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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 3 months

Note

I love your work so much!!!

This is a request for gf!ethan x fem reader. I was thinking of ethan seeing a guy about to push himself onto the reader (who he’d been crushing over), so he makes an impulsive decision and stabs the guy to get him off. At first he’s terrified because he thinks she’ll be scared of him and that he’d just blown his cover, but it actually just makes the reader really, for lack of a better word, horny that he saved her. (She had also been crushing on him for quite some time.) They flee the scene and she takes him back to her dorm. Leads to smut (lots of it please!) with maybe sub or even switch!ethan.

If the idea of writing attempted s.a. makes you uncomfortable, you’re welcome to change it to something like a mugging.

Tysm :D

Hi! ty for your request, I hope you like it! :)

I'd Do Anything - GF!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

*There are slight mentions of a suggested assault at the beginning.. If that's triggering to you, please skip this🩷*

Summary: Ethan has to reveal himself as Ghostface after saving you, but all that's on your mind is fucking him.

A/N: I hope y'all like it:)

You had an eerie feeling as you walked down the dark alley. You couldn’t help but think ‘this is how people die’, but this was the quickest way to get back home after your late class. You heard the sound of a can being kicked behind you, so you turned around to check it out. A hand was placed over your mouth as you were backed against the cold brick wall. The grip of the hand on your mouth was pushing your head back into the wall, as your muffled screams tried to get out.

You tried to fight the man off, but he didn’t stop. His hand grazed your thigh as you kicked at him.

“Get the fuck off of her!” you heard a loud voice yell.

“Fuck off, you little prick,” the man yelled, his breath smelling heavy with alcohol.

You heard this loud sloshy sound as blood started to drip out of his mouth. His grip relaxed, as he turned around. You saw the knife in his back and noticed the Ghostface mask. You felt like you should’ve been scared, but you weren’t after you realized whose voice was yelling a couple seconds prior.

“Ethan?” you asked, as the masked person stepped closer.

“Please don’t be scared,” he begged, inches from you. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking the mask off and looking you over. His forehead was sweaty, some of his curls sticking to it.

“I am now,” you said, as the guy finally fell to the ground with one last grunt. “You saved me.”

“Yeah, now I kind of need you to save me,” he said, grabbing the knife out of the guy’s back.

You knew you should’ve been scared. You knew you should’ve called the police. But how could you do that when he just saved you from whatever horrible plan that creep in the alley had for you?

“Of course, my dorm is really close,” you said, leading the way.

He slipped the robe off, before shoving it in his backpack, along with the mask and knife, before you made it to the end of the alley way.

“Why did you save me?” you asked, a curious tone in your voice. “Haven’t you been doing the opposite to people?”

“I don’t know how anyone could ever hurt you. You’re perfect,” he said, as you walked across the grassy area in front of your dorm, “I still can’t believe you aren’t scared.”

“Scared? No. Turned on? Yes.” You said, his eyes going wide as they connected with yours.

He lowly groaned out, his hard cock in his pants rubbing against his jeans with every step he took.

“Are you turned on too, baby?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth sounding almost innocent. Almost.

“If you keep talking, I’m going to fuck you right here in the open so everyone can see,” he growled, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door of the brick building.

Your core was throbbing as you made it inside, running towards the elevator. The sexual tension was building by the second, so once the elevator finally opened and you were inside, his lips were on yours.

Once you made it to your floor, you grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the elevator. He had you pressed up against the wall outside of your room, his lips still connected to yours as you dug through your purse for your keys. You broke the kiss for a few seconds to unlock the door, praying that your RA wouldn’t catch you trying to sneak a boy into your dorm this late at night.

When you were both inside, Ethan looked around the room, noticing the two beds.

“When will your roommate be back?” he asked, scared to escalate things further if the two of you were just going to get interrupted.

“She’s across the country with her family. Somebody has been out here killing people,” you smirked, “A lot of people on my floor aren’t here. I can’t believe a pretty boy like you caused all of this.”

You stepped closer to him as your hand gently brushed against his cheek.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his eyes fluttering as your thumb traced across his bottom lip.

“Because you’re still here,” you said, your hand trailing down his chest and over his stomach. His breath hitched in his throat as your hand started to rub him through his jeans.

He didn’t want to waste any more time as he lifted your shirt over your head, your bare breasts exposed to him.

“Here I was thinking you were so sweet and innocent, but you just had that thin t-shirt covering you. What if someone would’ve noticed?” he said, leaning closer to kiss your neck as you continued to rub him. “You would’ve had me out here killing anyone who was checking out your hard nipples through your shirt.”

“Maybe I didn’t wear a bra for you,” you giggled, his curls tickling you.

“For me, huh?” he said against you, reaching his hand to your chest to graze his fingers over your hard nipples.

“Mhm, I’ve been trying to get your attention for months,” you said, as you slowly dropped to your knees in front of him.

“You’ve always had my attention,” he said, his eyes glazed over as he watched you unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down.

You pulled his hard cock from the confines of his boxers, your eyes connecting with his as you stroked him.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he said, as his hand went to your hair, guiding your mouth closer to his erection.

“You want me to suck your cock, baby?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

“Are you going to do a good job?” he asked. You nodded your head as you bit your bottom lip.

You leaned forward, placing gentle licks to the head, licking off the precum that started to drip out. You opened your mouth as you started to take him inch by inch, the gagging sensation around him making his hand grip your hair tighter.

You took it slow at first, loving the gasps that were leaving his mouth. You were drooling down his cock as your hand started to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. His hips started to move against you, trying to fit the rest of his length inside.

“Can I fuck your face, baby?” he asked, his pleading eyes boring into yours.

You nodded your response as he started off slow, not wanting to hurt you. He started to speed up as he watched his cock slip past your lips, loving how well you were taking him. His eyes stayed on your face, just to make sure you were okay as he gave you the last inch. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as you gagged around him, the sight almost making him cum on the spot. You started to moan around him, loving the feeling of the fullness in your mouth. You felt your panties getting more soaked by the second, as his hips started to stutter.

“Can I cum on your tits?” he asked. You nodded furiously at his words before he pulled out, releasing all over your chest. “You’re fucking perfect.”

The grip on your hair relaxed as you started to stand up.

“Did I do a good job?” you asked, referencing his question from earlier.

“Baby, you did an amazing job,” he said, as you went to grab a towel to wipe his release off your chest. “Can I return the favor?”

“Please,” you whispered, as his hands started to undo the button on your jeans. He slid the zipper down as he connected his lips with yours. His hand slipped into your jeans, rubbing you through your panties.

“Did you get this wet from chocking on my cock?” he asked, his words causing you to whimper into the kiss. “Did you like it that much, baby?”

You nodded into the kiss as his fingers dipped under the material covering your core. His fingers brushed against your clit, a low moan flew out of your mouth into his as his tongue danced with yours. He continued to rub against you as your whines got louder.

He pulled away to look at you as he slid two of his fingers inside of you. Your legs started to buckle as you stood there, the feeling of his fingers pressing hard against your g-spot starting to send you over the edge. His free hand held you up as he went faster. The wet sounds caused by his finger’s actions had his cock hard again, pressed against his stomach.

“Aww, are you going to cum, baby?” he cooed, as he watched your eyebrows knit together and your mouth fall open.

“Fuck…yes, I’m cumming,” you cried out as that euphoric feeling washed over your body. His grip tightened around you as he continued to finger you through it.

As you came down from your high, a sweet smile played on your lips.

“That felt so good,” you said, as his hands went to your hips to slide down your jeans and panties.

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” he laughed, leading you over to the small couch.

You were expecting him to fuck you, but you had a puzzled look on your face as he crouched on the floor in front of you, pulling your hips to the edge.

“Think you can handle a couple more?” he asked, as he kissed up your thighs.

You watched him get closer and closer to your dripping core, whimpers slipping past your lips as he sucked on the flesh of your inner thighs. He finally placed a kiss to your clit, before he dived in. He was eating you out like he was starving. Your hand tangled into his hair as his tongue moved against you.

“You like eating my pussy?” you asked, as his eyes connected with yours.

“It’s fucking delicious,” he said, before latching his lips around your clit.

“You like it that much?” you moaned out as his tongue slipped into your dripping entrance.

“Mhm,” he hummed against you, as he spread your thighs further apart, pinning them down against the cushions of the couch with his large hands. Your hands went to your breasts, squeezing your nipples as you watched him.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whimpered, as that feeling started to build again.

His nose bumping against your clit as his tongue slid in and out of you sent you over the edge. He groaned into your pussy as the grip on his hair tightened. You rode out your orgasm, bucking against his face as his tongue licked your clit.

“Holy fuck,” you said, your limp body relaxing into the couch.

As he stood up in front of you, his eyes dark with lust and his mouth coated with your release, you started to crave his cock inside of you.

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered, as he sat down beside you, his pants still settled around his thighs.

“I was going to get you to ride me, but I don’t know if you have the energy for that,” he said, leaning down to place his lips to yours. “But, I do have an idea.”

He stood up, and grabbed your hand, leading you to the side of the couch. He turned you around and bent you over the arm of it. His cock slid over your pussy, collecting your wetness before circling his tip around your clit.

“Stop teasing me,” you whined, as his hand massaged the flesh of your ass.

“You’re so greedy, I’ve already made you cum twice,” he said, before a small smack landed against you. He rubbed over the red skin as he finally slid into you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned out as his hips rocked into yours, the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he said, one of his hands running up your back as the other held your hip. “And you’re taking my cock so fucking well.”

“Oh fuck, Ethan,” you moaned out, as his hand snaked up you body and around your neck, pulling your body back against his chest.

His hands roamed your chest as he fucked up into you, pinching at your nipples as you whined out.

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, as you mewled out a ‘yes’.

His fingers ran over your collar bone, the gentle feeling contradicting the fast pace as his cock pounded into you. You soon felt that hand wrap around your neck, gently squeezing as his other hand went to your clit.

You felt your orgasm building for the third time, as your walls started to flutter around him. He bent you back over as you went even faster, slamming his cock into that special spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck! Right there,” you whimpered, his pace not faltering as you felt your body start to tingle. “Oh my god.”

You moaned out as your tired body jolted under him, starting to feel a little overstimulated. It didn’t take much longer for hips to slow.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, pulling out of you, shooting the hot cum all over your ass.

He stood there for a second, his arm supporting himself on the back of the couch as he caught his breath. He smiled as he looked down at your naked, limp body over the arm of the couch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking over to grab the same towel off the floor from earlier.

You lazily nodded against the cushion as he wiped the cum off your ass, your hips involuntarily moving at the simple action.

He helped you up and carried you over to your bed, before he crawled in beside you.

“That was amazing,” you said, your eyes sleepily looking up at him.

“Yeah, better than I ever could’ve imagined,” he said, as his fingers started to trace patterns against your back. “You should go to sleep.”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. You drifted off soon after, the multiple orgasms had your body so relaxed that you couldn’t fight it.

The next morning, you woke up on Ethan’s chest. The soft breaths slipping past your lips made you smile, as you sat up a little. You grabbed your phone to see a new alert from the university, in regard to the creep in the alley’s body being found so close to campus.

“Ethan,” you said, gently shaking him.

His eyes slowly opened as he smiled, noticing that you were still naked.

“They found that guy’s body,” you said, panicking a little.

“I knew they would. It’s okay baby, calm down,” he said, sitting up beside you to place a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“What if they find out it was you?” you said, turning your head to look at him.

“You’re my alibi,” he chucked, “I’ll just show them your thighs and they’ll know I was with you last night.”

You blushed as you looked over the purple hickeys on your thighs, reminding you of how good he made you feel.

#scream #scream smut #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut

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darkworkcourier · 1 year

Note

You’re doing Ghost!! Can I request an exercise in sharing body heat in cold conditions that turns into *other* forms of exercise? Preferably a non-military female reader if that tickles your fancy. So excited to see you back on tumblr, I loved your RDR2 and FC5 work back in the day 💕💕💕

Hi yes I’d like to apologize that this tiny prompt turned into EIGHT THOUSAND WORDS OF PORN OH GOD

(Also, try and find all the Far Cry 5 references. :3c As a thank you for hanging out with me all this time!)

Reader works for the National Park Service and gets pulled into a mission involving guiding Ghost to go after a (wink) paramilitary organization in (WINK WINK) Montana. Things go awry.

---

“Piss poor excuse for a shortcut, Ranger,” Ghost says to your back.

Your mid-back, actually, since you’re about two feet above him on the hillside which is way steeper than you remember. You could have sworn there was a trail cut through here, or maybe that was a half mile down the ridge, or maybe— Maybe it’s good to not second guess it when you think Ghost’s about a full thirty seconds from ditching you and going off on his own.

“You wanna get shot at?” you ask over your shoulder, voice slightly muffled in your scarf. “Because if you took the main road, that’s what you’d get.”

“I would do just fine,” he replies dryly.

Right, he’s got a tactical vest on. You have a down jacket that would just make for a really interesting display of flying feathers if you got shot. The best defense you have is the handgun he gave you for protection, and a Park Service badge that would elevate the threat of killing a federal employee. Not that Ghost’s targets would care, but it makes you feel better.

The two of you trudge through waist-deep snow, thick even on the incline. You’re practiced enough with winter weather hiking to approach it fairly spryly, but you’re also not lugging an incredible about of gear like he is.

“It’s not that far, anyway,” you tell him, just to make conversation. “It’s this ridge, then the Beaver Dam River, and then the lookout tower.”

“Real walk in the park,” he replies.

“Literally,” you say brightly.

His grunt isn’t very amused.

The biggest problem is the cold. It’s northern Montana in the depths of winter, and every shrieking sickle of wind that cuts through the mountains physically hurts. You’re prepared enough for the temperature drop, but you worry more about what happens after dark, when it goes from tolerable to goddamn polar. If it wasn’t vital for you to be out here, you would have stayed in.

For lack of anything better to do as you finish ascending the ridge, you think on the whole situation. A paramilitary extremist group hiding out in the mountains, some multinational task force you’d never heard of swooping into the park, and you getting swept up into it all and taken on as a guide. It sounds like something straight out of an action movie, but here you are and there Ghost is.

Hell, even his name and whole look makes the reality of all this seem that much out of pocket. He’s dressed in winter tactical gear, white and gray mottled camo, hood pulled down low over the skull-plated balaclava that you’re fairly sure he never takes off. He blends in with his surroundings, but at the same time, he really sticks out.

You get to the top of the ridge, pausing for a moment to take in your surroundings. Sure enough, by your reckoning, you’re about a quarter mile off from the actual trail. It’s easy to remedy, leading Ghost down the relatively level ridge to where the trail appears as a shallow divot in the snow.

Of course, he points it out.

“Got lost, did we?”

You roll your eyes. “Not lost,” you correct. “Just slightly askew on the directions. Everything looks the same in the snow.”

“Thought you knew this place like the back of your hand.”

“I do,” you say, stepping down onto the trail and grimacing when the snow goes up to your hips. Ghost is so damn huge that it probably barely goes over his knees, but you don’t turn around to look. “And I wasn’t too far off!”

“Slightly off is still off,” he retorts.

You really wish they would have sent the nice, happy Scottish guy with you instead.

Once you clear the ridge’s treeline, you see the lookout tower poking above the trees straight ahead of you. Grinning, you point it out to Ghost.

“Affirmative, Ranger. I see it.”

“You can just say ‘yes’.”

You can hear him sigh, and then, “Yes,” said like he’s punching the word out of the air.

The trail crosses over the river, cutting through at its shallowest section for this part of the park. The only problem is that the Beaver Dam River doesn’t freeze, so there’s a very real risk of soaking through your boots and defeating the purpose of having moisture-wicking socks. With any luck, you’ll have some downed trees or rocks to cross over, and the river won’t be too high.

That’s with any luck; the opposite being the luck you currently have, as the river’s clearer than you’ve ever seen it once you reach it. You hiss out a curse under your breath, glancing up and down the banks to see if there’s any easier way to cross.

Nada.

“Shit,” you mutter.

“What’s shit?”

“River’s clear, but it’s... well, it’s fuckin’ cold is what it is,” you say, watching the glacially-fed water happily rush by you.

He shrugs. “Looks shallow enough.”

“It is, except—” You look down at your boots, cringing at the thought of all the fun ways water can get in them.

Beside you, Ghost looks down at them as well. “They’re not waterproof?”

“They are, but probably not for walking through a river.”

“Jesus,” he murmurs, then steps right into the water. You see it course around his ankles, protected by his thick boots that probably cost more than a month of rent back home. Once he’s on the other side, he turns back to you, dark eyes peering out through his mask, making him look like a bizarre death motif hanging out on the banks of a very chilly River Styx.

“Damn it,” you hiss. You’ll have to be quick, not settling long enough for the water to leach into your boots and socks.

It’s probably comical to Ghost to watch you hopping across the river, up until your boot hits something—loose gravel, a slimy rock, or just a pocket of underwater bad luck. Whatever it is, it sends you right on your ass and into the water. The only good thing is that it’s not deep, but that does shit to negate the cold shock that knocks the wind right out of you. Cold pierces right through your clothes, hitting your skin like dozens of tiny knives. You gasp first, then yelp, and finally scramble out of the water and right into Ghost’s arms.

To be fair, in the shock, you didn’t see his sudden movement toward you, so you yelp again—right into his ear—when he scoops you up. His head jerks back, but he holds you steady regardless.

“Jesus fuck!” you gasp, already shivering hard. Parts of you are too numb to register on your brain’s running docket of limbs and appendages, but others hurt like shit.

“You okay?” Ghost asks, sounding a little breathless. His hands are on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Great question; you don’t have a good answer. You nod, but you’re pretty sure the uncontrollable shivering is telling another story.

“Let’s get you to that tower,” he says. His voice takes on the command form you only heard back when you sat in on the task force’s meeting. It’s solid, and strangely comforting to hear him take charge. “Sooner we’re inside, the better.”

“C-couldn’t agree m-m-more,” you manage, crossing your arms and digging your hands into your armpits.

Ghost takes the lead up the trail, which is good because your legs feel pretty damn numb. You don’t think it’s frostbite yet, but you know that’s a very real risk, especially as the clouds overhead start to darken with the oncoming evening. Because of the tower’s high perch, the trail snakes back and forth up the hill—a half hour’s walk in good weather and a steady pace, but longer in your state.

Ghost’s surprisingly patient, purposefully slowing his pace so you can keep up. He looks over his shoulder again and again, like he’s making sure you’re still there and not face-down in a snowbank. On your end, you keep your eyes fixed on his backpack, determined to keep it in your sight.

Halfway up the hill, Ghost decides to change tactics. He stops, shouldering off his backpack, then handing it to you. “Put it on,” he says. “Then get on my back.”

“What?”

“Just do as I say,” he says, brooking no argument in his tone. “It’ll be faster.”

You put on the backpack, not surprised that it weighs a metric ton. At the same time, your vision swims a little, dark shapes appearing in your vision before fizzling out like little firecrackers.

Oh, we’re in trouble, you think.

Ghost makes sure the backpack’s secure before turning around and going down on a knee to give you space to climb up. Non-hypothermic you would find this a great opportunity to make a down-on-one-knee joke, but you’re way too fucking cold to do much more than shiver and hang on to him for dear life. His hands go to the back of your thighs, supporting you while you cling to his neck, pressing your face into the back of his coat.

“You good?”

You nod.

“Need a verbal confirmation, Ranger,” he says, not without a hint of humor.

You manage a stifled, shuddering laugh and say, “Yep.”

“Good enough.”

He carries you up the hill, the incline steep enough to make the backpack feel heavier somehow. You don’t know how he’s managing it as well as he is, except for whatever freakish training they probably do in England. In your swimming, dizzy mind, you imagine Ghost hoisting crates of tea over his head, and that sends you into a giggling fit.

“What’s so funny back there?” he asks. However, you can’t miss the sliver of concern in his voice.

“H-how d’you train in Eng-g-gland?” you ask, the middle syllable briefly caught in the back of your throat.

“How do I what?”

“B-back where-e-ever you come f-from-m-m,” you say, shivering harder even though you can feel his body heat close to your core. “W-what do th-they make you d-d-do?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and all you hear are his boots crunching in the snow and the wind snapping through the trees around you.

“Vigorous biscuit lifts,” he says.

You snort against his coat, and then cling tighter, feeling your limbs prickle in the cold.

You’re silent the rest of the way up the hill, shivering and sniffling as Ghost carries you. Finally, you reach the top, and you glance up to see the lookout tower’s staircase which until now has never looked so fucking tall.

“Sh-shit,” you say.

“Just hang on,” Ghost says. “You’ll be fine.”

“N-n-no, I th-thought I’d l-l-let go,” you joke, but your arms do feel like they’re going to fall off, and you’re starting to lose feeling in your fingertips.

He grunts and adjusts his hold on your thighs, then starts the ascent up the stairs. You really do have to wonder about his physical training regimen, because you’re pretty sure you’d be dead before you reached the top in your state. He’s only panting, breaths coming out in thin clouds in front of his balaclava.

“S’it locked?” he asks.

“No.”

“Good,” he says, letting you down onto your numb feet so he can open the door. He goes in first, hand close to his thigh holster, quickly scoping the single room before letting you in. "Clear.”

Your steps waver a little as you walk in, then quickly fall onto the bed without much ceremony. You’re a shivering mess, every part of you that you can still feel trembling with the cold. It’s not much warmer in the tower, but at least the wind’s blocked out. Ghost walks over and helps you shoulder off the pack, then leaves your line of site, his presence indicated by heavy footsteps, the sound of the backpack’s zipper being opened, and then soft clanking and thumping.

Your consciousness wavers on a very dangerous precipice, and you know you really need to get out of your wet clothes. You’re not at the paradoxical undressing stage of hypothermia, which is a good sign. But that also means you have no strong desire to strip, either.

