my inbox to let me know it was you that requested it! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

You often find yourself reminiscing on the day you met Joel and Ellie, it feels like forever ago now, though it has only really been a few years.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Knowing that Joel and Ellie will forever be your guiding lights.

#joel x reader #Joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller #ellie wili #joel and ellie #joel x you #joel x y/n #Pedro pasca #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fic #fic request #mylostloversbookmarks

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drabblesandimagines · 10 days

Note

Cidolfus x fem reader fluff with either sick day or opposites attract 👻🐕

Also just wanted to say your fics are amazing and I'm basically stalking your account almost every day now. With you being one of the only ones making fluffy content for my favourite boys, please keep going. Lots of love, and you deserve all the followers ❤️.

Thank you, lovely! I hope you enjoy <3 Petal Cidolfus Telamon x female (Branded) reader

You’re too hot – a particularly odd sensation as you struggle to recall the last time when you’d felt anything but cold. Spending so many nights sleeping in a drafty chocobo barn had left a permanent chill in your bones.

There’d been a heavy storm a day or so ago when you were on the road to the market – your master took shelter in the carriage and had left you shivering outside on the saturated ground, shackled to one of the large wheels for good measure.

You had made it to Northreach somehow, but hardly the picture of a healthy Bearer who would make good coin. A chesty cough, pale skin, unable to keep focus. Your master was in a foul mood – there hadn’t been an ounce of interest in you at the auction and he was loathed to drag you all the way back without anything to show for it. The market had shut for the evening and so he had moved to the outskirts the opposite side of the town – the mothercrystal of Orinflamme shining in the distance, your arms shackled above your head once more on the carriage’s great wheel in the hopes of flogging you to traders making their way in and out of the town in the early evening.

You no longer had the strength to keep your head held up, your mind fuzzy, so it’s not a surprise that you don’t hear the approaching footsteps until a new, deep voice booms from a few metres away.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

“You look like a man who appreciates a good deal.” Your master chuckles. “Got a Bearer for sale.”

There’s a gloriously cool, gloved hand placed upon your forehead for what turns out to be too short a moment before it is removed.

“Oh, petal.” A velvety voice tuts sympathetically at you in a murmur – too low for your master’s ears. “She’s burning up with a fever.”

“These Branded always run hot,” is his scoffed response. “She’s good stock, mind. Only a little bit of stiffness about her.” He grabs a fistful of your hair in a harsh grip and yanks your head up, and you blearily take in the stranger who is crouched in front of you.

He reminds you of a lord the way he is dressed - his shirt somewhat open with a large collar, two sword hilts jutting out from his hip, clean shaven and looking remarkably unimpressed at the sight before him. “And you really think you’re going to be able to sell her in this condition?”

“If you’re not interested, I kindly ask you to fuck off.” He shoves your head forward to emphasise his point as he relinquishes the grip on your hair.

“Now, now, no need to be rude - I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.” The stranger gets back up to his feet. “Why are you selling her?”

“Honestly, I could buy a new Branded that won’t give me any lip for farming work. I’m too old for that.”

“Oh, she’s spirited, is she?”

“That’s a word for it. So, are you interested?”

“Hm.” The man reaches for the gil pouch by his side, as if to check its weight. “What’s the price?”

“10,000 gil.”

He whistles. “For a sick, stubborn Bearer?”

“She’s not sick. And I’m sure a young gentleman like yourself would be able to knock the stubbornness out of her. I paid 15,000 for her originally – it’s a bargain.”

If your head wasn’t pounding, your mouth completely dry, you would’ve had something to say about being described as a bargain… but all your energy is focused on breathing.

“Fine.” The mysterious man agrees, pulling off one of his leather gloves and offering his hand.

Your master grabs hold of it eagerly, beaming. “Pleasure doing busi…” But the sentence is cut off as sparks of lightning crackle in the air, blue bolts shooting from the stranger’s hand and up your master’s arm before sparking all over his body.

Your master grunts, drops to the ground, twitching, eyes wide open in your direction.

He’s alive, breathing, but he won’t be getting up again anytime soon.

The mysterious man puts his glove back on and, using his leather boot, gently rolls your master over. He bends down and grabs a bundle of keys that had been attached to his belt before crouching down in front of you once more. You wonder if you’re next.

You tense as a gentle hand cups your cheek, bracing yourself for pain, but it only tilts your head up to meet his eyes. He smiles – sympathetic and kind. “Hello, petal. Name’s Cid. I’d ask you yours, but something tells me you’re not up for much talking right now. I’m going to get you out of these shackles and we’ll find somewhere comfy to rest up for the night. You’re safe with me – you have my word.”

He removes his hand and you manage to keep your head upright, a little in disbelief as he places the key in the lock of one of the shackles and undoes the mechanism, careful to lay your arm down in your lap before repeating the action with the other.

“There we go. I’m going to pick you up now, petal. You just rest.”

He places an arm around your back, another under your knees and gets to his feet with a slight grunt, mumbling about his own knees. The upward motion seems too much to bear, however, and unconsciousness takes over.

Isabelle raises an eyebrow at the sight of Cid at her door, you cradled against his chest. She puts her hands on her hips and tuts.

“Cid, it’s not bring your own.”

“Not what it looks like.” He lifts you up, causing your head to lull back and reveal the Brand on your cheek. “Petal’s not well. Any chance of a bed for the evening and we’ll be out of your hair after dawn?”

“Of course.” Isabelle steps back, widening the door to permit Cid entry. “What happened?”

“Some git trying to sell her on the outskirts. He’s taking a little nap. Poor thing’s absolutely frozen.”

“Did anyone see?”

Cid shakes his head. “No. I’d be surprised if he even remembers.”

“Girls,” the Dame calls to a couple of the women hanging by the door – Cid isn’t a stranger to partaking in the delights the Veil has to offer, after all. “Prepare a fire in Cid’s usual room. Extra blankets.”

Cid nods in thanks, heading towards the staircase to a room he knows well.

You don’t know what’s real or what is a dream over the next few hours. Fleeting moments of consciousness - a cold compress against your forehead, a rough voice coaxing you to drink something that feels soothing on your throat and warming in your stomach.

You wake up feeling… comfortable? It’s an odd sensation. What would you be on that’s so soft? You open your eyes, confused at the fact that you’re covered in a soft knitted blanket. The room is strange – a bed, a chair and a man standing over the fireplace, rousing the flames higher with a fire poker.

He turns and his eyes widen as he sees you awake and you panic and begin fumbling with the blanket, stuttering out an apology as you try to get up. How did you end up in a bed of all things?

“Easy now,” he holds up his hands in surrender as he takes a cautious step forward. “I meant what I said – you’re safe with me.”

You’ve just managed to disentangle yourself from the blankets, getting up on legs that just about to collapse underneath you. The man is quick to your side, a hand on the small of your back and another around your shoulder, guiding you back down upon the bed.

“Master, I-”

“None of that, petal.” He cuts off your protest. “I am not your master, and, from this day forward, you will never have one again. Pop your legs back up.”

You do so, automatically – an order is an order, no matter how confusing it may be – and he tucks the discarded blanket around you with a satisfied smirk.

“Allow me to introduce myself. Name’s Cid,” he grins, bowing with mock flourish. “May I have the pleasure of yours?”

“I don’t… Where are we?” You ignore his question.

“We’re at The Veil, in Northreach.” The Veil rings a bell in your head and the colour must drain from your cheeks as Cid is quick to try and set your mind at ease. “Not like that - the Dame is a friend of mine, just set us up for the night. You were too ill to travel.”

“Travel?”

Cid nods, sitting down heavily in the chair by your bedside. “Mm-hm. You see, I have a place that’s safe for people like you, where we can live on own own terms…”

Your eyes flicker to his Brandless cheek. “We?”

He smiles.

-------

“Here we go, petal.” Cid smiles as he enters the solar, holding the bottle aloft in triumph. “Tarja thinks you’re over the worst of it, but she’d rather you keep up with the tonics for another few days.”

You shuffle upright, aided by the multitude of pillows Cid had set up at the headboard of the bed, and frown at the prospect – the tonics are horribly bitter due to one of the plants that make up its components. “Really? But I’m feeling so much better…” Your protest falls flat at how hoarse your voice remains.

“Ah-ah,” he chides as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and proceeds to pop the cork out of the bottle, holding it out in offering. “Good girls take their medicine.”

It is a battle you know you won’t win. With a sigh, you take it from his hand, closing your eyes tightly and down the tonic with a grimace. It’s silly, but sometimes you think you’d rather go through having the Brand removed again that drinking another one of these foul things. “Thank you.” Cid plucks the now empty bottle from your hand and places it down on the side, smiling wistfully at you – it still makes your scalp tingle, even after all these years.

“What’s that smile for?”

“Just a bit of déjà vu, love.” He wraps his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. “This reminds me of that first wonderful night we spent together.” “How?” Your brow furrows in confusion, thinking back to the night he'd first kissed you in the solar after a successful mission and a glass or two of wine. He laughs. “Not that one.”

“If you’re thinking of the one at The Veil, we have a very different opinion of what counts as wonderful.”

“How can it not have been wonderful, the night you came into this old man’s life? Only difference is, now I can do this,” he leans in to meet your lips in a chaste kiss, withdrawing quickly with a wink at your pout. “There’ll be more when you’re better.”

“But I am be-”

There’s a frantic knock upon the solar door and Cid turns, keeping your hand held in his.

“Come in.”

The door is flung open by an out of breath Gav, face red with exertion. “It’s… time.” He wheezes, leaning on her knees. “Shiva’s on the… field, like.”

“Right…” Cid nods, and you don’t miss the subtle frown as his eyes flick from Gav to you in thought. You squeeze his fingers in unspoken affirmation. “Are you sure?”

“Go. You don’t know when you’ll get another chance.”

He doesn’t need to hear it again. “Gav, tell Goetz to get ready. We’re heading out.”

“On it!” Gav turns and sprints back down the hall towards the staircase, and you squeeze Cid’s fingers once more to gain his attention.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” You ask, timidly. His forearms are mottled with petrification now, no matter how much he tries to hide his discomfort from you.

He smirks, patting your thigh through the blanket. “Don’t you worry about me, love. You just concentrate on making sure you’re fully recovered when I return, hm?”

You nod as he gets to his feet with a final squeeze of your hand. He double-checks the belts that sit ever present at his hip and adjusts his gloves ever so slightly – a nervous habit, but not one he’d ever confess. Once satisfied, Cid leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Behave. I don’t need to tell you that both Charon and Tarja will have no qualms in dragging you back to bed if they see you wandering around.”

You roll your eyes and nod, knowing it’s true - you had remained spirited - and watch as he walks over to the door. He hesitates a moment, leaning his head against the doorframe as he takes one final look.

“I love you, petal.”

You smile, gripping the blankets in absence of his hand. “I love you too, Cid.” --

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darkhymns-fic · 1 month

Text

Can I get a tiny umbrella to go with that?

So, a Princess of Hell walks into a bar…and the bartender isn't prepared for what she's asking. Luckily, Husk is a softie at heart.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters: Husk, Charlie Morningstar, Alastor Rating: T Word Count: 4342 Mirror: AO3 Notes: This is a nicer HH fic for once! Wanted to write both mine and @ms-notebook's favorite characters interacting. (There's also lovely art by her for this story!) Please forgive me for the dumb humor in this.

Husk heard the princess slump against the bar counter behind him. A small groan, followed by a thud. Then, followed by a plaintive “Oww…”

He sighed, turning around from setting up the shelves with new stock. “Tripped?”

Charlie had a hand pressed against her forehead, a little pout forming on her face. “No…I just wanted to lay my head down here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t exactly got pillows.” Husk gestured to the lobby. “The couch is right there if you want to relax.”

But he already guessed that was not what she came for. Still, he wasn’t going to pry unless she opened herself up. And he knew behind that usual bright, and sometimes manic smile of hers, there was a lot weighing on the girl’s mind.

Charlie took a deep breath, finally ignoring the little bump on her scalp. “Um, actually I wanted a different way to relax… You know?”

Husk raised a large eyebrow. “Do I know?”

“Y-yeah! Of course you do! Oops, sorry… I shouldn’t just assume.” Charlie brushed away a lock of her hair. She shifted nervously on the bar stool, her other hand tapping away the counter. “You just usually seem to know things…”

Yeah, he did. And he had a pretty good suspicion right now. “You here for a drink?”

Charlie looked left and right, now using her hands to twiddle her thumbs. Then, she nodded vigorously.

“Heh. Does Vaggie know you’re ‘partaking’ in some sin?”

“I mean! I just want a little sip! Or… unless you think I shouldn’t.” Charlie gave a small whine, hanging her head. “It’s just been so stressful lately with the Extermination being pushed up and we still haven’t gotten any new guests since Sir Pentious…”

Probably because they had Mr. Smiles as their marketing manager and a drunk manning the front desk/bar, but Husk wasn’t really about to point that out now.

“Hey, kid. No worries. I’ll fix you up something real nice then.” He leaned towards her, wings tucked in, feeling more awake than usual. “So, what do ya want? This your first drink?”

