#brain so it feels whatever sense of hope it can from the Tiny Little Things that aren't completely miserable and desolate like a stranger's
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toxic! rafe getting annoyed w reader bc shes going out wearing her mini skirt baby pink but thats her favorite ;(
he can control whatever he likes but he is not taking my mini skirts from me. he’ll have to kill me first
you try n sneak past where he’s sat to go to the front door but rafe has like, a sixth sense for these kinds of things so he’s up like a rocket following you into the hallway !
“hey, hey,” he’s grabbing your arm and turning you around, holding you still when you squirm. “the fuck are you goin’? dressed like that?” he squints, holding you at shoulder length so he can eye you up.
“im going out with the girls.” you respond bashfully, knowing you’ve been caught. he shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak but you get there first. “i love this skirt rafe, please — i just got it.” you bargain and he’s already shaking his head.
“i know— i know you like the skirt, sweetheart but you’re just…” he sighs, letting go of you. “you know every guy is gonna be lookin’ at your ass right? you’re aware?” he holds his arms out exasperatedly.
“why does it matter? i’m not gonna be looking at them.” you pout, trying to tug your skirt down a little to make it seem longer, which he notices, licking his lips and holding his arm out to your skirt in gesture.
“its tiny! s’a piece of fuckin’ fabric, can’t even keep it up when you’re standin’ still.” he argues. “this is the shit you wear around the house. with me— a’ight? not infront of some random assholes who are gonna be tryna catch a peek all night, okay— you think i don’t know how guys brains work?” he taps the side of his head, squinting. “i’ve been single before, okay i’ve been that guy.”
“rafe, it’s just a skirt.” you pout, sulking at the mention of him before he met you. “please?” you bat your lashes, hoping it’ll work. he runs his tongue along his lip, staring away as he shakes his head before turning back to you.
“alright.” he moves past you, grabbing his keys out the bowl and sauntering towards the front door. “you can wear it. but i’m coming.”
“… rafe it’s a girls night. they’ll be mad.” you argue quietly, and he turns to face you from the front door, scratching behind his head.
“i don’t give a shit, how they feel about it baby. it’s the skirt or me.” he shrugs, leaning on the door as he waits for an answer. you stare him down, letting out a long sigh and he speaks again. “probably gonna end up driving you home like i’m a goddamn taxi later on, so i might aswell come now, right?”
“… fine.” you roll your eyes, shuffling towards him.
“there you go. we’ll have fun, won’t we?”
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what type of kissers do you think the members are
joon is a passionate kisser. he kisses you with everything that he's got. he's someone who talks a lot, feels even more, but some things can only be communicated when his lips are on yours. so when he has the opportunity to try to let you know what's in that big ole brain and even bigger heart, it's with your back pressed up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist. he's engulfing you completely. kisses sloppy, a little wet, an artless meeting of lips and tongue, in hopes that you understand just how much he cares for you, the depth of his affection for you. and when he pulls back for air and looks at you, pupils blown, hair wild from your constant toying with it you see the final piece of the puzzle he was putting together: love.
jin is a soft kisser. always a man of the present, when he kisses you he's in that moment, wants to take his time with it, wants to make the most of each second his lips are on yours. and he does. it starts with the way he skirts his hand up your side and runs his palm up and down your arm when he notices the way you shiver as he leans closer to you. continues with the gentle way he brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking the strands neatly behind your ear, the way he traces your jawline with his thumb before pinching your chin tilting your head upwards. he revels in the tiny gasp you inhale when he bumps his nose against yours but finally presses his lips to yours when he senses you're about to start whining. and when those plush lips are on yours simply lingering you have no choice but to melt into him, so tightly wound from the anticipation that you just take whatever he's willing to give, unaware that he wants to give you the world.
yoongi is a casual kisser. the feelings between you two are far from casual, but when yoongi kisses you, when his hands are on your waist pulling you into him, when his lips are on your neck suctioning a mark for the world to see, when his tongue is tangled with yours, you understand the casual, the everyday. yoongi's kisses are the gentle breeze on a warm summer's night, they're the waves swelling and receding on a shoreline, clouds aimlessly passing by on a sunny day. they're as sure as the sun rises and sets everyday and as fulfilling as the earth's completion of another revolution knowing that you've made it through yet another year. whether it's a passing peck or an unhurried push and pull after a night of loving, tired but not yet ready to part, his lips on yours turn the ordinary into extraordinary.
hobi is a desperate kisser. every kiss with hobi is both your first and your last. it’s either fast hot and heavy, lips slightly out of synchronization, the occasional knocking of teeth, hands roaming, squeezing in an attempt to get so close to you that he’s either in you or he becomes you. or it’s slow and savory his hand on the back of your neck, yours wrapped around his waist soft breaths huffed out, his nose gently pushing against yours as you break apart, with all the longing of lovers soon to part even tho you both know you’re not going anywhere. but just in case, he wants to leave with no regrets.
jimin is an all consuming kisser. when you kiss him it’s never just his lips on yours, no. he takes over your all your senses. his mouth is sugar sweet like the lollipop he was just sucking on. his hands grip at your sides, before he walks his fingers up your spine, goosebumps left in their wake. he smells faintly of cologne and baby powder. the giggle that he lets out when he briefly breaks away from your lips is just as sweet as his mouth tastes yet just as sinful as the moan he releases when you bring your faces back together nowhere near done chasing the feeling his lips give you. and when your lungs no longer allow you to continue you stare at him eyes slightly drooped, chest heaving you swear up and down that park jimin is the eighth wonder of the world.
tae is a sensual kisser. it starts off with a gentle press of his lips to yours. sticky as he pulls back your lip gloss now on his lips too. then he goes back in tongue prodding for entry, and when you let him in he licks into your mouth purposefully, tongue firmly massaging your own before withdrawing lightly biting your bottom lip on the way out. one hand is on your thigh and the other is on your lower back forcing you to straddle him bodies pressed as close together as possible. he nips at your collar bones before trailing a series of wet kisses up your neck and across your jawline until he has you right where he wants you–whining, panting, begging for more.
jungkook is a sincere kisser. 9 times out of 10 when he’s kissing you it’s not bc he’s filled with lust, although that usually comes soon after, it’s bc there’s a certain longing, a yearning tugging at his heartstrings and it seems like the only way to relieve the pull is to have his lips on yours. so that’s exactly what he does. he’s the type to cup your face with both his hands gently swiping his thumbs across your cheeks before fully leaning in and capturing your lips between his. he suckles on your bottom lip for a few seconds then pulls back breath hitching when he notices how you chase after his lips. in mild disbelief of how he ended up here, with you, the one place he always hoped he'd be, bc you see jungkook doesn’t just like he adores and when he loves it’s with all his heart.
a/n: ajdsfojds you sent this MONTHS AGO I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONGGGGG i just had a specific thought in mind for each but the details were always fuzzy so it took a while to turn the picture in my mind into words that make sense but hopefully this is okayyyyy i be taking forever sometimes but i sweeeaarrr i'm always working
#bts fanfiction#bts headcanons#namjoon fanfic#kim seokjin x y/n#yoongi fic#hobi x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung fanfic#jeon jungkook x reader#bts smut#jimin smut#taehyung smut#j hope smut#j hope fanfic#yoongi x you#jin fic#jungkook drabble#ask of interest
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✨Hello✨ I would like some Headcannons of 141 + könig with a gen z reader who's on the older side (like, 20-25) at first they were besties with soap, but then they became good friends with everyone. They are one of the very few people who can bother the shit out of ghost and live to tell the tale. All of 141 and könig have had their nails painted/makeup done by reader, and once a week AT LEAST, reader and the 141 + könig have a ✨ s p a d a y ✨ face mask, manicures, pedicures, you name it and the reader, 141 + könig have probably done it. Reader is also ver affectionate. Their name can be whatever you want it to be. Have a good day/night, eat, drink water, and don't overwork yourself or I'll find you and hit you with a steel frying pan. Love ya 😁
I love the way you show your love for me!!
Material Girl- 141+König
Not a proper hc...I think (idk my brain isn't braining rn)
Gn!reader! Smut at the end so warning!!
It's been forever since you arrived at base. 141, mainly Ghost nicknamed you rooks, short for rookie, also short like you. "Sergeant rooks, get over here." "rooks you sure 'bout this?" "Hey rooks, wanna hang out" god did it exhaust you, but it was all banter. Nothing more.
Soap soon after you had arrived at base became your best friend, only friend in the eye of others. He knew almost everything of the tiny rookie that had become his friend. Price didn't get it at first. How someone so smart as you had befriended his Scott soldier. But soon after seeing you and him explode different things around base he understood, "not about the level of knowledge but by how dumb they both are." It took 5 months for them all to be open to you.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"ghost...ghost...heeeeyyyyy ghooossstttt" you whispered yelled (does that make sense? hope it does)
"yes rooks?" His voice hinting at his frustration.
You jumped from behind and made him jump. "Just wanting to see if you were still alive" "3 laps around base, go"
----
And after much fight, he got used to you. Always making extra coffee for the days he knew you'd be around the most. He felt like a teacher with you and soap around. "If you do that, don't ya think it'll explode" then he saw your wheels turn. "that'll be awesome!"
----
"fuck off Janet. im not goin to your fucking baby shower?"
"Who the fucks is that sergeant?"
Man did you annoy him with quotes from tiktok, but he loved how every time you would laugh at literal dark jokes, others would consider a sigh of a mental illness. "Die bitch...dieeee!!" You said as he killed a spider. He soon chased you with it. And as always you cried a little.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
When the team found you stressed after a mission, they asked soap what a day off in your life looked like. "They better thank us for this." Price sighed as he, ghost and König prepared the common room to seem like a comfy living space.
"Ghost, you're next..what color would you like?" you looked up at him, annoyance leaked from his eyes. "Black..all black" You look around your kit, "I have glittery black? will that work?" your curious eyes starring at his, "fine" he responded. Gaz took pictures and sent them to the group chat, the same one he left because of your stupid daily memes.
"This is worse than torture."
"Do you or do you not feel bonita?" you smiled as you carefully painted his nails. He hesitated, "I feel bonita" . "Wonderful because you look Bonita!" you squealed, your hands cheerfully in the air.
Then it was König's turn, "nails or makeup mister?" you kindly asked. "pick makeup, their skin care routine after the removal makes your skin so smooth." gaz said as he caressed his own face. "Makeup, but just do my eyes please, ja?" You understood why his request was so odd, but you complied. Once you did his eyes: "gosh you look prettier than me, König!" he blushed at your comment. "Lift your mask, and I'll do your lips, want to see how pretty this shade will look on my pretty boy." you made way as he lifted his mask, "Pretty, pretty lips" his smile giving him away.
"Price?" "m'fine with the nails, thanks"
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It was a Wednesday night, that you and the team designated for spa days. You bought them those soft hair bands with different shapes and colors. Ghost and König agreed on wearing surgical masks just for this activity. All of the tough soldiers reclined on sofas as you went around and applied face masks and cucumber for aesthetics.
----
Soap enjoyed how your hands would massage his hair. It was something you had mentioned, when he applied black war paint on his hair and you gasped. "If you want hair masks just ask Johnny! don't gotta kill me with this!" you exclaimed on the field.
----
They all had robes on, you even ordered those foot massager machines for them. And when you were done with their masks, you would lay on the floor with pillows around. You read, and sprayed the room with different aromas. Sometimes when you felt hippie enough you would walk around with incense.
----
It was the only time you went around taking pictures, they soon found out because you accidentally airdropped one to Gaz, who made it his profile on the group chat.
----
"it smells horrible" ghost would say, "shh im cleansing you honey" your calm voice making him more scared, what if you accidentally lit him on fire, something that soap had done to gaz when he too felt like a hippie.
"thank you hase (bunny)" König would always keep you close when this whole thing was happening, his excuse was that your body heat was comfortable to him, in reality, he just needed an excuse to have you near.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It was a routine that you had created with them. For Ghost and König, you always spent the nights with either of them, you would stay up and wait until they needed you. Hugs from these two were the best. Soldiers stared and they would give them 'the' look. (you comment on this..I kill what you love)
"König it's time for hugs!" you jumped and he catched you, your head on his chest, "You are kind mein König," you used that only when he needed to be brought back after a tough mission.
----
Soap and you had physical touch as love language, so showing him your affection was easy. You'd give his hands a squeeze or rubbed his shoulders and this man would just stand there, taking all the affection you could give. Sometimes it was him who would hug you so tight, you thought you might pass out.
"too much love" you would remind him. "m'sorry, felt like giving it all today" he would chuckle.
----
Price was different, this man needed affection when having smoke competitions.
"learned this one on tiktok," you inhaled and perfect circle flew around. "S'good, getting better." He would stare in amusement as the circle of smoke disappeared. But at times he did need a hug. So when the day needed a little snuggle, he would approach you. "Feeling a little cold today, you?" and you would just hug him tight. "Do you feel my love?" you smiled as your face was deep in his man boobs (man am I a whore for man boobs..so squishy and shit)
----
Gaz needed affection in fun ways. So every morning you would send him memes, or tease him about something. "S'not funny." "My uncle broke his neck tap-dancing once." and back to giggles it was. At times since you and him were somewhat the same age, you'd send tiktoks to one another.
"Gaz can you serve" He would pose and you'd laugh, "no like serve your country" and he'd salute. "Fucks sake was that." ghost would whisper to Price. "Maybe if we don't move, they won't notice us."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
(please tell me this is what you meant when you said "done it" cuz if not,,,them im putting myself on blast here)
NSWF(kinda) MINORS DNI!!!
MANHANDLED im telling you!!!
These man were starving for some sex. So when the opportunity rose, you as a decent person, homie hopped. (I would too, so no shame here)
It first started with Ghost, then König. Then the two men with you(yes..threesome bc we only live once). Soap would probably find the three of you fucking. It would be on accident though. He was walking around base when he heard you scream, and when he opened the door you were in between the two big men.
After a week of witnessing the naked horrors of his superior and friends he would talk to you. "I was tempted." you confessed. "Mind doing me next?" he bluntly said. "I mean, would you be up for it?" "Now? or later?" he looked at you, soon later it was you and him and the same room he had caught you in.
Then like a good father and son, price and gaz shared you. And I mean SHARED. You didn't hesitate, mainly because you had a thing for gaz since the beginning, but price was more of a fantasy that turned real.
It took a little bit of convincing, and a lot of drinking and smoking (green plant activities ) to be in the presence on them all.
Gang bang? anyone? Anyways, it was a sworn secret that was called a one time thing. But after the 3rd time of the one time thing it was just a team building exercise for sure. (monthly so you would be able to walk properly)However after every mission Ghost and König would fuck the anger off of their system. Price understood why you wouldn't be able to make it to some training days, those were also the days he had fun with "excuse or not you better pay your debt"
tags: @g4y-gr3ml1n
REQUEST ARE OPEN!!
A/N: please tell me you understood why the title is that?
#mw2 141#cod 141#141 x reader#task force 141#141#modern warfare 2#mw2#ghost fanfiction#ghost mw2#ghost hc#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#ghost x könig x reader#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost x soap#soap x you#soap x reader#soap modern warfare#im down so bad for him#simon riley#i want him so bad#minors stay away#minors shoo#minors look away#no minors please#gaz my beloved#gaz cod#gaz x reader
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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader
after - part thirty-three
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3
jackson holds more than a few familiar faces.
a/n: these few chapters are so satisfying to me cuz it’s more my own creation that straight outta the show and i hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏻
word count: 7.4k
warnings: nothing crazy, y’all know the drill by now
✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨
The last time you saw Nick Cowan, Joel had just put a bullet in his shoulder, and he’d nearly put a bullet in Joel’s head. Then you’d picked up the gun Joel had dropped and pointed it right back at the then-FEDRA soldier, your…whatever he once was.
The last thing you said to him rings clear as day in your mind: “Guess I’m just as terrible as you thought.”
He looks…old. It suits him. It’s the eyes that give him away, that signature stare you had once grown so used to. Now, they pin you in place, and you have no choice but to stare right back, taking in the thick beard along his jaw, the scar across his nose, his hair greying and pushed back over his head. He’s bigger than you remember, all broad shoulders towering over you as he gets closer to you, closing the distance, making your brain run a marathon trying to make sense of it.
He’s here. He’s alive.
“Liv?” he croaks out, his voice snapping on your name. His eyes are glassy, those stupidly long lashes you were always silently envious of clumping together. “Is it really…is it really you?”
Nick Cowan opens his arms to you, his boots crunching in the snow beneath your feet. He goes to hug you, saying your name again, shock and happiness on his face.
And you fucking deck him.
You’re pure adrenaline, and you hear the crunch of your knuckles hitting his face more than you feel it. It’s like every eye in the street turns to you as it happens, and Cowan reels backward, spitting blood into the snow and cupping his face. Your hand explodes with pain as you fall back a step, cradling your hand against your chest, and Joel materializes at your side, curling a hand around your elbow.
“Okay,” Cowan grunts, spitting again. “I probably deserved that.”
“Probably?” you nearly shout, stepping forward, but Joel tightens his hold and hauls you back. “It’s okay.”
You wrestle yourself out of Joel’s grip and close the distance between you and Nick. But this time, you hug him. You grab his forearm and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. It’s a moment before he returns it, a low chuckle reaching your ears. There are more tears on your face, and god fucking damn it, your hand hurts something fierce, but then you feel something connect with your shin and a tiny voice shouts, “Get your hands off my daddy!”
Nick steps back, releasing you, and you look down to see a little girl, no older than five or six, pulling back to kick you in the shin again. She’s cute, all bright blue eyes and blonde braids and her cheeks flushed with cold. “Deanna, stop it,” Nick chides, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. She goes willingly, giving you the best evil eye you’ve received from someone so young, and it makes you laugh.