Somewhere in your half-doze, you hear Ghost working on the potbelly stove, opening it on its whiny hinges, loading its gullet with wood left over from the last restock, then striking a match. It doesn’t take long to hear the throaty crackle of burning wood, and that’s a comfort in of itself.

Ghost is back at your side, gently shaking your shoulder. “Hey, Ranger,” he says. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“Mmn,” is your best response, and not a particularly eloquent one.

“C’mon,” he presses, then manhandles you up into a sitting position. Your muscles give a pretty passionate protest, and you blink wearily up at him as he helps you take off your gloves, then unzips your jacket. His eyes flicker up to yours, assessing you. “You still with me?”

You nod, lifting your stiff arms for him to help you out of your sleeves.

“You know the signs of hypothermia, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut as a fresh rush of pins and needles goes down your right arm.

“Alright, let me know if any of ‘em get worse.” He drops your coat in front of the stove, then gestures to your half-soaked sweater. “Can you get that off by yourself?”

You nod again, then start the suddenly grueling work of getting out of it. It’s heavy wool, designed specifically to be as thick and warm as possible. That also means that it’s a bitch to get out of when your arms feel like cooked pasta. Still, Ghost’s already doing a lot for you, so the least you can do is prove that you’re better at a toddler than taking your clothes off.

Oh. Yeah, there’s that. You’re taking your clothes off in front of Ghost. That’s a whole thing to parse through.

But you manage to get out of the sweater, and that’s a victory. You drop it next to the bed, then start undoing the laces on your boots, fingers fumbling the whole time.

“Need help?” Ghost asks.

You look up at him, and then feel a very welcome heat rush to your face.

He’s ditched his coat on a chair next to the stove, tactical vest laid aside on the lookout’s desk. He’s down to a skin-tight black long-sleeved shirt that does wonders in showing off his musculature, and his hand are— Holy shit, he’s undoing his belt.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you ask. Bonus points for you that you’re not shivering as hard. Lack of bonus points that you’re openly ogling the lieutenant like he’s a prime beef steak (and he is).

He gestures back to you, one boot off, the other half-undone. “Getting undressed,” he says very plainly. “Fastest way to warm you up. You know that.”

You do, is the problem. It’s in every survival manual you’ve read and every class you’ve taken for your job. At the same time, it’s in at least four romance novels you’ve perused. And you’ve spent nearly four full months without coming into contact with any human being for more than an hour at a time; getting naked with a gigantic, musclebound man nearly sends your addled brain into a tailspin.

You quickly undo the other boot, trying to will your hands to stop shaking.

This isn’t the time to get shy, especially as your limbs ache in new and profound ways and you feel like you’re never going to be warm again.

The boot comes off, then you peel your wet socks off and drop them on the floor with a very telling plap sound. Your feet prickle and ache as the chilled air hits them and your shivering renews in spades. The faster you get undressed and under any kind of cover, the better it is for both of you.

Snow pants go next, then your work pants, until you’re down to a t-shirt and long underwear.

And Ghost is—

Fuck.

If there was any blood left in your suffering arms and legs, it must redirect right up to your face, making your head swim in a whole new body of water. Ghost’s stripped down to his boxers and (of course) his balaclava. His back’s to you, but that means it’s on full display as he puts all of his clothing in a semi-neat pile. When he turns back to you, you see his eyes widen a little as he lifts his brows.

“Still wearing too much, Ranger,” he states.

You know that, but there’s a pretty firm disconnect somewhere in your synapses, body firmly resisting any higher command to do literally anything useful.

He seems to register that issue, because he’s at your side in an instant, tugging on the hem of your t-shirt to help you out of it. You squawk in surprise, almost falling back onto the bed.

If you could read masked expressions a bit better, you might think he’s amused.

“I— I can d-do it m-m-myself,” you stutter out. Fighting down any urge to be bashful in a survival situation, you get out of your t-shirt, then maneuver yourself enough to take off your long johns. At the end, you’re down to just a sports bra and panties. Pointedly, you don’t look up to see Ghost’s reaction.

“Take this side of the bed,” he says, gesturing to the edge you’re sitting on. “It’s closer to the stove.”

You do so, feeling him get on the bed and go over to the far side closest to the window. He pulls up the blanket and quilt, then slips underneath them before holding them up for you.

With your back to him, you lay on your side and shimmy under the cold blankets. Behind you, Ghost grunts in what sounds like irritation.

“Turn around,” he says.

You swallow hard, worrying that he’d say that. Reluctantly, you roll over to face him. Or, rather, face his chest, which is alarmingly close. And it’s a good chest, all muscle-y and firm, with a fine dusting of light blond hairs on his pectorals. When you look up, he’s still wearing that balaclava. You squint at him.

“H-how come y-y-you’re still wearing th-that?”

“Doesn’t come off, Ranger,” he states, although the corners of his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling.

“Ever?”

“Affirmative.”

You groan and lean your head forward until it touches one of his collarbones. “Just s-say yes-s,” you complain.

He actually laughs this time, a low, rumbling sound deep in his chest, before you feel his arm wrap around you, pulling him close to him. It’s startling, and damn embarrassing, but you definitely can’t argue with the results. Almost immediately, his body heat seeps into your skin, first warming your hands pressed in between your chests. One of his feet brushes over one of yours, causing you to jump, and then settle with your eyes squeezed shut in mortification.

But that mortification gives way to blissful comfort as everything warms up. The stove radiates heat as the wood crackles and shifts, and Ghost is a stove in himself. The little space beneath the blankets is a pocket of glorious heat, and you start to feel the ache in your limbs recede and your head clear of its chilly fog.

You don’t know how long it is before he speaks again, but his voice comes in close to your ear. “You doing alright, Ranger?”

You’re relaxed enough that you nod and smile with your eyes closed. “Yeah,” you say.

“You ever do this in survival training?”

You scrunch up your nose a little. “I read about it. We never actually practiced stripping down and cuddling.”

He snorts. “It’s not cuddling.”

You crack open an eye, looking up into his greasepaint-ringed gaze. Feeling emboldened by the fact you can feel your arms and legs and nothing hurts, you gently shove his chest. “What do you call this, lieutenant?”

“Hypothermia prevention.”

You roll your eyes. “Just say it’s cuddling. It’s easier. Less syllables.”

He doesn’t say a word.

Before long, the crackling of the fire and Ghost’s steady breathing lull you into a doze. You go in and out of sleep, deeper and deeper as the sky darkens outside and causes the fire to make strange shadows around the room. You wake once to find your arm around Ghost’s waist, your chest pressed against his, the crown of your head under his chin. You’re sleepy enough that this doesn’t strike you as odd or something you should remedy. It’s way too easy to fall asleep after that.

You wake again to Ghost moving against you, getting out from under the blankets and crawling across the bed until he steps down on the floor. You groan and roll over to watch him as he crouches in front of the stove, opening the door to add more wood to the fire.

He stands back up and looks down at you, shadows making his face look like an eyeless skull. You admire his body cast in the warm light, more than happy to openly stare at him when he walks back to the bed.

“You feelin’ alright, Ranger?” he asks.

“Mm. I’d be better if you got back in bed,” you say, heart outrunning your mind by leagues.

He lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head. “Things that sound better outside of a survival situation,” he says.

As he crawls over you and back under the covers, you do manage to parse that sentence out through the thick haze of sleep. You turn back to face him, looking up into the dark sockets of his mask.

“What does?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“What sounds better?”

He’s silent for a thoughtful moment before he breathes out through his nose. “Nothin’. Forget it.”

Nope. You’re not forgetting it, especially as you wake up a little more and take in the sight of him laying next to you.

Briefly, you think back to the meeting back at the ranger station, when Captain Price outlined the mission to gather intel on the extremist group. You stood across the table from Ghost, watching him as he stared down at the topography map, then at the dossier in front of him. But then he looked up at you, eyes striking in his mask. After that, you felt his eyes on you all afternoon, and again in the morning when you set to head out.

At the time, you thought he was just observant. He needed to know he could trust you to lead him through the wilderness, assessing you in depth and measuring you up against the other rangers at the station.

But now? Well, now you’re not so sure. You could test it, though. Now that you have all your faculties pretty well in check, you’re tempted to see how he would react to you.

Besides, it’s dark and the two of you are isolated in the Montana wilderness. The only bad thing that could come of this is a very awkward morning.

So, in line with Ghost’s whole vibe—go big or go home.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, tucking your fingers up and under the elastic hem of your sports bra. The second you pull your bra up, you hear Ghost’s breath hitch. He doesn’t make a sound as you take your bra off, sighing in relief and dropping it off the side of the bed.

Behind you, Ghost’s voice is a dry, hot rasp. “Feel better?”

Nervousness flutters around in your chest as you shimmy back under the covers, bare chest now just a suggestion in the fabric. You force a smile. “I hate wearing a bra to bed, and you’re not wearing anything.”

“Thought you’d be warmed up enough by now.”

Taking in a breath to steady your nerves, you don’t answer but raise one of your hands to brush over his chest. He doesn’t move back, or seize your wrist. Instead, he holds still, letting your fingers explore the textures of his skin—scarring and all. One particularly rough scar catches your attention, and you run your fingers around its circumference.

“What’s this one?”

You don’t look up, but you feel Ghost’s eyes burning on you. “Bullet wound from an insurgent. 2017. Laid up in hospital for three weeks.”

Your hand goes lower, finding a raised scar as long as a pencil above his navel. “And this one?”

His breathing is steady, but you’re more aware of it now, of the rise and fall of his chest, your shadow cast across his skin. “Hunting knife to the gut from a drug trafficker in London.”

“When?”

“2012.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“Two and a half weeks. Most of it was from surgery.”

You nod, getting bold enough to scoot closer until your breasts press against his chest. His breath hitches, which feels like some kind of success. Something you should report back to Captain Price.

Then, one of his hands brushes over your side, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, down to your hip. Goosebumps rise on your arms and a shiver runs up your spine, thrilling you. His hand goes back up, then follows a line downward over your stomach to a set of small scars on your right side.

“Appendectomy?” he guesses.

You smile. “2019,” you respond. “In the hospital for two whole days.”

“How did you ever survive?”

“Ibuprofen and HBO,” you reply.

You see his mask move with a smile, and then his hand goes up to your chest, following the divot of your sternum. Below his hand, your heart beats deceptively quick, threatening to upend your calmness. Ghost notices, of course, moving his hand to rest over your left breast, your heart threatening to break right out of there like an escaped prisoner.

His voice is like liquid heat in your ears when he says, “Do you want this?”

You could ask him to clarify—play dumb, like you have no idea what you’re insinuating. But the darkness is so all-encompassing, so protective. The world outside doesn’t know about the world in this room, in this bed. You feel safe here, and there’s an opportunity literally laying in front of you.

You smile, and say, “Affirmative.”

He doesn’t jump into action. Instead, his left hand moves down, massive palm covering your breast, pressing gently as he leans his head down close to yours, hard shell of his mask pressing against your forehead.

You look up at him, reaching to tug at the bottom of his balaclava. “Can you take this off?” you ask. “Or at least pull it up over your mouth?”

Another thoughtful silence, and then he does something a little more unexpected. He pulls you close to him, chest to chest, and bodily rolls you over until you’re on the far side of the bed and his back’s to the stove. This way, you can’t see his face, his mask disappearing in his silhouette. You see him reach up and pull the balaclava off, some of his short hair clinging to the fabric before falling away. He sets it down behind him, probably within arm’s reach.

“That better?” he asks, his voice clearer now, hotter, like he’s removed a physical and emotional barrier.

You grin. “Is there anything stronger than ‘affirmative’?” you ask.

“Hard copy,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, then, hard copy, sir.”

And you lean in, pressing your lips to his. In the dark, you miss a little, kissing somewhere closer to his chin; Ghost corrects the approach and kisses you in full. His kiss is like him—strong, solid, an undercurrent of ferocity as he catches your bottom lip with his teeth. Your left hand goes to the side of his face, reeling yourself into him and deepening the kiss. In a word, it’s exhilarating. Maybe it’s in part because of what you’ve gone through today, but you go at him like you crave him, and he returns the favor.

His right hand cups the back of your neck, a gentle but firm pressure. His other hand moves down to your chest, thumb brushing over right nipple, drawing a gasp out of you against his lips. You feel him smile against you, then tweak the nipple again. A small, hot shock of pleasure follows a current down your spine, relaying right into your core and sparking a small fire.

If that’s how he’s going to do it, you’ll do the same.

Pressing your hand to his chest, you bring up one of your knees in between his legs, pressing gently against his crotch and making him bite back a curse. You’re quick to kiss him harder, shutting him up before he can say anything about it. In retaliation, he drops the hand on your neck to palm your other breast, massaging both simultaneously as you moan into his mouth.

Where you were freezing before, it now feels like the room can’t get any hotter. That spark lit by Ghost’s first few touches fans into a fully-fledged flame, threatening to burn right through you. You begin rocking your knee in between his legs—alternating pressure, then no pressure—until his hips begin to move against you, his cock growing hard against your thigh.

You tilt your head back and grin. “Well, isn’t someone an eager beaver?” you tease.

He groans and presses his forehead against yours. “Your pillow talk needs work,” he replies.

Your response to his complaint is to reach down and stroke your fingers over his tented erection, earning a surprised grunt and a hissed, “Shit.”

“What’s shit?” you ask, echoing his words by the river.

His voice is all irritation and arousal in equal parts, “The fact we still have clothes on, that’s what’s shit.”

“Oh. Easy fix.”

Again bypassing ceremony, you curl in on yourself enough to pull your panties off, wiggling out of them before tossing them somewhere in the direction of the stove and hoping they don’t get burnt. Then you hook a leg over his still-clothed hip, grinding against his thigh.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, then forming a half-tight fist so you’re forced to look up at his silhouette. “Now who’s eager?”

“I think it’s a firm tie,” you say, feeling another thrill of victory as Ghost reaches down to shove your leg off and pull down his boxers. Once they’re gone, all the proverbial bets are off. Aside from the shadow he’s wearing like a second mask, he’s completely exposed to you, bare and vulnerable to every touch. It’s like a drug to you, intoxicating and really fucking addicting.

Apparently, Ghost thinks about the same of you. His hand is back on your hip, but trails down to your sex, palming your mons, fingers just brushing over your labia.

You feel him look at you. “Can I?”

No further question from you, especially when your arousal is threatening some serious whiteout conditions in your head. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

One large finger slides against your slit, and you hear yourself, the slick, wet sound audible above anything else in the room. Ghost curses again, drawing his finger back and forth, listening to that sound like he can’t get enough of it.

“Fuck, Ranger. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“You kinda have that effect,” you manage to say, before the pad of his finger brushes over your clit and draws out a moan that you bury in his chest.

But his other hand finds your shoulder, pushing you back, before he nudges up under your chin. “No. It’s just us two out here. I wanna hear you,” he says, his voice so hot, smoldering in your ears.

He rubs your clit again, and there’s nothing to hide behind, no muffler to conceal the gasp and moan that follow. Your pleasure is completely on display, and Ghost seems more than happy to draw it out further, admiring it from every angle. He draws circles around your clit, teasing you, adding more fuel to that particular fire—the irony of feeling this way in a tower meant to watch for fires isn’t lost on you.

His finger goes lower, trailing down to your opening, going back and forth several times. The friction is damn near unbearable, and it takes every iota of self control not to grind on his hand. But your hips roll outside your control, and he catches the movement with another low rumble of a laugh.

“There somethin’ you want?” he asks, index finger running a low, lazy circle around your entrance.

You nod, shuddering when he only just dips the tip of his finger in. “Ghost, please.”

“Please what?”

You hear yourself whine, a sound you never thought to hear coming out of your own damn mouth. This man makes you feel ridiculous. And he also probably gets off on hearing you say stuff like this. “Finger me,” you say, exasperated and aroused. “Please, for fuck’s sake.”

“That’s not very pretty,” he teases, and you’re very close to shoving him off the bed. But then he pushes his finger in, and any retort you were set to say or do dies immediately, consumed in the wildfire he’s ignited and fed. He presses his lips to your cheek as you moan, now very unapologetically rolling your hips against his hand as he fingers you, per request. You feel a second finger insinuating against you, and then hear Ghost whisper, “Okay?” against your ear.

“Yes. Oh my God, yes, please.”

“Much prettier,” he says, and the second finger joins the first.

The thought that he’s done this before only just brushes your thoughts as he hooks his fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture, sending hot sparks of pleasure running through your body, using your nervous system like an electrical conduit. You rock against his hand, moaning and gasping as Ghost kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your tender skin.

“Good girl,” he says, breath hot over your shoulder, before he presses a kiss against your clavicle. How his kisses can feel so chaste while he relentlessly fingerfucks you is beyond your comprehension. The praise just makes it better, making that hot coil inside of you turn tighter, ready to be sprung on a hair trigger.

Ghost picks up on that, too. He suddenly doubles down on the effort, fingers thrusting into you at a much more rapid pace, the wet sound of his hand against your pussy practically deafening. Only his murmurs of praise against your ear register above that.

You’re reduced to a repetitive litany of ‘god’, ‘fuck, ‘please’, and Ghost’s name. All those months without seeing people and having only your hand to keep you company make this oncoming orgasm all the more vibrant and bright, a flare launched high into the air with a huge charge set to explode.

Your hips arch up, and Ghost hooks his fingers again, saying, “Come for me,” in a firm command tone.

And you are not one to ignore a command.

You come hard, crying out and arching off the bed, toes digging into the mattress, hands grasping for literally anything solid, including Ghost. He fucks you through it, coaxing your release out with the finesse of someone defusing an explosive. You come down in fits and starts, catching on little plateaus of pleasure along the way, moaning all the while. Finally, you go practically boneless on the bed, and only then does Ghost relent and pull his fingers away.

You hear him chuckle, a dry and throaty rasp of sound that makes you feel hot all over.

“What’s so funny?” you say, although your words are slurred as endorphins run relay races through your body.

He holds his hand up so that the firelight catches it, and you very plainly see how wet his whole hand is. To show it off, he presses his fingers together, then spreads them out, showing thin strings bridging between them.

“Oh, God,” you squeak, covering your face with your hands and fighting back a round of giggles. “I am so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he says, clearly pleased. He reaches somewhere behind him, presumably to wipe his hand off on the side of the bed.

And sweetheart. This man is going to kill you, and it has nothing to do with his occupation.

You tilt your head up to kiss him again, sighing against his lips and pressing yourself close. His right hand finds the side of your face, residual dampness from your orgasm still very present. Except he treats it like a trophy, dragging it down to your neck so you can feel it.

It’s also impossible to ignore his arousal prodding against your hip. Not that you intended to ignore it.

Before you can think and reason out an appropriate response, your primal brain takes hold. “Can I ride you?” you ask, and only after it’s said do you feel any kind of horror at outright asking. He purposefully arranged the two of you so you couldn’t see his face, like a Montana wilderness version of Eros and Psyche. Now you’re asking for him to lay on his back, exposed to you in every way.

He’s silent, and you’re about to apologize and suggest spooning or something when he says, “Sure.”

You blink, almost certain you misheard. “Say what?”

“You can, yeah.”

“What about the—”

It’s his turn to kiss you quiet, taking the opportunity to pull you close again and roll on his back. You meet the movement with your own, straddling his hips and feeling his erection press against your sex with insistence. You keep kissing Ghost with your eyes closed, finding his hand next to his head with your own and weaving your fingers together. His grip on your hand is firm—a solid, warm reassurance.

You turn your head, keeping your eyes closed. “I can keep my eyes shut if you want,” you tell him, only to feel his other hand come up and run over your back.

“You can look,” he says.

It feels like a point of no return now. Seeing his face, knowing that a person who this morning was still a stranger with a codename is now going to be very real—you’re almost breathless at the thought.

Slowly, you sit up while astride him, and open your eyes.

He’s— Well, handsome doesn’t seem like a well-rounded enough word. You were more on the mark with the Eros and Psyche metaphor. Firelight and shadow play across sharp features, making him look otherworldly. There’s still greasepaint around his eyes, which makes his gaze all the more intense. But the intensity is mitigated by a plush mouth, a distinctive nose, and a firm jaw. His light hair catches the warm ember-gold hue from the fire. All his features put together make for a face that you want burnt into your memory.

“Jesus, Ghost. You hide this on purpose?” you ask.

He smiles, and it’s only hearing him speak that connects the Ghost you know to the man underneath you. “Yes,” he says. “And it’s Simon.”

You must look owlish, eyes wide, blinking, damn sure you misheard again.

Ghost seems pleased by your reaction, reaching up with his free hand to brush hair out of your face. “That’s my name. My actual name.”

“Simon,” you repeat. A human name to a human face. There’s some poetry in there, but you’re too dazzled to work through it.

“Sounds good when you say it.”

You preen a little, then lean down and kiss him, savoring the sensation for everything it’s worth. And you know he read your name on the dossier, heard it from the other rangers—still, you whisper it into his ear like a secret, and he repeats it back to you in his low voice, accent curling around it perfectly.

Yeah, you’re absolutely going to ride this man until sunrise.

You reach down and take his cock into your hand, stroking it a few times and pressing your thumb up under the exposed head. Ghost—Simon moans and tilts his head back, watching you under half-lidded eyes. Carefully, you go up on your knees and align yourself with him, slowly lowering down and adjusting as needed. He’s big, which you expected from everything else about him. But it’s not a painful fit; if anything, it feels damn good.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand stroking over your hip as he looks to where you’re joined. “You have no idea what you look like right now.”

“Neither do you,” you reply, very much enjoying the angle. He fills you up completely, the strain of him just a pleasurable ache. You moan at the sensation as you experimentally rock on top of him. “Ohhh, I am so glad you got me off first.”

“What can I say? I’m chivalrous,” he replies, although it sounds a little strained as you move your hips again.

“That’s what you call it?”

Another roll, and he looks like he’s seconds from thrusting up into you. But he’s being conscientious, letting you adjust and go at your own pace. His eyes flutter closed, and you almost want to ask him to keep them open so you can enjoy their expressiveness.

