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mrzombielover · 3 months

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- slow ride ch2

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter (wip)

warnings: NSFW, more substance use in this one, a bit of angst?, readers emotional issues

a/n: i feel like my writing sucks esp in this chapter cause im sorta rusty and sick so i cant even tell if this makes sense but oh well😭😭😭 anyway pls send me hazbin reqs!!!!! having the worst brainrot lately esp for this horrible man!!!

wc: 2.9k

“I'm not breaking up inside / I'm much to proud to moan / Baby, please come home”

Oh my god. What did I just do? Why did I do this?

You turn your head to look at Adam where he’s lying on the other side of the bed, and find his expression closely mirrors your own. Pure disbelief is written on his features, and you grimace, turning to look back at the ceiling.

After a moment, you sit up, grabbing your box of cigarettes and a lighter off your bedside table. Once lit, you swing your feet off the bed to reach for shirt and now ripped panties, standing up when you’re partially dressed. You hear Adam sit up behind you.

“Soo, that was… uhhh…” He trails off, mouth hanging open as he thinks of what to say.

“Let’s… not speak about this again,” You say carefully as you turn back to face him.

“Yeah. yeah, i’m good with that,” He says quickly, finding his robes off the floor. You’re surprised he doesn’t say anything about the smoke.

You cross the room to get your pants off the floor, pulling them up as Adam grabs his jacket. You pull up your fly, and look up to see Adam’s staring at you with an expression you can’t read. His eyes flicker to your lips, and he starts to lean closer.

“Kiss me and i’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out,” you say as you turn your head away.

“Oookay then. I’ll, uh, see ya,” For once, he has no snarky comment or crude joke to make as he straightens up and leaves your room.

After that, you told yourself never again. It happened once, it’s out of your system, it’s done. A one time thing.

But then it happens a second time.

“It’s a disgusting habit! All your clothes, your whole room fuckin’ reeks!”

“Are you tryin’ to get me to loose my temper here? ‘Cause i’m about to shove you out that fucking window!”

“And look how angry you get, you fucking fiend, it’s been like 2 hours!”

“Why don’t you mind your goddamn business?”

You raise an arm to hit him, but he catches your elbow, twisting you around so your back is to him and he can hold you in place. You struggle to break from his grip, when suddenly-

“Oh my god,” You deadpan, but your voice doesn’t come out as disgusted as you expected at the feeling of something hard poking into your lower back.

“Okay, this is not my fault-“ Adam says quickly.

“You- fucking perv!” You spit, but your words hold no weight when he flips you again and lifts you up, placing you on the counter and you make no effort to struggle. You spread your legs so he can slot between them as items pushed out of the way cascade off the counter, falling to the floor with loud crashes.

You then told yourself that would be the last time. But not even you fully believed yourself. And once it happened a third, fourth, and fifth time, you just accepted this is something that happens now. You’re not proud of it- some of you hates yourself, but another part of you finds a a sick, primal pleasure in it. It’s the only guaranteed way for you to get him to shut up, if only for a few minutes. The fight for dominance- fuuck you’re messed up, huh?

Thinking of the humiliation you’d feel if any of the others found out- oh god, how could you look Alastor in the eyes again- you change absolutely nothing about your behavior around Adam. On the surface, nothing has changed at all. You two still bicker and argue all the time, if anything, worse than ever. Yet the other members can feel something’s up, that something changed. Adam’s insults feel more hollow. He always said shit just to rile you up, but there was usually an undertone of truth to his words. Not anymore- it’s all stupid shit that everybody can tell he doesn’t care about. Nobody says anything about it, though, until-

“What the fuck are you smilin’ for?” Angel’s voice makes Adam jump as he enters, sitting down on the couch beside him.

“What-? I wasn’t smiling,” Adam quickly denies. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god- are you’re gettin’ laid?” Angel grins, sitting up. The look on Adam’s face tells him everything, and he can’t help but laugh. “Oh, you so are! No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately,”

“Uh, duh i’m getting laid, I’m Adam, I’m the origin-“

“Yeah, yeah, original dick. But that’s not what I mean and you know it.” Angel grins widely, and Adam can feel his face heating up. Oh god- why is he blushing? Since when does he care? He pushes the thought from his head.