You’re still reeling, your aching heart barely able to process. Tommy? Cowan? Alive and well, all this time. It’s almost too much, and then—
“Deanna, come back here!” an unfamiliar voice calls, and you look in its direction to see a young man making his way through the crowd to where you’re stood.
And your heart sinks into your toes.
“I’m sorry,” he says to Cowan, reaching into his pocket and producing an inhaler. “She just ran off before I could…” He trails off, and his eyes move to you. “Liv?”
The image of the little boy in your mind is instantly replaced with the older version standing before you. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Cowan, the mop of dark curls now cropped closer to his head, short enough that you can see the scar on his forehead. The memory jars you. He was so little, chasing Emily around the food court, and you’d heard him yelp as he fell. A few minutes later, his dad was carrying him into the medic area where you were working with Deanna. Poor kid cracked his head open and was sniffling around the wad of napkins his dad had pressed to his bleeding forehead.
You’d taken over, carried him over to one of the cots and found a wad of gauze that would soak up the blood a bit better. Henry was all sniffles and big round eyes, staring up at you as you dabbed at his wound. You distracted him, talking about anything and everything while you cleaned it and found him a bandage and told him he was brave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it had left a thin line above his eyebrow, one you could only really see when the light caught the right way.
“Henry,” you breathe out, and a moment later, he’s in your arms. Despite the height he now has on you, he’s that ten-year-old kid again, hugging you tightly. The kid that groaned about math but still did every piece of homework, that sat vigil at your bedside after you got the shit kicked out of you in lockup, that sweet-talked Joel into a game of Monopoly the first time they met.
Maybe not your son by blood, but the closest thing you know you’ll ever come to one.
And he’s alive.
But then the mood sours, all in an instant.
“You told us she was dead!” Henry shouts, still clinging to you, but pulling away to spit the words at Cowan. There are tears on his face, making his cheeks ruddy, and you can hear the way his chest wheezes. “All these years, you told us she was gone! You fucking liar!”
You can see the hurt on Nick’s face, the way he flinches back. The little girl — Deanna — hides her face in Nick’s neck, putting her arms around him. A blonde woman appears at his side, puts a hand on Deanna’s back and murmurs something to Nick that you don’t hear over Henry shouting.
“I fucking hate you! You’re a goddamn liar! She was our family!”
“Henry, stop,” you say softly, trying to placate him. “It’s okay, it’s not—”
He wrenches out of your arms and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Nick to watch him go. Nick hands Deanna off to the blonde and she gives you what you think is a sympathetic smile before also walking away.
“I never meant for it to work out this way,” Nick says, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part wants to deck him again. “They were just kids when we…” He shakes his head. “Deanna and I agreed, it was better that way. That maybe it would stop them from wanting to go back to Boston if they didn’t think you were still there.”
You feel a presence behind you — Joel. His hand rests at the small of your back and you swipe tears from your cheeks. “Well, I was still there, Nick. Wondering this entire time if you were all alive or not. You couldn’t have had the decency to at least let us know you were okay?” Your voice cracks on the question and Joel puts his arm around your waist now, tugging you against him. You’re grateful; it’s the only thing stopping you from punching Nick again.
“Everything I did was to protect them,” Nick says, staring down at his boots. You got him good; his jaw is an angry shade of red, and there’s a spot of red on his bottom lip. “You know exactly why I did what I did.”
Joel bristles, angling himself in front of you, raising a hand. “Can we not do that right now?” he grits out. “There’s a lot going on right this second; we all need to calm the fuck down and you need to watch your mouth.”
Nick doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, but then his eyes flick back to you. “I’m sorry, really, I am. Tommy knows which house is ours, if you want to talk more.”
He turns on his heel, but you stop him. “Nick.” He swivels back to you slowly, his hands dug in his pockets. “I’m assuming the little Deanna is named after the one that took care of us back in Boston.”
“She is,” he nods. “Dee passed five years ago.” But then he stops, and you know the next thing out of his mouth might crush you. “The same flu that took Emily. They’re buried together; I can show you where, if you like. That’s probably where Henry took off to.”
You inhale sharply, stumbling back a step, but Joel doesn’t let you go far. Tommy’s on your other side now, Ellie a half-step behind him, and the woman who had told you to come to Jackson breaks the silence that settles as you watch Nick walk away.
“Why don’t we get you all something to eat?”
+
You’re all quiet, the only sound at the table is the clatter of cutlery hitting plates. Joel can barely remember the last time he ate off a real plate, let alone sat at a table while he had a meal. It must have been back in Boston, he thinks, back before…
He glances at you between bites. You’re picking at your food, your shoulders hunched around your ears, eyes downcast. Worry knots Joel’s stomach, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. “Liv, honey, eat,” he says, nodding across the table where you’re sat beside Tommy. “Please.”
You just nod, lifting your glass of water and taking a sip.
Beside him, Ellie is wolfing down her food, scraping the plate, eyes glued to the meal like someone might try and take it away from her. “There’s more if you need it,” Maria — the woman who’d brought you here — says from her seat at the head of the table.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says with a slight nod, pausing his own eating. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie quips, taking another bite. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”
“Ellie,” you chide, your eyes widening for a second and Joel’s eyes dart between you.
“Sorry,” he says to Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”
Tommy gives Joel a small smile and lifts his hand, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You offer a half-smile in return, reaching up and squeezing his fingers.
Ellie’s attention is dragged across the large room, and her almost menacing, “What?” makes you both flinch.
“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” you groan, rubbing your hand across your forehead.
“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asks, his eyes darting to the girl who’d been hiding behind a pillar, watching your table.
“What about her manners?” Ellie calls, loud enough for the girl to hear, and you sigh heavily.
“She was just curious,” Maria supplies, her tone placating. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”
“Right,” Ellie says with a tight nod. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them.” She glances at Tommy, at you beside him, and then her eyes move back to Maria. “And I want my gun back.”
They’d taken your weapons before you got on the horses, and the other riders had whistled at your barb-wired bat. Joel didn’t doubt you’d get them back, but now isn’t the time or place.
“They also aren’t armed,” Maria replies.
“We don’t need to be,” you add, earning an open-mouthed look from Ellie. “Not in here.”
An awkward silence settles for a moment while Ellie cleans her plate, and Joel’s worry subsides some when he sees you take a few more bites.
“Y’know what,” Tommy starts, glancing between you all, “I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”
“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie almost sneers, and your eyes dart to Joel before you reach across the table, just laying your fist on the tabletop.
“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. It’s all bark, we’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”
“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there.”
“Ellie!” Joel grits, and you put your face in your hands.
“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” she continues, ignoring both of you.
“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria responds easily, barely fazed.
“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Tommy says, and Joel sees the recognition on your face as you drop your hands, squaring your shoulders slightly.
“Not always, at least,” Maria says. Her eyes linger on Joel as she says it, and it makes him bristle. He sees your face pinch from the corner of his eye and you lean up, straightening, laying both elbows on the table.
He can see you holding yourself back, wanting to jump on the defence. So he tries to change the subject. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he lays down his fork and looks to his brother, “but it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”
You inhale sharply, reaching for your water glass again.
Tommy pauses, balks, before, “Well, um.” He reaches a hand out and Maria takes it, a small smile on her face. “Maria is family, actually.”
Your water glass rattles as you set it back down. “Oh shit!” Ellie says, her tone suddenly lighter. “Congrats.”
Joel doesn’t have words, barely registering you putting your hand on Tommy’s arm and murmuring, “That’s great.”
“Joel,” Ellie calls softly, snapping him out of it, “say congrats.”
“Congrats,” he repeats drily.
The silence that settles after is so awkward Joel wants to crawl out of his own skin, but his brother breaks it. “How about a tour?”
You nearly jump into action, collecting the dishes and cutlery and stacking them together, waving Maria off when she tells you to leave them. Joel makes his way around the table to your side, helps you into your coat. You mumble a thank you, give him a tight smile when he finds your hand and gives it a squeeze.
Maria leads you out of the mess hall and back onto the street. The air is so bitingly cold, such a stark difference from the warmth inside, that Joel flinches, and you tuck yourself against his side, ducking under his arm.
“We settled here about seven years ago,” Maria tells you as you start walking, her voice loud over the noise of the street. “Just a handful of us back then.” She points to one part of the wall. “That section was already a gated community so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.”
“And you said Infected?” Joel asks, rubbing his hand over your shoulder.
“Yeah,” Tommy answers, “but usually smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope, sub-MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from a half mile out.” Joel smirks; his brother, forever the gun nerd.
It gets Ellie’s attention. “Can you teach me how?”
“No, he can’t,” Joel says immediately. He’s half-expecting you to interject, but you don’t say a word. “How do you keep this place quiet?”
“Carefully,” Maria responds. “Being in the middle of nowhere helps, not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.”
That makes Joel stop, and you do too, your hand curling into a fist at his hip as Tommy shoots him a look.
“House of worship,” Maria continues, either unfazed or unaware of the silent exchange as she points out buildings, “multi-faith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”
Joel’s gaze drifts up, to the power lines linked along the street. “And you draw power from the dam?”
“Got that working a couple of years ago,” she says with a nod. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights.”
Ellie shakes her head, glancing around. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”
You keep walking, eventually coming to an area that looks like a makeshift farm. A herd of sheep runs past as you all step through the fence, bleating as they go.
“Hey, Joel,” Ellie calls, beaming, “check it! Baa!”
You both laugh, and Joel squeezes your shoulder.
“So, are you like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria, clearly starting to get over her earlier…ferocity.
“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answers. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repair, hunting, harvesting.”
“Everything you see in our town,” Tommy chimes in, “greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”
“So, communism,” you pipe up, leaning around Joel to look at Tommy.
Tommy’s expression is pure confusion as he shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”
“It is that,” Marie corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”
Tommy stops in his tracks, clearly shocked at this revelation, and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he walks past his brother. The conversation trails off as you come up to a row of stables, and Ellie is instantly taken by a young foal poking its head out of the half door.
“Well, I’m sure they’d all like a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, looking at Tommy. “We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.”
“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.”
You blow out a breath, turning to steam in the cold air. Joel can hear the words on the tip of your tongue before Ellie interjects, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”
It bothers him more than it should. She looks back at the two of you with a grin on her face that quickly disappears. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”
“Joel,” you say quietly, turning your body against his.
Marie doesn’t miss the exchange and looks at you. “Well, I can take Liv and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She pauses. “Unless, you—”
“No, let the brothers do their thing,” you say with a nod, peeling away from Joel’s side. He wants to pull you back the second you’re gone, but he stops himself. “I have a few…unfinished conversations of my own to take care of.”
Maria nods. “I can show you where the Cowans live; it’s not far from our place.”
“Yeah,” Joel says, watching as you walk over to where Ellie’s standing, reaching up and petting the foal’s nose. Ellie seems to relax further when you touch her shoulder. “Okay.”
“We’ll be fine,” you tell Joel, and he’s not quite sure who you’re trying to convince, you or him.
Tommy starts to lead him away, and Joel gives you one last glance before following his brother away from the stables.
+
Standing on the front porch of what Maria has told you is the Cowans’ home, you feel nervous, of all things. Your fury has subsided some, turned instead to a quiet ache that lingers in your chest, makes your heart rate rise when you let your mind wander. You feed yourself the facts instead, still trying to make sense of it all.
Nick is alive. Tommy is alive. Henry is alive.
Deanna is dead. Emily is dead.
Somehow, the confirmation makes it easier. You can’t even begin to add up all the time you’ve spent wondering over the years, when Nick first took them away, when Tommy left with the Fireflies. The wondering always made it worse. It was the same when the outbreak first hit, stuck in Boston, not knowing who lived or died. It was Nick that gave you the closure that your parents were gone. Then Joel’s panicked admission that Anna had lived through being bitten, but then FEDRA carted her off, never to be seen again.
That’s one bit of closure you still don’t have.
My parents are dead. Bill and Frank are dead. Sarah is dead. Anna is…dead.
You suck in a shaky breath, the iciness of it chilling you from the inside out as you lift your hand and knock twice.
It’s a few moments before the door swings inward, revealing the blonde woman who had stood beside Nick earlier in the street. “Oh,” she says, her voice bordering between overly bright and cautious, “it’s you.”
“Olivia,” you offer, extending your hand, “but call me Liv.”
“Sloane,” she responds, taking it. “Nick’s upstairs. D’you wanna come in?”
You stall, thrown off by her invitation. “Oh, uh, sure.”
Sloane steps aside to let you in and you step over the threshold, immediately soaking in the warmth that greets you. “This must all be very…strange for you.”
You lift your brows, glancing around the house as she shuts the door behind her. It’s quaint, with a Christmas tree in one corner of the living room that you can see, a kitchen to the other side. You can see little Deanna perched at the table, crayons in hand, and it’s so reminiscent of Emily, of your life back in Boston, that you nearly turn on your heel and dart back into the cold.
Your face must give you away, and Sloane seems to think she caused it. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no,” you cut her off, waving a hand. “Strange is probably the nicest way to put it.” You try to laugh, try to make the atmosphere a little lighter, but the sound twists in your throat. “I’m the one who should be sorry; I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.”
She gives you a small smile. “I invited you in, Liv. It’s okay, really. Nick told me a lot about you.”
“Only the good stuff, I hope,” you say, returning the grin while inwardly praying he left out some of your…finer details. “Although, there’s not a lot of good stuff, which I’m sure you know.”
“We do what we have to,” she replies, lifting her shoulder, and you balk. “It all happens the way it does for a reason. If you’d stayed together, he wouldn’t be here.” She pauses, looks over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “And I wouldn’t have that beautiful little girl.”
Tears spring in your eyes and you blink furiously while she’s not looking, willing them away.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” she says, turning back to you. “Nick said she kicked you in the shins after…”
“…after you clocked me in the jaw,” Nick finishes, coming down the stairs, sporting the starting of a bruise along his beard. “Glad I only ever taught you to shoot. If I’d taught you how to punch, I’d probably still be unconscious in the street.” You open your mouth to say something, but you’re caught off guard as Nick leans over the stair rail to kiss Sloane hello, which she returns with a grin.
He looks so…at ease. Jealousy sparks in your gut something fierce. Not that he’s kissing her and not you — that ship sailed many moons ago. But seeing them here, in their home, with their daughter. It’s a postcard reminder of all the things you and Joel don’t have. Have never had. May not ever have.
“Nick, can we talk?” you ask, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “Please? I promise not to clock you again.”
He barks a laugh, reaching for his coat on a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”
Sloane kisses him again before he leaves, leading you out the door and back into the cold. You fall into step easily, heading deeper into Jackson, past more houses and people. It looks almost like a real neighbourhood, kids building snowmen in their front yards, Christmas trees glittering in windows. You’re both quiet, but Nick’s the one that breaks the silence.
“Go ahead and ask, Liv,” he says, digging his hands in his pockets while you toy with your own. “I can hear the wheels in your head going from here.”
“Maria said this settlement has been here seven years,” you start, his words all the confirmation you need to start asking for the answers you need, “but you left Boston what, fourteen years ago? What did you do between Boston and here?”
He sighs, his breath turning to a cloud of steam in the air. “Whatever I had to. I only got us out of the QZ by asking for a transfer, and we barely survived the trek to Chicago with FEDRA on our side. But we were there almost five years.” He gestures to the left when the sidewalk splits, and you follow his direction. “After Chicago went to shit, we did whatever we could. Lots of sleeping on the road, hiding in abandoned buildings. The kids hated it, Deanna even more so, but there were more of us then, some people she’d befriended in Chicago, a few other soldiers who’d grown tired of the bullshit, like me. Sloane was one of them.”
“She was FEDRA?” you ask, genuinely shocked.
“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “I think she’s the only person who’s given me more of a run for my money than you did.”
“Nick—”
“I don’t blame you for doing what you did,” he says, staring at his boots as you keep walking. The sidewalk splits again and this time, you go right. The houses are further apart here, a small copse of trees coming into view at the end of the street. “Or Joel. He was just trying to protect you, and I’m sorry for what I—”
“You shot him in the head, Nick,” you say, bristling. “You can’t just apologize for that and make it all go away. You could have killed him. His hearing hasn’t been the same since it happened.”
He stops in his tracks, staring at you, wide-eyed. “What?”
“You heard me,” you tell him, defiant only to cover up the way your bottom lip is wobbling. “And then you tell Henry and Emily that I’m dead?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” he shoots back and starts walking again. You inhale sharply and follow. “Henry was so mad when we left. He kept asking where you were, if you were gonna meet us in Chicago, over and over. It just seemed…easier. And how in the hell was I supposed to know that you’d show up here one day and prove me wrong?”
“You could have sent a message,” you say, your chest growing tight, “when you got to Chicago. Or when you got here. Never mind, I should give Tommy a fucking earful for not telling me you’ve been here this whole time.”
“I asked him not to,” he admits, and your brows shoot up. “Yes, I lied, okay, Liv? I’m a terrible fucking person. But you were just as bad as I was. You put that entire QZ at risk coming back when you did, and I—”
“Stop it,” you grit, lifting a hand, shocked when he cuts himself short. “Never in a million years would I have come back if I wasn’t sure. I made Joel promise to put me down if I so much as twitched. I made him swear to put a bullet in my head and leave me there, then go back to the QZ and tell everyone how fucking sorry I was.”
You’ve reached the end of the street, the edge of the small forest, and Nick keeps moving forward, stepping onto the snow. You follow, grinding your teeth together as you go.
You walk in silence for some time, Nick stepping quickly, a few feet in front of you, and you keep your distance, unsure if you can handle the rest of this conversation.
The clearing comes into view after a bit of walking, and Nick moves to the side, revealing a graveyard of sorts, a few rows of grave markers dusted with snow. They’re simple markers, wooden crosses driven into the earth, names scrawled across them, painted on a few. One of the graves is fresh.