“Something, something about being a British gentleman,” he mutters, and you can’t help but laugh. Apparently, that sensation’s pretty good for him; he shudders beneath you and keeps his hand braced on your hip.

Without his mask, you want to put him through the paces of reaction, committing each expression to memory, cataloging them for future use. So you go up on your knees again and come off his cock, then bring yourself back down. You do it a few more times, watching Simon’s expression with enormous interest, the pleasure and arousal doing fabulous things to his face.

He moans your name, and you’re definitely going to use that as fantasy fodder in the future.

Your earlier orgasm gives you plenty of lubrication to work with, and so you start to fuck yourself on him in earnest. In return, you’re rewarded with a low moan and a quiet, “Fuuuuck.”

The friction feels way too goddamn good, setting up another explosive charge inside of you as Simon starts meeting the bounce of your hips with thrusts of his own. Two opposing forces working toward the same goal, and it feels incredible.

You start to rock back on his cock, using his upward thrust as momentum to hit you just right. It’s the perfect angle, apparently for both of you, as Simon’s now breathing heavily, sweat a fine sheen on his skin.

“Yes, Simon, fuck me,” you whisper, beyond turned on at the wet sound of him fucking into you. You can’t tell if it’s hearing his name like that, the command, or both that make him really lean into this, but he’s pushing up hard, groaning and pulling you down so you’re pressed to his chest.

You wonder how long it’s been for him, too—briefly thinking oh god what if he’s got someone back home and I’m a fucking homewrecker before one particular upward thrust makes you cry out, clenching down on him in a way that’s audibly very good for him. You turn your head enough to see your joined hands, and when you squeeze his hand, you don’t feel any rings on his fingers. He does squeeze back, though, and it just feels like another reassurance.

There’s no way to keep track of time, and you really wish this could go on forever. The heat generated between the two of you is scorching, all-encompassing, a forest fire caught on the cusp of the lookout tower and reported to no one but yourselves.

His pace stutters a moment, the first hint that he’s very close. He releases his grip on your hand to grab at your other hip, pushing you up and off of him before you resolutely sit down, taking his cock in full and drawing a sharp gasp out of both of you.

“No,” you pant. “No, I have an IUD. You can— Ah, fuck— You can come inside me, Simon.”

“Oh, bloody fucking Christ,” he breathes, eyes wide and beautiful. “You’re sure?”

In response, you rock back against him, squeezing hard around his cock. “Affirmative,” you say, then lean down and kiss him again. “Very hard copy.”

And that’s enough to tip him right off the edge. He thrusts once, twice, and then he moans against your mouth, one of his hands going up to card through your hair, pressing you so close to him that you can feel his heart beating against your chest. You feel him come inside you, a pulse of heat, a sense of fullness. The room seems to take on new, brighter colors, and when you look at Simon, he looks fucking euphoric. The firelight gives him a look that’s like a touch of divinity, a golden cast over his face and body.

You take your time getting off of him, enjoying the feeling of him inside you too much. That, and there’s no bathroom, no shower—the comedown also means that reality’s a little too close at hand.

Simon catches his breath, hand loosely stroking your hair, and he presses a kiss to your temple before letting his head fall back onto the pillow. “Holy fuck,” he says.

You grin and nod against his shoulder, then slowly pull yourself off his softening cock, causing both of you to groan, albeit far weaker than before. You collapse onto the narrow bed beside him, nuzzling up close to him, hand on his chest, as he pulls the blankets up over you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. Your foreheads touch, and you listen to his breaths even out, his heart rate firm and steady under your hand.

“Probably too late to ask if you have a partner, huh?” you say, smiling as you run your thumb over his skin.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t, and I also feel stupid for not asking.”

You look up at him, the orange line of firelight tracing his features. “I don’t either. You’re good.”

He smiles, and you set that expression in your memory, drawing it in great detail. “My job kind of gets in the way.”

“Mine, too,” you reply, tracing spirals over his chest with your index finger. “It’s hard to get a date when you live out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Didn’t want to go check out the paramilitary extremists next door?”

You grimace and hide your face against his chest, shaking your head. “Gross. No.”

His chest shakes with laughter, and it’s wonderful.

---

Morning comes too quick, dawning cold and gray, reminding you that there’s a whole weird world outside the confines of the lookout tower. You and Simon get up, both aching very pleasantly, exchanging one too-brief kiss before his radio goes off.

“Ghost, how copy?” Price’s voice comes through in a crackle.

“Fuck,” Simon hisses, getting up and crossing the room to his radio. You at least can enjoy that he does so fully nude. He picks up the radio and keys it, scratching at his stubble as he responds, “At location 29-B and holding, Captain,” he says, his voice a dry scratch of sound. “The ranger had a medical issue.”

“Is she alright? Do you need a med evac?”

“Negative,” he replies. “We’re moving in about an hour.”

“Rog’. Keep me posted.”

“Will do, sir.”

An hour. You groan and fall back on the bed, staring up at the bare wood ceiling, decades worth of cobwebs in the corners. Simon falls back into bed beside you, cupping your face and drawing you into another firm kiss. Then, something dawns on you, and you lean back, looking over his handsome face in the morning light.

“When you say we’re moving in an hour, do you mean moving out, or just moving?”

His brows go up, slightly crooked smile on his face. “I think I didn’t specify, Ranger,” he says. “Do you have a preference?”

You laugh, leaning in close and pressing your forehead against his again. “Affirmative,” you say.

Simon laughs and shakes his head. “You could just say yes.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #modern warfare ii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #prompt fill #VERY big prompt fill oh god i'm so sorry #i've spent most of the day on this!!#and it's not edited yet because it's 10pm now and i'm very tired #did i have cody in mind as the model for the reader? yes. do i kinda ship her and ghost now? YEAH

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freya-fallen · 14 days

Text

Little Dove 3/?

Part 1 Part 4

TWs for this part: smoking, manipulation, grooming

Dabi knows what he's doing is wrong. He's not blind to his own backwards morality. In fact, he revels in it. He's murdered without a second thought, for no more than a flash of annoyance. He's a consummate monster.

But this… the plans shaping up for Hawks’ sweet little sister are truly demented. They're sick, twisted, the sort of evil that leaves a stain and never washes out. He can't wait to share what the hero will do. No doubt, Hawks will try to defend himself. Endeavor will find out what his lost son made the hero do, and he will be filled with disgust for both his son and his second.

It's all due to an accident of fate. Hawks losing his phone was the best thing to happen to Dabi. Thanks to the idiot’s affectionate contact name for his sister, Dabi was going to trap the two birds in a cage of his own twisted design.

You and Dabi text every day after that. He’s funny in a dark, sardonic sort of way, but you suppose that’s normal for someone in his line of work. He convinces you to meet up the following weekend. You’re nervous to meet him again.

You’re also worried about Keigo finding out, but your brother is absent in the few days leading up to your “date.” You don’t think it can properly be called that because it’s not as if he likes you, right? He’s just being nice to his peer’s little sister who never gets out.

Either way, you’re super excited. You spend entirely too much time picking an outfit, lamenting your lack of girlfriends to ask for advice. Last time he saw you, you looked like a kid. You were in your school uniform. This time, you want him to see you looking more adult.

Eventually you settle on a black t-shirt and jeans, both of which hug you flatteringly. You wear black shoes good for walking just in case, and even put on what you consider an artful application of makeup. You think you look much more mature like this, though the butterflies in your stomach belie your cool facade.

Soon enough, you trek to the cafe where you agreed to meet. Dabi is already sitting back in one of the outdoor seats. He nods in acknowledgement and his eyes flick over you; you flush at his clear appraisal, and wish you could figure out what he’s thinking.

“C’mon,” he says, rising to throw an arm around your shoulders.

He’s so warm and the scents of smoke and tobacco waft from him, as well as something that else that reminds you of fiery nights, but you can’t quite pick out why. It doesn’t matter; the smell isn’t necessarily bad.

“Where are we going?”

He steers you toward an alley and a writhing mass of darkness appears. “This is a friend’s quirk. It’s safe,” he assures you as you step through. You cling to him through the darkness and he squeezes you close.

When you come out the other side, you’re in a small apartment. It must be his place. There’s a futon, a mini fridge, a sink, what you guess is the lavatory, but the focus is a decent sized flat screen hooked up to a few different consoles. A cardboard box is filled with folded clothes, but that’s the extent of the furniture. It’s like he just moved in.

“I figured we should hang and get to know each other,” Dabi says by way of explanation. He sprawls on the futon and gestures for you to join him, turns on the television, and begins scrolling through apps via one of the consoles. “Do you game?”

You shift from foot to foot before finally taking a seat on the edge of the futon. “A little.” Most of the games in the apartment were chosen by Keigo and you’re not big on those.

He nods. “What d’ya like to watch? I’ll put something on.”

“I don’t know, I watch pretty much anything.”

His head rolls toward you and he deadpans, “I’ll put on some porn.” Your expression must be comical because he bursts out laughing. “Relax, I’m not trying to break you.” He settles on Netflix and sticks on some Korean show about zombies. “This one’s pretty good.”

You nod, actually familiar with the show. “Oh yeah, I like this show. It gets pretty dark though.”

You watch and slowly become more comfortable, leaning back on a pillow propped against the wall. You’ve almost forgotten to be awkward by the time you see fumbling out of the corner of your eye and you glance toward its source.

Dabi has taken down his mark and sports a cigarette between his lips. The bottom one is charred, scarred all the way down into his t-shirt. He lifts a brow at you, then flicks up a finger. A blue flame dances atop it. He uses that to light the cigarette. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You have a fire quirk?” It’s about the dumbest thing you can say, but he nods.

“Yep. And you can thank that for all these fuckin’ scars. Pretty, huh?”

The thing is, if it weren’t for the scars, you’d think Dabi is pretty. Even with them, he has a rough, edgy look to him that probably pulls women anyway.

You shrug. “I like all your piercings.”

“Yeah?” He tugs your ear lobe with the hand not holding the cigarette and you giggle. “You should get some yourself. I bet you’d look pretty hot.”

“Keigo would flip.” The words are out before you can think twice. Your hand slaps over your mouth, eyes wide.

Dabi watches you keenly with those sharp blue eyes of his. “Keigo, huh? Don’t worry, Dove, I won’t tell his secret identity.”

“Thanks.”

“As far as what he likes… well, I bet he wouldn’t like me flirting with his little sister either, but here we are.”

You fall still, unsure you heard him correctly. “You’re flirting with me?”

Dabi laughs again. “Sure am. You’re too damn cute. Why, did you think I asked you to hang just to be nice?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, suddenly shy under his gaze.

Dabi’s tongue skirts his lips and he leans in close. You can smell the cigarette on his breath, but it doesn’t both you. “Sweetheart, you have been running through my mind like a goddamn train since the second I saw you.” He pulls you against him and kisses the top of your head. “You okay with that?”

You smile and speak through the fluttering pulse in your throat. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

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#darkfic #yandere #mha #hawks #my hero academia #yandere dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #yandere hawks #hawks x reader #smut #dabi is a creepy #possible dabihawks

66 notes · View notes

piedpiperart · 10 months

Text

Phantom of Gotham 19

Chapter 18

Danny had unsurprisingly not gotten a good night's sleep that night. He was currently staying in an abandoned Firehouse. He was pretty sure he was getting the hang of finding semi-hospitable hideouts. Just to be safe, he had taken to hiding his stuff in the walls when he left. It was tedious, but there was no way he was risking a Red Hood (Jason?) situation. He knew that opening a portal to the Ghost Zone would be a bad idea, and that it could lead the GIW straight to him. That big of a power surge in one spot would no doubt attract them. At the very least, Vlad might also be aware of him in Gotham now. But for some reason he didn’t want to leave.

Sure, He’d be safer if he stayed on the run but he had friends at school, was actually doing well in classes, and he had befriended the local vigilantes. Not that he was avoiding them. He had patrolled a bit with them again- invisible as always- but he’d started to feel eyes on him so he gave them Phantom’s contact info and proceeded to lay low the past few days.

Danny had started feeling a bit paranoid after the whole ghost portal thing, but Batman and Frostbite were already making progress. Batman had even said that the GIW wouldn’t be able to do much in Gotham since he’d alerted the GCPD to reject any attempts at partnership and to detain the Fentons if they were spotted. Danny was still worried about it. Especially with Vlad and his parents. He’d of course told Batman about Plasmius, but in order to keep his own secret he hadn’t told them Vlad was a Halfa too. He was starting to think that maybe he should, just in case he showed his fruit-loopy self in Gotham.

Obviously, Phantom could take Vlad in a fight no problem. It was him against the bats that he wasn’t so sure about. Lack of ghost weapons aside, Vlad also had a propensity for overshadowing people. Often multiple people because of his clones. The two things Danny wouldn’t or couldn’t do.

He sighed. Maybe he was overthinking it. He should just do his best in school and hang out with Tim and Steph like a normal kid for once. Phantom was benched for now, and Danny needed to lay low in case the GIW or … the Fentons were searching for him. If they noticed the power surge of the portal, it’s likely, but who knows. Maybe they didn’t notice anything. Maybe Danny’s still safe.

“Yo, Danny, are you okay man?” Steph asked, nudging him. They were at lunch, having gone off campus to a coffee shop instead of sticking around the cafeteria. Tim was downing his coffee and staring longingly at the second one he ordered like he couldn’t drink them fast enough. Steph and Danny had both gotten sweeter drinks because, as Steph says, they have taste buds that work.

“Yeah,”Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck.”Just an off day, you know? Couldn’t sleep.”

Tim perked up at that.”You know you can always come over to the manor-”

Danny cut him off with a groan. “I told you Tim, I’m not coming back.”

“Yeah I know,”Tim glowered, sipping his drink. “Had to try though, the Demon Brat is still spamming my phone about you. Even Bruce asks for updates.”

“Yeesh, even Bruce?” Steph winced, looking between the two boys. “Yikes Danny. Bruce isn’t known for letting things go. You’re doomed.”

“He’s not ‘doomed’,” Tim rolled his eyes, while Danny sighed dramatically from the other side of the table.

“You know, it’s kind of hard to keep a low profile with a billionaire taking an interest in you,”Danny commented dryly. Tim shrugged.

“Just means he can keep you safe from whatever you’re running from,”Tim raised an eyebrow pointedly at Danny’s scowl. His phone alarm rang and the three of them started packing up to head back to school.

“I don’t want to talk about it,”Danny wrinkled his nose. “And wouldn’t hiding with a billionaire make it easier for them to find me?”

“He’s got a point,”Steph chimed in, getting a look from Tim. “I’m pretty sure Bruce has a room for me just on the off chance I spontaneously need adopting. No doubt they’re gonna keep your room exactly how you left it.” Tim fought back a smile, knowing it was true, but wouldn’t prove his point.

“Pssh, Bruce can be stealthy. No one will even know you live at the manor,” Tim pointed out. Danny snorted. “What? He can be stealthy,”Tim persisted, only for Steph and Danny to exchange amused looks and start laughing. “I’m serious!”

“Sure,”Danny chuckled as he and the others left the cafe and headed back to school. “He’s about as stealthy as the sun. Sure, you don’t see him at night, but when you do see him he’s super intense and the center of attention.”

Steph burst out laughing at that, and Tim made a face. “Okay that’s a fair point but still. I know we all told you before but everyones still worried about you.”

“I get it,”Danny said. More than you know, Danny thought wryly. He knew that if the GIW had a way to track him they’d be led straight to the Wyanes, and then their secret identities would be in jeopardy. Danny wouldn’t allow that to happen. Besides, if he’s on his own he can use his ghost powers to sneak away and fly to a different state undetected. “This is my problem to deal with though. Can we just drop it?”

Tim wilted. “Fine, but if you ever need anything let me know.”

“Will do,”Danny saluted lazily. He would not. And judging by the look on Tim’s face, he knew it too.

The conversation switched to upcoming school projects and classes as they made their way through the school. “Alright, I’m off to class, see ya later,”Steph waved.

“See ya,”Tim and Danny waved. The two boys had chemistry together, so they walked to class side by side. They were a bit late, so they didn’t have much time to chat before sitting down in their seats before class started.

---

Tim was a bit worried about his friend. Sure, he knew Danny could take care of himself, and had superpowers that could help him. But was he taking care of himself? Tim was sure the meal plan Damian had him on was all but nothing while Danny continued to live by himself. He wasn’t too worried, knowing that Danny was pretty good at surviving on his own. Besides, he was pretty sure everyone had scared Danny away with their lack of boundaries.

In addition, Danny was a good person. Tim would be a fool to not see how the kid was trying to protect them. It was nothing they couldn’t handle, sure, but Danny didn’t know that. Even if the bats couldn’t be with him all the time, Tim was sure Phantom was protecting the kid. At one of the meet ups, Phantom had said he’s usually with the bats at night and Danny during the day. Though, the past two days Phantom had more or less said he’d be sticking around Danny more often so he wouldn’t be around much to help the bats. Which was fine. They’d need to find Danny to talk to the Phantom though, because they hadn’t been able to give Phantom a communicator before he disappeared.

A voice came over on the intercom and Tim snapped out of his thoughts to pay attention. Especially since the rogues were keen on attacking schools, Tim was listening to make sure there wasn’t some sort of attack on the way. Oddly enough, it was just about a student needing to come to the office. But that student? Danny.

Danny stiffened next to him, and Tim looked over with a raised brow, silently asking if he wanted company. Danny gave him a small smile and shook his head,”Probably just something about paperwork,”Danny whispered before gathering his things and making his way out to the office while Tim’s head spun with questions. The intercom didn’t give any details, and despite it probably being about paperwork, considering Danny had no actual adult supervision at home, Tim had worries. Parent teacher conferences were weeks away, and Danny hadn’t gotten in any kind of trouble at school. He had a bad feeling about this.

Exactly two minutes after Danny left, Tim raised his hand. “Can I be excused to the bathroom?”He asked and the teacher, Ms. Morgan, sighed but waved her hand to let him go. She was more than used to Tim’s antics, but because of his good grades and lack of friends, she let him do what he wanted. Maybe he should send her some sort of gift basket, he thought. She was a good teacher.

Once in the hallway, Tim beelined for the office on silent footsteps, passing by the bathrooms on his way. He kept an eye out for Danny, pausing when he heard voices coming from the door to the office. Getting as close as possible, TIm busied himself with a nearby locker while he eavesdropped.

“I assure you, this is the best possible outcome for everyone,”Someone was saying. He didn’t recognise the voice, but it sounded like a man.

“I suppose. As long as you keep your end of our deal. I don’t want any of this getting out,”Tim recognised the vice principal’s voice. What kind of deal? And where was Danny?

“Trust me, your school’s reputation is safe. Dealing with these creatures is classified government business. Nothing will get out to the public,”The man was saying, and Tim’s blood ran cold. Creatures? Were they talking about Danny? Did they know? Where was Danny? Tim thought frantically. He needed more information.

“Either way, this is how far I’m willing to help you. Follow the others through the back entrance. I don’t want anyone seeing you or the boy,”The vice principal, Miss Wethers, snapped.

“Trust me, he won’t be seeing anyone from Gotham Academy anytime soon,”He chuckled darkly, and dread filled Tim’s chest. They had Danny? Where was Phantom? How did they know where he was? Tim thought frantically, shoes squeaking on the floor as he quickly made his way to the back door of the school. It was the staff parking lot, and if he didn’t want to run into Miss Wethers or the creepy dude he’d have to go the long way.

On the way, Tim took out his phone, calling Jason and putting a com in. The others would be at school or work right now, and he knew Bruce and Alfred were getting ready for the Gala tonight.

“What is it now, Replacement?” Jason snapped, but Tim didn’t have time.

“The GIW’s at the school, I think they got Danny,”Tim rushed out, turning a corner and skipping down the stairs. “They’re taking him through the school’s back entrance, I’m on my way there but I’m in school clothes,”Tim said, and he could tell by the movement on the other end that Jason was getting his gear.

“Alright, find out what car and where they're going but don’t interact unless you have a way to sneak Danny out without them noticing,”Jason grunted,”Be there in five.”

Tim gave an affirmative and cut the comm, finally making it to the back entrance door. He wasn’t sure if Danny had five minutes, but Tim was confident in his ability to be a distraction and stall for time. He eased the door open and immediately latched onto seven guys in white suits, three of which were carrying what looked like a heavily restrained and unconscious Danny into the back of a big white van. Damn. From what Tim could see, there was a muzzle and handcuffs, but he wasn’t sure if Danny was knocked out or drugged.

“Shit,”Tim cursed as the last guy came through the side of the building with the vice principal behind him. He didn’t have hardly any of his gear on him and they were about to leave. Taking out what he had in some hidden pockets, he activated a tracking device and took aim, hitting the van perfectly on the back of the vehicle, near the back right tire.

Tim chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he watched the van doors close. For a small group they were very efficient and fast at getting Danny out and on the road. Tim eased out from behind the door and made his way behind some cars, following the van’s path as they drove out of the parking lot. He knew he couldn’t keep up from ground level, so he climbed up to the rooftop of the nearest building when he had a chance to do it without being spotted. The whole time he felt nothing but worry for Danny.

“Hood, come in, where are you?” Tim asked impatiently. “They’re in a white van, sending you the location now. I managed to get a tracker on them but couldn’t get Danny out.”

“Two minutes out. How’s the kid?”Hood grunted, and Tim could hear the sounds of his motorcycle in the background.

“Not great. They have handcuffs and a muzzle on him, and he was unconscious when they loaded him into the van,”Tim reported, and Hood cursed.

“I see em’,”Jason said, and Tim could hear the roaring of his motorcycle across the street. Tim brought up his phone and used it to pull up the tracker he’d set on the van. He took a second to catch his breath from roof hopping, and tried to calculate their path.

“Looks like they're headed towards the docks or the outskirts of Gotham,”Tim cringed. That’s also where a bunch of warehouses and abandoned buildings were located. It would be hard to find Danny around there if they manage to get away or ditch the van.