Charlie giggled nervously. “Ah, I’ve had champagne at this fancy dinner once… Like half a glass.”

Husk smirked. “So, you’re saying we should start you off strong. Got a couple of shots of vodka here in the back if you’re daring.”

Charlie’s eyes brightened in wonder. “Vodka… I always was curious…” Then shook her head. “Um, maybe not yet! It might be too strong for me…”

At that, Husk had to laugh a bit. His shoulders shook slightly, half-covering his mouth with his hand. “I was mostly joking. Look, we can start off small. You seem like you’d be into cocktails, so I can fix you up a dry martini, tequila sunrise, whatever sounds nice to you.”

Somehow, just listing off basic drink names was enough to get the princess’ face glowing, like she was a kid in a candy store. It was almost adorable, the way her already-blushed cheeks seemed to blush even more. “Tequila sunrise…that sounds so beautiful! You can make that?”

“Been making it for years. Known plenty of ladies who were into those. Though…” He tapped a finger against his chin, giving her another smile. “If I made you a piña colada instead, I can give it to you with a special garnish.” A pause, seeing Charlie wonder just what he meant before he finally said, “A tiny umbrella.”

Charlie stared open-mouthed. “No one ever told me drinks had tiny umbrellas in them!” She brought her hands to her face, awed by this knowledge. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Husk literally could not remember the last time someone got this excited over him making them a drink. (Well, maybe except Mimzy, and those weren’t pleasant memories). But Charlie’s excitement was infectious, and Husk had gotten a little soft for the princess. Even if he thought her redemption ideas were half-baked at best.

“You never knew what you were missing, huh?” he teased. “Just sit tight and I can whip you something up here—”

“Oh wait, I forgot!” Charlie straightened, hands pressed flat on the counter. “Alastor recommended me to get a certain drink from you!”

And suddenly, all the good mood in Husk’s heart went sinking right into the damn floor. Oh. So that’s why she was here.

“…The boss?” Husk blinked. “Recommended?”

Charlie nodded, still beaming her innocent smile. “I told him I’d been feeling a bit stressed lately and… that’s when he mentioned you! And your bar! And your special drink!”

Husk didn’t have a ‘special drink,’ unless one counted the cheap booze he kept underneath the counter for his own imbibing, but he didn’t deny it just yet.

“What did he say exactly?” Husk asked, trying to keep his tone normal. Maybe his boss was just actually being considerate of Charlie. For once. It’s not like Alastor didn’t come by and ask for a few fingers of rye on the rocks himself. And he and Charlie were basically business partners, in a sense.

Charlie clasped her hands together, smiling at Husk as if she was being the most perfect student, all attentive and eager. “Well, he said… Oh, actually he even instructed me on how I should say it! Since it’s a secret menu item and all!”

This was the first he ever heard of any secret menu item. Husk was waiting for the moment all hell would break loose, but he played along. “Okay, uh… go ahead?”

The princess’ expression then turned all serious. She cleared her throat, clenched one hand, and then slammed it on the bar counter. Or, at least her version of slamming a fist. The force of it was barely able to rattle one of the whiskey glasses that Husk was still in the middle of cleaning.

“Husk,” she started, her tone low, her eyes narrowed. “Give me your tallest glass of milk.”

He had to take a moment to be sure he heard that right. Charlie still gave her hard-set stare, which wavered to softness by each passing second.

Yeah, okay, she did just say that.

“…Are you asking me for regular milk?” He paused. “Or like a milk brandy?” There was no way she even knew what that was.

Charlie blinked. She shook the hand that she had slammed with, waving away the aches she must have given herself. “Uh, Alastor didn’t mention? He just said you had some very special milk! And that I should go and try it! Because I also like milk!”

“Special milk? The fuck did he—” Husk blinked. Then, he realized.

Then, he winced. Oh, that disgusting bastard.

Charlie was still in the dark and just kept talking, oblivious to the implications. “Alastor was really raving about your milk, too! How it’s the best out there, but that it’s rare to get? And that you only serve it when you’re in a good mood! He told me that even he can barely get it that much from you himself—”

Husk pressed a hand to his face. He wanted to be buried alive, right now. “Charlie, please stop talking.”

“Oh.” Charlie hunched a little, noticing now the changed atmosphere in the room. “Did…did I say something wrong?”

That was such a loaded question but Husk didn’t have the energy to explain it all, nor did he think explaining would do any good except make Charlie give out a string of apologies that he would barely be able to handle. So instead, he gave another deep sigh and placed a hand on the princess’ shoulder.

“Here, just a piece of advice. If Alastor seems too excited about something, I’d take it with a big fuckton grain of salt. The guy does stuff for shits and giggles and you’re prime entertainment for that.”

Charlie’s eyes lowered, her perky energy from before looking all sapped away. “Oh, so he was just playing a prank on me…” She then looked to Husk again, with what little hope she had left. “You don’t have any milk at all?”

Husk really wished he could fucking kill Alastor this very second. Or at least kick him in the teeth if doing so wasn’t going to get his stomach sliced open for the Radio Demon’s buffet.

“I don’t got milk, kid,” he finalized with a pat on her shoulder. Then he looked to the side, muttering to himself. “At least, not as much anymore.”

“Huh?”

It almost physically hurt hearing his own slip-up coupled with Charlie’s curiosity. God dammit, this whole stupid thing from Alastor was now messing with his head! Husk stepped back. “Just— Don’t worry about it.”

Ugh. He was already exhausted. It didn’t even make any sense to Husk. This wasn’t his boss’ usual style of humor. Did he pick it up from Angel? But he also remembered how Alastor didn’t even like Angel that much anyway, so that wasn’t it. Whatever. This wasn’t a mystery he needed to solve and didn’t fucking want to anyway.

By now though, Charlie looked deeply sadder than before—and also guilty. She knew she had made the air between them awkward, even as Husk tried to get past it. It's not like it was her fault that she was as naive as they come.

“Look, let me just make you something. Still want the umbrellas?”

But Charlie no longer looked as enthused, and shook her head. “Maybe…maybe another time. I should probably get back to work. I forgot, I have to set up the Pilates schedule for everyone! All, um, two of them..”

Ah, man. Husk mentally kicked himself for getting so worked up before. “Hey, Charlie, it’s–”

“No, no, don’t worry! I shouldn’t have bothered you while you were working anyway. I’ll just get out of your way!” And with that, she quickly got up from the stool, put on her great smile that was stretched just a little too wide, and looked a little too tight.

She wasn't as good at hiding things like his boss was, but he could see the similarities.

“I’ll see ya later okay bye!!” And then she hoofed it out of there, even before Husk could say another word.

He leaned on the bar counter, chin placed in his hand and sighed. So much for always bitching to the bartender. Because Charlie just took up all her hurt and swallowed it away instead.

“Alright, everyone! Great job today!” Charlie gave a double-thumbs up, panting heavily as she wound down from the routine–and kept doing so, still wearing her long-sleeved coat and pants while doing stretches and jumping jacks just a few minutes ago. “We’ll pick it back up tomorrow with some pictionary later, alright? Oh, and, uh, sorry about before, Sir Pentious.”

He didn’t really hear her, because he was too busy crying into Vaggie’s shoulder, who had resigned to carrying him to his room. She struggled a bit, occasionally tripping over his long tail/body that kept wriggling in her hold.

Angel, meanwhile, was wiping away some yellow goop off his boots as he followed them out. “Ugh, I told him to not let his little Egg Boiz get near me! I can’t really pay attention to stuff when I’m in the zone!”

Eventually, all left the hotel lobby, leaving Charlie by her lonesome. She finally put down that smile of hers, and sighed, letting herself fall against the couch cushions.

She must have been really out of it, to not notice he was still around.

A quick tap on her left shoulder, and Charlie turned to her left, seeing no one there. Then a quick tap on her right shoulder, and she turned to her right, again seeing no one there. “Huh? Whuh?”

Husk was right in front of her, giving a small wave. “Hey.”

“WHOA WHAT THE HELL?!”

The yell was unexpected, making Husk lower his ears. The girl really did have a pair of lungs on her.

“Ah! Sorry, sorry! I, uh, just didn’t see you there!”

“I mean, I’ve been standing here for like ten minutes,” Husk explained, feeling awkward as he stood plainly right in the middle of the room, wings half-extended. “Watched the whole pilates exercise. And the death of Egg Boi number… four? Two?” He shrugged.

“Oh, right… I’m sorry, again. It’s just I’ve been… um…”

Trying to avoid him, he suspected. He could already see the guilt come back to her face, her fidgety hands playing in her lap, the flush of shame on her cheeks. The tension between them was already back.

Well, looks like he’d have to make the first move.

Husk then stepped over to the couch, sitting right next to Charlie, his wings folded in to avoid them bumping into her. He placed a hand into his pocket. “Hey Charlie,” he started to ask, eyes shifting to her. “You like magic tricks?”

Immediately, that got her.

Husk had never actually seen anyone vibrate from excitement before, but he swore he could feel it through the couch they both shared. Charlie had turned to him, eyes shining in wonder, her body thrumming like some sort of machinery. She was no longer just a kid at a candy store, she was a kid that got brought to the circus for the very first time.

“You mean the magic they do on Earth that looks like real magic but isn’t actually at all?! I love those!” Charlie had her feet tapping in excitement. “I didn’t know you did that type of magic!”

“Heh… yeah, it was a thing of mine back in the day.” Before all the real magic came into his afterlife, but he can’t help but love the classics. After a quick shuffling of his deck, he then held out several cards in his hand, their black foil surfaces gleaming in the lobby’s lamplight. “Pick a card. Any card.”

“Ooo, I know this one!” Charlie kept bouncing in her seat as she quickly picked the left-most card. “And then I memorize it, right? Oh, and I can’t tell you!”

Husk nodded. “Yep, you already know the rules. Now you know what happens next?”

Charlie, grasping the card in both hands, looked at Husk with that same wonder. Stars were literally in her eyes, making Husk blink at the brightness. “I give it back to you?”

Husk shook his head. He then took off his hat, revealing a bit of fur tuft that he never bothered to comb back anymore, and held the open end of it to Charlie. “Put the card in here.”

Charlie blinked, then blinked again. Then she vibrated again. “This is different!!”

“The key to magic is to keep them guessing,” Husk said with a proud smile. “Or would you rather hold onto that card as a keepsake?”

“Ah, no I want to see the trick!” Charlie then quickly deposited the card into the black abyss of the hat’s opening. It was so dark inside that no light seemed to be able to penetrate it.

Husk then lifted the hat to eye level, turning it over a few times for Charlie. Then he reached in and pulled it inside out. There was felt and lint, but no card to be found. “Nothing to see here.”

Charlie gasped loudly. “Where did it go?” Then, a haunted look in her eyes. “Wait, does this mean I lost your card? Oh no… I didn’t mean to…”

“Huh? No, this is fine!” Husk quickly answered her, already seeing the guilt come back again. Damn, she was the kind of girl to get weepy over stepping on a blade of grass too hard. He’d have to be careful. “This is how it goes. Relax, kid. We’re still not done with the trick.”

“Oh, okay!” Charlie smiled brightly again, then clapped her hands. “This is so exciting!”

Husk couldn’t remember the last time he had a great audience like Charlie. It kinda made his chest feel warm at the thought. Clearing his throat, he pushed back the inside of the hat so that it was normal again. Then held it out to her. “Now go and get your card back.”

She blinked, looking at the hat, then pointed to herself. “But, I don’t see it in there?”

“Just humor an old man, why don’t ya?” Husk said, making sure his tone was as easy as they come.

Charlie only hesitated a second before putting her hand inside the hat. Husk had to do all he could to suppress the grin he was feeling at the edges of his mouth.

Because then he saw the look on Charlie, saw her mouth gape open as she pulled in her arm, and was now holding a certain cocktail drink in her hand, in a tall highball glass with orange and red colors, complete with a matching orange slice and–

“Oh my gosh there's even a little umbrella!! ” She gasped, looking at the drink even more. “How was it even in there!? You were moving your hat around and, and, oh wow is that fruit? I love fruit!”

“Yeah, figured you had a sweet tooth.” Husk chuckled, plopping the hat right back on his head. “Now, if you want something with a bit more kick to it, you can try the sunset version, but I think tequila sunrise suits you more.”

The cocktail was one of the easiest he could make. It only took him a few minutes to make, and the presentation was worth the effort, giving a simple drink that little flair that Husk used to enjoy more before he became a certain Overlord’s minion.

Charlie kept looking at it like it was a piece of art, admiring the colors and poking at the umbrella that stuck to the orange slice, and had a pierced cherry right in the middle. “Can I, um, eat this? Or is that frowned upon?”

Husk snickered a bit. This princess was good to have around. “You can eat the cherry. The orange slice is for flavor, but if you wanna gobble that up too, feel free. I don’t suggest eating the umbrella unless you have a specific taste for it.”

With a happy squeal, Charlie picked up the umbrella to gulp the cherry. She was kicking her feet in excitement, once again looking to the drink, then back to Husk. Then back to the drink.