Seeing Deanna’s name feels like a punch to the gut, but Emily’s hits twice as hard. You drop to your knees in the snow, reaching out and brushing your hand over the cross, the wreath of flowers that sits atop it. “Sloane does that,” Nick tells you, his voice hushed. “She’s got a whole garden in our backyard just to bring the flowers here. Grows them inside in the winter. She loved Emily.”
Your tears flow freely, dripping off your chin and hitting the snow. “It was a flu?”
“Yes,” he answers, crouching down beside you. “Five years ago, now. We’d been here six months, and things felt good, but then the kids started getting sick, a lot of them. Henry got it too, and I thought he’d go before Emily, with his lungs being so awful, but he didn’t. A few other kids passed, and Deanna was so hellbent on helping as many as she could, swearing up and down that she wouldn’t catch it.” His voice snaps and he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”
Despite it all, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. “You and I both know that’s not a battle you would have won, Nick.”
“I know,” he answers, his eyes glassy as he covers your hand with his. “And I know that I can’t just apologize and make it all go away, Liv, but for whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry.”
“I am, too,” you reply, squeezing his arm, “for whatever it’s worth.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “This is all so fucked up, but it is good to see you.”
Slowly, you both get to your feet. Your knees are shaky and you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from Deanna and Emily’s grave. After a moment, Nick loops his arm around your shoulders and tugs you against him. You let it happen, glad for his warmth, and lean your head against him.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
+
Nick walks you back to town, points you in the direction of what you learn is Tommy’s bar. The snow crunches under your feet, and as you cross the road, you feel lighter than you have in a long time. Your heart aches, but you can make peace with the loss of Deanna, and to a lesser extent, Emily. There’s no denying the grief that has you by the collar, but knowing they didn’t turn, that they weren’t torn to shreds, that they didn’t die like…that. It brings you some strange sense of peace.
You catch sight of Joel walking out of the bar as you get close, and you can tell he doesn’t notice you standing there. There’s a faraway look on his face that makes your gut twist with unease, the Christmassy atmosphere around you doing little to distract you.
He pulls his coat on and you watch him step down onto the sidewalk, feet carrying him towards the nearest lamppost. He leans heavily against it, one hand lifting to press against his chest, the other curling around the post, and you surge forward, calling his name.
“I’m fine,” he spits at you when you get close, his head lifting, waving you off. “I’m—”
The words choke off in his throat, his eyes caught on something over your shoulder, and before you can ask, he steps away from the post, moves past you, and you can see what he’s looking at.
If you didn’t know she was gone, you’d think you were looking at the back of Sarah Miller. An older version, taller, her hair a bit longer than your memory serves, but the similarities are uncanny. Your heart crawls into your throat as a young girl bounds toward Sarah’s doppelgänger, falling into her open arms with a giggle.
More tears springing into your eyes, you step closer to Joel, putting a hand on his arm. “Baby,” you murmur, letting your hand drop, reaching for his, “let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”
He doesn’t move. You both stay where you are, Joel’s eyes tracking the girls as they disappear, but you can almost hear the wheels churning in his mind. You say his name again, but he ignores you, and as you watch, that hard mask — one you haven’t seen for a while now — forms on his face, effectively pushing you away.
“I’m goin’ for a walk,” he bites out, and before you can reply, he’s gone, tugging his coat closer, stalking off through the crowds.
You have half a mind to follow him, but something tells you you shouldn’t, and you stay put, wipe the tears from your lashes, looking around at the town. There are just so many…people. Happy people, healthy people.
Part of you wants to deck Tommy for not telling you to come sooner, but then you remember Maria’s pointed look in the mess hall, when he’d said that having a bad reputation doesn’t always make you bad. What stories has he told his wife? How much does she know? She’d kept him off the radio, after all, leaving you and Joel to spiral back in Boston.
You blow out a breath, refusing to dwell on the past, on all the things you don’t have the power to change now. You made it here, found much more than you bargained for, and hopefully, Joel got some information from Tommy about where you go next. Peering around, you realize you’re not totally sure where you’ve ended up, making your plan to head to the house Maria had briefly shown you before taking you to Cowan’s a moot point. You turn on your heel, contemplating going into the bar to talk to Tommy, when you barrel straight into someone.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say immediately, your boots sliding against the snow. The other person grabs your arm, keeping you upright, and your eyes flick up, widening. “Henry!”
It’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, his nose bright, and he sniffles as he nods at you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Don’t be,” you assure him, reaching up and cupping his cold cheek in your palm. “Honey, you’re freezing.”
“I was at the graves,” he tells you, and you nod, “but when I heard you and Nick coming, I ran. I didn’t know what to—”
You shake your head. “Henry, it’s okay, really. I promise. This day has been…intense. I was just about to go back to the house Maria put us up in, but I realized I don’t really know where I’m going. Why don’t you show me the way, and I’m sure we can scrounge up something warm to drink inside?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny smile, but a smile all the same. “That sounds good.”
“Good,” you agree, and he offers you his elbow, turning you in the opposite direction you’d about to start walking. “God, you’re so tall.”
“Giving Nick a run for his money,” he says, and you can hear the smile still in your voice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, honey,” you tell him, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow as you start walking. “Anything.”
“Do you remember my parents?”
Oof. “A little. I never really got the chance to know them well; I wasn’t at the mall very long before they died, but I remember them being very nice, very kind. Your dad was very funny, he was always trying his hardest to make you kids laugh.”
“And my mother?”
You swallow hard, ignoring the scene that flashes in your mind. The last time you’d seen Tim and Marcy, FEDRA soldiers had been carrying their bodies out of the mall where you’d all been staying. Tim had blood on his mouth and a bullet in his brain, and Marcy’s throat had been ripped out.
“She was beautiful,” is what comes out of your mouth, and it’s not a lie. She was a beautiful woman, and part of you aches at the realization that you and Deanna never really talked to the kids about their parents much, at least not while they were in Boston. “She chased the two of you around a lot, but I remember she’d tell you bedtime stories every night.”
“I remember that, I think,” Henry says, and you squeeze his arm. “I remember her telling me she’d always chase the bad dreams away.”
You lean your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s all worked out this way. It’s not fair.”
He falls silent, and you walk quietly until the house comes into view. You head inside, finding a note from Ellie that she’s across the street at Maria and Tommy’s house. The house is warm, and sure enough, it’s easy to find a few stray tea bags, some mugs, water and a kettle.
Henry takes a seat at the kitchen island as you make the tea, arms propped on the counter, shoulders hunched. Part of you wants to ask him about Emily, but you hold your tongue, searching the kitchen cabinets and eventually finding a few sugar packets.
“Deanna still talked about you a lot,” Henry says suddenly, and his voice almost makes you jump. “After we left Boston. I think she was mad at Nick, for taking us away, and I don’t know if they ever made up, really and truly.”
“She was mad?” you repeat, dropping the tea bags into mugs and filling them with hot water. “At Nick?”
He nods. “I don’t think she really believed him, when he told us you were dead. Em and I were just kids, but Deanna…she’d give him shit all the time, anytime he made a decision on the road, she’d always counter him and say something like, if Liv were here, she’d do this.”
It makes your throat tight. Sounds like the Deanna you remember.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and your brow lifts, “for believing him.”
You shake your head, setting one of the mugs in front of him and taking the seat beside his. “Henry, honey, you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known; you don’t need to apologize.”
He taps his fingers against the side of his mug. “You were always there for us, Liv. I remember that.” His forehead furrows. “I remember…you getting hurt? You slept on the couch in our apartment for a few days and…” He trails off, shaking his head, but you remember.
“I fell down the stairs,” you say, recounting the lie you’d offered to cover up the beating you’d received in FEDRA lockup, your penance for Joel and Tess coming into the QZ. “That was just after Joel showed up.”
He nods. “I remember being really, really worried when I saw all the bruises, and Deanna told me not to worry, that you were tough and you’d be fine, but I snuck out of bed that night anyway and just sat by the couch, made sure you were still breathing.”
A smile tugs at your lips. “I remember. You scared the shit out of me, honestly.” That earns you a laugh, and you put your hand on his knee. “But then you started crying, and so I hugged you and told you I wasn’t going anywhere, that there was nothing that could take me away from you kids.”
“But then Nick did.”
You inhale sharply. You’re entering dangerous territory. “He did. I don’t agree with him telling you that I was dead, but he had his reasons, Henry. And he did his best to protect all of you.”
“Do you know the reason?” he asks, and your heart sinks. “Because even if you were dead, it doesn’t make sense why he dragged us out of Boston like that.”
“I don’t understand FEDRA anymore than you do, honey. He told me you stayed in Chicago for a while; if they sent him there, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.”
“But why did he want to take us away from you? And why didn’t you come looking for us?”
Fuck.
You shove a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t know where he’d taken you. I was the last person FEDRA was going to divulge information to, and without knowing even which direction he’d taken you, there was nothing for me to go on.”
It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. You had no idea where Nick had taken them when he did, leaving behind only the note he’d written, telling you not to come after them, that you should stay in Boston and that he’d keep your secret. A secret you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell Henry. Not yet, anyway.
Henry sips his tea and you stare down into your mug. Silence settles, but it’s only a few moments before Henry breaks it. “I miss her every single day,” he says, and your eyes lift. “Emily.”
It feels like a punch in the chest. Your eyes are sore from crying already, and yet tears spring anew. “I do too,” you tell him, “and I don’t have the same version you did. She’s still a little kid in my mind, drawing butterflies everywhere.”
“She got really good at it,” he continues, a sad smile pulling at his mouth. “Drawing, I mean. It was all she ever wanted to do, and Nick always made sure she had something to draw with. Good of him, I guess, despite it all.”
“Henry, honey, you can’t hate him forever,” you say, veering for a subject change, if only to beat down the grief rising in your chest. “You’re allowed to be mad; I’m mad as all hell. But Nick Cowan is the closest thing you’ve had to a father in this world, and you know that as well as I do. He did what he had to, and he did it to protect you.” You inhale sharply. “If the roles were reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”
That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “What?”
You sigh. You can’t tell him, you know you can’t. But despite all of it, Nick lied to protect them because of you, and you can’t let Henry hate him because of what you did.
“It was my fault,” you say finally, and the grief feels like it might spill over anyway, but you can’t keep up the facade, can’t let Nick take all the blame for this. “I messed up, and it put everyone in danger, and that’s why Nick took you away. I never came after you because I didn’t know where you went, and Nick told me to keep my distance. It was never anything you did, or your sister, or Deanna. It was me, Henry. I caused this. So if you’re going to hate anyone, it should be me. Nick did what he had to.”
He stares at you for a long moment. You wish the floor would split open and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t. You brace your hands on the countertop, waiting for the shouting, the same words he’d hurled at Nick in the street.
But instead, you get, “Are you staying? In Jackson?”
Not what you were expecting, but you’ll take it. “Not for long. We came looking for Tommy, hoping he might know where to take Ellie.”
“That’s the girl that’s with you?” You nod. “You’re taking her to the Fireflies?”
Your brows shoot up. “How do you—”
He waves you off. “Tommy likes to talk when he’s drunk.”
“You—” You cut yourself off, unable to lie any further. “Yes.”
“And after? When she’s where she needs to be?”
Your brow furrows and you shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. Joel and I haven’t decided. We’ve never had a decision like this available to us, and we’d have to talk to Maria more first, I think.” You stare down into your mug again. “I don’t think she likes us much.”
“Aren’t you supposed to hate your in-laws?” he jokes, the mood instantly lightening, and you bark a laugh.
“How would you know?” When his cheeks go red, you smile. “Someone special?”
Henry nods. “Very special.” He swallows, setting his mug on the counter. “His name is Cal.”
The spark in his eyes makes your gut twist with happiness. Despite it all, Henry’s managed to find something that makes his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, something that brings him joy you can feel.
You throw your arms around his neck. “I’m glad, Henry. I’m so, so glad.”
And you are.
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#my fics#strawberry wine#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#joel miller angst#the last of us#the last of us fic#the last of us spoilers#joel miller x oc#joel miller x liv stone
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Push it till it Breaks | Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Summary: Once you realize you have feelings for your best friend, Eddie, you can't make yourself say the words out loud. Not even when you notice he has feelings for you too. So you tease the hell out of him in hopes it will make him snap. Probably shouldn't have done in in the middle of a Hellfire meeting. Well, you're certainly not complaining if it gets you Eddie.
Warnings: 18+, there's fluff if you squint, angst, explicit sexual content, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, unprotected sex (reader on pill), squirting, come as lube, Master kink (Eddie is the Dungeon Master, it makes sense), dom!Eddie, use of pet names, aftercare is offered but reader wants round 2 first, degradation (whore/slut), flashbacks, drug use,
Words: 6199
a/n: thank you @yourdollydreams for the request! I had a lot of fun with it! I tweaked it a tiny bit to rather teasing Eddie in a turning him on sense, she also tries to push his buttons to make him lose control. I hope that's okay! There is a scene with that, but it's not the whole premise because this ran away with me.
Requests are open, I'll take Steve and Steddie too! Send some, if you'd like! Masterlist
Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!
You’re not really sure when it happened, to be honest. There doesn’t seem like a set time that you really started to have feelings for your best friend. You can absolutely pinpoint when you realized you’d had feelings. But the realization came with a minor epiphany that they were far from a new development. Simply that your brain had caught up with your heart. Among other things.
Eddie has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. You’ve lived in Forest Hills Trailer park, three lots down from him, ever since you were born. Wayne had gone to school with your dad and they both work at the plant together. So, most of your days were spent with wide brown eyes and heavy music. Over the years and the confusing puberty time period, you’d assumed he’d want to not be best friends with a girl anymore.
Some archaic belief nagging at the back of your brain that you’d grow apart, that guys and girls can’t be friends. But that couldn’t have been farther off base if you’d tried. Nothing can trump the connection from years worth of playing on the same playground. Sharing lame jokes that make you both wheeze with laughter. Parental figures working nights, leaving the slightly older boy in charge of looking after you both. It’s a bond that you just can’t break.
So yeah, somewhere along the lines, you fell for Eddie “the freak” Munson. It’s a little annoying. Not in the sense that you’re pissed it’s Eddie you want. You just wouldn’t have wasted your time kissing so many frogs in hopes of a prince if you knew that you could have Eddie. What’s annoying is you want to know when it happened. The idea of things creeping up on you doesn’t sit right. God, the day you realized, you acted like such an idiot too.
---
“What are we watching tonight, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, sparking up a joint where he sits on the couch, shirtless, sweatpant clad legs spread. The light glow from the lamp in the living room paints Eddie in a soft, golden hue, enhancing his relaxed features. All you can do is watch as he lets the smoke spill out of his mouth before inhaling it through his nose. Your eyes fixate on the trail from his plump lips, licking your own.
What the fuck is going on with you?
Why are you staring at him like a creep?
Shaking yourself out of whatever the hell that was, your gaze snaps to the two boxes in your hands. “Um,” you swallow thickly, trying very hard to get your brain to read the words printed in front of you. “Stuck between The Shining and Carrie,” you fumble out. You’re about two seconds away from actually slapping yourself.
You’ve never acted like this around Eddie before. You’ve seen him without his shirt on more times than you can count. Hell, you went with him to get both chest tattoos and the headless bat he has on his ribcage. The two of you have been friends long enough that you’ve both accidentally walked in on the other while changing, so the fact that his thin sweats do nothing in hiding what’s underneath shouldn’t be a surprise either.
Laying an arm over the armrest, Eddie narrows his eyes to protect them as the smoke coils up from another drag. “So you just want to mentally fuck me tonight, got it.”
Warmth burns your cheeks at his words, freezing your frame still. The instinct to fire back that you wouldn’t fuck him singes your tongue. “I-” That’s not something all that weird to come out of Eddie’s mouth, nor your attempted rebuttal. So why in the hell did it send a shock down your spine like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you? You’re not even high yet, so there goes that excuse.
“I’m just kidding, babe,” he says, ashing the joint before leaning forward to hand it to you. “You know you can pick whatever you want,” Eddie says, your shaky hand taking the rolled paper from him.
Inhaling deeply into your lungs, you hold your breath, hoping this will knock some sense into you. Or rather, knock enough out that you don’t have to think about what’s happening and why you’re being so fucking weird. “The Shining it is, then,” you say on the exhale. Putting the tape in, you go back over to the couch, handing the weed back before plopping down on the couch beside him. Without a second thought, you throw your legs into his lap like you’ve done countless times before, settling into the corner of the couch as the movie starts.
Not missing a beat, Eddie’s free hand comes to your legs, running along the bare skin from your pajama shorts. Your breath catches in your chest feeling the warmth of his hand on you. Cold, chunky rings doing nothing to hide the searing heat blazing your flesh. His hand never goes more than a few inches above your knee as you hand the joint back and forth. But the way his fingers glide across the small portion of thigh he does touch lights a fire inside of you.
You’re not even paying attention to the movie. The images flashing on the screen, but the only thing you can focus on is his fucking hand. You didn’t even realize that he was trying to talk to you until his hand grips your thigh, shaking it a bit to get your attention. “Huh?” You whip your head to face him.
“I asked if you wanted the last hit,” Eddie repeats himself, holding the roach your way.
The question might as well have been a slap in the face the way your heart tightens in your chest. Suddenly every single thing makes sense to you. The way his hand has you so bent out of shape. The way he inhaled shooting straight to your core. How he always lets you pick the movie, or the music, and always offers you the last hit. Everything that your best friend does for you wrapped up in a tiny little bow. Why every little thing about Eddie is so noticeable and intense tonight.
You fucking like him.