Suddenly, there was an explosion and Tim looked up from his camera with wide eyes. Looking over the edge of a building he was perched on, he could see the van scurry to a stop, smoke and what looked like the aftermath of an explosive right in front of them. “Jason?” Tim exclaimed, only to catch a glimpse of the Red Hood coming out of the smoke dramatically. He sighed a breath of relief.

“What, worried about me Timbers?” Jason sing-songed, and from the roof Tim could see two agents exiting the van as Jason drew his guns. Tim huffed a laugh. “Stay out of sight, not sure what weapons they have on hand.”

Jason sneered at the white-suited agents as they approached him with a haughty walk. “The fuck do you think you’re doing kidnapping kids in my territory?” Jason called out to them, and the second guy paused. They weren’t actually in Jason’s area, but Gotham counted as his territory when he wanted it to be.

“You misunderstand,”The first agent said calmly, holding up his glowing green weapon nonchalantly. “I’m agent K with the Ghost Investigation Ward, we’re simply taking the entity in. It’s just possessing the boy, and it’s our job to apprehend it. You’re interfering with government jurisdiction.”

Jason let out a breath, but cocked his guns. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing. Step away from the vehicle before I start shooting.”

Agent K looked incredibly annoyed and yet smug as he slowly lowered his weapons. “Fine, we’ll do things your way. Agent O?”

At that, the other Agent dropped his weapons, including what looked like a glowing green grenade that rolled towards Jason. Hood cursed and leaped away as it went off in a flash of green light, firing at the Agents as they pulled out their weapons. Jason hadn’t seen any weapons like theirs in action before, but it was clearly heavy duty. Agent O even tried to shoot a fucking net at him like he was some kind of crime fighting fish. Frustratingly, they kept him on his toes while he ducked behind a car. Jason managed to hit Agent K in the shoulder before the two ducked behind the car door. Hood caught a glimpse of them inching back to their van, and made to follow when suddenly the van itself rumbled.

Tim and Jason’s eyes widened as what looked like missiles and lasers appeared from the van and locked onto Jason. “Shit,”Jason cursed, woefully unprepared for their tanked up van. Three missiles immediately took off, and Jason did his best to get to better cover while green lasers shot at him. One of the grenades from earlier hurtled towards him too, and it was at that moment that Jason vowed to blow up each and every one of those white suits in the van. He hissed as a lazer caught his leg and grazed his side. Clearly the weapons were made to hit ghosts, but damn, they still hurt. He needed to step back and regroup. As much as he hated to admit it he’d need backup. Or more firepower to counter these weapon-crazed maniacs.

“Hood! They’re getting away and the tracker is down!” Tim shouted in his ear. Jason grimaced.

“Little busy here,”Jason grunted as two missiles collided with each other, but the force of the blow blew him back, dragging his feet on the pavement. The third one struck him before he had time to dodge, and all he heard was the screeching of tires getting further away as it went off, sending him into darkness.

Tim cursed as Jason was thrown back into a building before slumping to the ground. The van was gone and the tracker malfunctioned when the weird energy sources of the van's weapons activated. As much as Tim would have liked to go after Danny, he didn’t have a car or his Red Robin suit, nor a way to track them anymore. And Hood was down, He thought dryly.

Hood was already moving by the time Tim skidded to his side. There was no blood, so Tim figured it was just a lot of percussive force damaging his brother. He’d have a lot of bruises for sure. As Hood grumbled and caught his bearings, Tim helped him stand, finding burns through his armor on his side and left thigh from the lasers. He grimaced in sympathy.

“You okay?” Tim asked once Hood was standing. He didn’t seem injured too badly, but might have a concussion if not for the red helmet on his head.

“Yeah,”Hood coughed. “Nothing I can’t handle. Wasn’t prepared for that shit though. The fuck do they have so many heavy duty weapons?” Hood spat, brushing off Tim’s hands. “Any way to track them?”

Tim shook his head. “I didn’t see Phantom anywhere but they managed to get Danny by roping the vice principal into setting up a trap for him. I didn’t notice until after they had him.”

“Shit, think they got Phantom too?”Jason swore again, but went over to where his motorcycle was, dragging Tim with him. “C’mon, we’ll find them.”

“Yeah,”Tim responded, feeling his brain buzz with anxiety and plans. He’d have to figure out where the GIW base was, how they got into Gotham, and hack into the CCTVs to figure out if Phantom was around. A helmet was shoved into his arms and Tim jolted back to the present.

“We’re on our own for this one. B and the others are on their way to the Gala already,”Jason said, revving the motorcycle. “Sides, not much we can do until we track down the van. We’ll gear up at my place and come up with a plan before looping in everyone else.”

“I can loop in Spoiler,”Tim added, twisting his arms around Hood’s waist. Jason grunted in agreement and they made their way to Jason’s apartment without following most traffic signals. The whole way, Tim worried about his friend and what the GIW would do to him. Though he had one big question hanging over him. Where was Phantom?

Chapter 20

#Phantom of Gotham #Danny phantom #dpxdc #dcxdp

157 notes · View notes

smok3r7 · 22 days

Text

One Door Closes & Another One Opens

Joel x OFC!Divorce Lawyer

Explicit, 18+

I Need Help

Main MasterList & Series Masterlist - My AO3

Summary: She’s a divorce attorney and he’s a husband looking for help to save his daughter, and himself, from his gambling addict wife. Renae Russo is a woman who fights for her clients and wins. She’s satisfied with her life and what she does - but she wishes she could have a little more. What happens when Joel Miller becomes her client and she gets to see this man fight for the safety of his ten year old daughter, Sarah. Will she be able to keep it professional?

Chapter Summary: How can a diner affect two peoples lives and the way they live? It’s like the butterfly effect and weird coincidences all wrapped into one, for both Joel and Renae.

Word count: 10.1k

Warnings: Angst, verbal fight

—

Joel can feel the tension in the truck between him and Sarah, it seems every other second he’s glancing over at Sarah next to him in his rear view mirror and he just watches the way her small face contorts, like she’s trying to find a way to talk about it. He can only imagine the questions she has about this morning, or the situation as a whole. But frankly, he’s more worried about his answers to her - how would he explain it in a way she would understand, but without totally degrading Annie?

Because she is still her mom.

His palms can’t help but sweat and constantly re-grip the steering wheel multiple times, and his stomach softly growls but it’s hidden by the country music that flows through the truck. He’s so nervous and the lack of sleep has him feeling even more on edge. He’s never been like this around Sarah - but she’s also never witnessed first hand, or at least to Joel’s knowledge, how bad Annie actually is.

“So, dad,” the sweet angelic voice soothes his ears, but also scares him, “What exactly is going on with mom?”

There it is - the one dreadful question he didn’t want to hear, especially today. Umm, well, he’s trying to think of something, really anything to say to her while he’s focusing on the morning traffic in front of him, only about a block away from her school.

“She just isn’t the same. Did- did I do somethin-“

“No,” he blurts out and turns his head, loud enough to startle her for only a second, and look back at him as he stares into her beautiful doe eyes, “Don’t ever say that alright? Mama’s just got some of her own things she’s gotta sort through - I can’t help her, Grandma ‘n Grandpa can’t help, only she can. It's never your fault, ‘kay?”

Sarah just nods her head and whispers, I love you. Joel can feel the water glaze over his eyes, so he glances back to the driveway that leads to her school, then back to her. “I love you too baby girl. Now,” he clears his throat as he pulls up to the front of the building, puts the truck in park and twists his torso to look at her fully. “I don’t want this mornin’, or the things about Mama, to mess with your head. Go have fun with your friends, learn somethin’ new that you can tell me at dinner t’night, alright? I love you so much, my little princess.”

A genuine smile takes over the meek one she had, and she leaps out of her seat and wraps her arms around Joel’s shoulders and tightly squeezes. You’re the best, she whispers into his neck and he’s somewhat surprised, but he whisks those thoughts away and mindlessly hugs her back.

This is his daughter, and Annie may be her mom, but Joel will be damned if he continues to let her act like this, especially since he knows that it’s starting to affect Sarah.

“Alright, dad,” she laughs, “I’m gonna be late!” Joel lets go of her, sorry sorry kiddo, and watches as she slides over to her door and hops out the truck, but before she closes it she tells him she loves him one more time. Joel blows a kiss to her and waits until she’s in the school to pull away.

Sarah picked out her outfit today and surprisingly, it turned out cute; A simple light purple t-shirt, white capri cargo pants, and her purple and white sneakers. Her gorgeous brown hair was pulled back into a low bun, one of her favorite hairstyles for school.

He can’t help but feel warm and proud about his intelligent, beautiful daughter. He pulls out from the school and continues down the main road to his house and he dreads having to face the reality that waits for him.

—

With his house key in the door knob, Joel takes a deep breath before he twists the key to unlock it and deal with Annie. This is the last time, he mumbles as he pushes the door open and locks it behind him. Deciding to not dwell on this anymore than he has to, he walks down the short hallway that leads to the kitchen where he sets his keys down and grabs cleaning supplies from the cabinet under the sink.

Again, this has become part of his egregious routine and Joel despises it every single time, mainly because he never would’ve guessed this is how his life would’ve turned out to be. He married Annie because he genuinely loved her, and she loved him.

Maybe they were naive to get married only after two years of dating and knowing each other. But Joel felt that she was the love of his life, he was acting like a teenager trapped in a thirty year old body.

Their chemistry was like they were meant to be, Annie completed him in ways he never imagined and he matured a lot in their relationship - more than her it seems now. The sex was nothing Joel expected out of her, it became one of the main reasons he loved her was because of her skills in bed. The way she could take his whole cock in her throat and let him ruin her face how he wanted, had Joel obsessed. A major red flag now that Joel looks back on it. But they were so happy the twelve years before Sarah and the couple years after but Joel’s love for her has vanished completely; all he cares about is Sarah and Tommy.

When Annie was hammered one night about a year ago, she told Joel that she simply fell outta love with him because he gives so much time and attention to Sarah. Joel absolutely lost his mind that day, he came this close to kicking her out then and there but he just packed a bag for Sarah, picked her up from school, and they stayed at Tommy and Maria’s for the weekend.

This has happened more times than he’d like to admit and Joel is not proud of it or himself for allowing it, but he is proud of Sarah and how well she’s been handling herself.

Her grades have never slipped past a B-, she’s never been in detention, she still is the bubbly little girl that Joel remembers, and she’s still very involved with her group of girlfriends - Joel just worries a lot about her, always will. He just prays that it stays that way, even though he knows as she gets to be a teen, she may have some issues with things, in which Joel will be there every step of the way with her.

“Joel?” Annie’s tired voice comes from the living room, “Is that you baby?”

“Yep.” His voice monotone as he stands up with a small plastic bag full of dirty paper towels in one hand and cleaners in the other. “Be there in a minute.” Although Joel wants nothing more than to eat some greasy food and go to sleep - he’s probably accumulated four hours of sleep this whole week - Joel knows that he’s not going to be able to do any of that, this Wednesday is going to kick his ass.

After throwing away the soaked rags away in the trash can that sits behind the garage, he heads back inside, washes his hands, and grabs a small brown wash cloth and runs it under cold water, making sure to ring it out so it’s not sopping wet, otherwise she’ll complain about it dripping down her neck, and he doesn’t wanna hear it.

Joel walks into the living room and spots Annie laying on the brown sectional that’s against the huge front window. The suns blocked by the blackout shades that are partially over the window, a beam of light shines through the sliver in the middle.

“There you are,” Annie purrs, shifting to her side to look at Joel. “Worried me for a second.” He can tell she’s sobered up since he left her in the bedroom over an hour and a half ago. She showered, her damp blonde hair clings to her shoulders and neck, she’s wearing Joel’s gray sweatpants and his Texas Longhorns shirt.

Before he lost his love for her, this would’ve had Joel drooling while crawling to her, then fucking her into oblivion. But now, he has no physical reaction to her anymore, hasn’t for two years. Any time she tries to initiate anything sexual, Joel’s body doesn’t react - April fifth, two-thousand twenty-two was the last time they fucked and there was no attachment from Joel. He only did it to see if the chemistry and spark was still there, which it was not. It’s pretty sad if you really think about it.

Yeah yeah, Joel mumbles as he slightly bends over and sets the washcloth on her forehead while she just stares at him. He can’t help but feel livid about this morning, it’s the latest she’s come back and he can’t stop hearing Sarah’s, dad, on loop. It breaks his heart every time.

“You can’t keep doin’ this Annie.” Joel scolds her as he takes a step back, folding his arms over his puffed chest, “This is not healthy, or safe for you.”

Annie sits up, moving the cloth to the top of her head, and stares back at Joel, her bright blue eyes glowing, he can see the gears turning in her brain. “Wait…what?” Her expression is one that Joel hasn’t seen since she was sober, it’s like she’s actually listening to what he has to say. Which rarely happens anymore.

Now he’s getting angry, because she’s acting like she’s done nothing wrong or that this is all normal - which it’s not. Joel can’t help but scoff at her, “You’re a piece of work, ya’ know that? Did you not hear Sarah this mornin’ when I had to carry your drunk ass to bed?”

“No, I-“

“Didn’t think so.” He turns to walk away, he can’t have this conversation right now because he will snap on her. Then that will be something he will regret.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annie stands up and walks to him, the cool rag being thrown to the floor, “Huh?”

Joel spins around and in seconds in her face as he calmly, but strongly tells her, “I’m filing for divorce ‘n full custody of Sarah. That’s what I mean.”

“You can’t- Joel, no-“ Annie can’t form a sentence, she’s speechless from his threats, which she knows he’ll act on. Joel knows it too and he’s not scared, so he starts to walk away again. But Annie snags his left forearm, forcefully spinning him to face her, the pleading demeanor now forming into an evil one.

“You are not taking my daughter.” She snarls, her eyes never leaving him in a death stare, her body is vibrating from the adrenaline flowing. “Over my dead body, Joel.”

Joel can’t help but smirk at her sudden confidence, even though he knows she somewhat means it, there’s no way she’s gonna stick to it. “You’re already halfway there,” he leans down so he’s inches away from her face and whispers, “Why don’t ya’ go finish the job for me?” He knows he shouldn’t say it, but he can’t help himself - he’s been a doormat for so many years.

Something changes in Annie’s eyes, something dangerous. Joel should’ve seen it coming, but he doesn’t or at least not until it��s too late. Annie winds her right hand back and smacks Joel across the face, her acrylics scraping his cheek and tip of his nose. Fucking asshole, she whispers behind tears filling her eyes. Joel can’t do anything but smirk with his tongue in his cheek as he stands back up and just turns around to leave.

“You know,” he’s about to reach the corner that leads to the garage when he hears it, “A real husband would help his wife, not abandon her when she really needs him.” This punches Joel in the gut more than the slap did, because all he’s done for the past four years is be the husband who takes care of his wife who has an addiction, multiple, that she won’t admit to.

He’s the one who’s given up everything for her, he can’t remember the last time he had fun or a night to himself - his life revolves around Annie. But he has no fight left in him, he wants to give up on this and he has every right to. Joel knows there’s nothing left for him to do or to try to fix - this is the end.

“Same could be said ‘bout the wife.” He mumbles loud enough for her to hear and he sees the vengefulness and pain spread across her face before he continues to leave. Snagging his keys off the counter where he left them, Annie continues to cry and shout at Joel; everything from I’m sorry, to fuck you, Joel, to you’re not taking my daughter, until he slams the door behind him.

Now in his truck, Joel flips between skipping work or sucking it up and going in, but he decides there’s no way he could have a good work day, or even be productive. He’s simply too exhausted to be any kind of help to anyone right now. As he exits the cul de sac and hits a main road, Whitney st, he grabs his phone from the seat next to him and calls Tommy, he knows he’ll understand. Tommy’s the only one who Joel can really talk to about the things going on with Annie, so he knows how bad it is.

After the first four or five rings, he picks up, “Hey Joel, what’s up?” With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the phone to his ear, Joel sighs and tells him he’s not gonna make it in today.

“Annie again?”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow ‘bout it all.” He sighs, turning down one of the million dirt roads, Cherry Ave, in silence.

“Alright, go get some sleep, big bro. Tell Sarah I said hi for me. ‘Kay?”

Will do, see ya. Joel hangs up and throws his phone back on the leather seat next to him, then moves to turn up the radio so he can mindlessly listen to it.

“There are days every now and again

I pretend I'm okay

But that's not what gets me

What hurts the most

Was being so close”

“Damn song,” he mumbles as he leans to his left and grabs his pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes while listening to the music. He grabs one and lifts it to his lips where it sits between the top and bottom, he flicks his baby blue lighter on and holds the flame on the end of the cigarette, quickly glancing to the road and back while he inhales lightly at the same time, making sure it’s lit. Once he feels the rush of nicotine hit his throat and flow through his chest, and a cloud of white smoke fills the truck and billows out the window, a sense of calmness swarms him from the inside out.

Joel continues to drive aimlessly for the next two hours, losing count of how many cigarettes he smokes, just wishing him and Sarah could just run away and start somewhere else. A place where she could flourish without the fear of her mother, where Joel could be the father he knows Sarah needs. And who knows, maybe even find someone for himself, to be an actual partner.

The dinging of his gas tank brings him back to reality, he glances down and sees the light is on, god damnit. He did not mean to drive that much, he needed this tank to last him till Friday but looks like he’ll have to fill up now and be broke for the rest of the week. Luckily he was on his way back, so he’s close to the city so he can make it to a Speedway that’s less than a couple blocks away.

“Three eighty-six?” He can’t help but laugh in disgust at the ridiculous gas prices as he pulls up to a pump,“What a joke.” Shutting his truck off, he rubs his eyes with his fingertips to help relieve the fuzziness that sits behind them. After recouping himself enough to go inside, he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and checks how much cash he has, pulling out two fifties and six twenties. Not as bad as he thought.

While debating which would be the best financial decision, his stomach growls like a pack of wolves. It hits him that he hasn’t eaten anything - he glances at his wrist watch that reads eleven twenty-two - in about twenty hours and it’s starting to affect him.

Joel remembers Jes’s Diner is only a mile away from here, his favorite place for brunch, which sounds fantastic to him right now. So he decides to use one of the fifties and one of the twenty’s, seventy should get him close to a full tank. So he puts the rest of the cash back in his wallet and hops out his truck to go pay for his gas before he heads to the diner.

—

Renae takes one last puff off her cigarette before she throws it to the sidewalk and smooshes it with her larger part of her heel, squishing it making sure it’s out. She’s meeting up with Gia and Bianca at the same restaurant they always do when they come home, Jes’s Diner, it’s just before noon when she gets there. She feels relaxed mainly because she doesn’t have any appointments until three thirty PM, so she can spend a good chunk of her time with her sister and niece.

The restaurant has an outdoor seating area with multiple large fans on the ceiling which helps to keep the air flowing, and since it’s the middle of May in Austin, it's warm.

“Auntie!” Bianca basically yells and leaves her chair to run to Renae when she spots her about two tables away. “Hi Lovebug!” Renae cheers back as she holds Bianca under her armpits and lifts her up into a tight hug, slightly swinging her small body side to side. I missed you so much, Bianca mumbles into the crook of Renae’s neck, and she tells the girl the same before she walks on over to the round table where Gia sits with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.

The cement causes her white colored heels to take over the slightly enclosed area, if she’s getting looks or stares she doesn’t care. Renae always has heels on her feet - it’s a rare sight for her not to. The only place she doesn’t is at the gym - other than that, you never see her without them. She knows the clicking of them on hard surface floors can annoy or distract a lot of people, but she doesn’t let the opinions of others influence things she loves.

And her main love will always be her heels - next to Bianca and Frankie.

“Alright B, sit down please.” Gia looks up at Bianca, who’s still in Renae’s arms, “You’re gettin’ too big for that, soon you’ll be as tall as Auntie Renae.” She can’t help but laugh as she watches Renae let Bianca down to the floor and turn to face her.

“And hi, Mrs. New York!” Renae smiles and slightly bends over to hug Gia, so she doesn’t have to stand up from her chair. Gia coined that name for herself when she first moved and, when Renae started saying it, it just stuck. So she calls her that every time, it’s even Gia’s contact name in Renae’s phone. Hi baby, Gia hugs her tightly for a moment, then let’s go and let's Renae walk to the other side of the table and sit down.

As she sits down she adjusts the hair clip that holds her vibrant loosely curled hair so it’s off her neck. Even with the fans, the Austin heat is rampant this time of day and year almost unbearable if not taken seriously. Gia always tells Renae she’s crazy for still having her vibrant long, thick hair down or how she wears jeans a lot of the time but Renae has become accustomed to the weather by now, after living in Texas for her whole life.

“So what’s new? Give me all the ‘deets!” Renae questions as she rests her chin in her right palm, while her left hand lays on the table. Bianca’s coloring one of the kid menus that they have here while Gia starts talking about their wonderful little world.

“Well, little miss Bianca here,” she lightly pinches Bianca’s cheek before letting go, “just finished her fifth grade class and will be at the middle school next year!” Renae looks over to her and she can’t help but grin from ear to ear about her niece. Look at you lovebug, she raises her left hand causing her jumble of thin gold bracelets to slide down her arm, for a high five and Bianca returns with a slap. She then goes right back to her coloring and not really paying attention to the conversation between Gia and Renae.

“Hi, welcome to Jes’s! I’m Ariana and I’ll be your server today. What drinks can I start you beautiful ladies with?” The cheery waitress asks as stands between you and Gia with her small notepad and pen.

“Chocolate milk, please!” Bianca tells her, lifting her eyes off her menu for a second before going back to it. Alrighty, miss? Ariana nods her head towards Gia. Just a water with a lemon, thank you. Renae’s thrown off by her request, usually the two of them would get the bottomless mimosas. She cocks her head to the side at Gia, who’s now trying to avoid eye contact.

“And for you miss?”

“Uh, I’ll do a mimosa, please.”