“…You don’t know her,” Adam decides to say, crossing his arms and turning back to face the TV, hoping Angel will just leave it at that.

“Try me,” Angel leans closer, looking intently at Adam’s expression. When Adam says nothing, Angel laughs again.

“Oh my god I so know her,”

Adam grits his teeth but says nothing as Angel laughs.

“Okay, fine, don’t tell me who you’re havin’ weird secret kinky sex with,” Angel shrugs, turning to face the TV. “I’ll find out eventually,”

That makes Adam sweat.

You can’t help but laugh, nearly spitting whisky everywhere while Husk chuckles to himself. Sure, it’s a bit trite, ranting to the bartender about your shitty day while he pours you a stiff drink, but Husk could always make you laugh about it, and call you out on your bullshit if needed. He was real, and you liked that about him. Plus, it beat drinking alone when none of your other friends wanted to party on a Wednesday.

“-and not a crazy bitch like I’m a crazy bitch, crazy like she lit her mom’s hair on fir-“

“Husk holy shit!”

Both of you look in the direction of Angel Dust’s voice as he runs from the hallway towards you both. He leans over the bar, eager to share whatever news he had.

“Adam’s fucking somebody- somebody here!”

You choke on your whisky, spitting it back into the glass. Angel and Husk both look at you with a raised brow.

“My bad,” is all you say. you can’t think of anything else that would play it off, so you just quietly wipe off your face while Angel recounts his encounter with Adam. You feel an eye twitch- you could strangle that prick for being so conspicuous.

“You’re quiet, Y/N,” Angel says in a teasing tone.

“I just could not care less if I tried,” You say back, firmly but with a shrug, and you hope it suffices as an acceptable explanation, and that you come off as your usual apathetic self. You finish your whisky, and luckily, Angel doesn’t give you any more shit. Slightly unsettled by that interaction, you avoid Adam for the next few days.

Late one evening, everybody’s gone up to their rooms and the hotel is quiet. You’ve already eaten, smoked, brushed your teeth and put on pajamas, but there’s nothing good on TV and you’re bored and high and just want a task to keep busy. So you wander aimlessly into the kitchen and find yourself doing the dishes that Charlie was too stressed out to do earlier.

As you scrub brown charred bits off a pan, you find your stupid weed-addled brain wandering to Adam. You haven’t fought with him in a while, mostly because you’d run away before he had the chance to start, but still. It feels weird, being so calm lately. No wonder you’re bored. It’s the way things used to be at the hotel, before he arrived. You guess you hadn’t realized how used to his presence you’ve gotten. Gross. You cringe at the thought.

Luckily, your phone starts to vibrate on the counter, giving you a distraction. You pick up and hold it between your ear and shoulder without looking at the caller ID.

“Yo, where are you right now?”

Of course.

“Adam? What the fuck, when did you get a phone?” You snort. When you realize you’re smiling you clear your throat and force your face to relax.

“Whatever. Can you come upstairs?”

You pause. He sounds slightly odd.

“What, like, to your room?” You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“ohmyfuckinggod- can you not be difficult for fucking once and just do what I ask?” Then, as an afterthought, he adds “Please?”

Damn, okay. You don’t say anything for a moment, thinking maybe you’re just smacked and he’s being normal.

“Suuuure… Just uh, gimme a minute,” You say carefully, putting the dishes down. Then, he hangs up on you. What a dick.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’ve been thinking about him, he’s been thinking about you way more.

You’ve been avoiding him- obviously. Not unexpected, but it pissed him off to no end. He’s fucking Adam! Who are you to ignore him? Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him, anyway?

By now, the others have started to accept him- including them in their plans, drinking with him, no longer leaving a room when he enters- so he doesn’t really need a chaperone anymore. Despite this, it still feels wrong. Even in a room with every other patron of the hotel, he’d started to notice when you weren’t there.

He didn’t even notice he was starting to miss you at first. It wasn’t until he and Charlie were seated at the bar, and he drank more than he probably should have, that he mentioned you were avoiding him.

“What’dya, miss her?” Husk asked.