You were so startled by his mind fuck comment and couldn’t say that you wouldn’t because it’d be a fucking lie. Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted to be with Eddie before your brain had even had a moment to process the information.
Son of a bitch.
“I- uh,” you clear your throat, his eyebrows raising at you in waiting.
“You alright?” Eddie asks when you still haven’t answered.
“Great!” You say a little too chipper. “Um, I’m good,” you shake your head, waving at the burnt paper, “you can have it.”
Eddie’s eyebrows pinch, like he knows something’s off. But he doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for. He only nods, taking the last hit and snubbing the remnants. After doing so, he curls his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Meanwhile your heart is having a field day in your chest.
---
So, yeah, it became pretty obvious to you that you felt some type of way about Eddie. With noticing everything about him, you started to realize that everything you liked about Eddie, he did for you. Playing your favorite songs softly on his acoustic when you had trouble sleeping. Coming over in the middle of the night when your bathroom sink broke and fixing it for you. Giving you rides everywhere because the thought of his best friend walking somewhere was ridiculous to him. Letting you decide what you were doing on days he didn’t have Hellfire or practice.
Each and every time you’d offered to do whatever he wanted to do, Eddie would hit you with a ‘I wanna do whatever you want, princess,’ or something of that nature. And the pet names. They’d never stopped. Princess, babe, love, sweetheart. You name it, Eddie’s more than likely called you that. It wasn’t until the day that after a weak attempt to fill the Eddie sized hole in your heart with someone else only resulting in heartbreak did you realize why he always called you sweet names. When he told you that you were too good for the asshole that cheated on you all of a month into the relationship.
‘Babe, you’re perfect and if he can’t see that, he’s a fucking idiot that doesn’t deserve you,’ were his exact words. But it was in the way he held you close to his chest, peppering kisses in your hair while he rubbed your back that it hit you.
Eddie liked you too.
Your best friend wanted in your pants but he was just too much of a gentleman to say it outright. You’re not blind and you’re far from stupid. And to be frank, it’s not like Eddie doesn’t have warmth pooling in your gut with the smallest of actions. Maybe, in some backwards sort of way, you hope that over exaggerating your own feelings for him will let Eddie do what you can’t seem to do. Have the courage to make the first move.
So rather than put your big girl pants on and talk about it, you teased him. The way he stuttered his words when you’d asked if he was an idiot then too was well worth it.
But once you’d started to tease him about it, you didn’t really know how to stop. It’s become this kind of rapport you share. Him subtly hitting on you while you push it too far to get him to crack. It’s just that he hasn’t cracked. Eddie is like a stone fucking wall when it comes to his resolve. You’d thought for sure the day you’d gotten him to pop a boner class that he finally would’ve said something.
Except that he didn’t.
You two were talking about some potential date with Jason Carver. One you’d never say yes to, mind you. But still. Word had spread that after the jock’s friend hurt you, that he wanted to swoop in and save the day. You’d rather make out with a viper.
---
“A shoulder to cry on is a dick to ride on, sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed under his breath.
You roll your eyes, while he’s not necessarily wrong, that's probably exactly Jason’s hopes and intentions, it only lets his jealousy show. “What’s the matter, Eds?” You drop your tone, honey sweet, “would you rather it be your shoulder?” You ask, knowing good and well he’ll get the insinuation.
“Pfft, anyone is better than Jason, babe,” he says, fiddling with his pencil. “Besides, last I’d heard,” Eddie leans over, “Carver doesn’t know shit about pleasing a woman in bed.” But the sneer on his slips does nothing to hide the meaning of his words.
“That so?” You meet him the rest of the way, placing your hand above his knee, “tell me something, Eds.” You slide your hand up his thigh, squeezing as you go, and Eddie stills, tension locking his shoulders while he holds his breath. Just as you’re about to reach the inseam, you whisper, “do you know how to please a woman better than Jason?” You make sure to add an extra layer of sugar to the jock’s name, really lay it on thick with Eddie. “You think you could please me?” You tease, reaching your destination and feeling the hardened bulge in his jeans.
Eddie jolts out of his stool so quickly, he nearly knocks it over, mumbling “bathroom,” to the teacher scolding him for his outburst.
---
All Eddie did was excuse himself to the bathroom and acted like nothing ever happened come lunchtime. Like he didn’t rub one out in the middle of school because of something you’d said. It was kind of infuriating. Sure, you weren’t exactly thinking he’d jump your bones in the middle of a crowded classroom. You don’t even know what you were expecting. Some other kind of a reaction than that.
An acceptance. Some kind of affirmation.
An agreement that he in fact could take care of you. That he wanted to. Just like you so desperately wanted him to. You’re running out of ways to tease him that aren’t just throwing yourself at him or walking into his room stark naked.
“I need your help,” Eddie’s voice startles your head out of your locker as he leans on the one beside it.
“Fuck’s sake, Munson,” you clutch your chest, heart hammering from how hard you were yanked from your thoughts. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”
He only laughs at your anxiousness, “never! I like having you around too much, princess,” Eddie grins while you shove the last textbook into your locker.
Closing your locker, you wink at him, “always knew you had the hots for me, Eds.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie playfully swats at your arm, making you giggle.
You’re confident in his feelings for you. But when it comes to the actual act of opening your mouth and telling Eddie how you feel, you clam up. And you’re honestly a little worried that with how long you’ve been teasing him about it, Eddie might not believe you if you said it in earnest. That you were playing some trick. If only he knew that you mean every word. So all you can do now is hope he breaks since you’ve dug yourself into a hole you have no idea how to get out of.
“What did you need help with?” You lean against the lockers, facing him.
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, “Mike thought it’d be a good idea to get the flu.” With a huff, he presses on, “and I’m not about to get sick for one and cancel the last meeting for Hellfire before break. So, I was hoping” he reaches over and taps your nose, “you would come by as a stand in?”
“Yeah, why not,” you say. It’s been a bit since you’ve played. He taught you how when you were kids, but never got as into it as he did. Helping him plan his campaigns however, that was pretty fun. “Are you still on the Cult of Vecna? I’d hate to be accused of cheating,” you remark.
“No, we finished that a few weeks ago,” Eddie smiles, “if the dice treats them kindly, the party will be taking down a succubus tonight.”
“Do I have enough time to shower and change first? Gym kicked my ass today,” you tell him.
Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder like you didn’t literally just tell him you think you smell. “Of course,” he says, leading you towards the exit. “Gotta grab you an official shirt first anyway,” Eddie weaves through the mass of students making their way to the bus or their cars. Reaching his van, he opens the passenger door for you. As always, waving his arm out with a bow, “M’lady, your chariot.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” you kiss his cheek, “always such a gentleman.” Even hopping in your seat, you don’t miss the way he tries to hide his blush behind his curls.
Getting in the driver’s seat, Eddie blasts the mixtape he made for you all the way to the trailer park, not saying a word until he pulls up outside your place. Opening your door, he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go grab the shirt, be back in a few, okay?”
“Sure thing, handsome,” you pat his chest, boots hitting the grass. Batting your eyelashes at him, you saunter towards your front door.
Biting away your giggle at pushing his buttons once again, you narrowly miss his grumbled speech under his breath. “...be the fucking death of me.”
Passing through the kitchen once inside, you see a note with a twenty on the counter from your dad. Telling you he had to leave early today, but to get yourself something to eat for dinner. Shoving the money in your bag, you make a beeline for the bathroom. You all but tear your clothes off in your haste to get clean, scrubbing yourself harder than necessary. But you really fucking hate gym class and were forced to participate today.
Satisfied that you only smell like your shampoo and favorite soap, you wrap your towel around yourself and head to your room to get dressed. You have half a mind to just stand there and wait for Eddie to come back. Wondering if you being in nothing but a towel would finally let his instincts take over, throw the gentlemanly attitude in the trash and just take you. But, he’d asked you for your help and knew he would be angry with himself if he missed Hellfire.
You want Eddie, that’s a fact. But you don’t want to prevent him from doing the things he loves. So you quickly get dressed. Grabbing a pair of wide fishnets and a short, black and red skirt and your boots. Choosing a dark red, lacey bra and panty set to match. It’s only when you start digging through your drawers for a shirt that you remember you’re supposed to be wearing a Hellfire shirt tonight.
A wicked grin splits your face, an idea forming that you simply can’t turn down. Not bothering to put a shirt on, you sit on your bed with your bra covered tits on display, leaning back on your palms to wait for Eddie. Your front door opens and nerves settle in your chest. What if he freaks out in a bad way?
“You ready, princess?” Eddie’s voice floats through the trailer, his footsteps making their way to your room, “sorry it took so- fuck.” Eddie’s words slow to a halt when he sees you displayed on your bed. “I- um, sorry,” he covers his eyes with his free hand, burning red cheeks beneath his palm.
“It’s okay to look, Eds,” your voice saccharine even to yourself, “promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that, of course.”
“Put this on,” Eddie unceremoniously tosses the fabric in your general direction, successfully covering your chest, “we’re gonna be late.”
“What’s the matter, Eds?” You tease further, standing up and putting on the Hellfire shirt, tying it behind your back so it doesn’t cover your skirt and exposes some of your midriff. Hearing the rustling of fabric, his hand falls from his face, expression stern. It warms your core in the most delicious way possible. You can’t help but push him harder, getting in his space, “can’t handle seeing a girl wearing a bra? Or is it me that’s doin’ it for ya?”
“Keep acting like a brat, babe,” Eddie warns, an inch from your face, pointing at you, “and I’ll put you over my fucking knee. ‘Kay?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, smirking at the red tinge of your cheeks before walking out of your room.
That shuts you up real quick and you follow him outside to his van.
---
As much as you wanted to poke and prod at Eddie on the way back to school, you didn’t. It wasn’t in fear of him putting you over his knee. That sounds amazing. It was the hard lines on his face as he kept checking his watch. The way he would groan and his fingers would fidget on the steering wheel at every red light you hit on the way there. You kept quiet, bobbing your head to the music, being good so that Eddie could get to his friends on time.
Did that stop you from uncrossing your legs when his hand found the gear shift in hopes he would reach over to place his hand on your thigh? No, no it did not. Did you get what you wanted? Also no. Annoyed with yourself for not pressing him further, you didn’t even notice you’d gotten to school until your door was yanked open. Eddie’s palm up in offering to help you out of the van.
You sat at the Hellfire table where everyone had their sheets, notes, and dice set up to play, dutifully listening to the recap of their last session. It wasn’t hard to keep up with, and you really think that if you all work together properly that you’d be able to kill the succubus. Gareth joked that he could just seduce it, win her over so that no one had to fight or die.
The way Eddie rolled his eyes at the suggestion sealed the deal.
This is how you’re going to get what you want. If you couldn’t tease Eddie to the point of snapping, you’ll poke the metaphorical bear and piss him off enough to.
“I think you should do it,” you say, placing your hand on Gareth’s shoulder leaning into him, “I’m sure you’ve got what it takes, big guy.”
You miss Dustin’s muttered, “oh, shit,” and Jeff’s wince.
Eddie’s hand falls to your thigh under the table, squeezing just enough to equally hurt and feel amazing. “Forget what I said already?” His eyes have darkened and have a glint to them that makes you crave. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but shake your head anyway. He juts his lips, giving you a curt nod and his hand vanishes. “You cannot seduce a succubus,” Eddie explains, playing off his question like it was meant for the group and not you. “She will see right through your bullshit attempt and kill you twice as fast.”
“Come on,” your voice drips honey, rolling your eyes, ignoring Eddie to face Gareth and stroke his cheek with your finger, “Gareth’s more than attractive enough to pull it off. Aren’t you?” You coo, pinching his reddened cheek.
You feel a little bad, using Gareth to get Eddie pissed off enough to do something. But at least you’re not lying. Gareth, objectively, is attractive. So what’s a little boost to his ego to get you what you want going to hurt? Nothing.
“Is that really your course of action, Gareth the Great?” Eddie grits, pointing to the set of dice in front of the other boy. Brown eyes wild and his tone not even trying to hide his annoyance.
Furrowing his brows, Gareth contemplates his options, before holding up a finger and turning his attention to the rest of the group. Wanting their opinion as to whether he can actually do this or not. A conversation you’re not allowed to be a part of when Eddie’s hand grabs your thigh again, jerking your legs open and you closer to him.
Your wide eyes meet him where he’s leaning in his throne to whisper, “you really want to be put over my knee that badly, babe?”
“Oh, Eddie,” you purr, guiding his hand farther up your thigh, “don’t threaten me with a good time. Because all it sounds like to me is weightless threats. Why don’t you do something, Eds?”
“Watch it,” his free hand comes up, ring clad finger pointing at you again, “keep it up and I won’t care that we’re mid session. Understand?” Eddie’s getting close and your nerves are buzzing in delight. That some part of him is accepting your advances. But the fact that he’s still trying to contain himself only eggs you on more. “Careful, princess.”
Is that so?
Settling in your seat, you smile sweetly, “I understand, Master,” teasing his role of Dungeon Master. You smirk at the way his hand tightens around your thigh. You know what the bandana in his pocket means and you were hoping that he did too. The way his mouth pinches into a thin line only confirms your hopes. “I promise I’ll be good,” you say, lying through your teeth.
“I’m gonna do it,” Gareth declares, happily oblivious to the conversation that just occurred, startling you two away from one another, leaving your thigh cold. “I’m gonna roll a charisma check, gonna try and woo her with my drum skills.”
“For fuck’s-” Eddie scrubs the irritation from his face, “go ahead. Don’t expect this to be easy,” he growls, “perfect twenty or you fail and I get to watch her eat you.”
No matter what happens after Gareth lets the die fly out of his hands, you’re certain of one thing; you’ve got Eddie now. Time to make him crack. The die hits the table, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop. Lifting from your seat, you peer over to the other side, giving Eddie a perfect view of your ass. Hearing him groan, you lean further, seeing a golden twenty on the sleek black die.
“See, Gareth,” you plop back down in your chair. Reaching over, you run your hands through his curls, “I knew you had what it takes to please a woman.” You really hope throwing that line out that had gotten Eddie so worked up last time would be what it takes to make him lose control now.
“Well aren’t you-” Gareth’s words are cut short from Eddie’s throne skidding across the floor from his force to stand. Silence falls after the screech.
“Get up,” he states. When you don’t move, he drags your chair out from under the table. “I warned you,” he seethes in your ear, bending to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. Your squeal is ignored by everyone at the table when Eddie’s palm smacks your ass. “Have fun fucking a succubus, Gareth. We’ll be back,” Eddie doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, heading for the exit.
You look up at the group, hoping one of them will help you or get Eddie to calm down, but they don’t. Jeff is only hiding his smile behind his hand as he shakes his head. Mike looks uncomfortable, not surprising. Dustin winces, awkwardly waving at your retreating form. Lucas mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch. Not even Gareth saves you, too strung out on the fact that he’d rolled perfectly. Because unbeknownst to you, everyone in that room knows of Eddie’s feelings for you. Your blatant teasing hasn’t gone unnoticed by any of them, they’re honestly surprised Eddie didn’t yank you out of the room the first time you touched Gareth.
Throwing the door open, Eddie doesn’t say a word as he carries you down the hall, trying door handles until he finds one that’s unlocked. Halfway down the hall, he’s successful, pushing that door open just as hard as the club’s. “You know,” he huffs, yanking the teacher’s rolling chair out, “I tried to be nice.”
He sets you on your feet for the two seconds it takes him to sit down before pulling you over his lap. “Eddie,” you try to scramble up, only to be slapped on the ass again.
“Quiet,” Eddie orders, situating you until you're positioned properly, one arm holding your lower back to keep you in place, the other hiking your skirt. “D’you think I’m stupid? Fucking with Gareth to get a rise out of me. Thought I wouldn’t notice?” He asks, spanking you again when you don’t answer.
“Not stupid, Eds,” you pant, the sting warming your exposed skin, the thin lace doing nothing to hide the discoloration from his palm. “Just very fucking stubborn,” you correct him, with a breathless laugh. “Can’t take what’s blatantly offered to you.”
“That so?” Eddie rubs your ass, gripping the plump flesh before slapping it again. He dips his hand, running his fingers over your clothed folds, chuckling at the wet patch. “Aww, so wet already? Only a slut’s pussy gets wet from just spanking her. That what you are? My little slut?”
You moan, “yes,” arching your back to try and get more contact to your aching pussy.
“And she’s desperate too,” Eddie coos, speaking about you as if you’re not even there. Yanking your panties down, he ghosts his fingers against your slit, “I bet it hurts, hmm?” Eddie slaps both sides of your ass, hard, making you cry out and grip the chair and his legs. “I bet it does,” he kneads the flesh, “being so needy over so little. Don’t worry,” his shoves two fingers inside of you, you don’t know if you screamed or moaned, “Master will take care of you, sweetheart.”
His voice oozes faux sympathy and your eyes roll back as he brushes that sweet spot inside of you instantly. “E-Eddie,” you moan, trying to meet the thrust of his fingers.
Yanking you up by your hair, Eddie removes his fingers, slapping your ass. The wet digits make it sting even more. “Call me that again, and you’ll be biting down on your soaked panties for the rest of the night. Got it?”
“Yes,” you grunt from the angle. Eddie only pulls your hair harder, making you wince, “yes, Master.” Your hair is released and you gasp, falling back to his leg.
“Good girl,” he praises, sinking his fingers back inside, building your orgasm at twice the rate. You’re a moaning mess in his lap, writhing and ready to snap. “I shouldn’t let you cum for being such a brat before,” Eddie considers. “But fuck, babe, I wanna hear the way you scream when you cum.”
He doubles his efforts and your eyes roll back, moaning wantonly. “Fuck,” you gasp, warmth spreading through your core like lava. Hot and thick. “Please, please- fuck,” you cry out, a harsh slap to your ass, hightening the sensations in your cunt.