“Charlie, if you think you need my permission to take a sip, you don’t.” Still, he gestured to her with a furry hand, and that was apparently the last barrier for the princess to get through.

“Okay, well… bottoms up!” She took a sip–a big one, which maybe Husk should have warned her about. Because right after, Charlie coughed, the ice clinking together with her motion.

“Whoa, slow down,” Husk said. His wing had instinctively moved, the tip placed against her back as he helped her clear her throat. “Unless you’re having shots, drinking doesn’t have to be a race.”

Charlie straightened then, blinked at Husk. What followed was a wide grin, coupled with starry eyes that were even more radiant than before. “It’s…good! I mean, it’s a little burney in my throat, but I can deal with that. It’s really good!” She took another sip, only coughing a little bit this time.

Damn, at this rate, he wondered if she’d get tipsy already. But nah, surely the Princess of Hell could handle it, even if she never drank before. It was in her makeup, wasn’t it?

But before she had her third sip, she stopped just in mid-tip to her mouth. She then lowered the glass, her brow furrowing.

Husk would have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong? Something about it not agreeing with you?” He’d known people who got tired of a drink just a few sips in.

“Hm? Oh no! It’s great! But I’m just remembering the card… Where did it go? I saw it go in your hat…”

Ah. Charlie didn’t like leaving loose ends, he noticed.

Husk held out one finger, then pointed at the umbrella held between her fingers. “May I have that?”

“Uh, okay.” She did so, laying it gently in his palm. The little pink and violet colors that made up its tiny canopy was bright against his fur.

He then rolled the umbrella to hold between his claws by its wooden stem. Then, he closed the umbrella so it was thin, balancing it on his knuckles for a bit. Suddenly, with a flourish that was hard for the eye to catch, he was now holding the missing card in his hand. “Two of hearts, right, princess?”

If Charlie was already drunk by this point, maybe it would have explained a few things. How she gasped loudly, eyes getting so wide that he wondered just how she was able to do so without transforming into some demonic entity. “That’s amazing! It was the little umbrella this whole time!?”

Or, maybe that was just how Charlie was. He flipped around the card in his hands once more before it vanished into thin air. “Can’t tell you all my secrets. Now come on, you still got a lot to chug down.”

Charlie, with a little giggle, went back to nursing her drink, now taking her time to enjoy it. Husk relaxed then. Maybe after this, he could have her try another mix, if she’d be up to it.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise to Husk that Charlie would be a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

The fact that after her fourth sip and numerous giggles, she then promptly fell asleep on his shoulder, snoring loudly, was a bit of a dead giveaway.

Husk had to, carefully, take the half-empty glass from her hands in case she spilled it. Seriously, four sips? And then lights out just like that?

Occasionally, she giggled in her sleep, rubbing her face into his body with no shame. “Hehe, this pillow is furry…”

“...Kid, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Husk muttered. It wasn’t the first time he’d have a drunk fall asleep on him (or get angry with him, or flirt with him. There were many kinds of drunks in Hell), but he’d fight back or throw off the drunk for invading his personal space.

He could let it slide for Charlie.

But when a familiar shadow slid over them, he felt his fur stand on end. The result had Charlie giggling more, saying something about being ticklish.

“Well, Husker! Truly a compromising position I find you in.”

Husk rolled his eyes. In reflex, he started drinking Charlie’s cocktail for the familiar, pleasant buzz. It was the only way to deal with the constant buzzing that was Alastor’s voice. “I’m on break, so don’t get all uptight.”

With both hands on the top of his mic cane, the demon raised an eyebrow as looked over at Husk and Charlie. He then leaned forward, eyeing Husk in particular as Charlie snored open-mouthed, and a bit loudly.

“Now, my good man, I hope you’re not doing anything untoward to her. It certainly wouldn’t do any good for this hotel’s reputation.”

Husk could physically feel a vein pop in his forehead, as well as a growl leaving his throat.

“I’m gonna rip that mouth of yours if you don’t quit it with these stupid fucking jokes.”

“Jokes? I’m simply voicing a concern.”

“Bull shit. You just–” Husk tried to stand, then felt Charlie’s weight, which kept him locked in place. “Ah, fuck.” He didn’t want her to wake up to an argument.

Alastor placed a hand on his chin, his textured chuckles sounding even more obnoxious than before. “Are you now the princess’ pet as well?”

Husk made sure to keep his voice low, but he put all the annoyance right into his inflections. “I’m no one’s pet. And you know this isn’t actually anything. First you tell Charlie some weird fucking joke because you knew it would piss me off and now you try to make it sound like I’m being a creep. What is your damn problem? You’re the one that forced me to work at this hotel in the first place. Worried I’ll make friends here or something?”

And with that, he realized it. It was quick, but the twitch in Alastor’s right eye and the sharp little static that fizzed, Husk had been able to learn his boss’ tells.

Maybe Alastor just hadn’t expected Husk to change his ways.

But the Radio Demon simply shrugged, turning away as if he was suddenly bored with the situation. “I was brought here to keep an eye on the hotel, and all of its residents. I only want to make sure everything is in working order. Also,” he turned his neck completely around, the crack making Husk wince. Ugh. He always did that to weird him out. “I just like to have a bit of fun once in a while.”

His boss’ exits were the same as his entrances–quick and full of shadows, but this time leaving the lights in the lobby brighter than before. Husk sighed once he saw Alastor was gone. He didn’t know if that was another weird temper thing with his boss, another prank of his, or what.

Charlie started to murmur in his sleep, sounding a little upset. “It’s dark…”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Husk wrapped his wing around her like a blanket, and Charlie instantly snuggled into it. She breathed more evenly, and the lines on her face were gone. “No more nightmares, ok?”

Huh, he wasn’t sure when he became a softie, but the princess did say how she wanted to redeem everyone…

Husk looked at the tequila sunrise in his hand, the ice mostly melted, the orange slice nearly slipping off the rim. Huh, what a weird hotel, he thought, before taking another sip. He’d stay here for as long as Charlie needed. He could use the rest, too.

“Sleep tight, princess,” he said, watching as she gently curled more into his wing to keep warm.

#hazbin hotel #husk #charlie morningstar #alastor #fanfiction #one shot #fanart of fic #I just want these two to snuggle and be friends

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tragicxensemble · 3 months

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One More Chance (At Love) (Pt.1/?)

Slowburn Mark Sloan x Reader x George O'Malley

TW/CW: Mentions of medical terms and just overall Grey's anatomy gore, social anxiety/ anxiousness, Christina being passive-aggressive to the reader of you squint, Love triangle, jump cuts

Disclaimer/Summary:

‼️ SEASON 2 SPOILERS!! ‼️

AJ's a new intern at Seattle Grace Hospital and the niece of Miranda Bailey. She has an average reputation and never heard of 'McSteamy' a.k.a Mark Sloan upon moving to Seattle and working at Seattle Grace. Not understanding the hype around him nor falling for his charm, he ends up falling first and hard because he thinks she's "hard to get". He tries his best to flirt with her but to no avail, because she never picks up on any of those social cues to realize that he has been flirting with her the entire time because of her being neurodivergent (specifically AuDHD). Besides Mark, there's also someone else who has been eyeing AJ since they met.

Ps: This is mostly a self-insert but you can still read and enjoy this!! It's been a while since I've made a fic and I think it's time for a fresh start :). This takes place in mid-season 2 (specifically episode 9, a month before the Thanksgiving part of the episode starts then jumpcuts to the events of the Thanksgiving episode) to around the end of season 3. There are a lot of jump cuts in this fic and rhe reader is black

Wc: 3.4k

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@spexialvixtimxunit @verytalented

Seattle Grace Hospital. A hospital filled with opportunities and so much drama that it could be a full-course meal. That is, of course, if you're interested in having surgeries and nonstop sleepless nights on the menu. If so, then sign me up. Having the opportunity to work in the same hospital as my Aunt was a blessing and a curse. She knew that I was studying to become a surgeon, but what she didn't know was that I would be working in the same hospital as her. The other interns around me called her 'The Nazi' but I simply called her Auntie Mandy.

No one knew that she was my aunt so they had no room to treat me differently because of my association with her. I deserved to be in that surgical program just as much as they did. I worked my ass off to become a well-respected doctor, not a punching bag for bottomless insults. So, my strategy to survive the internship came in 3 easy rules. A guide that I follow every day.

1. Befriend the Nurses.

This step was relatively easy. I'm always kind to everyone I meet unless they give me a reason to be mean. Plus, I would hate to get stuck on doing rectal exams or sutures for hours on end just because I pissed a nurse off. They're human beings just like me and deserve equal respect because it took them years of med school to get to where they are.

2. Keep to myself and only speak when spoken to (a.k.a practically become invisible to almost everyone unless I'm given instructions to complete a task.)

Now, this step is a relatively difficult one to follow. I have no clue who I will encounter upon being on Auntie Mandy's service and they would make my experience at SG unpredictable. I won't let them get to know me upon surface-level things about me. It's too risky for them to find out even the smallest incriminating detail about me. I'll just have to wait for the right moment to tell anyone that Bailey is my Aunt.

And lastly, my most hated rule.

3. NEVER unmask, unless necessary.

Masking in itself is extremely difficult. If I show any sign of my neurodivergence to neurotypicals who don't understand what it's like to hide parts of yourself every day 24/7, I'm looking at weeks of being a laughing stock and judged by everyone. Even though this is a possibility, the road to being a surgeon is never easy for anyone.

So, with that being said you would say that I have 3 impossible rules to follow. I would have to try my absolute hardest to not expose myself but also to be on top of my game in this program if I want to make it in the real surgical world.

-------

My alarm rings at the ripe time of 5 am. I had to be at the hospital by 7:00 am before 7:30 am rounds started and before I could officially be assigned to my resident. I knew before today that I was going to be assigned to Auntie Mandy because of the letter in the mail a few weeks ago declaring my official internship and transfer to Seattle Grace. As well as what day I would start working. Transferring hospitals is like transferring schools, you have to start all over again in a new place. New environment. With completely new people. People who are already used to each other and probably friends with each other. Whereas I'm the new kid, the outcast. The kid that sits alone during lunch while everyone has already created their cliques.

I took a few deep breaths before getting out of bed to stop myself from becoming anxious at the thought of all the wrong outcomes that could happen. I made sure to pack comfort snacks the night before and an emergency meltdown/overstimulation bag that consisted of earplugs, a few small but effective fidget toys, compactable noise-canceling headphones, and an mp3 player that has my comfort songs on speed dial. I made my bed, as I usually do to start my morning. Following up on that, I meditated and did yoga for an hour and a half. It's a way to calm and ground myself before I tackle whatever the day brings me.

I did my morning routine and skin care before heading back to my room, to change into my outfit.

By this time it was already 6:40 am. I had enough time to spare to moisturize my locs and bring a scrunchie with me so that I could put my hair up when needed at work. I made sure to grab my messenger bag and my snacks for the long shift and promptly left my apartment at 6:50 am. The drive to work was roughly 15 minutes but ended up being 20 minutes with traffic. I didn't live far away from the hospital, which was alright in my opinion. I arrived there at 7:05 am and began to park. After I parked and got out of the car, a motorcyclist drove up loud and parked 2 spots away from me.

Right in the middle of my car and the motorcycle came another car with 2 women and a guy who I'd assume knew the female motorcyclist because the group of 4 joined each other and I began walking into the building behind them. Mid-walk, another guy joins the group after what I'd assume was his morning jog. He was huffing and saying something I couldn't make out because of me keeping my distance from them so that they wouldn't assume that I was following them even though I was. I had no freaking clue on where anything in this ginormous hospital was. Sure I had a tour of the hospital but it's so easy to forget the layout when I've only been in it once.

While we waited for the elevator I quietly said, "Excuse me," as I tapped the shoulder of a brown-haired guy with cute doe eyes. He stopped talking with the blonde-haired woman and turned to face me. "I'm sorry, but could you help direct me to the surgical locker room? I'm not entirely sure where it is." As I was speaking the rest of the group turned to look at me, which was not intimidating in any way. (Yes it was.) "Yeah sure, We're actually on our way there." says the doe-eyed guy. "I'm George O'Malley by the way, that's Izzie Stevens, Alex Karev, Meredith Grey, and Christina Yang. We're all surgical interns." George introduced the names to the faces of everyone and I hoped for the best that I could remember their names.

"Oh, I'm AJ. AJ Brown. I'm also an intern here. It's my first day." I spoke. "What! That's cool, we could show you around sometime!" Izzie said as the elevator dinged. I nodded and followed their lead and got on the elevator with them, standing near the back of it. I listened as they talked about how their mornings went. The elevator stopped at the second floor. After making a few turns into the corridors, we finally made it to the locker room.