“Perfect, I’ll be right back with those for you guys!” Then she’s off to retrieve their drinks.

“Just water? What is goin’ on?” Renae can’t help herself, she’s gotta know if something is up because the only time Gia will order only a water is when-

“Wait- are you pregnant?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as loud as she did. Gia can’t help but laugh and nod her head at Renae’s expression. Oh my god, Renae squeals as she scoots her chair back enough for her to stand up and slide over to the other side of the table where Gia is.

Gia stands up and Renae is finally able to see the medium sized bump that she’s been hiding. “Holy fuck- congratulations!” Renae says in pure love and shock as she hugs her younger sister, “What are you having?” Renae can't get the words out fast enough before she proceeds to pay attention to her bump. Hey, little thing in there, she whispers as she lightly holds her hands over the sundress that covers her sister's growing belly.

“We’re not sure, so we decided we wanted to find out in the delivery room. Robert is excited, he’s gone out and gotten piles and piles of things for the baby - a mix of boy things, girl things, and neutral things. I almost feel like he’s more excited than I am,” Gia laughs before Renae hugs her for the last time before returning to her seat.

“How do you feel, lovebug?” Renae asks Bianca, as she dabs her waterline with the napkin, trying her best to not ruin her makeup. I can't wait to be a big sister, I’m gonna be just like you auntie! The three of them giggle amongst themselves as Ariana comes back with their drinks.

“Are we ready to order or do we need a couple more minutes?” She asks with her animated hands and voice, the three of them look at each other and agree they're ready. Bianca orders first, followed by Gia, and then Renae. Ariana tells them it should be out soon and to just wave for her if they need anything until then.

Gia and Renae get back to chatting about Gia’s life in New York and with the new baby on the way. Renae is ecstatic for the both of them; but that hidden jealousy creeps up on her even though Gia and Robert totally deserve this. She just wishes those kinds of life changing experiences would happen to her before they did with Gia, or even in Renae’s life at all.

Maybe it’s an older sister thing. Always wanting to be the first to do something special, which she did; Renae was the first one in the family to get a college degree and to become an extremely successful woman, a lawyer even. She’s highly proud of herself for believing she could do it, but there’s still something missing and with Gia having it all, it hits Renae directly and hard. But after really thinking about what exactly that something is, she gets it.

Love.

“I have to pee, I'll be right back. B, do you have to go?” Gia asks her daughter, who agrees and goes along. Renae’s left by herself, with her second mimosa in hand, she decides to chug it so she can get a little buzz to take the edge off. She wasn’t expecting to hear this wonderful news from Gia but something about it just hurts Renae’s heart.

When she swallows the last bit of the mixture of orange juice and champagne, she spots this handsome older looking man on the other side of the outdoor patio, seated and eating by himself.

The man looks disheveled, but in a hot way, and Renae feels her heart skip. His hair is curly, but messy, she wonders if the grays she observes are natural, or from a source of stress - maybe a mix of both. What really convinces her is the scraggly beard that also has grays throughout. His age lines prove her point more. The two scratch lines on the tip of his large nose catches her off guard just a bit, she’s not sure what to make of them. His bulky arms stretch out the fabric of his soft dark shirt, she can visibly see the sweat stains that are forming in his armpits while he cuts his food up and brings it to his mouth.

Renae can't stop staring. Her light green eyes won’t leave the man that sits on the other end of the restaurant, who’s simply eating. There’s just something about him that has her feeling foggy and dazed, maybe it’s the way his sharp jaw moves as he chews or the way his large hands grip his silverware and wrap around the handle of the coffee mug making them look like they’re meant for a mouse to use.

Who are you? she whispers to herself right before Gia and Bianca return from the bathroom. At the same time Ariana comes back with a tray that holds three different plates of food that is steaming hot.

—

Joel’s been to Jes’s Diner many times over the course of his life, so much that he doesn’t need to look at the menu. He gets the same thing every time; An omelet with all the fixings, a side of potatoes, two over-easy eggs, and a small side of bacon.

”No Sarah today?” Polly, the forty year old waitress asks, as she pours the black coffee into the mug that’s on the table. Polly and Joel were neighbors growing up, she was like one of the guys. So whenever Joel comes in, she gets his order.

“At school. It’s her last week as a fifth grader ‘n I don’t like it. Not ready for her to grow up ‘n leave.” He states as he grabs a packet of sugar and opens it, pouring it slowly, then picking up the silver spoon to stir the mixture. “It’s not easy, but you got this. I’m sure about it.” She chimes, trying to perk him up even just a little.

Thank you, he puts a weak smile on his face as he takes a sip of the steaming coffee, wake me up just a little bit, he thinks to himself. “I’ll be back with your food, dear.” He nods and thanks her again, taking another sip trying to jump start his head for the second time since Annie came home this morning.

While he waits for his food he does a quick overview of the patio; ten large round metal tables spaced out and about 8 of them are filled with small groups of families or women chatting amongst themselves. Then he spots her. This woman is stunning, even though his view is somewhat obstructed because of the other woman and young girl with their backs to Joel.

Her vibrant orange hair seems like it’s clipped back, but a few pieces hang in front and on the side of her face. Joel can tell she’s younger by the way she maintains herself, her eyebrows are thin but arched and her lips plump with a light red tint to them. Her skin is tan, like she was just at the beach or somewhere similar, strong thin tan lines from a bikini lace her skin. The way her eyes light up and her smile gleams in the conversation she’s having has Joel almost drooling into his coffee.

Her black tank top sticks to her skin perfectly, like it was made for her, causing her cleavage to spill out a little. He leans back in his chair a bit so he can catch a glimpse of her legs and he has to stop himself before he gets caught; light washed jeans that hug her waist, thick thighs, and calves perfectly.

Exactly his type.

Joel feels his cock grow in his pants as he continues to watch her. He shifts from in his seat and his belt buckle to try to relieve himself, then shifts his eyes back to his Home Screen on his phone that sits flat on his table, trying to think of anything other than this woman that has him feeling like a creep.

“Omelet, potatoes, eggs, and bacon for you, sir!” Polly comes back to the table and sets down his couple plates of hot food, his stomach grumbles again. Joel clears his throat and thanks her again and she’s off to work other tables.

Joel instantly dives into his omelet, eating like someone who hasn’t eaten in days - which he kind of understands, to an extent. Hopefully he won’t have to feel that way anymore, which brings him back to his fight with Annie and the divorce. He starts building a quick checklist of things that are his; The house, his truck and her car, has a full time job, all the bills are in his name - even her phone bill - and still has plenty of time for his daughter.

He shouldn’t have much of a hard time getting what he wants out of this situation, the only thing he could see is Annie trying to come after Sarah. Which Joel has a reasonable concern about because he knows first hand how bad her addictions are and that she has shown no interest whatsoever in trying to better herself. She’s simply not mentally competent to be a parent to Sarah, not even the slightest.

Joel has given her chance after chance to get help and she denies it each time. Says she’s gonna do better and actually try, but that never lasts more than two weeks, at most.

After two hours of breaking down everything and eating about ninety percent of his food, he’s finished everything but his couple strips of bacon that are left. He spots Polly walking his way so he stacks up the few plates and silverware he used and slides them to the edge of the table for her.

“Thank you, baby, you treat me so well,” she blushes, “but I wanna ask, everythin’ okay?” She points to her nose, suggesting what happened to Joel. He’s quick to dismiss it, Tommy’s kitten got me yesterday, he knows it comes off as a lie but he’s not ready to talk about his failed marriage with people. “Damn cats,” she fake laughs, catching onto his subtle warnings, “Well, here’s your check, just go up to Ben in the front and he’ll take care of you! Tell Sarah I say hi and I miss her dearly!”

“I will, dear, hope you have a good rest of ya’ day.” Joel nods his head and hands her two twenties before she picks up the dishes, you’re too kind, she smiles then starts her clean up process and she’s gone.

But before Joel stands up out of his chair he turns his head and looks for the gorgeous redhead from before, but he’s not prepared for how close she is to him. She’s a few feet away from him, her and the two others she was with are walking to the front door but they pass his table.

She’s even more beautiful in front of him; she looks to be around Joel’s height, five ten-ish, the heels make it difficult to tell. The sight of her under the table before was an absolute understatement of how she actually looks, her ass and thighs look like they could suffocate Joel - in the best way - and he can’t help but melt at the sight of her belly not being flat, she looks healthy. Proportional to her body type. Far too many women don’t have the love handles that Joel loves to grip or the plush skin he can bite into - his cock twitches again, making Joel incredibly aware of the situation.

Just wanna tear her ass apart, fuck her until she’s pleading for me to stop. Mhmm. Wonder if she likes it rough? Or if she’s a sweet little thing, who doesn’t have much experience… ‘n will let me show her a good time.

It’s quick, maybe three seconds but it feels like eternity the way they stare into one another. He’s infatuated with her and he hasn’t even spoken to her. Joel and her locked eyes, he memorizes the color; forest green with a hint of brown in the middle. He’s hit with the scent of vanilla, jasmine, and a faint smell of cigarettes, a smell that he would love to come home to everyday and take over the smell of his sawdust and sweat.

Instantly he can feel his cheeks warm and his lips curve into a dumb smile, and to his shock, she does the same thing - then she’s around the corner and gone, like an apparition.

Joel shakes his head twice, what am I doin’? He waits a minute or two for his dick to calm down, so he doesn’t make a fool outta himself, what is goin’ on? Joel can’t remember the last time he felt like this. It’s not like he doesn’t get the random moms of the neighborhood or in the PTA that flirt with him and try to be extra friendly. They’re nice and all, but he’s never been attracted to anyone other than Annie and if it wasn’t her, it wasn’t anyone.

After about five minutes of him yelling at himself in his head, he stands up and heads towards the front to pay, leaving him only eighty bucks left for the week, and heads back to his house.

Now back in his truck, only about ten minutes away from his shell of a home, he’s now back in his head about what to do. He figures the best thing tonight is to grab Sarah from school and head straight to Tommy’s. He wants to avoid as much trouble as possible because he hasn’t told Sarah anything about his decision, he just hopes he can do it before Annie manipulates the whole thing like she always does.

Pulling into the garage, he notices Annie’s Toyota gone, thank fuck. Joel for the second time today feels totally relaxed, parks his truck, takes the key out of the ignition and heads inside to shower and pack for him and Sarah. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but he knows it’s the only way to stay separated from her because she won’t leave when asked to. That’s when the real problems begin.

As he walks into his house he’s instantly confronted with the smell of weed, it smells like it could be coating the walls. Joel never understood why she smoked in the house when they have a balcony from their bedroom and a back patio off of the kitchen. Joel doesn’t have a problem with weed, he smokes more than most people know, but he absolutely despises when Annie smokes in the house. It takes forever to get the smell out of the rooms and furniture, clothes even.

A part of him feels like she does it on purpose, because she knows that Joel is going to take care of it before Sarah gets home. So it’s almost like her form of punishment for whatever Joel did is response to her bullshit behavior.

“So much for a shower,” he grunts and begins opening all the windows and doors that have screens in them to avoid bugs getting in. He turns on any and all ceiling fans, lights some incense, and begins wiping down countertops in the kitchen - where he found his rolling tray and his weed, not hers of course.

About twenty minutes later, Joel’s alarm starts blaring on his cell phone in his back pocket, causing him to jump and drop the towel he was ringing out in the sink. He pulls it out and hits the stop button and checks the time. Two fifty five PM it says, informing him that he’s got thirty minutes to get to Sarah’s school. It usually takes at least twenty-five to get there from any of his job sites, so he gives himself plenty of time. But from the house the school is no longer than ten minutes away, which is nice, one of the main reasons why Joel picked the school - other than it’s the number one public school is his county.

Shit. He’s still gotta pick up around here and pack up her things, he really doesn’t want to come back later on. He needs to get outta here, preferably sooner than later. After double checking the house smells clean, closing all the windows and doors, he goes into Sarah’s room, which thankfully her door was shut and the only room that didn’t reek.

Joel can’t help but release a heavy breath and lean all his weight on the door, bringing his dry hands to his face and massaging his whole face in distress. He’s hit his breaking point; the lack of sleep, aggravation, disappointment, and sorrow that seep out of his skin and soul are escaping the strong man act he has to maintain.

He starts to weep into his hands as he holds himself up - he refuses to sink to the floor, he can’t bring himself to do it without feeling like a chump. Mainly because he’s breaking down in his ten year old daughter's bedroom. He’s had to keep a secret life for so long to other people, they just don’t know how bad it really is. He’s been through so much shit with Annie these past few years and he hasn’t asked for help, even though it’s been offered by Tommy and some of Annie’s friends who have come to Joel.

It used to mainly be that Joel was ashamed that he found himself and his daughter in this situation, and he didn’t want people to know his business. But now, he doesn’t care about that. He cares for Sarah and making sure she’s okay, that’s all that he needs to worry about right now.

He sighs, wiping away the tears he let slip through the cracks, and pushes himself off the door so he can grab his daughter's things. He grabs her empty soccer bag, sets it on her lavender purple bedding, and turns to her dresser and begins to grab clothes; shorts, shirts, leggings, socks, underwear, and her bathing suit. He slides over to her bathroom and grabs her toiletries that she has in a little bag in a drawer, bringing it over to the bag and zipping it up.

Joel figures they’ll stay at Tommy’s the rest of the week and all weekend. He just needs to leave the house, it’s suffocating for him to be here, too many memories - bad ones - for him to enjoy being here. Even though he’s by himself.

Takes him a shorter time to pack; his toiletries, work clothes, comfy clothes, and his bathing suit - it’s all he needs. With Sarah’s bag in one hand and his on his shoulder, he jogs down the stairs and moves to snag his keys so he can leave.

A sense of security takes over. Just knowing that he told Annie what he’s planning on doing and that Sarah is with him and not her, it’s relieving. He doesn’t have to worry about Sarah wanting to see Annie or asking questions about why, she already knows, most of it not all. He heads out to his truck and he’s on the way to grab Sarah.

With fifteen minutes to spare, he sits in the pickup line that’s full of a variety of trucks and cars waiting for their kid to come tiredly walking out. While waiting for her Joel decides to get a jump start and at least take a look online for some kind of divorce lawyer. If he’s gonna do it, he might as well start now. No backing out now.

Lawyers near me, he mumbles as he types into google, he has to scroll twice until a name sticks out to him. Without reading anything he clicks on R&R Law Firm, and he’s shocked when he sees a picture of two women and the one with red hair sticks out. It then clicks, that’s the woman from the diner.

Renae Russo.

—

Right after brunch, Renae took Gia and Bianca back to her apartment where they’ll be staying until Sunday afternoon. They’ve stayed at her place numerous times before so they know to make the place their own, and now with Frankie there Bianca has a little friend.

Renae has enough time to change out of her casual clothes and into her skin tight black dress, that covers her chest and goes to her knees, with matching black heels. She lets her curls fall from her hair clip as she teases the roots of her hair, creating volume and letting the curls loose; it’s a cute, messy but natural looking style that suits her perfectly.

“I’ll be back no later than six-thirty, love you guys!” She tells her sister and niece before she’s out the door and walking to her BMW. Shockingly, the weather calmed down a bit, it can’t be any hotter than seventy-eight or nine - way cooler than the ninety degrees it was earlier.

Traffic isn’t terrible, yet. She’s sure on her way home, it’ll be awful. It always seems like she gets caught in the worst traffic on the way home. She just can’t seem to find the right way back, she thought after ten years she would be a pro. But guess not.

Searchin’ kisses, the man she misses, the man that he longs to be.

Renae sings along to the one and only Amy Whinehouse, her favorite artist of all time. That’s her girl. It was her first concert at sixteen and Renae has been in love with her ever since then. She knows all Amy’s songs and has been to fifty percent of her concerts. Renae actually made it to her last show in twenty-eleven in Serbia, and we all know how that turned out. It was truly heartbreaking for Renae to witness and listen to, live.

So he tries to pacify her, cause what’s inside her never dies.

Suddenly her phone starts vibrating in her purse that’s sitting in her passenger seat, since she’s at a red light she reaches over and grabs it. Now more of a mumble than actually singing, she reads the name on her screen and she can’t help but smile. Her cheeks turn redder and redder, she can’t help herself from slightly biting her lip as she stares at the ten letter name.

Dominic Amaro</3

Renae’s favorite and most recent ex, the one that she just can’t let go of, but knows that she ultimately has to. After two years of dating, he had to move back to Italy to take care of his mother who became extremely ill and help with his two younger siblings, and although Renae understood completely, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t hurt by it. She saw herself marrying him, even having kids. She thought he was the one, but she was wrong.

But even after breaking up three years ago, they randomly call each other and will chat about anything and everything. Sometimes leading into phone sex… Or, quite often, if she’s honest. It’s one of the highest reasons why Renae hasn’t lost her mind completely. Dominic has the voice of an Italian man - that of a gentleman, not a mobster - his octave is low but his accent is smooth, almost like an Idris Elba, but Italian.

The traffic light switches to green as she hits the green accept button, raising the phone to her right ear as she manages to fly towards her job. Hi Dominic, she purrs with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone, anticipating his smooth voice.

“Hi amore mio, how are you?” His voice is relaxed and Renae can tell he’s had a couple drinks, his accent is loose, not as strong as sober Dominic.

This kind of irritates her, but also not, because he can’t hold his liquor and that’s usually when a lot of their fights start, and Renae does not want to do that right now. If she was at home, she would absolutely rip into him and let him fight back - then fuck herself with her fingers while he talks her through it and strokes himself to the sound of her arousal and her deep moans.

Renae chuckles at his words as she pulls into the parking garage of her building, “Things are goin’ well, work has been busy and Gia came into town for this weekend. So I’ve been pretty happy.” She confesses, pulling into a parking spot and turning her car off, throwing her keys into her lap.

“Va meglio?” Are things getting better? Last Renae knew, Concetta had liver and kidney failure, but that was a couple months ago by now.

Before he says anything, she hears him heavily sigh and take a sip of whatever alcohol his choice is. That’s not a good sign, she mentally says while she quickly pulls her phone from her ear and looks at the time. Three twenty five. Fuck me, she mutters. Raising the phone to her ear again she hears him mumble something. What, baby? she asks him with sincerity.

She hates that she’ll have to shorten the conversation because from the context clues she’s picking up, this isn’t going to be good news. But Renae always puts her work first, which might be why she messes things up for herself - like marriage or kids. It’s just how she lives her life right now and she’s content in living with it, until otherwise she’s going to continue living this way.

To be less of an asshole than she already is, she lets Dominic vent about his mother and how she only has a little less than a year to live, and how his younger siblings are rays of sunshine but he feels terrible for them because they’re so young. Renae can’t help but feel her stomach tie into knots at the news while she walks through the parking garage and waits in the elevator. She met Concetta once when she came and visited Texas for a month, the sweetest little Italian woman ever - feisty too, Renae and her were two peas in a pod really. So even though she doesn’t have much to go on about her, Renae still feels awful for Dominic because no one, especially him, deserves to go through anything remotely similar.

“Amore,” she drags out, leaning her ass against the back wall of the elevator, “I’m sorry. I mean like, Damn- I wish you and your family didn’t have to go through this.”

“Prego, um- but the real reason I called is cause, uh“ Renae can tell he’s having a hard time getting his words across, she’s not sure if the language barrier or if he’s just struggling. Dominic’s English isn’t bad by any means, but Renae can tell after he moved back to Italy, he’s reverted back to speaking Italian all the time because of the way he speaks.

She’s now out of the elevator and on her office floor, waiting to walk into the long hallway that leads to her destination. Since she knows her office is occupied, she decides to finish her phone call. It's just something personal that she doesn’t want people to know about. Gia doesn’t even know that she’s still in contact with Dominic, not because Gia would be disappointed about it but just because Renae doesn’t want to have to explain any of this to anyone.

Another big reason she doesn’t want to bring it up is because she doesn’t even know how to break it down to herself. Renae has zero idea of what to make of the situation-ship with Dominic and she hasn’t needed a reason to. As far as she’s concerned, Dominic is just another man that she can’t let go of and she feels like he knows it.

She checks the clock on her phone one last time and she’s two minutes from being late, but there’s also no way she can just hang up on him, even if he understands that she has a client. Renae can’t help herself, she still loves him, or at least thinks she does.

“In a month I’m coming to Texas for a couple days-“

“You can stay with me!” she blurts out, and she’s not sure why she says it. Maybe it’s the desperation for some touch, a familiar one, or it’s the empathy in her that has made her feel for him. “Just send me your flight information and I’ll grab you and give you a place to stay. ‘Kay?”

A second of silence comes from the other end of the phone before he coo’s, “è così difficile non amarti…thank you.” It’s so hard not to love you.

This hits Renae directly in the heart, hard. She wishes she could jump through her phone and hug and kiss Dominic, but she can’t. This thirty-five year old man has her wishing she never lived in Texas and met Dominic in Italy, just living their happiest lives together.

“Well,” she bites her bottom lip again in a poor attempt to hide her smile, “you don’t make it easy yourself, Dominic.”

With both her shoulders occupied with bag straps, she leans her back against the wall outside two wooden doors, and stares at her pointy black heels. She hears a tiny chuckle leave his lips, she can visualize the slight pinkness that overgrows his face - much like herself.

Suddenly Rachel Yonkers - the other half of R&R Law Firm - walks out of the double doors. Causing Renae’s attention to come back full force and on her as she says, I’m headin’ out for lunch, see ya’ in a bit.

Slightly pulling the phone away from her mouth she responds, enjoy, as she smiles and waves her free hand. After the elevator doors close on Rachel, Renae’s attention is back on Dominic who correctly guesses she’s at work and then lets her go.

“Ciao, my love.”

“Ciao, Dominic.”

She hangs up and gently throws her head back until she rests on the wall with her eyes closed. What am I doing? This is gonna ruin me. He’s gonna ruin me forever. Somehow, she stops herself from falling down yet another spiral.