“Might put those panties in your mouth anyway, princess,” Eddie curls his fingers again and you’re sure you’re going to black out. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the group to hear how much of a whore you are. Ready to fall apart before I’ve even got my dick in you. Come on,” Eddie groans, his hard cock pressing against your stomach, thumb dipping to circle your clit, “show them what a good, little slut you are for me, baby.”
Static washes over your limbs, a loud, broken moan falling from your lips and you gush. Squirting all over Eddie’s fingers, thighs shaking through your orgasm. Your eyes screw shut, Eddie not stopping the thrusts of his fingers, the coil winding inside of you faster than you knew it could. And before you can even say it’s sensitive, or too much, your walls flutter around him as you come again. Your head grows fuzzy from the intensity of two in such quick succession.
“That’s my fucking girl,” Eddie growls, pulling his fingers out. You can hear him sucking them clean, “fuck, you taste good.” Helping you up, he bends you over the desk, hearing his belt unbuckle, his pants sliding down after. “Ready?” Eddie asks, rubbing the tip of his dick along your cunt.
“Please,” you gasp against the cold wood, hands splayed as you turn your head, “please, Master. Need you.”
“All you’ve ever, ever had to do,” Eddie accentuates his words with harder rubs to your folds, “was ask.” Proving to you that had you properly opened your mouth from the beginning that you could’ve been doing this much sooner. “If it’s too much, I want you to say red, understand?” You nod, trying to push back onto his dick. But he pulls farther away, rubbing your hip softly, “I need words, baby.”
“I understand, Master.”
“Good girl,” he praises, lifting the back of your shirt to place a kiss on your spine. Finally, his cock pushes inside of you, the stretch eliciting a lewd moan from your mouth.
“Oh my g-god,” you gasp out a throaty moan, the fullness of your walls stretching you so perfectly. All you can think about is where you’re connected. His cock full hilt, the hand bruisingly holding your hip and the other rubbing the swell of your ass.
“Not god, baby, just me,” Eddie chuckles darkly, slowly pulling back to just the tip. Dragging himself inside your pussy in teasing strokes, going only halfway back in to pull back again. “So tight, baby, fucking perfect.” He lifts your leg up until your knee is resting on the desk and then he slams into you deep, provoking another scream. “That’s right, let it out, pretty girl. Scream for your Master.”
You grit your teeth, the constant ramming of that spongy spot inside of you leaves stars behind your eyelids. “Fuck, fuck,” you gasp, moaning as you try to push back to meet his thrusts.
Eddie wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up until you’re flush with his chest, free hand groping your breasts. “Sound so pretty,” he groans in your ear, thrusting faster and your eyes roll back. “Gonna come again?” Eddie asks, leaving your breasts to circle his fingers around your clit. “Soak my cock, baby.” Throwing your head back, you scream incomprehensible sounds, your orgasm rushing through you and splashing all over his dick pumping into you at a startling pace. “This what you wanted? Hmm? Wanted me?”
“Yes,” you croak, vocal chords going through it with the way you keep screaming from his efforts.
“Prove it,” Eddie says, swiftly pulling out to sit back down in the rolling chair. Grabbing your hips, he helps you straddle his lap. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted me, princess. It’s your turn to make Master feel good,” Eddie guides his dick back inside and you sigh, feeling him back where he belongs.
“Wanted you for so long, Eds,” you whine, out of breath and very fuzzy. You hold his shoulders for balance, bouncing on his cock.
His brown eyes soften only just, the hands holding your waist tenderly rubbing the skin. “Me too, princess,” Eddie says, grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. You melt into it, grinding against his cock, putting pressure on your clit in a way that has another orgasm bubbling under the surface. You can barely think, let alone breathe when Eddie mutters, “gettin’ close, babe,” helping you grind against him faster. “Can I come inside? Mark this perfect pussy as mine?”
Resting your forehead against his, you nod, not trusting your voice. You’re on the pill, something you can absolutely tell him later once you have the proper functions to do so. For now, “p-pill,” is all you can manage. At least, you think you said it. Your throat certainly made a noise. Whether it was an actual word is up for debate. He’s doing a wonderful job making you cock drunk and you never want to look back.
Eddie chuckles, wrapping both arms around your back to hold your shoulders, thrusting up into you with sloppy, hard movements. “That’s my girl,” he moans, pounding into you and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, that the burn of your orgasm won’t be more than a tease, your walls clench and you come again. Eddie following you soon after, “fuck, baby,” moaned from him lips, his cock burying deep inside of you as the warmth of his cum spreads inside your pussy.
Panting and struggling to catch your breath, Eddie carefully pulls out of you. One hand rubs softly on your reddened ass, the other tracing shapeless designs on your back. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, all the tenderness in his voice returned, wrapping you in the best kind of warmth. “What do you need?” Eddie asks when you don’t answer, leaning his head back to try and get you to look at him.
Barely opening your eyes, you half nod your head, mumbling, “just you. Always needed you,” you smile sleepily.
“You have me, babe,” Eddie places soft kisses on your lips, coaxing your head down from the clouds. “I think you have for a while now,” he laughs under his breath.
“Took you long enough,” you huff, opening your eyes enough to properly see him.
“Maybe, if you realize you like me,” Eddie chuckles, out of breath from both of your efforts. “Don’t tease me so much that I think you’re just joking, just say something.”
Sitting up, you give him a mock salute, “yes, sir,” with a dopey smile.
His fingers dig into your hips, “what was that?” It takes you a moment to sift through the haze in your brain to notice he’s not angry, his hard cock digging into your ass. But you bite your lip once you understand what he means. “Say it again,” he grinds you against him, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. Lifting you enough to prod at your pussy, Eddie repeats, “call me sir again, sweetheart.”
The tease gets to your head as much as it does your pussy, “please, sir,” you whine, trying to get him inside of you again.
“For you, princess?” Eddie sinks you down on his cock, the sinful sounds of both of your cum making you moan, “always. Now be a good girl and come so that I can get you home and take care of you, yeah?”
You probably won’t be making it back to Hellfire as your hips start to roll again.
But at least you’ve finally got Eddie.
---
taglist: let me know if you'd like to be added 💚
@only4wakingup @decadentpaperduck @ruinedbythehobbit @wolfhrdds @live-the-fangirl-life @imnotsiriusyouare
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things 4#stranger things#Match Writes
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𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥
Cw: sleep deprivation, hallucinations, suicide, self harm, poly!reader x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar x lovesick!Gayatri Singh, force feeding but not in a fetish way, vomit (only mentioned), drugging, selective/situational mutism, the hallucinations catholicism related (sorry I'm hispanic), kinda comfort at the end?
Notes: Tumblr wouldn't let me upload this?? I tried several times so I decided to just post it alone. Anyways, this happens after a variation of the events in Even as the void consumes them but the reader didn't succumb to stockholm syndrome
"Open. Up" Gayatri's voice was nothing but an echo, a disturbance in the sound waves. You can feel she has her hand on your jaw, trying to force it open. You had vomited everything that had entered your system the las three days, it's not even intentional at this point, it's like your body rejects whatever its presented. It makes sense, in a way. Your body is rejecting them, just like you do.
You stubbornly clench your jaw in a silent protest. Not that there's other way to oppose her, the second your lips are slightly spread, she'll force the food down your throat.
You recognize their patience. They have been trying to feed you for, an hour? You are tempted to leave it uncertain, as time is not something your tired brain can afford to care about.
Every escape plan has failed so far, the one time you could leave the building, you were returned by the police. And after your second attempt, you moved, they got a house instead of an apartment, you could see through windows, it was a completely unknown place, you assumed it was Mumbattan since Pavitr had "work" here, but aside from that, is hopeless.
Gayatri's hand lets go of your jaw, she's getting increasingly frustrated at your resistance. You see her holding back tears. You could go on a whole ramble about how she must feel seeing you starve, and sleep deprive yourself, a person she loves dearly, in theory. However, you don't allow yourself to be moved by their sob stories anymore, you're too tired, you're too damaged.
"Have it your way. This little stunt won't be successful, you won't die." She says as she gets up from the chair and exits the living room, have you been rested and functioning properly, you would've listened to her whispering something more. "I can't let you die"
As of late, you only sleep when you're passed out, only get nourished when they leave you no choice. You really wished there was a less painful way to go, but they made sure you couldn't hurt yourself, no knives, no razors, no pills (not even ibuprofen), they baby-proofed the entire house so you wouldn't hurt yourself with the corners of the furniture, Pavitr wanted to remove the door from your room so he could watch you 24/7, but Gayatri talked him out of it. You don't know if it's genuine respect for the little privacy you had left, or just because being exposed also meant that they were exposed as well, and you've seen how she storms out because she doesn't have the strength to keep her tears from falling, you hear their endless rantings at night, it always ends the same way: they wail about the lost time, about the things you said or did, or about the teeny tiny impression that they might have screwed up, it's all the same, they'll end up curled up in each other's embrace, conjuring excuses and hope-filled speeches about "things going back to how they were".
You see the plate laying beneath you. Full of maggots, you gag and feel the now familiar burn in your dry throat. You fight the urge to slam the plate away, this happened before, everytime they leave, food turns to maggots, they can't see it, but you know what they're really feeding you. It's better, you definitely have no appetite now.
You head to your room, now filled with the floral wallpaper you hate. When you saw it for the first time, you made your nails bleed from scratching the walls, you hated it, you yelled at them, berated them in every way you knew how. It was the only thing you'd ask for in this hellhole. If you can't have freedom, please let the yellow flowers stay with you. Eventually they got some, but not enough to cover the whole room, no longer 5,128 flowers. You said you wouldn't speak a word to them until they got you the rest, but you know that's not the real reason why you don't talk anymore.
"Don't talk, go make bread" an old man whispers
"Your eyes taste like how the color purple tastes like"
You hear a knock on the door, followed by more voices.
"You're ungrateful."
"Break the door"
"Don't answer the door"
"I really want to sleep"
"Pigeons are nice because they know things"
Voices always calm down when Michael shows up. The glow hurts your eyes, the divine light hurts the sinner.
"Father shall not leave thee, you face the calvary for those who are innocent"
Those who are innocent.
Pavitr is not innocent, you recall it now.
He gave you a spoonful of something, then he pecked your closed lips. You don't know you weren't moving, it feels like you were watching a movie about yourself.
Pavitr is not innocent, so you aren't doing this for him.
What are you doing?
Y/N collapsed on the floor, the loud thump alerted the other two people.
"They'll be better now, you can rest" Pavitr reassured to the woman next to him
"They keep trying to hurt themselves, they won't let us nurse them back to health" there was an audible tear in Gayatri Singh's voice, cracking, a little hoarse, tired.
"We can't blame them for being ill. Remember, love, in sickness and in health" Pavitr picked the body, it was malnourished, skin thin like a sheet of paper, multiple little injuries that never healed properly. He put them in the bed, freshly made, no one has slept there in a while.
"In sickness and in health" Gayatri repeated, with hope, as she tucked her lover into the bed, she made sure it was comfortable, even for someone who won't know the difference.
They kiss their slumbering lover's hands, then sit down, in well needed silence.
"We need to call the physician to see if they can put them in IV therapy or something" Gayatri said, her worries still exacerbating
"One day at a time, jaanu, one day at a time."
#atsv x reader#atsv pavitr#pavitr x reader#pavitr prabhakar#pavitr prabhakar x reader#pavitr x gayatri#gayatri singh#gayatri x reader#spiderverse pavitr#yandere pavitr#yandere spiderverse#yandere spiderman#yandere gayatri singh#gayatri x pavitr#gayatri singh x reader
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Do you have any Mask!Copy hcs you are willing to share :0?
I have a few!! minor warning for symbiote related violence
The first one is kinda hinted at in the fic but Ghost is glutton and even though all he really needs are brains, he enjoys eating any part of/the whole person
Simon has heterochromia it’s just very subtle (I wrote brown eyes cuz I forgot + none of the characters have noticed lol + I did change the colours which used to be brown and blue)
Simon actually had a sweet tooth before he met Ghost so the chocolate habit isn’t too new
Ghost can purr, he can do this even as Simon (which he definitely won’t do to embarrass his human, no never)
Gaz was probably the 2nd person closest to Ghost after Price before Soap came along; currently Gaz knows more about Ghost generally speaking because they’ve worked in the same unit for a while, that said they aren’t friends. Gaz still keeps a smart distance from Ghost but thinks he’s a pretty decent guy and coworker. Ghost thinks Gaz’s a good soldier but is oblivious to being work friends in some regard
It’s hard to surprise Price, he’s pretty much seen everything. It’s not that Price is old really but more when you’ve got a soldier bonded with sentient goop that lives in his head it really ups the bar for the unexpected
Before the events of “Alone,” Ghost would mess with Soap (while ignoring Simon) in small ways. a common example is when sitting close enough Ghost would lightly drag a tiny tentacle to simulate a bug or smth crawling on Soap’s arm or neck. He finds the reactions highly amusing
Last one while also kinda continuing from previous, while Ghost liked messing with Soap, he didn’t personally care too much about the Sergeant until the “that’s why I love the Ghost” line and latched onto that positivity. Before then Ghost was just fucking with Simon because he could feel Simon’s interest in Soap, and without any proper understanding of relationships, would say whatever to make his host uncomfortable (within boundaries of cause, Ghost does pretty much only care for Simon)
Ok I lied, y’all will get ONE MORE Simon Ghost hc; despite everything, they are extremely close and care deeply for one another. they aren’t romantically involved (sorry) but the are each other’s other half. Ghost has physical held Simon on bad nights and Simon has given Ghost little forehead kisses when he’s been good. this hc might be a bit of a surprise considering, just things are very hectic at the start of the fic and clash often lmao
So yeah there some hc’s I have, hoping they make sense because words are confusing sometimes
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Lost & Found - Chapter Sixteen.
First update of the week is here again! Big thanks for all your engagement, my lovely little audience :)
Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen
Words - 3,448
Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.
New relationships. For the most part, the new voyage with a brand-new person is taken upon a calm sea of getting to know one another, hanging out, having fun, and a copious amount of sex. Occasionally, though, the sea gets a little choppy.
Especially when said new relationship involves living together right off the bat.
Even more so when person A has been recovering from a hellish life, and person B has been tiptoeing around them because of this, perhaps taking a little more in the way of selfishness than he should have.
Lee already had a tension headache that morning. Hearing Emma and Guero going at one another with the kind of decibels that made her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull didn’t help. She’d be lying if she’d stated that she hadn’t been wondering when this might all blow up, from the little observances she’d noted between the two.
“You know, if things ever go south with me and Bish, I’m fuckin’ marrying you,” she spoke, a look of bliss on her face, Angel standing behind her squeezing the tension from her neck. It was always the cause of her headaches. That and she refused to wear her glasses as much as she should.
“What, just for my massage skills? ‘Cuz if you think my hands feel great on your neck...” Looking down, she saw them hovering above her boobs, Lee nudging him with a soft elbow.
“Quit it!”
He laughed returning them to her neck, both of them distracted as the clubhouse door flew open, the small hurricane of a very pissed off Emma flying out, Guero following.
“Em! Get the fuck back here!”
“No way, not after what you just said!”
“Damn,” Angel winced, “she’s getting sassy.”
“Yeah, she’s pushing back,” she observed, sipping her coffee. “Now that she actually can.”
“How’d you mean?”
Lee circled her neck a little, a few clicks sounding. “She had nineteen years of never being able to fuckin’ argue against anything. Don Lombardi said jump, she asked how high. Now she knows she’s not gonna cop a beating or a hot knife against her, she’s learning to speak up.
“I think she’s pretty fuckin’ sparky by nature, but it’s been supressed for a long fuckin’ time and poor Guero, he ain’t used to it. He’s gotten used to this sweet, meek woman who didn’t disagree with nothing, you know? To be fair, though, he’s also let her get away with it, wanting her own way now she realises she can, and him suddenly not letting her ain’t fuckin’ sitting well with Emma, being told no.”
Angel marvelled at how, as usual, Lee truly was the all-seeing eye of the MC family, her assessment making a lot of sense to him, even if he hadn’t really noticed any details beyond the fact the young couple had been yelling at one another for the last twenty minutes. “They should just go bang it out, man. Always works for me.”
Lee leaned back, viewing him upside down with a raised eyebrow. “And when was the last time you had a healthy relationship from those avoidance tactics, hmm?”
He thought for a few moments, moving his hands to the base of her skull. “Hmm.”
“Exactly,” she grinned, winking.
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess me and women don’t exactly go hand in hand like that.”
“Nope, because you only ever keep ‘em at arm's length. Or dick’s length, never really let ‘em in, do you?”
He had no comeback for that, the truth of his lack of confidence in relationships presented to him, tugging a tiny piece of her hair before he continued his pinching. “Whatever it is, I kinda hope they’re done soon. It's too early for all this loud bitching.”
“And if we agree on one fuckin’ thing, Reyes elder, it’s that!” she sighed, the shouting from across the yard not showing any signs of abating just yet. At least one good thing had come from it, she guessed. Emma now realised that anger wasn’t the ultimate precursor to anything bad happening, she didn’t recoil from a raised voice and tremble in fright. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Expressing angry emotions instead of bottling things up was healthy, but perhaps in that moment they both needed to walk away and calm down, Guero finally doing that, storming back into the clubhouse while Emma tore a path back to the workshop with heat in her heels, her jaw set.
“The absolute fucking nerve of him!” she muttered, picking up a spanner, beginning her work again.
“Hey, no rage while you’re working with brake cables,” Lee instructed, pointing across the shop at her.
“I can’t help it! Jesus fucking Christ, he’s got me so damned mad!”