"What's your locker number?" Meredith asked as she began to walk to her locker. "Uh, it's G - 23," I responded as I looked around at my surroundings. Everyone was already getting changed. "Oh, nice you have a locker next to me!" Izzie smiled. The digital clock on the wall read 7:15 am, there was enough time to change into my scrubs and have my pager and stethoscope ready. As I was putting my shoes on Meredith spoke to me, "So, AJ, where are you from?" She asked as she closed her locker door. "Oh, I'm from a small town in Illinois," I answered. "What's a city girl like you doing all the way here in rainy ol' Seattle? Besides to work here?" Alex chimed in, "Family, stuff." I spoke shortly, in hopes of ending the conversation.

"That's nice that you can be near family here. Also, who's service are you on?" Izzie asked. "I have Dr. Bailey," I spoke as I stood up while closing my locker. "Awesome, she has the Nazi too." Christina deadpanned as they all began to finish up. "Christina, be nice!" Meredith nudged Christina's arm and tried her best to whisper that to her but failed. "We can show you where she is today." The group leaves the locker room and I trail behind them to find my Aunt.

We head to the elevator and we make it to the third floor, where we come to a spacious waiting area and a front desk that I'd assume contained charts and other important patient information. Among the crowd of people walking around stood Auntie Mandy, writing in a chart binder at the front desk. "Good morning Dr. Bailey." They all said one by one, before George spoke, "I think we have a new intern with us that's on your service." That sparked her to look up from the chart. "New intern? What new intern?" She said almost with an attitude. They all miraculously parted like the Red Sea to reveal my presence to her.

"Well, I'll be damned! If it isn't AJ!" Bailey replied with a smile before running up to hug me, which shocked the group as if they had never seen her act sweet towards anyone. She released me from her grasp and said, "I had no idea they were assigning you to my service! How's your mom? I know everyone must miss me back there in Illinois." Bailey chirped. I hesitated and replied shortly, "Everyone's fine and they do." I laughed awkwardly. "Wait? How do you know Dr. Bailey and how does she know you?" Christina asked, answering the burning question that was floating around in everyone's head.

"She's-" Before Dr. Bailey could finish her sentence our pagers went off. Talk about being saved by the bell. Or beep in this case. I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding in as we all began to follow Bailey's orders on where to be assigned. George ended up being the one to be my guide for the day as I helped him with patients and got used to doing checkups and filling out charts for a few hours. After that, Bailey assigned George to teach me how to run labs and work on sutures in the pit, as well as prescribing actual medicine to the patients. Before I knew it, it was lunchtime.

"Hey, would you like to have lunch with me? I'm usually with everyone because we all eat together sometimes." George asked softly as we headed to the cafeteria I assumed. "Uh, sure." I agreed. I brought a simple lunch with me, a turkey sandwich, apple slices, and carrots. While George offered to buy me apple juice. As I began to sit down next to George, Christina let out a loud groan and said lowly to herself, "Why did George invite someone we barely know to lunch, it's like she's his pet or something." This time Merideth kicked Christina's leg under the table, which caused her to verbally say 'ow' in response.

Upon hearing that comment, before I could start eating I got up and excused myself by saying, "I think left my pager in my locker. I'm gonna go get it." I grabbed all of my things and left immediately, what did I expect from a bunch of strangers? I found an empty hallway with abandoned beds and I ate in silence.

George's POV

AJ grabbed her things and speed walked away. Christina scoffed and spoke, "Looks like she ran off to go find her mommy, Dr. Bailey," Everyone let out laughs at Christina's 'joke' if you even call it that. "Enough!" I yelled as I slammed my hands on the table, "She has been nothing but nice to you guys and this is how you treat her on her first day? People deserve chances and you guys never even gave her that option to one." I grabbed the rest of my lunch and stormed off in hopes of finding AJ, before hearing out what everyone was going to say to my brief speech.

AJ's POV

I was almost done eating my lunch when I heard a familiar voice say, "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" It was George. What a relief. "You have?" I said as I finished the last of my apple slices before I threw away the remaining trash. "Look, I'm sorry that they were mean to you, they don't like new people coming into their space." George apologized before he sat somewhat next to me. "You don't have to apologize for them George, it's not your place to apologize for them." I feigned a smile to try to reassure him.

"Sometimes they make fun of me too. And I wonder if they're my friends or if I'm convincing myself that they are," George confessed. "Well, can you be yourself when you're around them?" I questioned. George didn't answer. "If you have to think about it for a long time then maybe you should reconsider if they are your friends. Real friends don't make fun of you for being you. They appreciate your uniqueness and don't judge you." I declared. "It seems like you're a friend expert." I laughed a little at his comment. "I've had a lot of friends but never kept any of them so I know what it's like." I spoke truthfully, "Thanks for the lunch, George." I thanked him before I walked away once again.

-----

By that evening, my hands and feet were tired from walking and constantly talking to all the people. I desperately needed time to recharge my social battery because I could feel myself starting to get overstimulated. The lights were starting to get too bright and the bustling noise could make anyone go insane. I had a few minutes to myself in the on-call room so I spent it playing with my Tangle fidget toy and listening to a playlist of my favorite Michael Jackson songs in the dark while lying down on one of the beds on the bottom bunk. Needless to say, I ended up falling asleep for a good hour before I faintly heard the door open.

"AJ, wake up, Dr. Bailey needed me to find you," George said as he tapped my shoulder in an attempt to wake me. I groaned before sitting up on my elbows and glaring at him for waking me up, "I'm sorry to wake you but she needs more hands in the pit." He confessed which caused me to roll my eyes. I nodded before shoving my MP3 player and fidget toy down in my lab coat pocket. I put my shoes back on while George watched and we both headed out to the pit together.

Only a few more hours to go.

------

My first 12-hour shift was finally over. The aching in my feet was beyond compare even though I had comfortable shoes on made for walking. I went back to the locker room to change and I found myself left with a few people and George changing near me. "Are you autistic? I mean, if you are that's okay with me. I won't tell the others if you don't want to tell them so that they don't make fun of you. I'm not saying that they will but they can be mean sometimes. Well, not Izzie. Wait no, Izzie can be mean sometimes but not in-" I just stared at him until he finished rambling.

"Sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean to assume or anything. It's just that I-" George began again before I stopped him. This must have been on his mind all day. "Yes, I'm autistic and I have Adhd as well. And I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone because I don't want any attention on me about it. People will treat me differently." I shrugged it off to George as I grabbed my bag. "Can I ask why?" George said as he sat down on the bench. "Why what?" I replied, not looking at him. "Why don't you want to tell anyone?" I let out a huff and closed the locker before I faced him.

"This is breaking my rules," I mumbled, "Rules? What do you mean?" There was confusion in his voice but I could hear that he wanted to understand. "Ever since I was a kid, I always knew that I was different. I never had a lot of friends growing up and I never was invited to birthday parties because of how people treated me for being different. I don't normally spill my life to people I just met but I feel like I can trust you. I've been judged about my diagnosis of AuDHD. There's no point in trying to be myself when I can be what people expect me to be."

"But doesn't that get tiring? Having to mask all the time?" He asked and I nodded quickly. "It's hard to get a break and for people to not stare at me when I stim and fidget," I said disappointingly, "But what do I expect?" I shrugged it off and began to make my way to the door. "It's hard being myself in a room full of people who don't get you, but thanks anyway for trying to understand George, have a good night."

And with that, I once again walked away. It's becoming a habit now.

------

(A month later, at the start of episode 9)

------

Izzie had invited me over to help cook and decorate the house for Thanksgiving. I wore a simple outfit, a black long sleeve with denim jeans and black Converse. My favorite brand of shoes.

When I arrived I was greeted by Izzie rushing to get me inside. "I need you to get George for me, he's upstairs and he's supposed to be helping me cook but he hasn't left his room yet," Izzie said frantically. "Oh, okay. Um. Where exactly is his room? I've never been here before." I said while taking off my leather jacket and Izzie hanging it up for me.

"It's up the stairs, down the hall, and to the right." I listened to her directions and I reached George's room. I gently knocked on the door and waited for a reply. "Come in!" George said from the other side. I carefully opened it and saw him fully clothed on his bed with his eyes shut. "Why are you just lying on your bed?" I spoke as I closed his door behind me. He quickly opened his eyes, not knowing it was me.

"AJ! I- when did you get here?" He hurried and sat up to look at me. "I got here just now, not too long ago. You know Izzie wants you downstairs to help right?" I sat down on the end of his bed before he plopped back down with a huff. "I know but I'm afraid to go out there." I quirked a brow, "Afraid? Why would you be afraid?" As I said that he held his hands up and began counting down from 10. A thunderous noise arose from downstairs, and just when he reached zero, 3 men barged into his and screamed, "O'Malley!!"

Startled by the sudden noise, I looked at George for an answer. "Because of that." George huffed again. "Georgie, since when did you have a girlfriend? And she's hot too." I was taken aback at the man's comment. "C'mon, you know Georgie never gets laid," George rolled his eyes before getting up, trying to hide his embarrassment from me. "Please ignore my idiotic brothers," He began to go to his closet and grab camo wear. "Where are you going? Aren't you going to help Izzie?" There was desperation in those chocolate-brown eyes of his, and just when he was about to explain himself the older man chimed in and said, "Our Georgie is gonna kill his first turkey this year, I can feel it!"

"Dad you know Georgie isn't gonna kill a turkey, he never does." His eldest brother spoke, "No, he's gonna chicken out like how he usually does-" "Shut up!" George says while his brothers laugh, his face turning as red as a tomato now. "I'll be back as soon as I can to help. I promise I won't miss dinner." George tells me as he puts on his beanie and I thought he couldn't look any cuter. "Well, you better tell Izzie that," I scoffed as his family began to drag him out of the room chanting 'O'Malley' over and over again until they were down the stairs and out of the door.

"I don't think they're coming back any time soon." Izzie whined, "I hope he doesn't actually kill a bird."

---

#greys abc #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy #meredith grey #alex karev #george o’malley x reader #george o'malley imagine #george o'malley #izzie stevens #christina yang #slow burn #love triangle #angst to fluff #fluff to smut

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ineffableaddiction · 2 months

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Part 6: Not even at Gunpoint?

A Good Omens Fan Fic

He woke up. It was morning somewhere, but judging by the light filtering through the windows, it was probably afternoon here. Putting on dark glasses, then glancing at his watch, he realized just how long he’d been asleep.

The next thing he noticed was a scent which quickly pulled him downstairs. Examining his surroundings, he soon realized his error. “To sleep…. perchance to dream,” he murmured to no one in particular.

Walking over to the desk, Crowley sat down and gazed at the shelves to his right. He reached out a hand and let it move over various books, journals, and an assortment of other purely Aziraphale things. His hand paused on one in particular. Without thinking, he took the small, bound book from the shelf and just held it. This is the scent that drove him downstairs so quickly. It was everywhere.

He would need to get used to that. Crowley had taken his plants from the Bentley and set them up in the guest room of the bookshop before closing his eyes to sleep, and for the first time had woken up to the lingering presence of Aziraphale. Crowley missed his best friend.

Muriel was still new to Earth and didn’t find a need to sleep. Or eat. Crowley did convince her that she needed an outfit more appropriate for one who sells books.

The new clothes made the angel less obvious, yet she was still not quite blending in. She hadn’t been on Earth long enough to see what is current for the times, so she dressed as one would in a book, and in that book was from the 1930s. Muriel chose a blue dress with evenly distributed white spots, which was worn underneath a white jacket, and accessorized with a thin white belt and white shoes with what Muriel determined were practical heels. It made her seem either very much from a different time or on the cutting edge of fashion. Crowley had been around long enough to see certain styles fall in and out of favor.

At some point before his nap, Crowley seemed to have agreed to run the bookshop, with Muriel acting as his assistant. He recalled a conversation that was something about blending in and something else about not knowing how humans ran bookshops.

“Demons don’t know how to run bookshops either. Do I look like I’d run a bookshop?”

The thought of actual customers coming into the shop intimidated Muriel. “I don’t know how to handle the people. What if they ask me something a human should know? What if they insist on buying a book? If they find out I’m an angel, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

Crowley grudgingly agreed to take over the management of the bookshop. Aziraphale had entrusted him with it once, not that long ago. How hard could it be, only being open one or two hours on various days, not selling anything and scaring away customers?

Today marked the not-so-grand reopening that was both not advertised nor really wanted. Still holding the book, Crowley turned the sign on the door to indicate that the bookshop was open, then returned to the desk. Muriel was nervously pacing and rehearsing some of the pleasantries that Crowley had taught her. “How can I assist you?” “We’re closing soon.” “We don’t have that book in stock.” “They probably have that book at the shop a few blocks away.” “Have a pleasant day.”

Crowley glanced down at the book in his hand and opened it. He turned to a random page, and for quite awhile forgot to breathe. He recognized Aziraphale’s script and realized he was looking at a journal or diary and what was written wasn’t meant for him. He gently closed the book and just held it, seemingly deep in thought.

The chime of the bell on the door didn’t register at first, but then he heard Muriel asking the customer how she could be of assistance. Shifting his gaze to Muriel, it struck Crowley as odd when he noticed a small, neatly wrapped package in the customer’s hand. The customer was trying to give it to Muriel, who had not rehearsed what to do when a customer tried to bring you things and was beginning to panic. As he put that piece of Aziraphale back on the shelf, something fell from the book. He glanced down and stopped breathing for the second time. He’d have to deal with that later.