“Awww, Adam!” He still remembers the look on her and Husker’s faces. “You are starting to change! That’s so sweet of you!”

And then because she was drunk she kept rambling about it for like 30 minutes, but he doesn’t remember the rest of what she said, just the utter humiliation he felt. He shut up for the rest of the night to avoid spilling his guts any more, but Husk- the annoying fucker- still gives him knowing looks every now and then.

And after Nifty had washed his sheets, and he’d noticed that his pillows lost the scent of cigarettes, perfume, and shampoo you’d left behind, he knew he was royally fucked.

The worst of all, though, is that he feels helpless to feeling these emotions- and even worse, he doesn’t want to stop feeling them. Before he’d even noticed it, he was thinking about you all the time, and he was fine with it. The embarrassment was killing him, even though, supposedly, nobody knew.

On this particular night, he’d probably had just a tad too much beer with his dinner, because when he’d returned to his room and flopped on his bed, there was a little bug in the back of his brain that kept whining about how empty it felt. He tossed and turned for a bit, just wanting to sleep it off, but he eventually gave up, reaching for his phone.

“Adam?” Before you’re finished knocking, Adam jumps up to get the door, pulling you inside quickly. You make a noise of surprise as he scoops you up immediately, not saying anything as he carries you to his bed.

“Damn, needy, huh?” You laugh. This time, it’s him telling you to shut up as he tosses you onto the bed and crawls over you.

You sit up slightly to help him get your shirt off, and then his lips are on your neck, trailing down to your chest as he unclips your bra.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” He says with a casual shrug as his hands run up your torso to grope at your tits.

“mm,” You hum, arching your back into his touch. “missed this?” You smile sarcastically. Missed you, he thinks.

“Sure missed these,” He pushes the thought away and grins back, squeezing your chest for emphasis. He pulls back briefly to rid himself of his own shirt, then bends back down to press more kisses to your flesh. He looks up, staring at your expression as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, reveling in the whimper he’s rewarded with.

“fuckin’ perfect tits…” He mumbles into your chest before nipping at your skin. You let your eyes shut as his free hand slides down, under the band of your shorts and his finger brushes the hot skin beneath, skimming over your lips. Adam thumbs at your clit through your panties, relishing in the whine he rips from your throat.

Impatiently, you shift your hips up to slide off your shorts and panties, then reach to tug at his belt loops to signal he should do the same. When he looks up and sees the desperate look on your face, he decides not to keep you waiting, and pulls back to rip off his pants and boxers.

You guess avoiding him these past few days has affected you, too, because you’re surprisingly desperate. You sit up, wrapping your fingers around his cock, smearing his arousal across his length, and whatever he had been planning to say dies and comes out a needy garble of nonsense that makes you snicker.

To your surprise, he has no quip as he crawls over you and pushes himself between your legs. He bites back a gasp when you rub the head of his cock between your folds, a groan following a moment after as he begins pushing into you.

Your thighs are trembling by the time he’s fully inside of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist weakly while you adjust to the stretch.

He sits up fully, and from this view, you look stunning. The way you're laid back on his pillow, tears pricking in your eyes, he thinks you look more angelic than anything he ever saw in heaven.

“fuuuck,” He groans, letting his head fall onto the bed as he starts to move his hips.

“Adam!” The way you whine his name is truly sinful, and he feels his dick twitch in response.

“holyfuck, ‘s so big,” The slight burn makes you regret your impatience now, and his face makes you regret stroking his ego. You make a point to ignore his self satisfied laugh, focusing instead on how his cock stretched you open, making you to tighten and release around him. You turn your head, looking at his wicked fucked-out smile that grew wider and wider as his movements got deeper.

You can’t speak, you just moan helplessly as your hands search for anything to grab onto to steady yourself. You throw your hands around his neck and bury them in his now dark wings, in the way you always did. You gripped the feathers tightly and let out a moan and oh, god, he’s not going to last long, he thinks, with you gripping the sensitive feathers like that. He groans again, then his lips find your shoulder, where he leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses trailing towards your neck.

“so fuckin’ sexy, so, so good for me,” you barley even register that he’s speaking, with your entire focus being on the way he moved in and out of you.