“While you’re in my workshop, yeah you fuckin’ can. I’m technically your boss, so I can tell you what to do, and you can either like it or leave, Emma. If I say no rage, then you gotta calm your fuckin’ shit down before you work on brakes. We clear?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek with annoyance, placing the spanner down and sighing, counting to ten. “Yeah, yeah, we are. Sorry.”
“Good.” Lee watched her carefully, taking a few moments to cool off, sipping at her cherry Coke while she calmed down, moving back to the huge Harley and continuing with her task of fitting the new brake cables. She left it about ten minutes before speaking again. “Alrighty, now boss Lee is done, friend Lee is here. Whassup with you guys? You wanna talk about it, chat it out, spill all?”
“Lots of little things,” she began, her nostrils flaring as she took off her gloves, leaning on the handlebars of the bike before her. “It’s all compounded and he’s basically calling me selfish for always wanting my own way, but I’m not! He isn’t being fair!”
A few more details were revealed, the main bone of her contention being that he refused to travel nearly two hours away to see a used car she liked the look of, his refusal not being met by anything close to grace. Most of her other gripes were of a similar pattern, which if Emma took ten seconds to breathe over rather than losing her cool, she’d see she was being a little unreasonable about. Lee knew why she was struggling with that, though.
In truth, this was her first real relationship with someone, and even though a fully grown woman at twenty-nine, her expectations were quite childish. She expected her own way because Guero had so far let her have it, and maybe that was his fault, setting a standard that wasn’t realistic. Emma experiencing this sudden hostility was likely triggering of her past, though, never being able to have her own voice, being dictated to as well.
It wasn’t really her fault; she simply didn’t know how to handle conflict, how to compromise, since she’d never experienced give and take. Likely, she thought that compromise meant she was being ordered around again, when that simply wasn’t the case. It really didn’t help that Guero too only had two modes, calm and easy, or flying off the handle. He was just like his dad in that respect; there was no in between. Either way, Lee knew she had to handle her reply very carefully.
“Okay, I’m not saying all, but a lot of this is boiling down to you not liking hearing the word no, because it reminds you of a time when that was all you did hear. I also get it that you want to ask for things, now that you actually can. You deserve ‘em, sunshine! Ain’t nobody who does more than you after all you fuckin’ went through, but there’s a but here.”
“And that is?” she asked, Lee pulling her cigarettes out and lighting up.
“You gotta see you can’t expect everything to go your way. Guero is entitled to have his own opinions and if they don’t mesh with yours, you can’t fuckin’ blow up and demand of him. He isn’t Rocco, babe. Yeah, he can be bad tempered, but he ain’t trying to clip your wings, hold you down, bend you to his will, which is the way I think you’re taking it.”
“Let’s use the car thing as an example. Him not wanting to take you all the way up to Anaheim to see a used car you’ve found, a near two-hour journey each way isn’t him being an asshole. I mean, you haven’t even fuckin’ got your learners permit yet! There’re stacks of cars closer to home for sale, too. That’s where you have to meet him halfway and compromise. It’s his time off, he doesn’t wanna spend nearly four hours of it on a fuckin’ motorcycle again when he could be just chilling out, enjoying his time with you in any number of other ways. C'mon, surely you can see that?”
It wasn’t the reply she’d been expecting, but if Emma was brutally honest with herself, it was the one she needed to hear. Lee’s usual calm pragmatism, delivered in her no-nonsense, yet gentle fashion put a hole in her armour, one she needed to actually let in a little bit of sense. Butting heads with Guero, especially how fiery he was when pissed off, had done nothing but make her build a further wall.
Emma realised she was being overly defensive and thus his perfectly reasonable refusal to let her have her own way wasn’t being met by any fairness from her, because it wasn’t getting through. She cringed internally at herself as the realisation of it smacked her.
As if reading her thoughts, Lee continued. “I’ll add here too that you’re not solely in the wrong. Guero and his crazy little temper should know that yelling at you isn’t gonna solve shit. You’ve had too much yelling, but he struggles hanging onto his fire. He needs to dial it back, though.”
The uncomfortableness began to subside, Emma realising it was time to put on her big girl pants. “I’m being a bit of a princess, aren’t I?”
“Yup!”
Moving out from behind the bike, she looked over to the clubhouse. “Think I might need to go apologise for my part.”
Lee nodded. “Humble pie don’t taste too good, huh, sugar?”
“Pretty damned bitter, buddy.” Lee threw her head back, pushing a soft fist against her shoulder, Emma walking over to the clubhouse. Angel and Bottles were outside, both looking at her with slight scepticism.
“Is this about to be round two? Cuz’ my ears can’t take it,” the former asked, Emma shaking her head.
“Nope, off to extend my apologies. Sorry to you guys, too, having to bear witness to our drama.”
The men shared a sharp head turn in one another’s direction. “Yo, he gotta woman who says she’s sorry? Damn. Where’d I find myself one of those?” Angel announced, Bottles laughing as Emma crouched next to where they were loitering on the steps.
She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “You might have one right here if he tells me to go fuck myself.”
Angel snorted, reaching to pat her arm a few times. “He ain’t gonna do that, shut up. If he does, though...” He winked at her with a click of his tongue, Emma laughing, kissing his forehead. She really liked Angel. For all his wise assed bravado, he was actually one of the least threatening of the guys, one she gelled with more than others. Him, Gilly and Bottles were her people, she’d found in the six months she’d been in their lives for at that point.
“Just kick him in the nuts if he starts yelling again, babe,” the latter spoke, Emma shaking her head and standing.
“That isn’t conducive to calming things down.”
Bottles sniffed, turning his head back to grin at her. “No, but it’d make me laugh.” His words made a little bit of the tension she carried melt, turning back to the doors and taking a deep breath before letting herself in.
“I swear to fucking god, if you’re here to scream at me some more,” Guero began, turning from where he was sat at the bar with Bishop and EZ.
“Can we talk?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I can, but you just wanna fucking embarrass the living hell out of me with your yelling, so if it’s more of that, then no.” The two men he was sitting with slowly slinked away, not wanting to be right in the way of things if they blew up for a second time, Emma waiting until they’d retreated.
“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching to stroke his forearms. The muscles stiffened on contact. “I’ve realised I was being a princess about things and not being reasonable. I need to compromise more, I see that now. I’m sorry I yelled at you, too. I love you, let’s get past it.”
“Mm,” he hummed, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his jaw flexing. “And you need to stop looking at me and seeing that dick who took your life away. I know that’s what you’re doing, and it offends the fuck outta me.” As it would, she thought, since her boyfriend was the very antithesis of Rocco in the way he treated her. “Alright. We’re good.”
He looked and sounded the furthest thing from it. “No, we’re not. It’s written all over your face, how mad you are at me.”
He shrugged with nonchalance. “Maybe that’s for you to deal with.”
Oh, he wasn’t budging. When her man held a grudge, he truly did hang onto it with both hands and every single one of his teeth.
She rolled her eyes, turning away. “Mother fucking Mary, you’re so stubborn.”
Rather than fight against it because she didn’t like it, she decided to leave him to it. He’d calm down in his own time, she figured. Being an adult and accepting that was part of the process of being in a relationship was all she could do. She’d apologised, now it was up to him to either take it on board or need further time to simmer down a little more.
Until then, she had bikes to work on, and outlaws to keep her entertained, especially later that afternoon when she stopped for a break and a cold beer. Angel, Bottles and Downer were her source of relief while she sat studying a Harley Davidson manual, familiarising herself with the set up.
It was while she was reading about the engine configuration that Angel broke her concentration with his request. “You’re fuckin’, you’re... hey yo, Emma! Gimme a fancy word for rude.”
“Impertinent,” she offered, Downer snorting.
“Ain’t that when a dude can’t get his dick up?”
Oh, he was walking right into it. “No, buddy. That’s impotent.”
“Yeah, he’s that, too,” Bottles offered, his face alight with mischief.
Angel laughed hard, swigging his beer. “Ain’t got shit to say to that, huh dog?”
“You wouldn’t be nothin’ without your lil’ blonde dictionary over there! Bitch ass probably didn’t even finish high school!”
“Fuck you, man. I finished!”
“I didn’t, though. Didn’t even go, you know, with the whole kidnapped thing.” All three stared at her in disbelief.
“Then how come you’re so well spoken?” Bottles asked, Emma shrugging.
“I read books. Lots of them.” Just then, she felt a body slide behind hers, two familiar tattooed arms draping around her.
“You know what one of those is, right Angel? Primitive version of Netflix.” After his amusing comment – with Angel not so amused by his sarcasm - Guero then leaned in close to her, tightening his arms and kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry for being a bad-tempered ass, wasn’t all just you, baby.”
Her hands clutched onto his forearms, stroking them as she turned to offer a kiss. “I appreciate that.” Her smile warmed him where he'd been feeling frosty, knowing that for his part, he needed to actually accept when someone was sorry instead of holding onto his grudge; even if that holding had only been for a couple of hours.
As for Emma, she recognised it as an important part of her leading a normal life, not letting her past influence her present. It would be easier said than done, she supposed, not to let it happen, not to immediately think that every objection Guero made was an attempt at control. At least now thanks to Lee’s advice, she could see when she was doing it.
Later that night, they spoke about it, Emma lying at one end of the bathtub, him at the other.
“See I kinda think you’re still pissed at me, giving me the tap end of the tub,” he commented, Emma raising an eyebrow.
“Excuse me, who decided to encroach on who’s bath time?”
She had him there, Guero biting his lip as he pulled a face that made her giggle. “Yeah, alright.” Grabbing one of her feet, he began to rub them for her, a gesture appreciated since she’d been on them all day, running around the yard. “I meant what I said about you seeing me in the same light as that slimy fuck from your past, though. We can disagree without you immediately thinking I’m behaving like him. I get that it’s hard for you, but yeah. Try not to go there, alright?”
“I will. Promise I will, honey,” she vouched. “I have a lot of shit to process, I guess. You’ve been so patient with me, too. I don’t blame you for getting pissed off.”
He shrugged. “I ain’t perfect either, and I say I get it, that you have shit to process, but I guess I never really will truly understand it, what you have to deal with. I’m not pretending I will either, but yeah. I’ll try not to lose my shit and be so bad tempered with you while you do. Speaking of that, I gotta say it! You’re nearly as fucking explosive as I am. It’d be a turn on if it wasn’t directed at me.” He went to bite her toes, Emma snatching her foot away with a squeal. “I gotta new type, apparently. Sparky blondes. Sparky blondes whose feet I’m gonna bite.”
“No!” she squeaked, Guero going for the other foot.
“Yeah? Stop me.”
Half the water in the tub was lost to the pursuit of bitten toes, Emma scream laughing, wrapping her legs around him eventually to prevent his onslaught, giving him a defiant look. “Now what are you going to do, hmm?”
He looked her up and down, eyebrows fluttering suggestively. “You.” He leaned to kiss her, his body covering hers, more of the water sloshing out onto the floor. “Today started bad, let’s end it better, huh?”
It ended a lot better, that was for certain. Even though the bathroom floor resembled that of a swimming pool once they were done.
Later that night, as Guero slept at her side – and quietly for once – Emma lay back and played the day over in her head. While medication had eased her anxiety and worked to relieve her of the nightmares that had plagued her, there was much more work she needed to do on herself. While physically, she was far from Staten Island, mentally she was still there in how she was handling conflict.
Turning to her side, she could just about make out her love from the light filtering through the tiny cracks in the blinds, both too busy enjoying one another some more once they’d made it out of the bathtub to bother closing them properly. He was her safe person, the one who’d literally found her, and the one who’d made her realise he was different to all she knew. She owed it to him to believe that, believe him.
Speaking of Staten Island, while she and Guero slept, not two miles from their location a call came in from a resident of that very New York City borough.
“Ezekiel, Rocco Lombardi.”
Standing up, EZ walked from the clubhouse out into the quiet of the yard to take the call, the cooler night air wisping gently against his face, listening as he continued. “So, it’s been almost a year since our arrangement commenced, and things are running well. I’d like to propose a meet with you and your VP again, discuss something extra I intend to move along with our current consignment.”
There it was. The other shoe Bishop had warned him about – and the same one Emma had spoken of months before - had finally dropped.
#guero mayans mc#guero mayans mc fanfiction#guero fanfiction#mayans mc#mayans mc fanfiction#guero x ofc#guero smut#mayans mc fanfic#mayans mc fic#mayans mc smut#mayans mc season 5
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Idol Crush! [44]
► FORTY FOUR: The Art of Pulling Bitches (2.4k words + smau)
Without a doubt, confessing to Yang Jungwon was ranked in the top three most terrifying moments of your life. So you really didn’t know how your brain convinced itself that you needed to do it again - especially since you got rejected the first time around.
Though to be fair, when it came to Jungwon, you never really thought with your brain; you thought with your heart. Your optimistic, hopeful, passionate, sometimes self-deprecating, annoying heart - which somehow managed to delude you into believing that Jungwon liked you back.
You also blamed your heart for being swayed by Ami, Jia, Riyah, Daiyu and even Wonyoung’s words. Their encouragements, even though you made a show of brushing them off every single time, never failed to make the tiny ember of hope in your heart burn brighter.
God.
You just hoped that all of you weren’t looking way too deeply into things. Because if you had to re-live the experience of watching Jungwon’s face fall at your confession again, you were just going to completely throw in the towel and give up on love forever. An extremely pessimistic and dramatic thought for a mere 19-year-old to have, but whatever. Worst case scenario would be that he rejects you (again), but then guess what? You’d have some fuel to write a few heartbreaking ballads for your group and surely that would skyrocket you all into stardom. You’ll grow up old and alone, but not broke - and that was, ultimately, a win your books.
When you finally look up and see a familiar figure approaching you from the distance, you don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, he’s pulling you out of your delusions and forcing you to snap back to reality. But on the other hand, he’s waving at you, which means that he can see you…Which also means that now you can’t chicken out and run away - not that you were planning on it exactly, but you know…you liked to have your options open.
You exhale a somewhat shaky breath. Here we go…again.
“Y/N, Hey!” Jungwon greets you when he finally reaches the bench you were sitting on. He tugs his black facemask down to his chin so you can see his pretty, charming smile. This was so not the time to get distracted.
“Hey, Won.”
His posture straightens a bit as he hears the little nickname roll off your tongue. For some reason - and he knows the reason - it always sounds just a little bit sweeter when it comes from you.
Your gaze wanders around the almost empty surrounding area, an idea already formulating itself in your head. Looking at him, you ask, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
You didn’t even have a clear destination in mind, but you were just hoping that a little stroll would be enough to calm your nerves and erratic mind. It seemed like a hell of a better option than just sitting next to him, being all fidgety and counting down the seconds until you would finally drop the metaphorical confession bomb on him.
Jungwon wordlessly answers by falling into step with you, side by side, so close that your left hand brushes against his right one ever so slightly. You clear your throat nervously, but otherwise, try your best to pretend like you're not having ten consecutive internal breakdowns.
“So…” you begin before your voice falters at the end.
You have no clue what to say. The fact that you would be confessing to him today was completely taking over your mind, consequently leaving you speechless and not knowing how the fuck to ease into a normal conversation.
“So…” Jungwon mimics with a dimpled grin and you get the sense that he’s obviously trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. “How have you been? I mean, considering….everything.”
Ah, yes… Everything. He was more than likely referring to the shit show that went down with Sunwoo a few days ago, “Umm, I’m doing okay. Not that good, but not that bad either.” you reply back honestly, “Going from six members to five definitely feels a bit weird, but I don’t know…Sunwoo took things way too far. If she was still in the group, I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to trust her again anyway.”
“Well, I mean she did put you in a position to be harassed all over the internet,” Jungwon say scowling, “So it’s probably for the best that she’s gone now.”
You nod a bit at his words. Having his reassurance somehow made you feel like less of bitch for not being completely torn up over losing a friendship of almost two years - though you’re definitely sure that Sunwoo never considered the two of you friends in the first place.
“But hey,” Jungwon suddenly exclaims, like he just remembered something. When you turn to look at him, you find that his curious eyes are already studying your face, “You said you had something to tell me, right? What is it?”
The cold, familiar feeling of trepidation instantly washes over your body, causing you to stop walking. Jungwon falters too, looking at you with concern as he notices the way your eyes nervously roam over your surroundings. You’re looking at the gravely pathway under your feet, the calming blue hue of the sky, the gentle stream of water that makes up the Han river…
You’re looking everywhere but him and it stirs up a very odd sensation of deja vu.
You open your mouth to speak, “So…” there was no going back now, “I, uh, spoke to Wonyoung,” he freezes slightly at the mention of her name, “And, she kind of told me that the two of you aren’t dating.”
“She told you that?” Jungwon’s throat feels a bit dry. How could she tell you? Why did she tell you? And was she even allowed to do that? Because his manager had explicitly told him not to tell anybody that the arrangement between him and Wonyoung was a total sham. And since when were you and Wonyoung even friends?
“Yeah, she did…Is it true? You guys are just fake dating or whatever?” You look up at him, trying to hide your shaky hands by shoving them into your jacket pockets. This felt even more scarier than when you confessed to him the first time around.
Jungwon pauses for a second, before answering hesitantly, “Yeah. It’s…fake. We’re not really together.”
He swallows the lump in his throat. If anyone found out that he had told you this, he'd probably be screwed. But with you standing in front of him, looking at him with your wide and tentative brown eyes…There was no way he could just straight up lie to your face. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t...Besides, it’s not like he was doing a very good job at avoiding you either - maybe there really was never a point in hiding something like this from you in the first place.
You let out a short breath of relief. Okay. He didn’t flat out deny that he and Wonyoung were only dating because their companies asked them to - which was a good sign for you. If he did deny everything, it would’ve just made confessing to him that much more scary.
You clench and unclench your hands in your pockets, mustering up the courage to utter the words stuck in the back of your throat “She also somehow convinced herself that you like me.”