Seconds passed, and Crowley appeared beside the customer, announced that he was the shopkeeper and could he be of service. Muriel, with a look of relief. stood and observed.

“I was told to bring this here, but this is the first time I’ve seen your shop open.” The customer handed him the package, which was addressed to the bookshop in care of AJC. That was odd.

The customer left as quickly as they’d arrived.

“What is that?” Muriel was beside him, looking at the package with a mix of curiosity, distrust and confusion.

“I’m not quite sure, but let’s find out.” Crowley went back to the desk and sat down. He opened the package, which contained a book that had Aziraphale’s name written on the first page in his neat handwriting. There was nothing else written in the book, but there was a small note, decidedly not in Aziraphale’s handwriting, that said:

3rd Alt Rendezvous

Crowley looked through the packaging to be sure something wasn’t missed, but found nothing.

“That was a fabulous first day. I need to go. Don’t let anyone in.” Turning the sign on the door back to closed as he left, he was quickly in his Bentley heading towards the bandstand. He glanced at the book, now sitting on the seat beside him, frustrated and unsure how long the delivery had been delayed. The shop, while never keeping regular hours, had been open for less than fifteen minutes since the morning after the ball. The method of delivery didn’t indicate when they were assigned this task.

At least the Bentley was allowing him to drive at his normal speed.

On arrival, Crowley parked the car and rushed to the bandstand. It was empty, so he surveyed his surroundings and found nothing out of place. Alone, he opened the book and stared at Aziraphale’s name. “What is this? Who sent it? Am I too late?” Closing the book, Crowley anxiously paced and began talking to no one rather loudly. “Do you need me Aziraphale? Did you send me this bloody book? Why here?”

No answer came, so Crowley waited.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #are you a bookseller too #not even at gunpoint #the bookshop #ineffable spouses

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flowertrigger · 11 days

Text

Favourite Line Game

Rules: share your favorite lines or paragraph you’ve written from your fics, posted or wip.

Thank you for tagging me @a-noble-dragon 💚🐉💚

one week is seven days too long

Patrick is on knees and elbows, forehead resting on the bed as if supplicating to the gods or David himself. His generous ass is high in the air waiting, waiting.

[Sorry this is just 4k of porn.]

in finding myself, i found you

Patrick brings his hands up from David’s hips, the silky material of his blouse whispers under his palms, and settles on his warm back clutching him even tighter. Their hips are in sync, just shy of full on grinding as they move to the heavy beat. As they shift and sway, Patrick loses himself in David’s arms, surrounded by his smell, his heat, his body. It isn’t until he hears David whisper his name that he realises.

He’s aroused.

He’s so hard that he can feel himself pressing against David’s thigh. Heat of a different kind shoots through him, his face aflame with embarrassment as he ceases all movement. Fuck, they’ve only been dancing for mere moments. What must David think of him? A pitiful, small town boy with his first sexual experience.

“Oh my god, David. I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, throat tight with shame. His hands quickly leave David’s back as he tries to step away but David holds tight.

[I still can't believe I wrote something this long. I know it's peanuts compared to most people but it's a lot for me.]

silent in the summer air with you

“Wh-where did the lube come from?” He stutters. Firm fingers drum unrelentingly on his prostate, stealing his breath and heating his skin.

“Pocket. I’ve been carrying it around all day. Statistically, if I fuck you in the morning you usually want it again before the day is done.” He’s so matter of fact about it, like he’s talking about stock rotation at work. David cannot believe this is his life.

“Statistically?” He squawks objectionably. If he doesn’t nip this in the bud now who knows how far Patrick will take it. “Are you seriously talking about statistics while you’re three knuckles deep in me?”

[The idea of Patrick carrying around anticipatory lube is v amusing to me.]

dessert

“Use your words, honey.”

He can’t.

There’s a gag in his mouth, suffocating and subduing.

His lips stretch too thin, jaw locked too tight.

Saliva drips from his chin and pools between his sore knees.

I'll no pressure tag @ramonaflow @beaiola @chelle-68 @jamilas-pen @smallumbrella369

@mostlyinthemorning @obsessedwithdavrick @trickiwooao3 if they have any favourites they'd like to share. 🖤🤍

It took me a week to feel comfortable doing this. The conflicting emotions between pride and amazement that I actually finished writing something with the crippling fear of being so shit actually, is so strong that picking favourite parts of my stories is a lot. You know when you see someone proud about something that objectively is in fact really bad and you're just embarrassed for them? That's how I feel. Why am I like this?

#writing tag game #my fics #schitt's creek fic #sc fanfic #david x patrick

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ro-is-struggling · 3 months

Note

Could I request prompt number 16 with Peter Maximoff (the X-men one), where the reader is the owner of the handcuffs. She’s kind of a nerdy tomboyish type, who’s not suspected because everyone knows she’s got net zero experience when it comes to dating. I think she’d probably have them because what if the opportunity to have sex finally arrived and she didn’t have all of the gear? What sort of fool would she look like then? Maybe not as much of a fool as… say a woman who was explaining her stock pile handcuffs to the guy she still hasn’t confessed to… If possible I’d like it smutty please!

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for participating in the celeration (and sorry it took me so long to get to your request). I had a lot of fun writing this one! I tried to make it smutty but for some reason I couldn't :( It's more funny and fluffy than smutty, but there are a few suggestive okes here and there, I hope you don't mind and that you like it anyways!!

The one with the embarrassing secret || Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: A mysterious pair of black handcuffs is found which leads to a search for their owner and some embarrassing confessions

Warnings: fem!reader, my attempt at humor, suggestive tones, fluff

Word count: 4500

This fic is part of my 600 followers celeration

When Charles asked you to fix up the room down the hall on the second floor you didn't think much of it. You were excited to meet the new occupant of the abandoned room and although cleaning wasn't your favorite thing to do, at least you knew you wouldn't be doing it alone. Jean, Scott and Peter were with you and you were optimistic that you could get the job done if you put in a little effort —especially if Peter dropped the jokes and used his powers to help you.

That room had been unoccupied for so long that sometimes you forgot it even existed. It was a dump where things that no one used anymore were stored, so it was a total mess. You were so overwhelmed by the amount of things there were to do that you didn't think about the fact that you also used that room as your personal junk stash a couple of times. So you set to work without thinking about the embarrassing things you had hidden there from your former roommate, certain that you had retrieved them all the moment she left school.

That was until you heard Jean let out a gasp of pure surprise, emerging from the closet with a pair of black leather handcuffs in her hand. The world around you stopped for a moment as panic spread throughout you. The blood all over your body rushed to your face, the shame evident in your expression as you realized the horrible mistake you had made. You knew you should never have bought that stupid being. You didn't need it. You didn't even have a partner! You should never have listened to that stupid magazine article. It didn't make sense, to fuel the flames of passion in a relationship you first had to get one, something you felt would never happen. Not with your shy and awkward attitude at least.

"Who do you think these belong to?" Jean's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You let out a sigh as you looked at their expression of confusion and curiosity, realizing there was no way they could know the handcuffs belonged to you. You just had to keep your cool so as not to arouse suspicion and they would eventually grow tired of the subject, wouldn't they?

"Well, I hate to be the one to say it but this is Charles' house..." Scott said and everyone winced —yourself included— at the implications of his words.

"Eww, Scott, gross!" Jean punched him in the arm to shut him up. "I don't want to think about the professor like that!"

"You asked!" The boy defended himself, stroking his arm where Jean's fist had impacted against his skin. Although he recognized that the mental image of Professor X's private life, someone he respected and loved like a father, was not a pretty one.

"Maybe these belong to Raven," she suggested as she inspected the handcuffs in her hands. You remained silent, returning to your chores as your friends talked. It was better for them to think they were Raven's than to find out they were yours. "I mean, she lived here too and she kinda looks like she'd be into this stuff."

"I don't know," Scott hesitated. Realistically they could belong to anyone, even people they didn't know. Many mutants had passed through the school for gifted youngsters and many others had sought refuge there. It wasn't exactly easy to deduce who owned such a scandalous object.

"Whose else could they be?" said Jean, though she was interrupted before she could continue her speculation.

Peter, who had remained silent playing with junk he was finding while moving a couple of boxes, interrupted his friends' conversation when an idea formed in his mind. Using his abilities, he snatched the handcuffs from Jean's hands before she could do anything to stop him. "I know who can help solve this little mystery!" he stated with a smile, dangling the handcuffs on his fingers playfully.

"Who?" you asked him, fearing that he somehow knew the handcuffs were yours. Instead of answering you he disappeared from the room for a split second and when he returned he had on a dark leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses in his hand.

"This is a case for Detective Brad Steel, FBI," he said, speaking in a deeper tone of voice than usual as he put on his sunglasses. He looked at you with an exaggeratedly dramatic look in his eyes, acting like he was on a detective show and this was the most important case of his career.

No one could contain the laughter, not even you. You were amazed at Peter's ability to come up with stupid things that made you laugh. He had a great imagination and got bored easily, a combination that was the perfect recipe for disaster 90% of the time. Oh, but that remaining 10% where things didn't go terribly wrong was usually hilarious for everyone involved. Peter was a fun guy to have around and always knew just what to do or say to make you laugh. That was one of the things you liked most about him.

"Why doesn't Brad Steel stay to clean up like he's supposed to be doing?" you said looking at him with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. You knew full well he was using that as an excuse so he wouldn't have to stay and tidy up. He was like a little kid who got bored easily, especially when it came to tasks like cleaning and organizing. His world moved too fast to make sense of such things. "We could really use your talents to help out with this mess, Peter."

"I'm sorry, but Brad Steel has more important things to do. His talents can't be wasted with such trivial chores when there's so many mysteries out there that need to be solved!" Peter explained in his exaggerated FBI detective voice. You opened your mouth to complain, ready to argue with him to make him stay, but he vanished from the room before any of the three of you could say anything about it.

"Let him go," Jean said, resuming her chores. "He probably would have slowed us down more than helped us anyway."

You thought you were safe. After Peter left, you all focused on cleaning and tidying up the room as quickly as you could so you could get out of there. The conversation did not return to the subject of the handcuffs, the object easily forgotten now that you no longer had it lying around. You really thought that for once the universe had sided with you, quickly releasing you from the embarrassing moment and allowing you to have a second chance. All you had to do now was wait for the buzz to die —something you didn't think would be very difficult as Peter got bored easily with everything—, and then you could retrieve the handcuffs and make them disappear forever.

However, your hopes that this disaster would die quickly were crushed when you saw Peter talking to Professor Xavier. He still had his sunglasses on, so you didn't have to be very close to them to guess what they were talking about.

"Who used to stay in that bedroom?" you heard Peter ask a very confused Charles. "Or perhaps it was always a storage room?"

"I... I don't know, I don't remember." The professor muttered, looking at the boy with a frown. "Why the sudden interest in the room? How is any of it relevant to cleaning and organizing?"

"It's not, he's just joking!" You intervened in the conversation before Peter said something stupid. "We were bored while we cleaned up and we started a game, but it's all done now so the new guy can move in!"

You didn't give Charles time to answer you, you just gave him a smile and pushed Peter away from him. "What are you doing?" you asked him in a whispered shout. You couldn't believe he had dared to go up to the professor to ask him questions about the room. You had to stop his stupid game before things blew up in your face.

"I'm working the case," he said as if it were obvious, shrugging his shoulders.

"He can't know about this!"

"I wasn't going to tell him! I was just asking around to see what he could remember." Peter defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air at your accusing look.

"No, you were avoiding work just like you always do." You complained, crossing your arms over your chest. "Besides, do you really think he wouldn't figure it out? He's a mind reader!"

Peter rolled his eyes, annoyed at your persistence. He didn't understand why you seemed so concerned about the matter. It wasn't like you knew who owned the handcuffs, so why did you seem so concerned that Charles wouldn't find out. Unless... you were hiding something.

It didn't make sense in Peter's mind that you were the owner of the handcuffs. You weren't the kind of person anyone pictured when thinking of someone who used those kinds of sex toys. You were too innocent and indifferent to the world of love and sex for that. In fact, Peter wasn't even sure you had any experience with it. But that didn't mean you were completely ignorant of the subject. Maybe you knew who the real owner was. Maybe it was a friend you were trying to cover for. Maybe he knew the owner himself and didn't know it.

That idea piqued Peter's curiosity and unfortunately for you, that meant he wouldn't let go until he got to the bottom of it.

"Why do you care so much about people finding out about it?"

His question threw you off as you didn't expect him to pick up on your discomfort so quickly. Your brain froze for a moment, your mouth hanging open as it struggled to come up with a good lie that would get you out from under the spotlight. However, when you saw the look in his eyes you knew it was too late.

"I-I don't care." You lied, shrugging your shoulders in a desperate attempt to look relaxed. "I just think it's dumb and it could be embarrassing for whoever owns these to have the whole school spreading rumors about it." Peter squinted at you, inspecting your expression for signs that would confirm his suspicions.