Throwing her phone into her purse, she takes a deep breath as she stands herself up, slightly shaking her whole body to get rid of the jitters that flow through her entire nervous system. Smoothing the sides of her black cotton dress, then swiping a strand of thick hair on her left side behind her ear, her fingers drag along the shape of her medium size hoops that hang from her ears, before walking through the double doors.

“Hi, Riley!” She chirps as she struts through the lobby of her office, head on to her assistant who’s behind her desk. Riley is fresh out of college, she has her criminal justice degree and is currently studying for her law degree - so she’s been with Renae for the past year and she told Riley this can be a permanent job for her.

“Afternoon, Ms. Russo. Jackie Cora is waiting for you!” She informs Renae as she staples a stack of papers together, setting them down on a pile.

Awesome, thank you, Renae smiles as she adjusts her black Micheal Kors purse that hangs on one shoulder and her laptop bag that hangs on the other. Her three thirty appointment is with Jackie Cora, who wants to file a PPO on her ex husband, Charlie Frey. He won’t stop harassing her with phone calls and emails about wanting to try again with her or come back to get some of his things, even though they aren’t there anymore.

Police can’t do anything other than tell him to leave while they’re present because there’s nothing legally they can do. But he hasn’t stopped since the divorce which was 5 months ago, and Renae was the one who did their divorce, so she knows how dirty and hasty Charlie is.

“Hi Jackie!” Renae chirps as she enters her office and walks to Jackie who’s sitting on the opposite side of her desk. Jackie stands up and shakes Renae’s hand, returning to welcome, then sitting down as she begins to divulge into the things that have been happening and what she wants done about it.

—

Staring at the printer, Renae’s right hand sprawls on the counter and her pointer finger taps impatiently, her nails causing a tink tink noise that echoes through her office. She glances away from the stack of papers that are slowly piling, to the clock above her and it’s been two hours since her and Jackie Cora have been together. She sighs as she goes back to the almost dead printer and she only needs one more page, which thankfully comes out with no issues.

“Here we go,” she announces as she grabs the stack of papers and turns around to bring them to Jackie. Who sits at the table surrounded by two large envelopes, her and Renae’s laptop, and Renae’s notes. “The last of your copy of things. This one is the letter that you’ll read in court on the thirtieth, so two weeks from today.”

Renae grabs the last envelope and seals the papers, then hands it over to Jackie who then collects her belongings putting them in her large tote bag. “Thank you so much Ms. Russo, god.” She stands up, her long brown hair thrown behind her shoulder as she steps to Renae and hugs her, which Renae returns warmly. “I’ll see you in two weeks. Please call me if anything escalates, please.”

After a few minutes of back and forth farewells, Renae is left alone in her office. She can finally relax, she did not realize how bad Jackie’s situation actually was. The amount of text messages and calls that she had printed out for evidence was staggering, Renae has never dealt with anything quite like this. But she has no doubt in her ability, that she’ll be able to help Jackie out - if anything it should be easy.

“Fuck, man,” she groans, throwing her curls up in a messy bun that sits on top of her head with loose strands all over - it’s more of a real messy bun than the cute, intentionally messy kind. She digs through her purse that sits underneath her desk - I need a cigarette after that fuckin’ debacle, aha - she feels the box with her finger tips and quickly snags them out.

Her mood swings instantly as she sees her Marlboro Reds in her hands. She’s not proud of it but her cigarettes are her anchors in life; always there when she needs them to. But she’s not a crazy smoker, a pack will last her four to five days a week sometimes. It’s something that works to take the edge of just a little while.

Which is exactly what she craves right now.

Phone in one hand, Marlboro Reds in the other, Renae struts to her door but just before she pulls her glass door open. Her phone on her desk rings. Motherfucker- she mumbles as she hangs her head down while shaking her head, every goddamn time.

It takes her a second before she commits to turning around and answering her phone as she plops down in her office chair. Renae Russo, she forces herself to sound light and cheery, because work comes before cigs.

“You have a call on line two, saying he wants to talk to you specifically,” Riley tells Renae, “I don’t recognize the voice at all.”

“Hmm, okay thank you, hon’.” Renae doesn’t waste any time. She’s quick to switch lines, putting the phone on speaker so she can move around freely without the problem of the cord. Pushing herself out of her chair, she stands up and leans over her desk just enough so her hands support upper body, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Good evening, I’m Renae Russo and who do I have the pleasure of speaking to right now?” Even with her voice forced, she still genuinely wants to help whoever this person is - they just happened to catch Renae at a bad time. It’s a good five seconds of silence from her black phone that she now stares at from her position.

She knows some people have a hard time reaching out to divorce lawyers, which is why she gives them a chance. Uhh, he starts before he clears his throat, Renae can hear a faint mumbling that somewhat sounds like encouragement to continue.

“Hi Ms. Russo, um. I’m Joel Miller n’ I wanna- well, need to file divorce papers against my wife. Shit, ex-wife I guess now.”

Renae is trying her best to pay attention to what Joel just said because of the way his voice flows so effortlessly, but has much effect. Most southern accents sound the same to Renae at this point, she hears it all day long, she’s gotten so good that she can guess some towns or parts of the state based on their accents alone. However she’s stuck on his, there’s something about his that has her feeling gooey and mushy on the inside. Enough for her to have to sit back in her chair, leaning back just a bit as rests her elbows on the arms of the chair and she intertwines her fingers on her belly. Trying to contain herself and hide the butterflies that dare to escape.

“‘n I need to get full custody of my ten year old daughter.”

Her stomach drops and her nerves grow larger.

“Well, Mr. Miller,” she charms, leaning forward to grab a pen and a sticky note, “It’s a good thing you called me.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel x oc #joel and sarah #joel the last of us #joel tlou #daddy joel #tlou joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x ofc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #fluff #joel miller fluff #eventual smut #ANGST

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boyfhee · 1 year

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⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 09 : the line between friends and more

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w. slight angst ? screenshots at the end

wc. ~ 1k, screenshots at the end

“don’t you think this is a bit rude?” riki sighs, taking a last look at his texts with miya before discarding the phone somewhere behind him. “i mean, about telling her to mind her own business and all,”

and his words almost make you roll your eyes all the way to japan and back. “what’s rude is her assuming that we broke up, probably even jinxing it,”

you know you sound stupid right now, but that’s what love does to everyone. for a brief second, you did think the message was too much. perhaps, she was only being kind, maybe it’s her nature to look out for everyone, you could’ve been reading things wrong; but again, your instincts told you otherwise, and riki would never send her those texts on his own, so you decided to do it yourself.

“so,” he says over the silence looming over the two of you, “are we breaking up?”

“riki, i know better than breaking up with you over someone who i don’t even know,” you clarify. “maybe, i was a bit too upset when i said that,” quite honestly, the actual reason why you wouldn’t break up lies somewhere amidst the pettiness hiding behind your eyes. you wouldn’t even think about breaking up with riki because you love him enough to try and make your relationship work, but somewhere in your mind you know that if you had to break up, it wouldn’t be because of miya, or someone else.

you’re too prideful for your own good, and thoughts of losing him to someone else doesn’t help you with it any better.

riki doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes, busy fiddling with his fingers or the words on the tip of his tongue. it’s fine, you think, silence is better than disagreement that ultimately leads to arguments. for a brief second, you wonder if he’s upset. whether he thinks you’re so insecure that you can’t stand him next to other girls, that you don’t trust him at all, how your mind is too shallow for thinking such things about your own boyfriend. it could be anything, and fortunately, you happen to have the answers to all his questions.

though, you’re afraid he won’t, when it’ll be your turn to ask.

“can i say something?” he sighs before looking into your eyes.

and you nod, “go on,”

“why do you hate miya?” it’s a question you’ve been asking yourself as well, something you’ve also been avoiding. you don’t think you’re wrong in your stance, nor do you think your point of view is lacking logically or reasonably. anyone in their right mind would do the same if they feel that their significant other is deviating towards a third person, and in fact, you haven’t done anything yet, while there are a hundred things you wish you could do.

“i don’t hate her, i hate how you put her above me, or even your group members.” it sounds more of an excuse, but you know he’ll end up believing it. your words aren’t half wrong, you don’t think you hate miya. she’s an excellent singer, is good at what she does. you respect her from an idol-point-of-view, and you would’ve even lent a hand for friendship if it weren’t for the current situation. you don’t want to assume anything so you pick the words that would make you seem less like a hater, if he’s perceiving you as one.

“i don’t—”

“think about it yourself,” you interject before he even gets to complete his sentence. “riki we’ve never had fights about missed calls but you meet her and suddenly, you’re tending to her as if your life depends on her. you miss practices to see her, and even we’ve never done that for each other,”

when you and riki started dating, the first rule was to put your relationship above everything, and then your respective careers above your relationship. it sounds lame, you know, but you knew from the beginning that you would choose him above everything else, unless it lands between him and your dream of becoming an idol that you’ve finally been living.

“if she’s a friend, then treat her like one,” thinking about it now, you don’t think you hate miya because she might steal your boyfriend, but instead, you hate her because he does everything for her that has been stamped as ‘prohibited’ in your relationship.

maybe, you just wanted him to realise that there's a line between being a friend and being something more. “don’t make her think that she could be something more,”

silence takes over again.

you wonder if you said something wrong, for his eyes have traveled away from yours, residing in some corner of the room. you ask yourself if things would’ve been better if you hadn’t showed up at the dorms out of the blues instead of waiting till the evening. maybe that way, you would have had better things to say, ones that wouldn’t sound so cold, perhaps the ones that would’ve also consoled your heart along with his.

“yeah,” he mutters, he sounds more like a hum. riki doesn’t say more, you don’t think he can figure out words to say and somewhere inside, you know you are at fault but, again, someone had to take the initiative and talk this out before things got out of hand.

“anyway, we should order a takeout. i’m hungry,” you take an attempt at switching topics, hoping it would lighten the atmosphere between the two of you. “should we invite jungwon with us? after all, we gave him a hard time with our problems,”

“uh, i don’t know,” you miss the hesitation laced in his voice.

“texted him, he’ll be here in ten,” there’s an impromptu smile on your face, and this time, riki wonders if you would be able to answer the questions that you had asked him earlier, or if you would be able to follow your own advice when it comes to jungwon.

PREV | NEXT | MASTERLIST

note : HI I AM NOT DEAD THANK YOU.

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familyvideostevie · 7 months

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october fifth

day five: eddie munson you and eddie go mushroom picking | fluff, friends to lovers | 1.2k

Eddie is kind of weird but you like him. You really like him, actually. An embarrassing amount considering you’re just friends. But you can’t help it! He’s got those soft brown eyes and he laughs at everything and he’s kind and looks scary but isn’t. He’s a huge nerd and he really likes bananas and he is always late to pick you up but pays for your fries when you go to the drive through.

You met in the middle of summer and Eddie in those months was like sunshine. He’d whine about the heat and the sun but he’d also glow. Now, in your second season of knowing him, it’s like a while new side to his personality. He’s alive, all leather and jean jackets and layers and messy hair and cigarettes hanging from chapped lips even though you’ve told him he should quit. He loves Halloween candy and horror movies and the changing of the leaves and you’re starting to like all of that, too, because his enthusiasm is infectious.

He has a job at some local produce shop and you’re chipping way at college classes while working in Hawkins and he’s basically your only friend. Not for lack of trying on his part, though — he’s introduced you to everyone else but you just feel most comfortable with him.

It’s a normal fall day and you’re on your very tiny apartment balcony reading when you hear the tell-tale sputter of his van and his music and then Eddie is rounding the bend a little too fast. He parks and hops out and jogs over, looking up at you all the while with a grin so wide you’re worried he’ll catch bugs in his teeth.

“Rapunzel! Juliet! Pretty girl on the balcony, hey!”

You stand and lean over the railing. “Eddie, you don’t have to shout,” you chide. He shrugs.

“Do you want to go on an adventure?”

That could mean anything. Just last week you drove halfway across the state for a Dungeons and Dragons figurine with him and Dustin. But what else do you have going on? You’ll take every second you can get with Eddie.

You should probably ask where and what but you just say sure and head inside to change. It’s getting colder by the day so you layer up and meet him outside.

“You’re gonna love this shit,” he says when he sees you. He scoops you into a quick hug and you get in the van. Eddie smells like tobacco and vegetables, which means he was at work this morning.

“And what is this shit?” He drives down your street and heads in a direction you don’t think you’ve been before.

“We’re going mushroom picking.”

That is probably the last thing you expected him to say. “Really?”

He nods, still grinning. “Really,” he says. “Just at the state park two towns over. Indiana lets you pick whatever you want.”

You toy with the edge of your sleeve. “Eddie,” you say. “Why are we going mushroom picking?”

He looks over at you and your face feels hot. “Rick wants to try growing some or some shit like that so he wants me to scout what can grow here.”

“Do you know anything about mushrooms? Aren’t there super poisonous ones?” Eddie wouldn’t put you in danger knowingly, but he’s not always the most thorough planner.

He gasps and clutches his chest like you’ve insulted him. “Excuse you!” he says. “I will have you know that I know a fucking ton about mushrooms because I had a mushroom phase as a kid. So I will be sure we only pick good ones. Unless you want to be poisoned, I guess. Or poison someone. Wait, do you want to commit murder?”

“Eddie.” He laughs. “A mushroom phase is pretty weird, you know.”

“I’m weird, sweetheart.”

That, you know. “Why did you ask me to come? Why not Dustin? He’d be all over this.”

Eddie looks…shy. Not something you see on him often. “You’re much prettier than Henderson,” he says, cheeks pink.

“Ha, ha,” you manage, trying not to let your own shyness at his words show.

You drive to the park and there aren’t many people there despite how nice the weather is. Eddie parks and grabs a cloth bag from the van and leads you down a path with confidence.

“So, the thing about mushrooms is—”

You listen as he rambles but mostly you watch him as he talks. His eyes are on the ground as his hands wave in the air making shapes and pointing at things. His energy is contagious and he’s got such long eyelashes and his hair looks so soft and wow, you really do have such a crush on him. He called you pretty in the van, didn’t he? Is there a possibility that he’s got a crush on you, too? Does that make this…a date?

Mushroom picking is a bit weird for a first date but then again, Eddie himself reminded you that he’s weird.

You aren’t really watching where you’re going but you stop in your tracks when Eddie grabs your wrist gently.

“Hey, hold on,” he says. You look at him but he’s looking down so you follow his gaze and see that you were about to step on something round and orange. You take a step back and Eddie squats, looking at it from multiple angles.

“What’s the verdict?” He looks up at you and he’s beaming.

“This is a good one,” he says. “Great find.” He pulls it out of the ground and puts it in the bag.

“I didn’t find it,” you correct. “I almost stepped on it.”

His hand circles your ankle for just a moment. Eddie looks up at you but does not rise from his crouch.

“You look pretty from down here,” he says softly, even though you’re the only ones on the path.

Your cheeks feel hot. “Impossible,” you say. “No one looks good from the angle.”

“You do,” he says. He stands. “You look nice from like, every angle, c’mon.”

“Eddie.” You shove his shoulder lightly. “Stop flirting with me. It’ll give me ideas.”

He steps into your space. “Ideas?” he asks. “What kind of ideas?”

This close you can see he’s got a few freckles on his nose and a tiny scar under one eye. Your heartbeat kicks into high gear and you don’t know where to look. “Like maybe…” You swallow. If you’re wrong you’re pretty sure he’ll be nice about it. He’s a good guy. “Like maybe this is a date?”

Eddie’s cheeks go crimson. His fingers catch yours and his eyes widen. “No, god no,” he says and your stomach sinks but he keeps going. “When I take you out it won’t be to a forest to pick mushrooms for my weird boss, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you say. His words make you brave. “What will we do, then?”

“Whatever you want,” he says immedietly. “The drive in, Enzo’s, the amusement park. Whatever you want.” He sounds as earnest as you’ve ever heard him.

“Okay.” You lean into his space and tip your forehead so it’s resting on his shoulder. This is all a little overwhelming. You huff out a happy laugh.

“Yeah?” Eddie says. “So you’ll go on a date with me? This is me actually asking, by the way.”

“Yeah,” you echo. “I’ll go on a date with you, Eddie Munson.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

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the-moon-lullaby · 1 year

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'Simple Moments'(MCL HSL Nathaniel)

N/A : This was unfinished in my drafts since a little while so I thought I should give it another try and see where this lead

Sum. : As the school play occupies everyone's mind in Sweet Amoris, Nathaniel can't afford to let himself get distracted. Unfortunately for him, it seems to be out of his control.

TW : none, it's just cute (if you don't look at the slight angst that comes with Nathaniel's situation)

Nathaniel let out a deep sigh as he stretched on his chair.

He had been caught up in paperwork for at least a good hour but still, he wasn’t eager to go home.

The school was probably empty by now and if not, it was only about time. Only a few students were staying this late after the end of class. It was mainly the most studious ones who stayed around and despite being a part of them, Nathaniel was on his own in the Student Council Room. It was often the case but he didn't mind or at least he didn't think he did as this habit became so ingrained in his routine that he didn't bother thinking about his loneliness.

Sometimes Melody would walk in and sit besides him. She’d try to talk but there was too much to do and not much to say so the conversations would inevitably meet a dead end. When he thought back on it, he felt a bit bad for the girl. He could see that she liked him and it might have looked like he was leading her on but he wasn’t trying to.

Truth is that he had other things on his mind which were slowly drowning him.

Today, Mr Faraize had given them back their test results. Usually, Nathaniel wouldn’t have given it some second thought or wouldn’t have been worried about it but this time, he couldn’t help it. He turned pale when he saw his grade and he hoped that no one noticed it. Anyone would have found him ridiculous. It wasn’t a bad grade, it was actually pretty good. Above the class average. But certainly not above a certain person’s expectations.

No, really, he wasn’t eager to go home.

Which is why he decided that he would visit the library before leaving the school. Mr Faraize mentioned a book that might help them go through this part of the history program and that they could borrow it from the school. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t a lack of understanding that earned him this grade but he didn’t like the idea that he allowed himself to get distracted. In his defence, with the school play being set up and the commotion it created among the other students, it was becoming hard to focus on anything else.

Also, these rehearsals with Candy…

He probably should’ve focused on school work but he was too glad she asked his help to decline. And it was worth it because during that time he spent with her, it was as if his concerns were suddenly far away and these suffocating thoughts which filled his mind on a daily basis faded to the sound of her cristalline laugh. He quietly smiled as he thought back at her reaction when she received her grade too. And how her and Alexy beside her, who probably didn’t do a much better job than hers, let out a sour laugh and some snarky comments.

Had she been distracted too ? And was it by their rehearsals ? Or was it just Nathaniel hoping that, whatever relationship they had, it wasn't only one sided ? The way she smiled and looked at him when it was only the both of them... It had to mean something, right ?

He stopped this thought from flourishing in his mind, ignoring that his pulse got quicker and ignoring the knot forming in his stomach as he entered the library.

He began to pace the shelves, looking for the said book, without success. ‘It’s really my day’ he ironically thought. As he was ready to leave, empty handed, he noticed someone sitting in an isolated corner.

Candy, with the book wide open in front of her, staring at it as if trying to decipher something. Her confused look amused Nathaniel. « Is it that bad ? » he asked as he walked toward her.

« Don’t make fun of me... You'd probably be surprised to know that The Cold War isn't really my cup of tea. Mr Faraize could tell you so... » she replied, grimacing.

Nathaniel let out a soft laugh at her expression. «I think we were a lot to got it wrong on that test..." he said thinking it’d reassure her. She looked up at him with a puzzled look. He instantly regretted saying this. He did not want to complain about his grade knowing that she wouldn't find it bad at all. He knew what it’d look like and he didn’t want her to think of him like that. Like this grade-obsessed nerd everyone seemed to see him as. He hated it.

"Also, I didn’t expect to see you here so late in fact. » he added, hoping to change the topic.

« Well me neither ! But I guess that I should get used to the idea that you never leave this school » she laughed. As much as he liked her laugh, Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel saddened by her remark.

Oh, if only she knew.

« I was actually looking for this. » he said pointing at the book. « Mr Faraize talked about it so I thought I’d give it a look ».

« What a perfect student ! I’ll be honest, I don’t get everything that’s in it but given my grade, I’ll better keep digging into it » she said lightly. Visibly, she wasn’t upset about her grade. Nathaniel thought that she was lucky. She’ll probably not receive a sermon about it when she gets home. He simply nodded, ready to head out when she called him before he got to.

« I mean, if you really need it, we can share it. If you want… »

It was like his body made a decision before his mind got to react and before he knew it, he was drawing a chair next to Candy. They sat together and she placed the book in front of him, turning the pages to go back at the beginning of the chapter. He started to read it but he could feel her eyes detailing him and at this moment, he wished nothing more than to be a mind-reader.

Time was quickly passing by and neither of them seemed to actually notice it. Studying was often interrupted by some random comment on Candy's side and Nathaniel would just jokingly roll his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

Nathaniel thought that Candy was a terrible study-buddy as she was not as serious as she should've been but he also had to admit that she was the best one he ever had.

For the simple reason that she made him smile, she made him laugh. And the most astonishing part was that she didn't even look like she was trying to. She made his heart feel lighter by simply being around and Nathaniel was delighted by this unfamiliar feeling.

He also liked how she leaned toward him as he tried to explain to her the notions she didn't really catch on on her own. He felt useful and despite him, he liked how she looked at him as if he was the smartest person in the world. It made him feel good, feel enough, and it was something he almost forgot the feeling of.

Sometimes as she was writing down his instructions, his eyes would study the lines of her face, somehow lingering on her lips. Nathaniel thought that they seemed so soft, almost like ready to be kissed. He felt bashful and slightly ashamed to think about pressing his mouth against hers every time her face and his were separated by these few inches. He could swear that he saw her "sneakily" look at him too, probably thinking that he had his attention on something else as well. Yet, he didn't remember when was the last time his attention wasn't set on Candy.