“you’re- so beautiful,” he says between grunts. your eyes widen.

“wha-ahh-“ before you can question that, a particularly hard thrust makes the words die in your throat, and you’re clawing to his biceps again.

A warmth of pride erupts in your chest at the way his breathing has turned labored and his grip on you tightens. An arm snakes around your waist, the other under your head, pulling you impossibly tighter against him as he continues to desperately pound into you. The proud smirk you wore is wiped off your face when you feel one hand releases you and his hand trails down, eventually pressing a thumb your clit, rubbing small circles that make you moan and twitch beneath him.

You can’t even warn him before your whole body erupts. You spill over, you lose sense of where and who you are, all the while, Adam pounds into you, strokes you inside and out. You vaguely hear a sudden crash and him mumbling, thanking god that you came before him because seconds later, he’s spilling his own cum inside you with a broken wanton groan.

Adam stills for a moment, panting as he holds you close. When he rolls off you, he keeps one arm around you, pulling you against his chest. Huh. That’s new.

Neither of you say anything. That was… different, than you’re used to with him. You furrow your brows as you think, and find yourself confused. The cogs in your head turning something terrible in your mind, questioning his intentions.

Once you’ve caught your breath, you sit up, pushing away his arm as you go to find your clothes. He frowns, watching you pick your shirt up from the ground and pull it over your head. You looked guarded, like a cornered doe, like you were just waiting for the chance to sprint away.

Adam grabs his own boxers from the floor and pulls them on, quickly crossing the room to where you were. He looks down at you, and feels an odd, tightening in his chest, something he’s felt a lot since falling to hell.

He leans against the door, putting on a cocky smile.

“Soo… this was like a booty call, huh?”

“…Yeah, whatever. See ya,”

#i am SO out of practice writing smut holy shit this is so bad #took me fucking forever too #but hey i’m sick so i have a lot of time to write!#also i promise the next one won’t end immediately after the smut like these last two 😭 i’ve got the plot more figured out now #adam x reader #first man adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #!my stuff #!not sfw #first man adam #hazbin hotel adam #female reader

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midnightanxietytm · 12 days

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Types of narilamb content ive observed so far, as someone new to this fandom

The "awwwn" (cute, fluffy, usually trowaways or unserious AUs, very non-canon)

The "oh..." (makes you go "am I attracted to this?", heavily stylized character desings, suggestive, maybe a little toxic but nothing too angsty, more for funsies)

The "oh yikes" (getting into deeper waters here, toxic yaoi/yuri much.)

The "gnawing on the bars of my enclosure" (Themes, poetic undertone, drama, heavily leaning on the religious aspects, the slowest of burns yet the hottest of flames! We love to see it.... also yeah toxic yaoi/yuri much)

Plz add more this silly lamb is all I think about now Edit: An important adition

The "Awwn... wait oh shit oh shit o- Oh okay we're back, awwn!" (fluff that derails to angst than its back to fluff, or as I like to call it The Cult of Rollercoaster)

#midnight posts #asks open #fandom deep dives #narilamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl #cult of the lamb

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cooliestghouliest · 4 months

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LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. one

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: absent dads and mean moms. brief mention of self-destructive tendencies (way more about that later). your brother's a total cockblock. long-winded parental background information. this is really just some stage setting before we get into the nitty gritty.

A/N: this is my favorite fic i've ever written, and now it's coming at you re-edited. it's my verbose word child, sprinkled with a few What The Fuck and Holy Shit moments, dolled up with some silly humor and a dose of hot (and often borderline depraved) smut. a lot's already planned for this, so i hope you enjoy. :-)

—

chapter title: O Brother, Where Art Thou?

You weren’t expecting the high pitch of the doorbell that sounded throughout your colonial-style home, and proof of that was now spilled all over the kitchen floor.

Tiny green buds were sprinkled across the white-and-black linoleum tile, some scattered in the blonde mess of curls that belonged to the boy kneeling before you, his mouth busy between your legs.

You’d been attempting to multitask, rolling a joint while twisted awkwardly at the dining table, the quarterback’s head shrouded by your bare thighs, lapping noisily at your wet center.