"I think you're lying." He said after a few seconds of silence. "I think you know something about this whole thing and you don't want to tell me."

"I do not!" You exclaimed in a high-pitched tone that immediately gave you away.

"Are you sure about that? Because my detective instincts are telling me otherwise." He teased you, looking at you with an amused smile plastered on his face.

"Well, your detective instincts suck then cause I don't know anything." You were starting to get nervous, speaking at a rapid pace and in a high-pitched tone that was unusual for you. Peter knew you well enough to know when you were lying, but even if he didn't, it was pretty obvious.

"Why are you so nervous then?" he stepped closer to you, invading your personal space with his presence. His eyes never left yours, staring at you with a paralyzing intensity. It was hard to focus when he was so close to you. It was like he knew the effect he had on you and was using it to his advantage. Your poor brain that was already having trouble functioning properly lost all hope of recovering. You needed to get out of there, get away from him before you ended up saying something you would regret.

"You're making me nervous with your stare!" You said without thinking about how he might interpret that phrase.

"I make you nervous?" Peter repeated, looking at you with an arched eyebrow. You felt the blood in your entire body travel to your face from embarrassment at his implication. He was right to assume that, but it wasn't what you had meant.

"Not like that!" you were quick to correct. "I mean you make me nervous with youe accusatory looks."

"Why? Are you hiding something?"

"No! You know what? Forget it! Do whatever you want, I don't care." You did care, you cared a lot, but you knew that this conversation with Peter would get you nowhere. He seemed more interested in teasing you than anything else and you were dangerously close to saying something stupid, so you decided it would be best to walk away. You headed back to your room, climbing the stairs to the second floor as fast as you could. However, when you reached the last door in the corridor you discovered that Peter was waiting for you there, leaning against the wood.

"You can't escape from me, you know that, right?" he said arrogantly, giving you a cheeky grin.

"Ugh, I hate when you do that!"

"No you don't."

No, you didn't. But you still rolled your eyes, faking annoyance.

"Go away, I need to do stuff."

"What stuff?"

"It's none of your business. Let me pass."

"Not until you tell me what you know."

You let out a frustrated sigh at his persistence. It was clear that Peter wasn't going to drop the subject anytime soon and you weren't sure how much longer you could put up with his questions. He was going to learn the truth eventually, of that you were sure. His curiosity and persistence would not allow him to drop the subject. It was a matter of how and when he would find out what was at stake.

And then it occurred to you that maybe if you told him the truth, if you controlled the way he found out everything, it would be less embarrassing for you. You knew that if you told him and asked him to drop the subject he would because you were friends and Peter wasn't a complete jerk. He would playfully tease you from time to time, sure, but he wouldn't seek to really hurt you.

"If I tell you, will you let it go?"

Peter's eyes lit up at your words, like those of a child getting his way. "I pinky promise!" he nodded, raising his hand and stretching out his pinky finger for you to shake. You shook your head, unable to believe what you were about to do, but shook his finger, sealing the promise.

You pushed Peter into your room, closing the door behind you to make sure no one heard you. The last thing you wanted was for the rumor to spread around the school, that was a kind of humiliation you weren't prepared to face. He watched you intently as you paced around the room, waiting for you to speak. It was clear you were having trouble finding the right words —or the courage to utter them— which made Peter even more confused. Why was this subject affecting you so much?

"Spill it out already!" Peter exclaimed when he couldn't stand the silence any longer. His voice brought you back to reality, stopping you on your feet as your eyes locked on him. There was no easy or non embarrassing way to say what you had to say, and you knew that dragging it out would only make everything worse. Just like removing a band-aid, sometimes it was better to be quick and precise to get things over with as quickly as possible. So you took a deep breath and blurted out your excuses as fast as you could, barely breathing between words as you tried to explain your reasoning to a very confused Peter.

"You have to understand it was an impulse buy, I don't even know why I did it... in fact I was going to throw them away, but I forgot where I put them and I-"

"Wow, wow, wow, slow down a minute!" Peter interrupted you, surprise written all over his face. "Are you saying these are yours?" You felt the blood travel to your face once again, igniting your skin from the embarrassment you felt under Peter's curious gaze. You didn't trust your voice to answer him, so you just nodded your head slightly, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole so you wouldn't have to face him anymore.

"How? I mean, no offense, but you don't seem like the kind of girl who would even know about these, let alone own a pair."

"Cause I'm not!" you said honestly, trying to defend what little was left of your dignity. "I haven't even had-" You stopped abruptly before finishing the sentence, realizing that confessing to the guy you liked that you were a virgin was as embarrassing as admitting that you had bought a pair of handcuffs for no apparent reason.

"You've never had sex?" He asked you after a few seconds of silence. Your gaze dropped to the floor, too embarrassed to look at him as you shook your head. If he didn't think you were pathetic before, you were sure he did now. "Then why did you buy these?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer. Honestly you didn't even know why you did it, you just blindly followed the advice of a women's magazine —a mistake you weren't going to make again. "I don't know... I thought I might need them. There's this guy I like and I've been building up the courage to ask him out and I was scared he might think I'm lame or something if I don't have all this stuff."

Peter could tell that all this was a sensitive subject for you, so he tried to be as serious and understanding as possible. He approached you, taking a few steps until he could touch your face with his hand. He lifted your chin carefully, forcing you to look at him as he spoke. "You're not lame for not having experience in this stuff." He said in a soft voice. "And if anyone ever makes you feel that way then they're a dick and don't deserve your attention."

Hearing Peter say that put a smile on your face. His reassurance made you feel a little less pathetic, it wasn't enough to repair your bruised ego, but it did make you feel better to know that he didn't see you as a loser. You knew everyone else did, even if they didn't say it to your face. You were the weird girl who didn't fit in and had never been on a date. How could you when you acted like that? No guy would find you attractive! You weren't very feminine, always opting to hide in baggy clothes. You also didn't pay as much attention to your appearance as other girls your age seemed to do, and you weren't even interested in the world of dating and romance. It all seemed so complicated to you that just thinking about it overwhelmed you, so you were pretty sure you would die alone.

"So, who is it?" Peter's voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Who's the guy that you like, the one that you bought these for?" Peter twirled the handcuffs in his fingers, fiddling with them as he gave you an amused smile. He was back to his usual goofy self, trying to lighten the mood with his jokes.

"It doesn't matter!" you were quick to say, trying hard to control your imagination and not let it picture Peter doing something more than teasing you with the handcuffs in his hand.

"That makes me think that it does matter," he remarked with amusement. "C'mon, who is it? I wanna know, please tell me." Peter spoke, stretching every syllable to the point that it was annoying —just like a child who wants to convince an adult to listen to them. He always did that and you usually found it amusing and adorable, but this time it was different because you just couldn't give in to his demands.

"That wasn't part of our deal."

"Yeah, cause I didn't know there was a special someone. Tell me who it is! I deserve to know."

"No you don't!"

"You're right, but I want to know so tell me, pleaseee."

"No!"

"Is it someone I know?" You tried to control your expressions, to remain serious so as not to expose your feelings, but it was pointless. Somehow he knew, you saw it in his eyes and in the smirk he was giving you.

"No. Actually, you don't know him." You lied, struggling to control your micro-expressions. You spoke casually, faking disinterest to see if it would get him off your back. But you sounded too casual, too disinterested, and Peter knew you were lying.

"I do know him!" he gasped at the realization. "Who is it? Is it Scott? You know he's in love with Jean, right?"

"It's not Scott!"

"Then who? Kurt?" Peter made a funny face, finding the image that had formed in his head of you and Kurt together weird. You were friends, but he didn't picture you as anything more. You weren't compatible. Even though you were both innocent, your personality was too intense for him. That would never work.

"No, ew, he's my friend!" It was your turn to cringe this time. "He's nice, but I don't like him like that. He's not my type."

"And who is your type?"

You fell silent, admiring Peter's warm eyes.

'You are my type,' you thought, feeling your heart race under his intense gaze. He was the one guy you wanted to see you in a special way, the one you sighed for when he passed you by. He owned your heart, but you couldn't tell him. Especially not now after he found out one of your most embarrassing secrets.

"It's none of your business." You said simply after a few seconds of silence, turning your back to him to escape the vigilance of his beautiful eyes.

But Peter could tell something was wrong, his instincts giving him an answer to the questions you refused to answer. It was the sparkle in your eyes and the strange tension in the air that gave him the hint. You looked at him as if you wanted to tell him something, as if you were biting your tongue to keep your heart from leading you to make a mistake. He couldn't think of a single reason why you'd try so hard to keep your mouth shut, unless....

"Is it me?" Peter asked you, appearing in front of you in a flash. His sudden movements would have surprised you if it weren't for the fact that you were used to being around him already. Being friends with Peter came with his weird behaviors and silly jokes. No, what surprised you were his words. How had he noticed? Were you so obvious?

You didn't know how to answer so you didn't say anything, you just looked at him, letting your eyes speak for you. You couldn't have formed a coherent sentence even if you wanted to, you were too mortified to do so. Your brain was spending all its resources preparing you for the worst, screaming at you not to cry the moment Peter rejected you. You knew he would try to be nice about it —there wasn't a single ounce of malice in that boy's heart—, but it would still hurt, and the last thing you needed at that moment was to humiliate yourself any further.

However, the rejection never came. Not even a look of awkwardness on his part. He only moved closer to you, invading your personal space as he reached out to caress your cheek.

"I need to hear you say it." He spoke, his voice almost a deep whisper. It took you a few seconds to process his words, brow furrowing in confusion at the gentleness of his touch. You were expecting to be rejected, even mocked for the stupid secret Peter had just discovered about you. But instead he looked at you with a special shine in his eyes, admiring you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. That threw you off, your brain too stunned to stop your lips before uttering the most sincere response you could at that moment.

"it has always been you."

There wasn't much more you could say because Peter's lips silenced you as they crashed against yours in the most anticipated kiss of your life. You didn't have much experience in the area, but you knew that was the best kiss you'd ever had so far. Butterflies flew in your stomach and colorful fireworks exploded behind your eyes as you let him guide you, taking control of the kiss. His lips tasted sweet, like candy, something that didn't help you want to pull away from him. But eventually your lungs betrayed you, forcing you to break the kiss so you could breathe.

"I'm flattered you bought these thinking of me," Peter spoke, twirling the handcuffs in his fingers. He had a mischievous smile plastered on his lips, but there wasn't a trace of malice in his eyes. He wasn't trying to mock you, he was just trying to make you feel good about yourself. "But we don't need to use them. We can take things slow, go at your pace."

You appreciated his thoughtfulness. It was a sensitive subject and Peter wasn't precisely known for being the most serious person. But he was really going out of his way to make you feel comfortable, from the gentleness in his eyes to the calmness in his voice. He wanted to be counted as much as you wanted to be with him, and he was going to do everything he could to make his work.

"I'd like that." you smiled at him and he gave you a quick kiss on the lips as a way of sealing your commitment to each other.

"But I'm keeping these! You never know when they might come in handy." Peter put the handcuffs in his pocket, giving you a suggestive wink that did nothing but earn him a slap on the shoulder from you.

"Gross!" you grumbled, though you ended up laughing at the exaggerated scowl Peter gave you.

"Excuse me? I wasn't the one that brought them. You're the gross one for putting weird ideas in my head. I was actually as pure as a dove before you presented me with such a filthy object!"

"I'm already regretting this." you said, rolling your eyes. But Peter didn't care, he knew you weren't serious. He knew you well enough to know when you were joking and when you were really upset with him. He could always tell in your eyes, something changed in them when he crossed a line. He didn't know how to describe it, but it was obvious when it happened, so he always knew when to stop joking.

And at that moment, despite your crossed arms and your look of annoyance, he could see nothing but love in your eyes.

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x fem reader #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff x female reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x fem reader #ro's 600 followers celebration

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fakeagatha · 20 days

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Could you do a cute one shot or headcannon of reader and Agatha baking together?

Like maybe one of then isn't the best so the other has to help?

Icing | Agatha Harkness x Reader

A/N: Hey anon! So firstly I want to apologize profusely for taking almost a year to get this done for you, I've been distant from Tumblr, and even though I had the fic as a WIP, I couldn't find the time to complete it, but it's finally done!

Summary: Agatha wants to start baking again, and requests your help. The only problem is that you have no idea how.

Word Count: 864

TW: Minor swearing?

Ever since you and Agatha started portraying your roles in Westview, it gave you and your wife a chance to take up new hobbies and activities, since you had to pretend to be held captive in the fantasy as well.

Agatha was next door, and Wanda was baking some sort of Sokovian pastry for the twins.

Being a 300 year old witch, Agatha has a lot of experience in almost everything, of course. One of them being baking, since she has generally done a lot of that in her life. She hasn't baked in years, and she was inspired by the redhead.

So that's why you found her in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets as you came home from your walk.

You approached her, looking around at all the open cabinets. "So, what's up with all this?" You chuckled.