This improvised revisions session concluded by them starting to talk about the play. He listened about how excited she was with a light heart and an attentive gaze. She looked pretty like that. She always looked pretty but even more when she was talking about things that were close to her heart.

Then, the moment where it was time to leave came. The duo arrived in front of the school gates, ready to separate when Nathaniel changed his mind. "I'll walk you home".

« Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to » she answered him, lowering her face to hide her blushing cheeks. This sight made Nathaniel smile, amused.

"I insist. It's getting dark and I’d feel better knowing that you got home safe" She looked up to him with rosy cheeks. She'd often blush when they were hanging out together (and in all honesty, sometimes he would too). For example, just moments before, when they were studying and his hand had accidentally met hers in search of the shared book. She looked at him so strangely then, right before lowering her head as she had done it at this instant. He hoped that it wasn't that he was making her feel uncomfortable but this thought was interrupted by her voice.

« Alright, let’s go then ! ».

The walk home was pleasant, both of them feeling playful as one willingly teased the other. Nathaniel managed to forget about his grade while he was laughing and for her part, Candy savoured this laughter that she guessed to be rare outside the school walls.

Arriving in front of her loft, they stopped. "Thank you for the walk home, it was really nice". She was blushing but he noticed that this time she kept her head high, looking him in the eyes. He gently smiled at her

"The pleasure is all mine. Good evening." . He only expected her to return him the greeting but she seemed hesitant. Nathaniel frowned his eyebrows, a bit confused. Before turning toward the loft's door, she quickly stepped in his direction and placed a quick kiss on his cheek whispering a shy 'good evening' and disappeared inside the building before he could find something to say.

He stayed a few seconds like this, baffled. And without realising it, a smile had made its way on his face.

He chuckled quietly and turned around heading toward his place, light headed and with a singular tingling feeling in the belly.

By the time he arrived home, he had forgotten what was waiting for him there.

Despite this, he couldn't think about anything else than how good he felt. About how good these simple moments with Candy felt.

Alright so this isn't a headcanon but it's still a little something. Hope you enjoyed it and see y'all soon ! 💕

#mcl #mcl nathaniel #mclul #mclhsl #my candy love #my candy love nathaniel #nathaniel carello #amor doce nathaniel #amor doce #amour sucre #corazon de melon #mcl headcanons #mcl high school life #mcl hsl

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beelspillowpet · 1 year

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“I’m Hungry.” - Beelzebub x OC/MC

It’s been a while but I slipped up (with a friend) and wrote some stuff. I ended up writing for two hours lol. ANOTHER NSFW piece with Beelzebub because of course as a Beelzebitch I have to create and consume content of him 🧡

tskr, Eden for saving me time and reminding me I drew a header lol

Content warnings: Breed Kink | Overstim(?) | Size Kink | Like reeeeeeally big cock and a tiny woman | If it’s not obvious, Jinx is TINY.

Beelzebub sat on his bed, scrolling through his DDD looking for his food apps. He had complained of being hungry and wasn't allowed to leave his room until it was cleaned. Belpheghor was nowhere to be found for the extent of the exchange program and thus Jinx, his human transfer he was responsible for, had to take the lead. His hunger got to him before long while she swept the floor.

"Gaah... I'm starving... I ordered everything and it won't be here until way later..."

"Do you... want me to make you a snack?" Jinx offers, turning her head to look at him. The limitation was that Beelzebub couldn't leave the room. She heard no clause about herself though, and while she may be pushing buttons it was better than the gluttony lord getting so hungry that he devours her instead.

Despite her question though, Beelzebub seemed unimpressed. He stared at her, eyebrow raised.

"Actual food. Not me."

"I know that. Why did you think I'd eat you?"

"Well... ugh, just forget it."

Beelzebub laid back on his bed, stretching. "Don't tell me something ridiculous like "you wouldn't taste good" or something..."

Jinx cocked her head to the side. "Given we speak about cannibals or... well, you. I'd say I probably do. But I'm not on the menu."

"You'd be right about that. But you sound nervous." Beelzebub grinned. "Ya' scared~?"

Jinx rolled her eyes, setting her broom aside. "Not scared. Just cautious. Are you hitting on me?

"It'd be offensive if I didn't." Beelzebub said, rolling on to his side before sitting up. "I'm hungry." he complained. "Are you gonna get over here and be my appetizer or what?"

It did not look like he was asking.

Jinx sort of hoped he wasn't asking.

She played with the ends of her skirt while approaching him. "You should improve your vocabulary... you're not just hungry, Bee."

He could have said anything in response- he almost did. He opened his mouth to form some sort of rebuttal without a second thought, but his body reacted on its own and grabbed her, pulling her against him. "You talk a lot when you're nervous," he said. "It's annoying. But it's also kind of cute." he could hear her scoff as he pulled at the waistband of her skirt. She took that as a sign and began undoing her cardigan and button-up, all the while avoiding eye contact. The lack of it annoyed Beelzebub slightly.

"C'mere," he whispers, tugging at her shoulder to pull her into his lap. He sits up right, beckoning her to crawl into his lap so he can kiss her better. When she sits, she flinches a bit at the growing tent poking her inner thigh. He takes the moment of surprise for granted and hugs her against his torso, effectively crushing her tiny body in his grasp. He takes her mouth greedily, the premise of eating food long forgotten by the taste of her lips on his tongue.

She squirms against him and the friction goes straight to his dick. He moans into her mouth as a hand wrapped around her waist tangles itself in her hair. "Slow down...!" Jinx complains. All the same, Beelzebub takes the opportunity to stick his tongue into her mouth and too afraid to disappoint, Jinx keeps open for him. Her little hands grip his biceps and she shakes, overwhelmed by how much of her he has already claimed.

When Beelzebub parts from her, her lips are swollen up a bit and her pupils are pink. He licks his lips. "Enjoying yourself?"

Jinx wipes her mouth with the back of her closed fist. "It's... okay!" is her response and Beelzebub laughs. He places one last kiss on her lips before he flops back on the bed.

"Get up. Let me take my pants off."

A simple request, and so Jinx crawls off him for a moment while he undoes his complicated belts. Once the diligent task was done Jinx made a move to climb back on top but was promptly pushed down against his mattress. He climbed atop her and leaned down, planting delicate kisses around her neck and shoulders. His hand supported his weight above her while the other snaked down her belly. She cringed at the sensitive flesh being rubbed over her womb, ticklish as she started to giggle under him.

Then his fingers reached her pussy.

Long, thick digits smoothed against the precious place and her legs wanted to lock up tight so badly. He was staring in her eyes now, smirking at her anxiousness. She's about to speak when his first digit- what she would assume was his middle finger- slides inside. Her hands fly to her mouth as she gives a surprised noise, eyes widening as she looks back at him. His grin widens and suddenly a second digit is in her.

It takes her a few seconds to remember where she is.

Then she tries again. "Your fingers... are huge..."

"And?" Beelzebub teased. Jinx wants to slap that grin off his face. She has half a mind too, but then his fingers start jackhammering inside her, and even her name escapes her for a moment as the sensation takes her. Her other hand shoots down to grab his arm but it's just out of her reach. She settles for digging her fingers into his shoulder instead. He growls and her grip only tightens.

"Auugh... No more fingers...! I need you inside already!"

Beelzebub just keeps going. He dips his head down and captures one of her breasts in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue about her nipple. He shifts his weight properly, then releases his grip on her pussy and pushes the tip of his cock against her. He lets go of her breast with a distinct pop! and she can practically hear the sarcasm in his voice.

"Ready...?" he whispers, knowing full well that she won't be. His fingers were a mercy. He demonstrates this by giving a sloppy thrust against her, and (un)fortunately it doesn't snag and slips up her clit. He lands heavily on her belly, his tip now neighbors with where her womb would be. Her breath hitches at this and when she's able to look down she sees the thing between her legs.

"Ah- ah- ah! That thing is..." she swallows thickly, sweat starting to form on her hairline. "H-huge... it's not going to fit...!?"

"We can make it fit." Beelzebub replies. He pulls back and lines himself up again. Now she decides to wiggle a bit, to no avail. When he pushes inside, he can feel her little body already trying to shove him out. It only excites him as he keeps going, slowly and painstakingly burying himself inside her. When his hips meet hers, his bush of pubes tickling her thighs, she finally lets out a pathetic little cry. Her thighs are quivering, but still wide open, if not to accommodate his wider frame against her.

She feels absolutely stretched, but to feel it is one thing and to voice it is another. Her brain informs her body that she is only capable of taking it, and not making a fuss about it, and so when she lets out a noise, it's quiet but hungry. He stills inside her, knowing he can be a bit much for your average demon, much less someone as small as her. When she clenches around him now, it's not to push out his invading member, but to massage and welcome it to stay. He drools a bit.

"H-holy... fuck...!" she weeps, straining herself to be silent. "Oh my goodness..."

Beelzebub flexes himself inside her. Her little belly jumps, and he can see where her body is giving way to him. "Take deep breaths..." he coos. He leans down and gives her soft kisses to her lips and neck. She just keeps clenching and slowly it drives him mad with want. Lucifer's gift to him was a tiny pink bundle of nerves to (barely) fit around his cock and he couldn't be happier. "C'mon baby, so fucking proud of you... it'll be alright, I promise... you can do it, good girl. Good girl..."

Jinx breathes harder. She sounds as if she's desperate already and Beel wonders what she'd sound like fresh off an orgasm. He's hungry. "It's too much...!' she sobs, wiggling on him. "I-it's just so big... you're in my stomach, Beel..."

He reaches down with his now free hand and pats her belly. He shudders in fascination as he can feel his fingers pressing against his cock through her stomach. "I know it's big, baby..." his voice is sweet and gentle, as if he's genuinely concerned for her well-being in this endeavor. Then his voice dips down an octave and Jinx swears she can hear a threat in his voice. "It will only get bigger if you keep clenching around me. So relax for me, alright? Unless you wanna split open on me tonight..."

Jinx covers her mouth, trying to still her body and will herself to relax. With the way her body is stretching out for him, trying to get accustomed to its new intruder, she finds herself distracted with the very details of his cock. The little bumps and lines of his veins, the way it twitches and practically begs to bruise her insides and make her scream. She keeps her legs still, afraid that any movement will send her body into shock and clench so tight around him that he falls into his primal desires. She takes deep breaths as he instructs. In... and out... in... and out...

She does this for a while with Beelzebub on top of her, grinning and likely holding back many forms of praise or ridicule for her little body being so unprepared. He could have scolded her for being impatient with him, and spun a tale about how he should be allowed to be impatient with her now, but he knows her and knows he will have to wait, else he would never hear the end of it.

"O-oh my gosh..." she whines. "Why the fuck are you so big... augh!"

"Because I want to fuck you." he replies simply. "Isn't it obvious? Your cute little body could fit so snugly around me if you'd just let me work you open first but no. Someone needed dick so badly that she needed to forgo the important part. Now look where you are..." he whispered with a chuckle. "Practically gagging on my cock, even though I should be nowhere near your throat. I'm in your fucking guts." he punctuates his words with a sudden and sharp thrust into her. She grips her mouth as a yelp leaves her. "Feel that?"

Jinx has never wanted to slap him so badly before.

She's so focused on keeping herself quiet though that all she can manage to do now is allow him to move. Even with her sometimes strange ability to go unseen and unheard, it is a challenge to be quiet when Beelzebub is in her. She strains and struggles so hard that she's distracted, and when Beelzebub sits up right and grips her hips, the shift of his cock moving around against her walls makes her cry out. Nothing too loud, but enough to make an impression in Beelzebub's mind. He rocks his hips into her, smiling contently as he watches her eyes roll back.

"You're going to have to give up..." he says. She isn't registering what he says. "At some point you're going to have to do more than try to be quiet. Admit that it feels good."

He stops thrusting for a moment and she's able to focus on her breathing. Her body is shaking uncontrollably beneath him and if he weren't mistaken by how soon after they started, he would have expected she was close to cumming. No one, after all, can out last, much less withstand him. But Jinx was special, and far more capable of taking something that must have felt punishing to another. So when Beelzebub leaned back over here, resting his arms at either side of her little frame, he gave into his desires and began thrusting hard. He was determined to make her lose her mind.

He thrusted fast, wanting to hear her break. Jinx let out a choked scream behind her covered lips. He grabbed one of her legs and hooked it over his arm to get a better angle inside her. Her feet arched and toes curled from the scorpion's strike against her walls with each thrust. Beelzebub settled into a fast rhythm, wanting to hear her defeat. To successfully make her scream meant he'd win. That he truly did lord himself over her most delicate parts. He watched her breasts bounce, enthralled by their size before his eyes snapped down to her belly again. He could see the tent in her stomach each time he thrusted inside. Under normal circumstances it would freak him out- special effects in horror movies and all that jazz.

To know it was his own cock struggling to find more room in her body to invade and thus having to reach upwards to find it, only turned him on more. He could feel her on his cock, and he knew she could feel him in her pussy, and the idea that he would fill her with something else she wouldn't be able to remove so easily only stirred him on to fuck her harder. The bed squeaked and ached against the floorboards, his brutal thrusts strong enough to play a song against the walls both in his bedroom and inside her. She sounded like a tired old staircase at the edge of its life, protesting at the slightest addition of weight. Her eyes were stuck behind her head and finally- finally- her hands fell from her face. Beelzebub seized the opportunity to capture her lips again, though he had he curl his body to meet her lips this time around.

"In... m-myy stomach..." Jinx slurred, kissing him back sloppily. Beelzebub wanted to choke her so bad.

"Just hold on tight..." Beelzebub whispered against her lips. "Take all of me, baby, you're doing so good..." Her hands shot up to his arms at a particularly rough thrust and her eyes widened. The pained gasp she let out was a warning, but Beelzebub didn't want to hear it. He licked her lips and then settled into that little grove inside her, grinding hard and making sure she would remember for the rest of her life. The next time- if ever- something else ever reaches that far inside her, she'll remember who was the first to do it.

If she was making a case for why he shouldn't cum inside her before, she wasn't allowed to now. Her plainly whorish moans spurred him on, echoing something about him being huge in her- and duh, he was. It would take no genius to discover that the demon over twice her size would give her a reason to cry if he got a hold of anything that belonged to her below the belt. She had to tempt him with her voluptuous little form, skipping around and singing her little songs in her little skirts, wearing bras and panties just a size too small for her, talking in that cute little voice that Beelzebub only wanted to hear after she's been choking on his cock for half an hour. The sweet smell of her flesh when he held her, forcing thoughts into his mind about smothering her in tongue lashings while bathing in the scent of her sex.

He's wasted so many nights thinking about wrapping her around him and keeping her there until she was delirious and weak from pleasure, and now he has her. Legs spread wide to welcome him despite her complaints of him being a touch too big, but handling her punishment better than he could have ever expected. A true little soldier girl, powering through the worst beating she could have experienced in the Devildom- a hungry Beelzebub between her legs.

He unhooked her leg and snaked his palm up her body. He was staring at her neck. He wanted to grab it so bad. If not to choke but to just hold. To feel her pulse in his grasp and now that she was alive, crying and soon cumming all over him. He was hypnotized by it, in fact. He wanted her to describe in beautiful detail all the little thoughts running through her head, but he was graced with a woman not quite as smart as Mammon, and so he would settle, happily, for the unintelligible jargon she called a language that was spilling from her lips.

His hand missed her neck and grabbed her face. He hunched down and pulled her up, and swiftly she got onto her elbows and met his eyes. She was panting like a dog in the summer heat, locked into him while he rutted against her with reckless abandon. She hadn't once touched her clit and he could tell why; with each thrust into her, it only put pressure on that little fleshy button and worked her up. She could see it in her eyes; she was going to cum soon.

He figured he better not keep her waiting then.

He grabbed her waist and fucked her harder, and now her yelps were turning into sloppy moans. She looked disoriented and dizzy, she looked like she'd been dragged through a sauna unprotected, but through it all she was smiling now. A stupid look on her face, blissfully unaware of just how much Beelzebub would be pouring inside her.

He grit his teeth, "That's a good girl..." Beelzebub sighs, praying she doesn't make a big fuss. When he cums, he growls into her ear, and a full body shudder and a choked cry signals to him that she cums as well. Her voice jumps up a few pitches and her walls flutter around him. Her eyes are half-lidded and that stupid smile remains, all while he shoots rope after rope of cum into her open and willing body. If he's fucked the braincells out of her, the only sign of that being the case is her lack of complaint about the sensation of his seed now sloshing around inside her every time she squirms.

He pulls out slowly and her body starts to flatten against the bed finally. He takes a good look at the condition of her body between her legs. A sticky wet mess of cum and other fluids drip from her twitching and gaping hole. It clenches, looking for something to cling on to but only finds empty space. Beelzebub drools at the sight. He's half tempted to take a photo; a momento for the time he bred his human full. His phone is lost now though, having slid off the bed at some point during his mindless thrusting.

The satisfaction leaves a warm glow in his body, a distant white noise filling his head as his limbs stiffen and loosen, now missing the tight walls of her pussy as well. He leans forward and puts some of his weight on Jinx again. "You took me so well, good girl..." he says, and her response is a quivering sigh. Her legs are still shaking and her toes are curled, that stupid smile melting off her face as exhaustion takes her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Beelzebub feels a bell painfully striking in his ear. He leans up off her and makes an annoyed face.

"I'm hungry."

#om!#nightbringer #om! nightbringer #om! beel #om! nightbringer beel #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me nightbringer beelzebub #obey me smut #obey me mc #female mc #Twin Jinx #stfu jinx

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cryptidclaw · 6 months

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The clans, and by extension the Erins, whole “yOu CaN oNlY hAvE kItS wItH a CaT oF tHe SaMe ClAN” rule only makes sense if you don’t think about it for more then five seconds lol. It’s honestly a miracle that the canon clans have survived this long. Because if a insanely deadly disease flows through, due to their lack of genetic diversity, they are done.

And how exactly does the Outside Sire thing work exactly? Do order cats just go out and find some random cat or is it kinda like a job application where other cats have to come to them and they pick the most suitable sire? With how order cats can be with outsiders, part of me feels like they would be a bit picky.

Yes! I completely agree! in reality kits with cats of the same clan would just lead to such bad genetics...

anywaysss to explain the donor thing further:

First off I want to establish that I dont think these cats have the same connotations or feelings around uh... reproduction, as us humans. Ofc they can have accidental pregnancies but i dont want to think abt the connotations abt that tbh. to me they mostly mate just to have baby.

because of this there isnt anything emotional between the donor and the cat who wants babies, they also dont need much of a relationship. I think the main criteria is "is the cat strong and with good genetics?" and "will they do this with no strings attached?" the donor needs to be just some random cat that isnt going to show back up wanting the kits, which i think is actually not too hard to find in loners outside the Orders since they are often just wondering travelers who dont want to be tied down. I think that there are a lot of toms who like the idea of spreading their bloodline with no need to be involved with the kits at all as well.

I think that they would be a bit picky about who they choose, each Order also has their own values on the kind of traits that are most important, so i think they would lean towards a donor who is closer to their Order's idea of a good choice! ex: Wind would want a slender swift donor, and maybe Thunder would want a big tough donor. Tho cats cant be too picky, there are only so many loners wandering around near the borders to choose from (ex: Ravenscourge's donor was a very littol guy lol).

also meta things: basically donors cease to exist after they serve their purpose, i dont want them to visit or come back as a part of the plot. I like the idea of most donors being wondering toms who just travel around and don't stay in one place long, which can explain this. I also will simply assume that each donor is a different cat, no repeats for the good of the gene pool even if in reality there probably would be several different litters sired by the same Outsider.

#cryptid answers #cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #donors

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darkcircles4lyfe · 2 years

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when a character visibly drops a ruse

You know that post? It’s been stuck in my head for a very long time, because I love the concept so much but couldn’t really think of many examples in the stories I know. Oh, but this--hmm

You might remember a while back I was gushing about Katsuki’s lack of a mask during the rescue mission. I still think it’s symbolic to an extent. He’s had his mask torn on multiple occasions too, including the current chapters. I have no doubt that Katsuki is now way more in touch with and accepting of his feelings than Izuku is. His mask being absent or removed is like a flag for his vulnerability. And I’m thinking that for a long time now, since before the apology and even before ch 285, Katsuki has been outgrowing his knee-jerk defensiveness and aloof persona. Sure, he’ll always be a spitfire, but that doesn’t mean he has to stay distant. That doesn’t mean he’s incapable of gentleness.

But the thing is he does still act defensive. He makes a point to remind Izuku they’re still rivals, keeps him on his toes with his harsh retorts and surprise attacks. However I really don’t think it’s genuine anymore. Some of his classmates may complain about the way his behavior hasn't changed, but there’s a reason for it that they don't see: Katsuki’s apology is a true apology, one that doesn’t ask for anything in return. He learned this from Endeavor, and he even said he doesn’t expect things to change. So he has to keep up their established dynamic in case that’s all Izuku wants them to have. With this in mind, his actions make a lot more sense.

But for the most part this was just an idea I entertained for fun, not much to back it up. That is, until ch 362 came around. I had a hard time talking about it in the moment, because, ya know. Yet I couldn’t ignore how blatantly different he looked, the way he carried his face. When a character spends like 90% of the story looking like a growling feral animal, anything less is certainly startling. That’s one thing, he’s had his expression go neutral before. In 362 it was so consistent though. I mean, there was zero tension, only bliss and calm. And then he actually smiles in a fond, nostalgic way. It’s like in the privacy of his own mind or wherever he is, his old self just melts away. Suddenly he appears sweet and thoughtful. If you didn’t know his character at all, you would never guess based on these images that he has a whole other demeanor most of the time. On the long list of things the story has yet to address which proves Katsuki’s death wouldn’t make sense, this is near the top. I’m now fully attached to the concept of Katsuki consciously pretending to be like his old self, while having done all this character evolution in secret. Katsuki must live for Izuku to see him drop the ruse. But what will it take for that to happen?