His sharp intake of breath does nothing to alleviate your nervousness and you find your eyes fixating on the ground beneath your feet. Maybe if you were brave enough to look up, you’d notice the splash of pink staining his cheeks.
“It’s ridiculous, I know. She’s only met me like, what? Twice? Thrice? I-” you pause your rambling. You weren’t going to get anywhere like this. You needed to pluck up every ounce of courage in your body and just dive into it head first - or else, you fear, you’d be holding him hostage for the entire day, just digging your grave a little bit deeper as you continued to spew out nonsense.
"I-Jungwon, look," you take a chance and peer up at him through your lashes, "If what Wonyoung said is true that you do like me- then I'll be happy... Like really, really happy because I like you too. Or maybe I should say, I like you again. Which was not my intention by the way - I never ever thought I'd be standing in front of you doing this again... I mean, considering what happened last time, you'd think I'd know better, but apparently not since I'm here…Confessing to you... again."
Wasn’t it just so funny how you couldn't stop talking even though every fiber of your being was screaming at you to shut the fuck up?
You groan in embarrassment and bury your head in your hands, taking a chance to peak up at Jungwon through the gaps of your fingers. It probably wasn’t your best idea, considering he looks frozen in place - his mouth slightly parted in shock and his wide, cat-like eyes trained on you.
The silence is absolutely deafening after your proclamation and you're about ten seconds away from just flinging yourself into the icy cold water before something unexpected happens.
Jungwon takes two steps forward - towards you- and encircles each one of your wrists with his own hands so that he can pull them away and see your flushed face. You think you're definitely dreaming when he all but yanks you close to his chest, your warm cheek squashed against the cool material of his puffer jacket.
He was hugging you?
"Uhm, Is this an 'I accept you feelings type of hug', or is it a 'let me just comfort you really quickly so I can reject you' kind of hug?"
You feel the soft vibrations of his chest as he lets out an airy laugh, "It's the first one. The 'I accept you feeling type of hug'... because Wonyoung was right. I do like you. A lot."
"You do?!" you gasp, pulling your head back from his chest to look up at him, "Wait, you're actually blushing? Oh my god."
"Stop looking at me like that." he grumbles, but his face and the tips of his ears are still tinted a dusty pink. He feels embarrassed, so he takes a gentle hold of the back of your head to push your face back into his chest, preventing you from looking at his face any longer.
"You're blushing for me." you say giddily, voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his puffer jacket, "You like me."
Yang Jungwon really did like you like that. He liked you and he was hugging you and you weren’t dreaming any of it. It was all real.
"Why are you making fun of me for it," he murmurs against the top of your head, "That's not very nice of you, Y/N."
"Not very nice of me! Hello, you literally rejected me once!" you cry out, no real bite behind your bark. How could you ever bring yourself to even be mad at this moment? Yang Jungwon liked you back. It was damn near surreal.
Jungwon pulls back from the hug you two were still locked in and looks at you with an entrancing smile, "If it makes you feel any better, back then, a few months after you confessed, I started crushing on you too."
"You what?!"
There was no fucking way. The idea of Jungwon liking you three years ago.? You couldn't even begin to fathom it, "Are you being serious right now? Why didn't you say tell me anything?"
"A part of me did want to tell you... but then I got that offer from SM and you were so excited for me and I was going to leave anyway..." Jungwon explains, "I just thought it was for the best to not tell you at all."
“But still,” you sulk, still reeling from this new piece of information, “You could have at least told me.”
“Confessing to someone is scary though,” his lips quirk up in a teasing smile, “Imagine getting rejected.”
Your smile drops into a scowl, “I’ll throw you into the fucking river.”
A puff of laughter escapes him as he looks at your sulking figure, “I’m sorry, Y/N. Too soon?”
You respond by ignoring him and walking away - though you’re not actually mad and he knows it. You hear his foot steps hitting the ground as he jogs up to you from behind and a little out of breath, he says, “If you’re gonna ignore me, how am I supposed to ask you out on a date?”
Your nearly trip over your own feet at his words. A date. He wanted to go on a date with you?
"Are you asking me out right now?" keeping your voice steady proves to be extremely difficult when you’re trying to fight back both the blush and the excited smile forcing its way onto your face.
"Well, yeah,” He replies stammering, the little bit of faux confidence he has dwindling for every second that you stay quiet, “I mean, if you want to go on one.”
You bite back a smile, "Of course I want to go on a date with you."
"Thank you."
You frown.
"Thank you?" Why was he thanking you.
"For saying yes to the date?" he says, but the words leave his mouth phrased like a question.
"My god, you are not smooth at all." you giggle gleefully as hook your arm into his and pull him along to resume your walk, "Who the hell thanks someone for accepting a date?"
“It’s literally my first time asking somebody out!" the fact that he actually sounds like he’s in distress only adds to your amusement, “How am I supposed to know how these things work?”
"You have absolutely no game.” you grin, “You pull zero bitches."
"Didn't I literally just pull you?"
You jaw drops at his audacity, "No, you didn't! I did all the works so I pulled you...And did you just indirectly call me a bitch?"
He freezes and looks at you visibly alarmed, "I didn't mean it like that and you know it."
"Oh, you did mean it like that," you grin, "But it’s okay, because you can always make it up to me by taking me on a second date."
You watch as a grin makes its way onto his flushed face, "You want to go on a second date with me?"
"Yeah." you affirm, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
Then there's a quiet beat of silence before you decide to break it, "See how smoothly I asked that? Now that's how you pull bitches."
"Shut up."
prev ⇥ FORTY FOUR⇥ next
Idol Crush!💞 masterlist
SYNOPSIS: Y/N knew that once she and her group, IKONIC, finally debuted, there'd be a chance that she'd run into YANG JUNGWON: The leader of the global rookie group ENHYPEN. But JUNGWON isn't just the leader of a famous 4th gen boy group... he's also the boy that she confessed to three years ago and got rejected by. The last thing Y/N needs to do is fall back in like with him, because even something as simple as an idol crush! could bring about some unwanted drama and Dispatch worthy headlines.
[TAGLIST #1]: @acciomylove @mitsukifilms @ncityy04 @ja4hyvn @navsnct @hwalllllllelujah @shit-idek-meself-at-this-point @lullabyinparis @masterofdoom @enhacolor @mochisnlix @hiqhkey @vlykai @pshwyfie @hyuka-luvbot @yvesismywife @one16core @en-boyz @moon-lys @liliansun @jungwoniie @spicynlong @ramenais @bigtoewinwin @catbitchh111 @c9tnoos @missmadwoman @haoreo @doodlewon @enhaswab @alyselenai @moasworld @yyunari @chirokookie @yjwfav @kyutekyuala @giyyuzz @andromedawillburryyou @tlnyjoong @sarahxy537 @darlinluvsu @fairycheol @love-4-keum @ohmy-fandoms @yyunari @centheodd @mavlogist @jungwonnieee @emoworu
[CAN'T TAG #1]: @shit-idek-meself-at-this-point @vlykai @pshwyfie @jungwoniie @spicynlong @itboyjungwon @enhaswab @kyutekyuala @darlinluvsu
#idol crush!💞#enhypen x reader#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen social media au#yang jungwon x reader#enhypen smau#enhypen social au#enhypen socmed au#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x female reader#yang jungwon fanfic#yang jungwon scenarios#yang jungwon fluff#yang jungwon#yang jungwon smau#yang jungwon x y/n#yang jungwon x you#jungwon fluff#jungwon#jungwon smau#enhypen jungwon#jungwon socmed au
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hello freeuselandonorris! i’ve asked you for writing advice/ideas a couple of times (POV decisions and something in Nov, can’t remember exactly what it was), and i find your advice so helpful (/srs) so i hope it’s not annoying i’m asking again lol.
i find i can only write when i have extreme motivation, like an idea literally possesses my brain and the words almost write themselves - gonna out myself here, the last thing i wrote was the water inflation fic i appropriated from you; it just took over my mind and i wrote/edited it in like two days (though the speed is for sure because the entire plot was essentially your idea lol).
basically, i have lots of ideas but it’s hard for me to actually think of scenes in specific, and then i just end up not writing at all. do you have a method for coming up with a progression of a specific scene?
i am doing a horrible job of explaining my q lol so for example, my current wip involves interview panels/youtube collabs etc, but i’m finding it hard to write those because it’s so different from anything i’ve tried writing before. what do you do in those kinds of cases?
sorry for the ramble and if this makes no sense, love u 😭
hiiii lovely anon (or semi-anon lmao) you are not annoying in the SLIGHTEST, i love talking about stuff like this and it makes me really fucking happy to know that my self-indulgent rambling about writing is occasionally helpful to read ❤️
SO. i have two pieces of advice on this one, speaking from my own experience because for a very long time i was also like this and would write in fits and starts and felt very like i had to ~wait for the muses to bless me~. it’s actually something i was taught at a writing course i took years ago now and it sounds so blah and obvious when you first read it but if you stick with it, it works. BRIEF DAILY SESSIONS.
aka, you write a tiny little bit every day. if you can’t commit to every day, say five days a week (but every day is better). i do NOT mean write 1000 words a day or spend three hours doing it or freak yourself out or beat yourself up or abandon your social life or your responsibilities! the idea is you just pick a time that feels feasible (i started off with 15 minutes a day and i think this works well) and you commit to doing that every day. it doesn’t have to be anything good. it can be 15 minutes of you describing lando’s eyelashes in minute detail. it can be 15 minutes of notes for a plotline. it can be 15 minutes of dialogue you KNOW is shit and wooden and will be getting deleted the minute you get to the edit stage. doesn’t matter. just do your 15 minutes.
what this does is it breaks the hold your brain has on this idea of “oh no i have to be INSPIRED before i can possibly think of writing”. at my course they compared it to musicians practising scales, or athletes doing training. we could think of it like drivers doing their sim runs. they don’t just turn up on a race weekend and expect to be great, they have to keep their eye in.
side note: it’ll feel horrible at first, you’ll hate it and resent it and everything you write will feel awful. stick with it. if you miss a day, it doesn’t matter, you haven’t failed, just start again tomorrow. if you miss a week, you haven’t failed, start again tomorrow.
this is more of a long-term thing, so for your specific piece and the issue you mention about progressing a scene, the way i get around this is to start by writing the bit(s) i CAN imagine. so for instance here, you’d write one interview scene, or one youtube collab scene. even if it’s just a little bit of dialogue, or a couple of paragraphs of like, oh i can see oscar rolling his eyes and lando sees it and gets annoyed but he can’t say anything because there are cameras on them… or whatever. just write that bit. then leave a blank space in the gdoc and write the next bit. don’t worry about the order or anything.
once you’ve written all the little bits you can think of, read them through and you might be able to see links between them, like — oh that bit could follow on from this bit up here, or these two bits could kind of go together. reorganise stuff a bit, chop it up, get rid of anything that doesn’t work (copy it into another document called ‘cutting room floor’ if you don’t want to fully get rid).
THEN write yourself some notes. go through your bits and bobs and in between them, just write stuff like [SOMEHOW THEY GET FROM THE FILMING TO THE HOTEL ROOM???]. don’t just write [SOMETHING HAPPENS HERE], you need to give yourself little breadcrumbs to follow. so like there you go, okay, so they need to be in a car or a lift or some sort of transitional space (you see these crop up a lot in my fics — lifts, hallways in hotels, the backs of taxis). or if they’ve started off talking about one thing and you want them talking about this other thing by the end of the scene, write [THEY CONTINUE TALKING ABOUT LUNCH UNTIL IT GETS AWKWARD AND THEN THEY SOMEHOW END UP TALKING ABOUT OSCAR’S CHILDHOOD]. okay, so it got awkward. how did it get awkward? write that bit. what happens after it’s awkward? does lando double down or try to gloss over it? write that bit. how does oscar react to that? write that bit. etc.
in essence, don’t try to see the entire thing at once because you’ll paralyse yourself. give yourself a direction to aim in, and a place to start, and then just focus on the next bit until you get from A to B.
and if all else fails, find a nice pithy line to end the scene on, use an asterisk scene break and start again somewhere else 🤷
SORRY THIS IS SO LONG i really hope i didn’t bore the hell out of everyone afkjeskfjkldsj but yes THANK YOU AGAIN and i hope this is useful in some way!! you can do it i know ittttt
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3 & 6 for Nora
Okay my storage seems to be gradually getting full so pardon me if I not attach screenshots for a bit lmao!!
3. How would your oc describe their partner(s) in under three sentences?
Nora: "Trystan ah, he listens very well. Does things with a lot of love for it, I don't think he's ever done something like uh -- how you would swallow a spoonful of medicine. Think I love him but uh, too soon to tell."
+ bonus Trystan because of course he's going to be lingering around and I can't leave him:
Trystan: "Nora is really driven sometimes and it can be very inspiring. She has this little thing where she uh, *gestures to it* she clicks her pen to the rhythm she's listening to or has listened to and it's -- it is this tiny little thing that is so -- I must also tell you about her unadulterated joy for just a lot of different things, it is very nice to see her- very easy to listen to her or talk to her and -- no, my three sentences aren't up, this is just one long very -- what's the word, ah, run-on sentence. She is just so happy to be around, is that how they put it? Such a great friend and - just hope I get to be worthy of this, you see? And another thing, she's so full of empathy. I think it is like getting a breath of fresh air - a breeze of fresh air because it is a whole new kind of empathy. Does that make sense? I just hope I am worthy of all of this, you know? That it feels so genuinely real, yes?"
6. Is your oc more a text person or a phone call person and why?
Nora is more of a text person and 'call only when emergencies' person. She doesn't really get the hype being phoning up people, it seems unnecessary and it's easier to put a message out there and let people get back whenever they want to. Not forcing them to commit to a call, very casual stuff.
Trystan is 'whatever fits the situation'. If he's learned something he's more inclined to call, like a cool Snapple fact or a newspaper article or just simply think of a snarky comment that's so wise it cannot be contained in the chambers of his brain.
Except he's also inclined to never call during actual emergencies. Nora would have to either be in the right place to learn his oven started smoking from unserious group chat discussions or never ever learn and have it brought up in a conversation three days from now and Trystan goes, "Cut my hand using a kitchen knife. I had to get those -- injections. I am fine, Nora. Nothing happened- nothing happened! I drove myself to the ER - cleaned up the blood also -- no, I had no trouble. It happened three days ago."
___
Thank you so much for the ask Tif <33
character generator asks
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Just some silly chaotic energy: how about an s/o for the support class that... is stupid. Walks into walls, gets random scratches and they dunno wth they're from :,), just does whatever they want. Probably has rabies at this point.
Eh, idk, it's like 4 am here and I'm running on 1 singular brain cell. Self-projecting much.
this is so me fr. i love waking up everyday with 6 new bruises of unknown origin. also i loved this request so much that i decided to do it for ALL the classes, hope u don't mind! :D
mercs x reader who's a clumsy dumbass
SCOUT
- laughts at you. this bastard straight up bursts into laughter whenever you trip or bump your head into something. he DOES ask you if you're okay and helps you up, but not after laughing at your clumsiness first. he's actually pretty clumsy too, so i guess you two are a match made in heaven (/j) one time you two were walking somewhere and you tripped and fell, scout saw it and immediately started laughing.... but as he kept walking he didn't notice the lamp post right in front of him, so he face planted into it... serves him right
PYRO
- noooo s/o don't touch that thing you're gonna get electrocuted!!! pyro worries so much about you :(( they really care about you and your health, so they made it their personal goal to make sure you're safe as possible! which means you are not leaving their sight. EVER. prepare for them to cling onto you 24/7 to make sure you don't do something stupid.... however if you manage to get hurt EVEN despite pyro's observant gaze, they will totally patch you up!! boom, now you're covered from head to toe in cute and colorful bandaids
SOLDIER
- he has no sense of self preservation. soldier often does dumb shit that gets him injured and he doesn't even realize it, so chances are he doesn't notice whenever YOU are about to do dumb shit... you guys are a disaster (affectionate). you both get injured often, but soldier can be very dramatic when it comes to your injuries. it doesn't matter whether it's just a small scractch, he WILL carry you in his arms to the medbay while screaming stuff like "HANG IN THERE S/O, DON'T DIE ON ME!" needless to say, he takes your health very seriously
HEAVY
- oh my God you're gonna be the death of him!! he worries SO MUCH!! you can tell he's really worried of how often you injure yourself completely on accident! because of this heavy often gives you little warnings whenever you're about to do something clumsy, such as reminding you to not bump your head in the doorframe or telling you to tie your shoelaces.... he tries his best but you still get injured, so when that happens he holds your hand and brings you to medic. if it's a smaller injury he just sits you down and makes you a sandvich to cheer you up
DEMOMAN
- okay so this is interesting. at first demo laughed at your clumsiness. not really in a malicious way, he just thought you seem pretty silly tripping over nothing and bumping into glass. he always helped you up afterwards, and overall took your clumsiness lightheartedly... but after a while he was like HOLD UP you get injured WAY too often!!! he soon started worrying about you more and more to the point he just started fussing over you like he's your mom or something, scolding you for not being careful and shit. also, my man gets EMOTIONAL!! so you better learn how to be not-clumsy or else you will have to deal with a worried drunk demoman who bursts into tears whenever you get a tiny scratch for the rest of your life
ENGINEER
- he actually finds your clumsiness to be pretty endearing!! he's like "y'all look at my wonderful s/o aren't they lovely :)" and it's just you falling off of a chair. engie knows that it's not your fault and that he can't stop you from being a clumsy dumbass either so instead he embraces this part of you and finds it lowkey cute!! cause he finds EVERYTHING about you cute!! he always patches you up after you injure yourself and actually thinks it's a great bonding experience lol. also if you ever feel insecure about your clumsiness then engie will totally reassure you and remind you of how cool and awesome you are!!