"It's all Wanda's fault. I want to bake again, I haven't done it in years!" She exclaimed, "We need to go shopping." She added.

You raised an eyebrow at her "Why not just... Use your magic?"

She simply glared at you, shaking her head. "I want the full experience." She grinned, and grabbed your arm as you walked to the car.

You looked at her in amusement, not protesting whatsoever as you entered the passengers seat.

Not even a minute on the road, and she was singing "Sweet Child of Mine" at the top of her lungs as it blasted on the radio. You do regret your life decisions sometimes, but you wouldn't change it for the world.

Westview's local grocery store only has specific things in stock at certain times. Thankfully, since you had decided to go at the time you did, there were baking products.

It was frustrating when Agatha wanted to make a meal, but Wanda hadn't stocked the shop with the ingredients she needed, just because her so called best friend didn't currently need them.

Your luck was fine, so that's when you found yourselves picking up a lot of supplies, a bit too much, just in case it took a while for the next stock.

Your wife had picked up some bags of flour, sugar, baking powder, some cake mixes, and pretty much anything that was baking related.

"Your total comes to 376 dollars."

Agatha looked at the cashier for a moment, "Sure..." She smirked.

Let's just say you only paid 10 dollars, after she used her powers to manipulate the woman behind the cash register.

As you arrived home, the witch placed the five shopping bags, which you weren't allowed to carry, onto the table, and grinned.

"This is perfect!" She exclaimed.

You kissed her on the cheek, and helped her unpack everything.

You smirked, "Of course."

She sighed after everything was put in its place, before thinking for a moment.

"Do you like cupcakes and cookies?" She suddenly asked.

You blushed slightly, "I actually have no idea how to bake..." You admitted, shrugging.

She beamed, and used her powers to bring over the ingredients, along with some cooking essentials.

"Right, we're making strawberry and chocolate cupcakes with cookie toppings and sprinkles, as well as some red velvet cookies, and you're going to help me." She demanded, grinning.

Agatha's smile grew, and took you by the hand over to the counter next to her. "There's a first time for everything!"

The purple witch pulled out a baking tray, inspecting it slightly before placing it on the counter. You handed her the dough, which the two of you had made together, attempting to make various shapes.

You shaped out a cat for a cookie, you think, it could've been a cow, or even a lizard. You weren't quite sure about the answer. Agatha on the other hand, had somehow managed to perfectly sculpt a rose.

Agatha then turned to you, grinning, "Now we get to make the icing!" You smiled back at her, allowing her to guide you.

She handed you a bag of flour, and you carefully took it, and attempting to pour it into the bowl Agatha had set out in front of you.

Most of what you were supposed to put in had fallen out or ended up on you and Agatha's face.

"Oops..." You looked at Agatha, who was completely covered in flour.

Half an hour later, after adding the toppings and finishing up, you finally put the cupcakes into the oven, as Agatha took off her messy apron and smirked. "Most of this mess is your fault," She chuckled, and you rolled your eyes while smiling.

"You know I'm crap at baking!" You whined, and she laughed again, "I know, I know. But I'm so happy that you tried for me anyway!" She beamed at you, and you kissed her cheek as you smirked.

When you heard the alarm of the oven going off, you quickly turned it off, taking the tray out and placing it on the counter top to cool down. "They look great!" You exclaimed, and your wife nodded in agreement. "I'm quite surprised that the shapes turned out so good." She replied.

You both took a cupcake, admiring the mini cookies and sprinkles that you had added, and took a bite. You weren't sure what to expect, but they tasted just as good as they looked, and the same went with the cookies.

Agatha then smirked, "Next time, we're making a cake!"

#agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #wandavision #kathryn hahn x reader #marvel #mcu

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greenishghostey · 2 years

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Dungeon Master meet Prop Master | part 1

Pairing: Eddie x Drama Club!reader

Summary: A D&D nerd and a drama geek finally cross paths in their little shared paradise realm - the drama storage room of Hawkins High School.

Warnings: None! Just a good, wholesome meet-cute. There is some suggestive language but nothing is graphic/explicit.

Word Count: 4,639 words (this took on a mind of its own super fast)

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a few fics floating around where the reader is part of the drama class but I hadn’t seen a fic where reader is more behind the scenes, thus spending a lot of time in the drama store room - aka The Hellfire Club room. Also, the official title of the person in charge of props is ‘The Prop Master’ so that worked too perfectly. I couldn’t not go down that route. I was a drama kid in high school so I am definitely projecting a bit but at least I’m being creative with it.

I would like to say a little thank you to @manicpixiedreamcurl , @punk-in-docs and @luveline whose works and amazing writing styles inspired me to get back into writing after a really really long spell of writer’s block.

/// Part 2

The best part of being in charge of the props and the set for the drama club was the fact that you got to keep the coveted storage closet key. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest honour to the others in your club, but that closet and the rehearsal room were your domain. It’s where all the stuff was, the mass of stuff you had accumulated since freshman year for the club. Miss Butler had told you just last week that the place was “starting to look like a dragon’s hoard,” she’d spoken with her usual encouraging smile, so it really lit a fire under your ass.

The rickety shelves were weighed down by stacks of old books you’d found in second-hand stores, some of which were actually pretty good - The Hobbit and the first three Oz books being your current favourites. The floor was cluttered with random small pieces of home decor you grabbed from yard sales around Hawkins - the old ladies of your neighbourhood had basically thrown the lamps, ornaments and doilies at you. There were a few pieces of large furniture that had been in the closet long before you were let loose in it - the usual set dressing stuff, small wooden desks, chairs, dusty rugs.

Your favourite piece that had greeted you as prop master was that big, ornate wooden chair - more like a throne - that you barely got to touch because the Dungeons and Dragons club’s leader had basically called permanent dibs. Eddie Munson was known to be a lot of things around the school and had been for what felt like forever. Freak, creep, cultist, asswipe - all the classics. However, to you, he was a chair hog, but that was about it. You’d never really put stock into the satan-murder-super-cult schtick that everyone and their mother spewed. He was the head of a roleplaying game club with its own fun little shirts, so how harmful could he be?

For how much time you spent building, fixing, or organising props in the theatre room, you would assume Eddie would have crossed your path much more. But you guys always seemed to miss each other, and he was hard to miss, even on a good day. Fridays were Hellfire Club nights, so you would always have to just head straight home after last period. The rest of the week was fair game, and he never dared to stay on school grounds longer than he had to. You’d seen him tearing out of the parking lot yesterday. He nearly rear-ended Carver’s car while blasting Mississippi Queen - part of you wished he had taken the back off of the jock’s car; Jason was a bitch.

It was Thursday, and you were perched by old plywood and canvas backdrops, surrounded by various shades of brown and grey paints - glasses on because this job was gonna require 20:20 vision or as close as you could get. Miss Butler wanted to direct a show-stopping production of The Crucible this year, so you were getting started on some very sad-looking colonial church backgrounds. The painting had always been one of your favourite parts of your role. Sure, brown and grey weren’t the most exciting colours ever, but you had to give yourself some credit; you really knew how to create faux, mouldy wood grain. Working in total silence just wasn’t gonna work, though, so you dug your cassette player and headphones from your backpack and welcomed the silky rasp of Patti Smith to accompany your Arthur Miller-ifying activities.

With ‘So You Want To Be’ blaring in your ears, you didn’t notice when the door to the theatre room was thrown open, and Hawkins High’s resident super senior rushed in.

Eddie quickly started busying himself with the usual Hellfire set dressings dotted around the room. He usually set up on Friday afternoon but had some “business transactions” to deal with before the weekend, so after-school Hellfire feng shui it was. Eddie had dumped his backpack against the plywood backdrops behind his throne and started rummaging through scraps of notes, general lint and some old food crumbs to find his good set of metal dice. They always sank right to the bottom of the bag just when he needed them.

A loud thud bellowed through the theatre room, quickly followed by Eddie’s voice cracking into a yell.

“Son of a-!”

You shot up from your spot and felt your eyes widen at the metalhead, who was currently hunched under a piece of Saint Basil’s Cathedral, “Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay? I am so so sorry!” you scrambled around the backdrops to heave up the fallen pieces. They weren’t heavy enough to do any damage, but you’d been nearly crushed by them plenty of times. Cardboard, canvas and plywood are a bitch.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Just dinted my spine is all.” Eddie groaned, rubbing his back and stretching like some old man. “Knew you guys hated me using this room but wasn’t expecting a full-on assault.” He actually looked like he might have been injured from the rogue Cathedral piece. Maybe you were just used to things falling on you or stabbing yourself with craft knives.

“Eddie, I’m really sorry. Do you want me to get some ice? The nurse might still be in her office, so I’ll run - I’ll be like 5 minutes, yeah?” You were scrambling for ways to make sure Eddie knew you were sorry. Rambling, really. God, you pride yourself on seeing past his mean and scary persona when others didn’t, but you’d gone and basically winded him with a church tower. Maybe if you took the hallways that the janitor had already mopped, you would be able to pick up speed and slide to the nurse’s office.

Eddie took notice of your frantic state, eyes shifting around the room and towards the door, shoulders bunched up - you looked like the really nervous stray cat, Frankie, that wandered around the trailer park. “Hey, hey. I was just messing with you, specs,” he chuckled lightly. It was a new experience for him to see someone, let alone a girl, get worked up on his behalf in any capacity. Usually, he’d get an insult at worst or a grimace at best. He stood up straight and did a small half-spin so you could see for yourself that he was, in fact, fine. “See, I’m a-okay. Little offended at getting smacked by a church, but hey, it was gonna happen eventually.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You huffed, a smile sliding across your lips, “fuck you, Munson, I thought I’d actually hurt you!” you swatted him with the paintbrush you’d put in your back pocket, a few specks of grey paint hitting his jeans. You turned to make sure everything was secured to avoid another workplace accident. Then, you heard him laugh, it was something between a snigger and a giggle, and it was actually kind of sort of cute. What fresh hell was this?

“Fuck you,” he said, in a high-pitch, mimicking voice - Eddie had jokes now. Brave of him. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I made you worry about little ol’ me.”

“Wasn’t worried. More frantic concern,” you tried to shrug off his playful comment. It did bring a little heat to your face, but he didn’t need to know that. “What are you doing in here today anyway? It’s Thursday; you’re a day early.”

“Ah yeah, well, I’ve got some important business to attend to tomorrow so…” his voice trailed off as he leaned against the edge of the long table. He could have just said drugs, you were quiet around school, sure, but you weren’t a total square. Possibly more of a square with rounded edges.

“By business, you mean weed?” You asked.

“Yeah, weed.” Huh, he sounded a little bit discouraged in his reply but quickly covered it with a chuckle and a smirk. Typical Munson. “You wanna buy or?”

“God, no. I mean, I'm not judging it, but it’s not really my thing. One of my friends said she’s gonna buy from you for Willis’ party on Saturday, though.” Penny had been raving about scoring some weed for that party since Monday. She’d only smoked a handful of times in her life, but the guy she had her eye on was like a chimney attached to a house on fire. His name was Chris or Keith or something that started with a ‘C’ or a ‘K’. All you knew is that he was a glorified benchwarmer for the basketball team and had ‘sexy’ hair - Penny’s words, not yours.

“Is that the redhead chick who makes you run lines at lunch when there’s a play? She’s bought from me before but didn’t know what papers or filters were.” He couldn’t hold back a snigger when remembering how he had to explain the fundamentals of a joint to the poor girl.

Eddie’s laugh was nice, you decided. You couldn’t find a word to describe it other than nice at that moment. Penny could take being thrown under the bus for a minute as long as you got to hear him laugh again. She’d made you read as Romeo one too many times, so, if anything, this was like karma.

Wait.

How did he know what you got up to at lunch? Penny was sometimes a little too loud when she got really into a monologue but you usually distracted yourself with your sandwich and soup when that happened. But Eddie had noticed. He had noticed the heavy-handed performance of your friend, but more importantly, he had noticed you. God, what if he had heard your crappy take on the witches from Macbeth? You’d done voices.

“That’s her, yeah. Her name’s Penny. If you call her “chick” she’ll go nuclear. Just warning ya.” You needed to keep this conversation on track. You liked talking to Eddie. It felt easy. Like you’d always thought it would. “She’ll buy from you, but it’s for this dude she likes.”

“Awww. That is so gross.” He replied in an airy, cooing tone. You’d moved to join him at the table, getting yourself comfortably seated. You really didn’t want to go back to painting. Eddie was actually kind of funny, and not in his usual loud, antagonistic way - you did still enjoy that, obviously, but seeing a new side to a pretty guy wasn’t something you were gonna complain about.

“You going to Willis’ this weekend? Since pennies and some other drama nuts are, I’d assume you are to make an appearance?”

“Drama nuts, huh?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows and trying your best to look genuinely miffed at the comment. He was right, though. Everyone knew theatre kids were fucking nuts.

“It’s not a bad thing. Everyone’s a nut about something - sports, drama, music, sometimes math for whatever unholy reason.” He was now sitting on the table with you, leaning back on his forearms like he was getting comfy to stay there for some time. God.