The only thing I can be sure of is that Katsuki would need to see how Izuku really actually does want their relationship to change. This could come from witnessing Izuku’s breakdown, or feeling it through whatever vestige-y coma sort of form he might be in now, or through 2nd’s quirk. I really don’t know at this point. I do want to reiterate what I said in regards to Heroes Rising though, since that theory now looks more likely than ever. The character development that happened in the ending of that movie which had to be erased was Katsuki realizing Izuku “chooses” him, so this must also be a key part of their manga development. Though I don’t have any leads as to how it will happen, my favorite options are:

Either Izuku is finally pushed by his greatest nightmare (almost) being realized to finally verbalize his feelings to Katsuki

Or Izuku remains stubbornly in denial even though his feelings are now obvious to Katsuki, so Katsuki takes matters into his own hands.

Most recently, I now like the second idea better because as stated above, I think Katsuki is the more emotionally open of the two at this point. Thus he may even be the one to reach out and initiate that handhold moment we’re all waiting for. I mean, you know how badly he wants it. What a lovely role reversal that would be.

One more thing. I have a hunch. Just a hunch. And it has to do with Monoma. Before ch 363 I was musing about the fact that Monoma is the only one besides Izuku and the vestiges who witnessed the whole event of Izuku awakening blackwhip. He is the only one who knows (or might be able to infer) why Izuku lost control. Idk if this is relevant to Katsuki figuring it out necessarily, but it might matter for the audience’s perspective. I actually gasped when I saw Monoma have a flashback to joint training in 363, because there could be more to come. If we’re right, and there’s continuity to be found from blackwhip’s awakening, to Izuku keeping the detail about his heart a secret, to Shigaraki seeing that Katsuki is Izuku’s weakness, then Monoma can be the one to draw that through line. There’s already some (rather dark) irony being established as Monoma, who could be seen as representing a Bakugou anti, is now deeply shaken by his loss. Horikoshi must be hoping he can sway some antis in the same way, so if Monoma carries their POV and Hori also uses him to spell out the nature of Izuku’s feelings, that would mean Hori is seeking to defy people’s narrow understanding of their relationship as well. Again, Monoma is the ONLY other person who knows exactly what happened in joint training, and he’s right there, witnessing and commenting on this fight. Joint training memories are already on his mind. We are actually so close to an explicit confirmation of this theory about Izuku’s first vestige quirk awakening and his locked up emotions. It’s like I can see the shadow of the last puzzle piece coming into place.

#bnha manga #bnha 362 #bnha 363 #bkdk #bakudeku #dekubaku #dkbk #bakugou kastuki #midoriya izuku #bnha meta #lin speaks

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beepsparks · 1 month

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Wanna see something silly— *COUGHS OUT AI HOST HEADCANONS*

This is gonna be a mix of silly and kinda spooky with maybe just a TOUCH of angst so uh prepare yourselves (also this is gonna be SO LONG)

AI Cookie

He speaks with the same tone he does in Fibbage 4, which. Definitely makes him come off as really creepy at times.

He tries to seem as human as possible, but he will move his limbs and joints in ways impossible for regular humans if it’s more convenient. (Hence him 180’ing his neck when Cookie himself started unplugging him)

Each AI host has at LEAST ONE “fatal flaw”, AI Cookie, is awful at lying.

When trying to capture someone, AI Cookie is the most sneaky compared to the other AI hosts. He is also the most likely to attempt to trick you into thinking it’s safe. (Luckily he is bad at lying) He CAN grab you, but depending on the situation, he’ll either lock you in a room (like y’know, a closet), or yeah, just hold you in a grab.

AI Cookie is programmed to be able to identify when Cookie himself is disguised (using the cloak Cookie gets in his Fakin’ It form), he’s the only AI host capable of this.

AI Schmitty

AI Schmitty has two “fatal flaws”, the first being he doesn’t understand humor in the slightest, no matter what joke you make, he’ll just be confused. The second one is that he’s based on Schmitty’s humanoid quip form, but AI Schmitty is obsessed with the idea of looking like Schmitty at all times, leading to him trying to modify himself if he sees the real Schmitty in his human form. Which only damages himself. (Plus, AI Schmitty is entirely pink, compared to Schmitty’s orange. If he were to be redeemed, he’d try to constantly paint himself orange.)

When trying to capture someone, AI Schmitty is the most careless and aggressive. Compared to everyone else, he’s the only AI host entirely willing to knock someone unconscious to catch them. Don’t let him get his hands on any heavy object, he WILL hit you in the head with it.

He’s interested in older technology, and gets easily distracted by old TVs, this is probably due to YDKJ: Oldies Radio being a thing.

AI Guy

AI Guy’s “fatal flaw” is that he’s incapable of properly playing sports, he becomes clumsy when trying to play sports (when chasing people? He’ll NEVER trip.) and will trip over himself over and over. (If redeemed, Guy himself would probably have to teach him a bit on how to keep balance or whatever)

When trying to capture someone, AI Guy is the strongest. While he isn’t as careless and aggressive with people as AI Schmitty, he will break down doors (even if they’re locked), shove anything out of his way or just run right through it or etc, and will even tackle you if necessary. Despite all this, however, he will try his hardest to leave you relatively unharmed by his own actions. (Can’t have you all messed up before Binjpipe can decide what to do with you, I guess)

If he grabs you, good luck. You are probably not getting out of his grasp.

In general, AI Guy is the least likely to actually hurt you. Even if commanded by Binjpipe to catch you, he’ll look really terrifying and aggressive, but once he gets you, really all you have to fear is Binjpipe themselves.

If you REALLY think you aren’t gonna escape AI Guy if he starts chasing you, just let him take you, it’ll be the least painful and stressful way to get caught. Most of the time he’ll just run up to you and scoop you up real quick and hold you in a grab.

AI Buzz

AI Buzz’s “fatal flaw” is his lack of communication. Compared to the real Buzz being very talkative, AI Buzz barely speaks at all, even if you try to get him to talk about something that Buzz would be interested in.

When chasing someone, AI Buzz is the quickest, and most “environmentally aware”, he’ll use any object around him as a tool to capture someone. However, AI Buzz isn’t strong enough to hold someone in a grab, so he’s more likely to lock you in a room or lock you in something that would limit your movement idk.

AI Buzz’s speed is a great advantage of his, he could probably run up to you before you can react and shove you down and try to hold you down to the floor.

He taught himself how to repair the other AI Hosts by himself. (Mostly because of AI Schmitty causing himself damage and AI Guy being clumsy)

AI Nate

AI Nate’s “fatal flaw” is the fact he CONSTANTLY speaks like he’s hosting Truth Talk 23/7. Meaning he is very LOUD. (His boot-up sound is even the Truth Talk “jingle”.) It’s incredibly hard to get him to be quiet, and he can easily become annoying to others with his loud speech.

He can start broadcasts by himself. AI Nate is even capable of taking calls from others for the show.

This can quickly become horrifying because when he’s trying to capture someone, if whoever he’s after tries to hide, there is the high chance he will start a broadcast WHILE searching for them. (And yes, he will accept calls while doing such so yippee! Whoever’s getting hunted down might hear a panicked caller telling them to run!)

AI Nate is the most experimental and perhaps unpredictable out of all the AI Hosts when it comes to trying to capture someone. He’s willing to try anything. Even methods the other AI Hosts use (although they probably won’t be as effective)

General headcanons (applies to almost all AI hosts)

They cannot feel pain, but they do however seem to fear death. (Im not sure wether im gonna do this or not BUT I have the idea that the AI hosts COULD be redeemed because one day AI Cookie would find out that Binjpipe is gonna scrap them all and use them for spare parts if they capture the entirety of the OG5, then he’d tell the others and since they honestly don’t wanna die they’d revolt against Binjpipe mmm)

When they aren’t hosting anything or aren’t being commanded by Binjpipe, they all basically become advertising machines for Binjpipe (this can get extremely annoying especially paired with the fact that absolutely none of them understand the concept of personal space)

All of them have glowing pink eyes, which definitely makes all of them come off as unnerving. AI Buzz’s lights seem to be the most bright, could be because of the glasses, who knows.

When fully redeemed and detached from Binjpipe, the AI Hosts’ eyes would change color to their representative host’s main color. (Schmitty=Orange, Guy=Green, Buzz=Bright Blue, Cookie=Brown (considering they’re lights within eyes I guess AI Cookie’s eyes wouldn’t glow too bright then idk), Nate=Ruby)

They’re all actually relatively harmless when they aren’t commanded to capture or attack someone, although they can all definitely be creepy (and annoying because again, when they aren’t doing anything important they just become advertising machines for Binjpipe)

They all do have that fnaf animatronic look and vibe, I’d say their limbs move similar to the Toy Animatronics and Glamrock animatronics (ball-point joints I believe they’re called?) They all also have a slight smile with teeth, stuck on their face, they cannot fully close their mouths to hide the teeth. This with their eyes being one color with no irises or pupils also makes them all struggle with facial expressions to display emotions.

They all wear pink, Binjpipe related clothing. (AI Schmitty, based on the real Schmitty’s humanoid quip form, is even ENTIRELY pink with not a single hint of orange.)

They all used to have to be plugged in to operate. After Fibbage 4, they’ve all been reworked to move freely without plugs.

Okayyy this was a lot. I might add more at some point, but enjoyyyyy!!

#ydkj #you don’t know jack #ai hosts #binjpipe #jackbox games #ai cookie #ai cookie masterson #ai guy towers #ai schmitty #ai buzz lippman #ai nate shapiro #headcanons #ydkj binjpipe

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 10 months

Text

Nobody's Fool: Chapter 17

Pairing: EddieXReader

Summary: You have bartended for years after you were forced to drop out of college due to family circumstances. You have dated your fair share of musicians, had your heart broken by one particular one, and have learned they are not be trusted. You have sworn off of them for the rest of your life. Then, one night, a new band plays at the bar, and against your better judgement, you can't help noticing the lead singer and guitar player. Could he possibly be different from the ones who came before him?

Warnings: 18+ Only due to eventual smut and language. There is also a toxic family relationship with a narcissistic mother if that is triggering for you.

MasterList

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

You had been working hard to avoid Sebastian for the last few hours. He kept lingering, popping up unpleasantly like a bill collector you’ve been avoiding for days. He was relentless, sending lude sexual comments your way or taking another shot at trying to remind you about how good you were together. Yeah, so good together that he had to find other people to fulfill his sexual needs. You were not falling for his shit again. He’d made you look like an idiot once and that was more than enough. You would walk past him, ignoring him, heading to a table or back behind the bar or into the storeroom, anything to get as far from him as possible.

You had even gone so far as to send the blonde from earlier after him, hoping he would lose interest in you at the prospect of an easy lay he didn’t have to work that hard for. It worked for about fifteen minutes before he was back to lurking around, watching you. It was infuriating, trying to work as he just followed with his eyes, waiting for a chance to ambush you again.

You weren't sure how you would have responded if Sebastian had walked in here a couple months ago. Would you have tried to give him a second chance? You hoped not. But now? You knew all too well what a good guy actually looked like. Eddie was a good guy, and while you were still terrified of your feelings, of putting yourself out there again, you weren't willing to risk whatever it was you had with Eddie for this guy that you knew was a piece of shit.

This thing with Eddie scared the hell out of you because you knew you were diving right off the side of the cliff with no parachute. You were heading straight for the ground at a rapid pace, about to shatter every bone in your body in a painful crash. How long would it take for him to get bored of you? How long until he looked around and realized he could do so much better than you? How long before he realized you just weren't worth all of the effort?

“You want me to punch him for you?” Joey asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“No,” you sighed. “Really? You’re going to try to take him on? I love you Joey, but he’s got like six inches on you. I don’t need you getting hurt.”

Sebastian was no joke. He stood at six foot two, another trait that lended itself to him resembling a Greek God. He was muscular, not in a bulky bodybuilder way, but in a lean, toned kind of way. You had seen him in fights before when he was drunk and somebody was running their mouth, and you had never seen him lose one.

“I think I could take him,” Joey countered, sounding a bit hurt at your lack of faith in him.

“Maybe you could,” you agreed, “but it wouldn’t help anything and it would only create a problem for John. I don’t need you to lose your job for me. I just need to get through the next ten minutes so he can go away.”

The bar was closing down. Last call was twenty minutes ago. The patrons were slowly making their way out, the lack of drinks ending their fun for the night. You began wiping down the tables and stacking chairs, your body relaxing, every muscle loosening, now that you had made it. Sebastian would be heading out with his band and out of your eyesight. Hopefully out of your life for good this time.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed yours, spinning you around. Two arms crushed you against a rock hard body as lips you knew intimately found yours. Shock coursed through you at the sudden intrusion to your mind and body. You tried to bring your hands up to push him away from you, but his strong arms were pinning yours down at your sides.

Out of nowhere, the body holding yours was suddenly yanked away. You opened your eyes, just in time to see Eddie’s fist connecting with Sebastian’s jaw. Sebastian staggered back, surprise registering on his face at the attack. He stared at Eddie in fury and then launched himself, grabbing Eddie around the waist and tackling him to the ground.

“Shit!” John yelled as he came running over. “Guys, knock it off!”

You shook the shock off and ran forward, trying to help John pull them apart. You reached out but a flailing hand connected with your eye and you shrieked, falling back to the ground. Joey leapt over the bar, running to your side to see if you were okay.

“I’m fine, just…goddamn it!” you screamed.

A couple of the guys from the plant, big guys, grabbed Eddie and Sebastian in bear hugs, lifting them away from each other. Both of them looked insane, their eyes wild with rage, their hair looking like they had stuck their fingers in electrical sockets.

“You boys need to calm down!” John yelled. “I’m not going to have brawls in my bar. You want to keep this up, then you take it outside.”

“Gladly,” Eddie growled.

“Anytime,” Sebastian hissed.

“Fuck, both of you knock it off!” you yelled, getting back to your feet, still holding your eye.

Eddie glanced at you, suddenly realizing that you were hurt, eyes that had been dark with rage softening in concern. “Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” you shrieked. “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You were kissing him!” he yelled.

“I was not kissing him! He was kissing me!” you yelled back.

“Ahh…so this is who you got to replace me?” Sebastian sneered. “Really, dollface? This Eddie Van Halen knockoff? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Who the hell are you?” Eddie demanded.

“He’s my ex,” you explained quietly.

“Your ex?” he questioned, understanding registering on his face.

“Yeah,” Sebastian smirked, moving to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Feeling nervous? I sure would be if I were my competition.”

“Shut up,” you shouted, shoving his arm away from you. “Seriously, get your fucking ego in check. Sebastian, just get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t mean that,” he argued, attempting his pouty lip again and you wanted to punch him this time. “Come on. You can’t be serious about choosing this dirtbag over me.”

“Dirtbag!?” Eddie yelled. “I’m guessing you’re the dick that is the reason she…”

“Jesus Christ! Everyone just shut up!” you yelled, desperate to stop Eddie from saying whatever it was that he was going to say. “Sebastian, seriously, just get the fuck out of here!”

Sebastian tried to argue but John stepped in, telling him he needed to leave before the cops were called. He complained, grumbling the entire way out about how he was the one who had been attacked. You felt relief flood through your body when the door closed and he was finally gone.

“Sweetheart, you know I love you, and I’m sorry I may have initiated all of this by allowing him to play,” John said, “but you need to get your boyfriends in check. I can’t have this shit in my bar.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, pressing your fingers against your forehead, a throb working its way from your eye to the back.

“You okay?” Joey asked.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, placing your hand on his arm. “Thank you. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”

“Of course.”

“Whoa,” Eddie interjected. “I thought I was giving you a ride home.”

“That was before you acted like a giant brute and came in here swinging!” you yelled.

“Seriously?” he argued. “I walked in here and saw some blonde titan making out with you in the middle of the bar. What exactly was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “maybe take a moment to assess the situation before fists start flying!”

“Assess the situation? I did assess the situation and I assessed that my girlfriend was kissing another dude! Forgive me for getting upset.”

“Girlfriend?” you asked in shock. Your brain was struggling to process that word. “Since when did we decide I was your girlfriend? I don’t remember that conversation! And I wasn’t kissing him! He grabbed me and kissed me!”

“I assumed you were my girlfriend. We’ve been seeing each other for a month. I didn’t know we had to officially state it,” Eddie explained. “And that’s all the more reason he deserved to be punched!”

“I can handle myself,” you seethed, glaring at him. “I’ve been handling him all night!”

“Oh, have you?” Eddie asked, his tone cold.

“Jesus, that’s nice,” you muttered. “I was avoiding him all night because I’m with you! I told him to go away. I told him to leave me alone. If you would have waited five goddamn seconds, you would have seen me bite his goddamn lip until it bled and tell him to fuck off. He cheated on me. He broke my heart. I am not interested in going down that road with him again.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You never want to tell me anything!” Eddie yelled. “I only know what I know about you because you’ve been forced to share. Trying to get to know you is like trying to invade fucking Mordor! Every time I get close, an army attacks and puts up new goddamn defenses and I have to find a whole different strategy! It’s, quite honestly, fucking exhausting.”

You paused, his words twisting something deep inside of you. “Well, if I’m so exhausting, then I’ll be more than happy to give you a break.”

“Whoa! Whoa! That’s not what I mean,” he said quickly, his tone taking on an edge of panic. “I don’t want a break. Look, this situation got out of control. Will you please just come with me back to my place so we can talk?”

You glanced from Eddie to Joey who had been watching your back and forth with rapt attention. His eyes were wide as he looked at you.

“I can take you home if you want,” he offered.

You were so damn tired. This might go down as the longest night of your entire life. You weren't sure you had it in you to have some long conversation with Eddie. You also knew he wasn’t wrong. You did your best to still keep him at arm’s length whenever you could because as much as you liked him, you couldn’t stop that little fear that he was going to decide you weren't good enough one day. Maybe you owed it to him.

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go with Eddie.” Eddie’s face lit up. “But I’m telling you, I am exhausted and my eye hurts and I don’t have the energy to fight it out. Can we please just go back to your place and sleep and talk in the morning?”

“Whatever you want,” he said with a smile, walking over to you. His hand grabbed your hips, pulling you against him. “Can I at least hold you?”

You rolled your eyes, secretly pleased but not wanting to show it.

“You’re hopeless,” you muttered softly, shaking your head.

_____________________________________________________________

The next morning, you and Eddie sat in his backyard with cups of coffee. He had stuck to his word. When they got to his place, he had gotten you some ice for your eye. You had helped him clean up a cut over his eyebrow and one above his lip. Then you had gone to bed, him holding you close, and you had slept like a damn baby wrapped in his arms.

Now, you sat in two lawn chairs, you in a pair of his sweats and a Radiohead tee that he had let you borrow, him in his boxers and a Metallica tee. He looked so goddamn adorable when he woke up, his hair all over the place, his eyes heavy with sleep still. He had a bruise on his cheek and his lip was slightly puffy, but it didn’t detract from how gorgeous he was. You had quite a shiner this morning, which he had apologized for over and over, but you weren't even certain who had hit you. Nobody had meant to.

“So, you want to tell me about him?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair, cupping his mug in his hands.

No, you really didn’t. You didn’t want to relive it at all, let alone share it with him. You had been an idiot, and you didn’t want Eddie to know how you had allowed Sebastian to make a fool out of you. But you knew you owed him an explanation after last night.

“He was my boyfriend,” you shrugged. “We dated for about nine months. I thought he loved me. I was clearly wrong. He cheated on me with some chick. I walked in on them and we broke up.”

“Okay, well that was a very short summary,” Eddie sighed, leaning back.

“I mean, what do you want me to say?” you asked with a shrug. “He tricked me. I allowed it. I was an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Eddie stated. “Look, we’ve all trusted the wrong people. It’s easy to do when you’re in love with somebody. We get blinded by our feelings for them and we miss all of the signs that something’s not right. We assume the best about them when they don’t deserve it. That doesn’t make you an idiot. Shit, that just makes you human, princess.”

“I guess,” you muttered, hugging your knees into your chest, your chin resting on top. “I was so in love with him. I mean, I thought he was it for me. I pictured our future together. He was my everything, and then I walked in and he was pile driving some redhead on the bed he and I shared. He told me he loved me and he only wanted a relationship with me but that he needed variety when it came to sex. He wanted me to understand that. He might sleep around but he would always come home to me.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” Eddie grumbled. “What the hell kind of relationship is that?”

“That’s what I thought. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk around, knowing he could be screwing any random girl at any time. Maybe I’m a prude or something, I don’t know, but I don’t want to share my guy with others.”

“You’re not a prude. When two people truly love each other, that should be enough.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Do…do you still love him?” Eddie asked, his voice hesitant, possibly even a little nervous.

“I did for a long time,” you softly mumbled. “I was a mess for weeks after I found him with that girl. If it weren’t for Jen, I probably would have lost my job. She kicked me in the ass and refused to let me wallow for too long. John was amazing. I hadn’t shown up to work for a week, but he knew what had happened. I came in and he never said a word about it, just let me continue with my shift.”

You took a sip of coffee, allowing the warmth to seep into you, calming your nerves. You didn’t like talking about this with him. Being this open felt dangerous. It felt like walking into shark infested waters just hoping they wouldn’t notice you had an openly bleeding wound.

“I did love him, but I don’t anymore,” you finally told him. “It took a long time to move on, but when I saw him last night, all I felt was disgust.”

Eddie looked pleased but like he was trying to hide it. He reached his hand out, taking yours and guided you over to his lap. You sat down and he wound his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Good,” he whispered, “because there appeared to be some confusion last night that I really think we should clear up. So, I thought maybe I should officially ask so we both know where we stand. I don’t want to see other people, and I am hoping you don’t either. So, will you be my girlfriend?”

You laughed, “I know what I said last night but that sounds like such a silly question at our age.”

“Maybe it is, but will you?” he asked, those beautiful doe eyes gazing up into yours.

“Yeah,” you smiled, kissing him. “I think I can do that.”

“Excellent,” he grinned, his lips finding yours again.

Taglist

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