MEDIC
- quite indifferent to it actually. he thinks your clumsiness is kinda cute and entertaining, and he doesn't mind patching you up! you just happen to be a regular guest on his operating table, which he doesn't mind! gives him quite the excuse to spend time with you :D also, medic kind of turns it into a game-- somehow it's fun to try to figure out HOW exactly you got all those random bruises and scratches. spoiler alert you guys never figure it out and the cause of your bruises will forever be a mystery
SPY
- seeing you get hurt over and over again because of the dumb shit you do makes him SO frustrated. believe me... this man tries his best to look after you and make sure you're okay but you still manage to get scratched and injured! ohh but don't worry, his anger is NEVER directed at you, but rather at everything else around you. he's the type of guy who sees you trip over nothing and he's like "haha love you're so clumsy! :)" but when you're not looking he will pull out his knife and try to stab the air
SNIPER
- oh he is TIRED. sniper also makes it his personal goal to keep you safe, so he often watches you and looks out for any potential threats. it doesn't work, you still get hurt. everytime he sees you trip and fall or bump into something (even if he warned you) he just lets out the loudest sigh ever, walks up to you and offers you a bandaid from the med kit he always carries with him (because of YOU). one time he was just done with your bullshit and threw you on his shoulder, he carried you like that for a WHOLE DAY but you STILL managed to get scratches and stuff. after this happened sniper really started to question what evil spirit of clumsiness possessed you for you to be like this
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Light Shower. (Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader)
part 6
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"I was cold, my past grew mold around my heart."
-
in New jersey, no one cared for valentines Day except for the 4th graders. exactly one week before Valentines, a Monday to be exact, I walked in from recess to see a wilted dandelion on my desk. I gingerly picked it up and looked around the class. I looked at sal, who just shrugged. what an amazing actor he was. I sat down, placing the bright yellow flower at the very top of my desk, and reached to get my math book. a piece of notebook paper fell out of my cubby hole. It was neatly folded and had a cute little cat with a messy heart drawn on it. I smiled and opened the note. the handwriting was messy but legible:
rozes are red, violets are blue. the sun shines bright, and so do u! :)
-secret admirer
the way the note was signed caught me off guard. I felt my stomach bubble with excitement. I couldn't wait to tell sal how I had a secret admirer, me! little did I know.
the short poems and silly little flowers kept coming all week without fail. with every gift, I became more anxious and excited to know who was responsible for this. cliche, I know.
I hid every note in my sock drawer, eventually collecting a small pile of 5 notes.
the next Monday, valentines Day, I walked into class to see the usual wilted flower in the middle of my desk. except, there was a tiny Hershey chocolate bar next to it. I dare say, that was my favorite valentines Day.
-
my heart yearned for sal, just like it had for so many years. except, it ached and screamed, making me want to sob. I wanted to run to sal and for him to kiss and hold me, just like he had. but I couldn't. everything changed. I was glued in my bed, once again. this never-ending cycle was exhausting, and I only knew one thing that'd help. I took the plastic baggie out of my shoe. everything was already crushed. I cried as I finished off the bag, feeling even worse for relapsing. I knew I'd forget eventually. I begged whatever God was out there to make it stop. yet, flashbacks and guilt kept hitting me, like they were in the same bed as I. I could feel Shawn's hands on my body. everything burned until it didn't. I stared up at the ceiling, my brain becoming TV static, and my body went numb. it was a choice between feeling everything or nothing, and I'd choose nothing over and over again.
when my parents had gone to work, I dragged myself out of the pool of sweat and tears that was my bed and grabbed a soda from the fridge. the cold fizz brought me a short-lived sense of relief, that maybe everything isn't so bad. but that was quickly interrupted by an eager knocking at the door. I rubbed my eyes, hoping I didn't look like I had just relapsed, fully knowing who was behind the door. I couldn't fave sal like this. i couldn't let him see me, not sober.
I held my breath, staring into his electric blue eyes, silently begging him to say something. "Y/n, I'm so sorry."
a feeling of actual relief washed over me. "sal, you have no reason to apologize for something like that." I mumbled.
"Y/n." his tone changed. "Can I come in?"
I nodded and stupidly enough led him to the room where all of the evidence was. my heart dropped when I saw the baggie and book still on my bed.
"Look, before you get mad..." Before I could finish my sentence, he pulled my in for a hug. I began to cry, and I felt a few of his tears seep through his mask, too. "I'm so sorry, I didn't have a choice."
"I know." I could hear the pain and sympathy in his voice. "I should've came sooner."
"Sal, it's not your fault." we laid in my bed. I nuzzled my head into his chest as he gently ran his fingers through my hair. he took off his mask and put it somewhere in my room.
"I really fucking like you." he whispered, breaking the silence. I looked up at him. I quickly pulled him in and connected our lips once more. I felt him smile, excitement and logning coursing through my views.
I pulled back. "I really fucking like you too." I mimicked. I watched his eyes light up.
"I was wondering if you'd wanna be my girlfriend. I'm sorry, I know you've been through some deep shit and-"
"sal," I cut him off, placing my hand on the side of his face. "I'd fucking love to. I want you more than anything. I trust you to be different, hell, I KNOW you're different." I sighed, the weight of the world finally off my chest.
-
sals POV:
Y/ns mom kicked me out, saying it was late and to go home. I laughed quietly as I walked out, like I hadn't stayed over for days at a time before. I went home and checked on dad, who was asleep in his work chair. i let out an exhausted sigh and made my way down to Larry and Lisa's apartment. I felt like I could smell his stench all the way from the 4th floor. I wandered down the hall to the apartment and walked in quietly, knowing Lisa was asleep. I walked into Larry's room and jumped onto his bed. "Hey, Lar Bear."
he groaned. "I was just about to sleep! and don't call me that, dude." he playfully punched my arm.
"me and Y/n are dating."
Larry looked at me, shocked. "finally! God damn."
"shhh! you're being loud."
he laughed. "my bad. its funny cuz I got a girlfriend today. some blonde bimbo, she's hot as fuuuck."
I rolled my eyes. "you really shouldn't talk about women like that."
he shrugged. "whatever."
#ash campbell#larry johnson#sal fisher#sally face#fanfic#fanfiction#friends to lovers#light shower#melanie martinez#sal fisher x y/n
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This idea at first was just a silly conversation between me and a very close friend and well... you'll see.
Pretty much gn reader and heavily implied guy lover (can be whoever you want really) lmk if I missed a tw and enjoy me coming back into writing <3
He was very hyper aware of everything, the sights and smells were a bit much but all that nonsense was thrown to the back of his head as he stood there and waited with closed eyes.
All he was seeing was the back of his eyelids pitch black not a thing in sight although he could feel the sharpness of his claw in the palm of his hand. Squeezing a bit because of the eagerness bubbling deep inside his core. Almost burning to be satisfied, itching with a certain hunger.
His ears twitch at the tiny sounds in the distance and then he smells what he's been feigning for, you. And that's when the feeling in the pit of his stomach takes over and then he's gone from the spot almost as fast as light. He continues the chase eyes blown more wide then ever and all his senses lock onto you.
It's only a moment before you can react and your pushed face first into the ground, he doesn't mean to be so rough but when his pretty little pet broke free he couldn't help but think. Think about you and your voice the smell of you even your look. Everything was you and he wouldn't stop till he had you back.
He keeps you confined in between him and the floor, staring down at you in you're weeping form. He thinks this is how you look best then he really notices your state of being. The huffs of your hot breath and your flushed face. The way your shaking cowering into the floor for even a slight relief of being apart from him.
And then he starts to drool, it hits the back of your neck and for a moment the cool relief feels amazing in contrast with the body heat radiating off of you from the chase. But not a second later your heart reminds you of the danger you're currently in.
You try and claw your way out from under him and it's just not working. You wiggle and move your legs the struggle that your experiencing is beyond frustrating and terrifying. You woke up today hoping you could escape from you're captor, the one atop of you. Looking down and you try to get free and then you feel your chest tighten and realize he has laid more of his body on top of yours.
As he looked down he grew more obsessed with you, your sounds, your look and the way you smelled. So full of fear and yet the sweetest thing he could even have in front of him. He couldn't help but press more of himself into you, it was almost a second nature and it felt so so so sweet. Especially when he could feel you tremble even more when he could feel you shake with the fear of death.
Your fear of impending doom looming in some part of your brain was screaming to get out from under him. And so you did the unthinkable, you threw your head back and when his grip loosened you ran even more for the hundredth time today. Eventually running into a dead end that you knew he'd get you in.
He wasn't far behind you this time this was his domain after all. His lions den not yours. When he stepped up to you he could see your body clearly in the light. It looked like he towered over you in every way possible. Neither made a move till he walked closer to your balled up frame, carefully as to not make you run off again.
He finally sees how pathetic you really look. All red and out of breath he can hear the whimpers of you trying to calm yourself down and breath air into your lungs. He smiles with sick intent and takes in the very adamant fear your oozing. His boots crunch whatever he steps on the heavy steps booming in your ears even if he was just a couple feet away.
You look up again and plea for your life, pleading with everything in you. Hoping he would spare your being just a simple gesture of pity for you. Pleading like if he were a higher being, a god. Plea after plea and then he grew sick of them yelling at you to shut your pathetic pet mouth or he would kill you on the spot.
What you weren't expecting was his walking to you and asking for your hand to help you up. Hesitant at first cause of the situation you were in. He promoted you to start walking and you did as ordered not questioning anything and as you walked he stopped in his tracks after thirty or so minutes. He looked at you with an unwanted look at then you saw it.
He didn't exactly want to kill you but what other way could he love you. He was brutal ripping every piece of you from limb to limb. He seriously didn't mean to look and act so mean to you but he was just to into hearing your cries and screams of pain. He swore he could have came then and there but he would save it for later when he got back home.
He replayed your face and noises in his brain pent up with all these emotions as he played with himself still covered in your blood and he loved the metallic taste he had on his tongue. He had never been so blissed out and in ecstacy before remembering the last bit of life in your eyes.
The twinkle that left as he chewed his way through your abdomen. He only grew louder with every memory and whimpered your name as he finish in his hand. Smearing your blood with his semen and a finally satisfied smile on his face as he got ready to shower.
#🌑 — [ writings ]#slight nsfw!#tw death#tw slight gore#tw blood mention#human predator x human prey#anyone x reader fic#gn reader
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Identity
The morning had started so beautifully.
Saelya had awoken just as the audio mystery drama she enjoyed listening to was starting and instead of getting up and getting dressed and making herself something to eat, she lounged in the bed and listened to the actors coming through her tiny radio. She grinned and laughed and gasped at all the appropriate moments and when the studio applause rang through her apartment, an hour had passed and she was no closer to getting up and getting her day started than when she awoke.
But she felt amazing.
Last night had been difficult, as it tended to be whenever she was with Mister Stilwell and Caolain, but they had done something...good in the end. At least, that was what Mister Stilwell would like her to believe. There was a part of Sae's brain that was sure that things could've been settled via some form of communication or a deal, perhaps even a little bribery, but when you're outgunned two-to-one, you just fall in line, smile, and clean up the blood.
There would be consequences for their actions last night, but the morning was too beautiful to think about them right now.
As Saelya gets dressed for the day, she does well not thinking about what is to come other than going down to The Big Shot that evening and seeing Marty and Ricky and explaining to them how much she was not involved in their business anymore. She couldn't be involved in their business anymore. And while it would make sense to talk to the Don personally, she did hope that the brothers might pass along her message and, come Sunday's family dinner, everyone would be laughing at her paltry attempts at navigating “mob business”.
...She wouldn't call it mob business.
And things would go back to normal!
The kitchen is cozy. It's clean, everything neatly placed away, cups in the cupboard, plates next to them, the sink spotless and shining in the morning sunlight. A piece of paper sits innocently atop the island counter, the slightly yellowed parchment a stark difference from the white mica.
Saelya frowns and pauses in the doorway. Two nights ago, she sat at this very counter and looked over the exceedingly intimidating package for employment at the Hannover Building, but that was now shoved away in the top dresser of her room. It was unlike her to leave anything out in her apartment when she finally turned in for bed. Goosebumps flit up and down her exposed arms and she chances a glance around, as if the culprit of whoever came into her home last night was still around.
They weren't, obviously.
Her heels click against the linoleum flooring as she slowly makes her way toward the counter. She hesitates behind the bar stools and her upper body leans forward, eyes drawn down to the tiny, neat print in familiar handwriting.
“Water? Electricity? What—”
Her voice sounds small in the quiet of her kitchen and her heart picks up a quick staccato against her rib cage. She can feel her mouth begin to dry out the more she reads and the quicker she understands what this little innocent piece of paper was for.
The bill is not signed. There is no date by which to pay this amount and no individual listed that she can talk to about paying, well, anything. And though she has something close to this amount stashed away in a small box beneath her bed, the idea of using it to pay for this feels...abhorrent. She had never had to use her money from The Big Shot to pay anything. The boys had always bought her whatever she desired and she had never had to worry about paying rent for her apartment.
Honestly, she hadn't ever thought about it before this moment.
She slides onto the leather bar stool at the counter and her fingers gently pick up the piece of paper. Her eyes continue to roam up and down the little column, tracing every expense to the correct gold and silver amount. Tears prick the corners of her eyes and a small whimper makes her throat tighten.
But she was out! The Don had to know that she was out! She wasn't going to stick her nose where it didn't belong anymore. She told them, both Lucius and Caolain. She couldn't put herself at risk anymore—couldn't put her lifestyle in danger.
But, who was she if not this woman who lived in Little Olympia, with her nice apartment and clothes and food and friends who would come out to see her sing? The Consiglio's weren't her family, not by blood, but they had meant something to her and she had come to rely on them, perhaps more than smart. But without them, without this—what was she to do?
...Perhaps there would be no laughing at Sunday dinner.
“It's a mistake,” she whispers to herself. “Pops just doesn't know. That's—that's it. I'll go and tell him, tell the boys—we'll smooth all this out and it'll be one big ol' mistake.”
She dabs at the corners of her eyes, careful with her makeup, before standing up and turning around. She hadn't planned to go to the speakeasy so early, but it was mandatory now.
She had to get this entire thing cleared up, and quickly.
#creative writing#female writers#vtuber#Summer in Fauxbelle#Dungeons and Dragons#nano 2023#writers on tumblr#Saelya Eltheris#twitch streamer#Stream Writing
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@svnsworn | x.
A couple months outside of Raccoon City, and both of them rarely find any peace anymore. He blames himself for that, mostly, convinced that she’d have a more normal life if he wasn’t trying to track down more information about what had happened and if it was an isolated incident. Given what he saw in those labs underground, it seems unlikely that it’s a one-and-done kind of situation, but doors are getting shut in his face everywhere he turns. Jill seems to be having a bit more luck, but communication between the two of them is spotty at best.
He and Tate have decided to lay low for a bit. Just a little bit. Give her some sense of normalcy until he finds a crack in those walls he keeps running into and can dig his fingers into them, pry them apart, get more information on Umbrella and those experiments. For now, it’s one of those extended stay motels, a lowkey shitty one in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, but it’s something for now. He can’t decide if they’d be safer in a big city or somewhere like this. He thinks about it a lot, especially with a civilian at risk, and he’s even woken up early today because he thought he heard something at the window, maybe nothing, but also maybe someone who knows that he’s seen more than he should have and-
And Tate moves, lifting the blanket and letting a rush of cold air in. No matter how they blast the heat, the damn place rarely seems to get warm, and while he usually can make do, right now he’s just in his boxers and the air is cold.
“Stop moving,” he says, sleep still clinging to his voice as he pulls the blankets down again, tucking them around her shoulders and slipping his arm around her to hold her close. She’s small, but warm, like a furnace, and he tucks her against him for the heat. She fits nicely against him, a thought that eases the worry in his mind, and he closes his eyes again. He might fall asleep again, but he might not. Right now, he’s just warm and content and doesn’t want to get out from under the covers just yet.
The things that they had seen in the ruins of Raccoon City was not the sort of things that you simply forgot about. As much as she hoped she would, all the monsters and people turned into walking corpses never escaped her mind for too long. She had the advantage of only being exposed to a portion of the real monsters. The shit that was underneath the city. In the labs. Everything that Umbrella had been working on right quite literally right underneath everyone’s noses.
She could have easily left Carlos to his own devices in his search for the truth and sought out some genuine normalcy. But, to be fair, there was only a certain degree of normalcy that you could achieve after seeing the sort of things that they had. No one would believe her if she tried to explain it. And there was always a certain level of anxiety at the idea of being out on her own after what had happened in Raccoon City, too. Umbrella was the largest ‘pharmaceutical’ company in the country. Probably in the world, even. Who knew what lengths they would go in an attempt to keep all their transgressions and mistakes quiet. There was only so many people who survived the events of Raccoon City and Tate doubted that the lack of survivors was unintentional.
But those things were easy to forget in the soft thrumming of the early morning in whatever small town they had ended up in. The sudden burst of cold air causing a small shiver to run through her, startling her brain awake just a tiny bit more.
“You stop moving.” A lame response, of course, but it was the only thing that her sleep-addled brain could come up with. She allowed Carlos to tuck the blankets around her before her eyes fell closed again. Tate allowed herself to relax against the feeling of their bodies tucked against each other, curled up in some motel room, trying their best to remain warm despite the shitty heating. She did not doze of completely. Instead, she simply floated between half-asleep and waking with the feeling of Carlos’ breathing coaxing her into relaxing again.
#svnsworn#( * t. russo / it will end in tears. )#( procrastinate until you die ; queue. )#i've been trying to continue this since u posted it & i finally managed to write something#the idea of them sticking together after raccoon city & being so close *pleading face*
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