“And what are you a nut about exactly?”

“Getting an answer about your party attendance, if I’m honest.” Oh.

True be told, Eddie didn’t flirt all that much. When he did, it was usually to get a rise out of people or make them uncomfortable. But he’d had at least one eye on you for a while now. You were cute, which was the first thing he noticed - all big wireframe glasses and funky sweaters with weird patterns on them.

The more he glanced your way, though, the more he liked. You were definitely the most level-headed of the drama nuts, reining in their impromptu lunch rehearsals. You were always jotting down notes in your little red, paisley-patterned notebook with “WORK STUFF” written on the front. You also snorted when you laughed at one of his comments in history like a month ago, so that had done a number on him for at least a week.

You were a little weird, honestly. But, he liked weird. Weird looked good smacking him in the spinal cord with theatre backdrops. Maybe you could smack him in other, more friendly, situations. That’d be cool.

“Oh? You’ve got some lines, huh? I thought the charm was only for the jocks and Miss O’Donnell?”

“My charm has many layers, thank you very much,” he smirked, the expression taking up his entire face. This guy’s Dante’s Inferno of charm was gonna have you ready to lose layers if it kept up. Wait, what cesspit of your brain did that thought crawl out from?

“Okay, okay, noted. Back to the weed party. Not really my kinda scene, too busy, too loud.” You smiled, a little sad at your confession. Big parties had never really been your thing, even when it came to birthday parties in elementary school. A cast and crew wrap party was always fun but you knew everyone at those, so it took less effort. Penny had been nagging your ear off for the past two weeks to “let your hair down,” but you knew you’d wind up being a buzz kill, regardless of what hairstyle you went for.

“The weed party? I’m gonna steal that one, specs. Could use it for my summer sales and marketing scheme. Business ventures aside, what is your scene if it isn’t weed parties?” He giggled a bit when he spoke. You weren’t going to be able to forget ‘weed parties’, but, hey, it could be an inside joke between the two of you, like friends.

“Well, this, more or less. It’s all like my own big extracurricular craft project, I guess.” You said, gesturing around the theatre room, glancing towards the storage closet door, the backdrops, the variety of sword props you’d made for Othello last year, and stacks of old paper that you had meticulously aged. It wasn’t much of a “scene”, but theatre was your life. Creating all of those little details that could elevate a play and bring it off the page alongside the actors was a great feeling. Most people didn’t understand why you liked painting backdrops or making stuff out of plywood or foam. Penny tried to. Bless her heart, but maybe Eddie would get it. Maybe he could peek behind the curtain and understand.

“Wait. So like, you make all of this stuff? Dude, seriously?!” Eddie lept up from the table quickly and dashed towards the “weapons bin” - it was the name you’d lovingly given to the big crate that was full of fake swords and daggers from previous productions. Miss Butler loved a good Shakespearean tragedy to get her thespians ready for their future Tony award nominations. Eddie rummaged through the crate and pulled out one of the more “adventurous” pieces you’d made. The blade itself was pretty basic, made from some foam with a wooden base to keep the shape and covered in metallic paint you borrowed from your dad. The handle and guard were what you were really proud of. And, apparently, so was Eddie.

It was an aged gold colour, made to look like the metal had been held numerous times but was still well-crafted. You’d taken way too much time to shape the handle to look like finger grips had been hammered into the gold. There were detailed patterns etched into the guard that you’d done with a craft knife at your kitchen table. It had been a bitch to work on since you’d stabbed your fingers a lot, but it looked fucking sick. Eddie held it like it was real, like it was a gift bestowed upon him by the gods themselves.

“You’re telling me you made this?” He spoke earnestly. It was the first time you had ever heard him sound that way. His big, dark eyes felt like they were scanning your whole body, not just your face.

“I don’t handmake everything, but the swords and other stuff that’s production-specific, yeah, I have to make it.”

“This sword. This sword, here. It’s the fucking crown jewel of our Hellfire campaign right now,” he stated. He’d started running his hand along the fake blade while maintaining eye contact with you and wearing an awestruck look. This must have been another layer of that charm he mentioned because warmth was crawling up your neck. There was an innuendo about stroking a sword rolling around in her head, but you weren’t ready to embarrass yourself that quickly - things were going too well.

“The Sun Strike. The most sought after and powerful magical sword. The guys are gonna use it to destroy this cursed rogue knight dude. Or, at least, that’s my plan. The new freshmen might fuck it up; who knows.” He swung the sword around as he told you all about the tale of the weapon, spinning it around in his hand. Eddie was so weirdly unpredictable - the scary satan worshipper could go sword tricks and was grinning like a big goof.

You didn’t speak for a few moments. You just stared at him and the sword from your perch on the table. This guy really was insane but in the best way possible. He looked like an excited little kid with your prop in hand.

Your parents had always supported your passion for building and crafting pretty much anything your little mind could think of - you’d once made a magic staff out of a gross tree branch you’d found on a hike. However, they never really got the enjoyment and sense of pride that crafts gave you. Breathing new life into something that might otherwise be viewed as mundane or as nothing. Transporting even the smallest object back in time to any period with some paint, some brushes and a whole bunch of all-nighters.

It was more than just fun. It was more than just a hobby. And Eddie Munson, of all people, seemed to understand that loud and clear. He’d even named one of your creations. How adorable was that?

“Hey, specs? Specs? Sorry, I should have asked to use your stuff. I didn’t know any of this was actually made by some-”

“No, no. Do not say sorry. Nuh uh,” you yelled, moving towards Eddie and grasping his upper arms. “The Sun Strike. That name is way cooler than anything I could come up with, so no sorry’s. And - and it's magic? Like good magic or bad magic?” Your quiet shock was long gone, and you started shaking Eddie by the shoulders. The bright grin on your face was infectious as Eddie stared at you, his expression slowly matching yours once the reality of your questions had set in. You were excited and asked him about D&D and liked the sword's name. Eddie had never been concerned about how smoking would affect his breathing, but you had him near gasping for air.

“Good magic, don’t worry. The best kind, actually. Like the light of the world, that type of stuff. Crafted by the fair hands of a Sun goddess herself.” Eddie explained with a lopsided smirk. Fuck, he was so proud of that piece of lore now; he could use it as a line on a cute girl. That had never happened before.

“Was that pre-established, or did you just make that up for me?” You laughed, not giving a single shit about what the answer was because you were a fucking Sun goddess. Now that you had calmed down, you made sure to let go of Eddie before you gave him minor whiplash. You were also becoming increasingly aware that being so close to him was feeling a little too nice.

“Nah, ‘fraid to say that I came up with that when I first saw it last year. But how about we change your name from ‘specs’ to ‘sunny’? How does that sound?” It almost amazed Eddie how easily he was laying it on thick with you.

“Keep ‘specs’ gives me the chance to redeem a name from middle school. Besides, one of the other girls in drama gets called Sunny, so no dice.” You were cursing Sunny to high heaven in your head. Her real name was Mary-anne, and she only got the nickname because her last name was Sunderland. But, you didn’t need to start gaining a God complex over a fake sword, so ‘specs’ you would have to remain.

You and Eddie continued to talk about your projects and if he had worked them into his campaign. Funnily enough, he had only used the gold handled sword since he’d never had a real inspection of the other treasures in the theatre trove. You were starting to grasp the fundamentals of D&D, and you could clearly see how fun it could be. What Eddie did with his club was sort of similar to you and the drama club - transforming, transporting, reviving. While helping him move some new stuff into place for Hellfire Club the next night, you both fell into a calm rhythm. You would suggest setting and props that could work for what he had planned in the session, and he would ‘hm’ and ‘haw’ about the place for them. You’d given him a few more fake weapons - two daggers and a wood-cutting axe - along with some weathered books and candlesticks.

This Hellfire set was one of the best you’d worked on, and it wasn’t even for the drama club. It was still just as theatrical and imposing but was also cosy and welcoming. Kind of like Eddie, you’d realised. After the evening you had spent with the town pariah, you were even more against the vile opinions people held about him. He was a huge cheeseball, inside and out. You had handed him a huge, beat-up, leather bound bible, and he nearly shrieked with excitement as he put it on the table. Behind the hair, the leather and the bite was one of the sweetest guys ever.

Eddie lounged back in his ornate, dark wood throne, surveying the upgraded Hellfire Club set-up. Candelabras, weaponry and some gothic patterned fabric draped over the ladder against the back wall. The place had never looked so right, so good. The best addition to the room, however, was you. You, organising the extra boxes and crates to clear up the space around the long table. You, who was giddy while dashing around the room and trying to get the fantasy-medieval-heavy metal aesthetic just right.

“Gotta hand it to you, specs. You can craft a damn good set. Very metal.” He chimed, giving you a soft round of applause from his throne.

“It’s all pure, raw talent, Munson.” You stated, standing proud with your hands on your hips and smiling smugly. Eddie was still glancing around the room with a look of childish wonder on his face. He’d put on the lights and bathed the room in a cosy, honey glow. You couldn’t help but notice his eyes. Wide, burnt umber, and so full of appreciation. This doe-eyed metalhead was past the point of doing it for you. You could feel the budding beginning of a crush - hadn’t had one of those since freshman year when Patrick McKinney was your biology partner for, like, two weeks.

“You know, I used to think you were just a chair thief. I’ve wanted to put that huge thing on stage for ages, but now I’d feel bad if I accidentally tainted its reputation.” You gestured to Eddie’s throne - you were more willing to call it that now.

“Well, I called dibs like a year before you even started here, so there. This bad boy is dripping in my glamorous reputation. I mean, look at this butt groove.” Eddie proclaimed, standing up quickly to reveal a pretty impressive imprint in the leather seat. You were being encouraged to inspect his ass, and who were you to pass up an opportunity like that. His dark jeans hugged his legs subtly and were definitely doing him favours. “Also, it’s 6:30 now, so we should probably think about vacating the premises. Higgins gets antsy if he senses that I’m around for too long.”

“Shit, it’s that late already? I gotta get home. I promised to watch MacGyver with my mom after dinner.” You quickly grabbed your backpack from behind the backdrops, only for some of its contents to spill onto the floor - your tapes, some almost dried-out pens and your copy of A Wizard of Earthsea.

“Oh ho, what you got there, specs?” Eddie, ever the gentleman, gathered up your stuff but didn’t hand it over right away. A chance to see what kind of music you were into? That was far too valuable. “Some Patti, a solid choice. And… Yes. Unexpected, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Didn’t peg you for a prog rock kind of gal.” God, he was annoyingly good at this. Making you flustered but still comfortable - making you want to match him toe to toe.

“I like cool ladies and funky guitar riffs. I’m very easy to please.”

“Noted.” He grinned. The bastard grinned from ear to ear. And you ate it up. “Anyway, you need a ride home? It’ll be dark out by now, and you can even have stereo privileges.”

Riding your bike home in the dark was always a dicey experience. You’d done it a few times after staying late at school accidentally and ended up walking most of the way since you were too worried that a car would run you off the road. Plus, Eddie had a van, so getting your bike home would be easy too.

And control of the music? That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“That’d be great, actually! I live over on Fletcher; I think it’s kinda close to your place.”

“It’s on my route. So, let’s make like a tree.” Eddie picked up his backpack and headed towards the door, nodding for you to follow.

You had to restrain yourself from practically skipping through the halls. Staying late for theatre stuff was always fun, but it did start to get a little lonesome. Theatre kids in Hawkins loved being on stage, but they weren’t huge fans of being behind it.

But Eddie. He was on the stage, behind it and in the goddamn audience. He had a sort of omnipresent energy that followed him around. Most of the student body saw it as annoying, obnoxious or just plain evil, but you knew better. He was passionate - that was the best word for him. He was passionate about his game, he was passionate about his music and-

“Specs? This your sweet ride?” Eddie asked, ringing the bell on your bike. It was a dull, low ding - your bike was old as balls, and so was the bell.

“Yep. That’s her. Gorgeous, right?” You boasted, slapping the bike seat. The bike had been your mom’s many moons ago, and while it was a senior citizen, it was still a great shiny silver. Isopropyl and a wire brush kept her pretty.

“Maybe a little old for my tastes, but got the silver fox thing going, which is doing- something for me.” There he went again - the invitation, the tease to keep the banter going. You were about to quip back at him when he hauled your bike onto his shoulder. He held it so carefully even though it was just a bike. “Van’s across the lot, so I’ll carry the old girl. Come on.”

You just nodded, maybe a little too excitedly, but better than talking with your foot in your mouth. You jogged a little to catch up with Eddie, falling into a brisk pace with him. It was early October, and the wind was starting to get its bite back.

But you couldn’t help but feel a little warmer when you watched Eddie awkwardly shift himself and wrestle to get your bike in the back of his van.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #fluff #fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #tbh this is also kind of a fix it fic #because i'm bad at writing angst #not gonna lie i'm actually pretty proud of this #Eddie is like my dialogue muse because i was horseshit at writing dialogue that sounded believable before this #Eddie #eddie munson x you

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