You huffed out a frustrated sigh at the spillage, but it quickly turned into a moan when goldilocks gave a particularly harsh suck on your clit.

“You needa get that?” he mumbled against your folds, tongue halting its assault only to speak before diving back in, showing no intention of stopping.

You shook your head, one hand moving to tangle in the his hair, the other crumbling up the now empty and useless rolling paper. “Uh-uh… prob’ly just some Mormons,” you answer, beginning to rock your hips up into the warm mouth covering your cunt. “I don’t wanna be saved.”

Chris… or Carl… or Craig… whatever his name was, laughed, the sound vibrating nicely against your heat. Your toes curled at the sensation, thighs wrapping tight around his ears.

He moaned appreciatively at your movement, running his tongue flat against the length of your opening. Maybe you could keep this one around. He liked New Kids on the Block unironically, but holy shit, he knew what to do with his mouth.

The bell rang again.

And then again, and again, and again.

“Oh, little seeeee-eeee-ster!” came a familiar male voice from the other side of the front door. “I know you’re in there, Bean. I can see your shadow in the kitchen!”

You shot up straight, aligning your posture and pulling Chris Carl Craig from between your legs by the grip you had in his hair. He gave an unappealing whine, his fingers moving up to console his scalp.

Standing quickly, you adjusted your pleated skirt so it fell normal again, just above your knees. “Up, up, up,” you impatiently urged the jock still kneeling on the ground, smoothing your clothing and hair to make sure nothing looked too out of place.

“Who is that?” the blonde asked, finally following you into a standing position, large hand still cradling his head. “Still the Mormons?”

“It was never Mormons, Chet,” you said, hoping your shot-in-the-dark guess at his name was right.

It wasn’t.

“It’s Chad,” he said, eyes beginning to narrow. Whether it was in suspicion, confusion, annoyance, or a combination of all three, you didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. You needed to get him out of here without your new visitor catching sight of him, or else you knew you’d never hear the end of it. Chad was still intent on conversing, though. “We’ve literally been in the same school district since, like, kindergarten.”

You bit your lower lip, offering a sheepish smile. “Right,” you said. “I know that.” You didn’t. “Sorry. Head’s a little loopy right now. Your tongue could win awards.”

With Chad’s newfound cocky grin, you knew the flattery angle had worked out. It usually did. Boys were such suckers for some ego stroking.

“Oh, fuckin’ right!” you heard from the front door, the visitor’s voice now cheerful. The door handle began to jangle, and you heard the sound of a key in the lock.

He must have found the spare. Of course he had. He’d only lived here his entire childhood, just like you.

The key had been in the same place it always had been since moving to Fresno -- under the coir doormat that read Definitely Not a Trap Door, courtesy of your father. He’d made it for the family after moving from Chicago to California for his new teaching position at CSU in ‘70. Your mom still hadn't gotten around to throwing it out, even though she’d managed to get rid of almost everything else inside the home that reminded her of her ex-husband.

The door swung open and there stood your older brother in all his punk rock, Fuck-the-Bourgeoisie glory. Short bleached blonde hair, numerous facial piercings, ripped Dead Kennedys t-shirt, tight red tartan pants, muddy black Doc Martens. He was smiling wide, dopey.

Fuckin' Rick.

You started to match his expression, unable to resist your brother’s effortless and childlike charm, but your smile fell flat when Rick’s now disapproving gaze landed on the blonde still standing at your side.

“A Letterman, Bean? Really?” Rick asked you incredulously, having spotted Chad’s football jacket as the jock in question slid it from its place on the kitchen chair to rest over his broad shoulder.

“What?” you asked Rick coyly, quickly eyeing Chad. “You know I don’t discriminate. I’m a true equal opportunist.”

Chad seemed oblivious to the underlying context of the conversation between the pair of siblings. He was watching the two of you interact with seemingly nothing behind his eyes.

God, so cute but so totally stupid.

You closed the distance between the two of you, Chad looking hopeful he was going to be kissed or something, but you instead reached your hand out to pluck a few pieces of weed from his hair. “You can go now,” you told him, finger tapping his nose lightly.

Chad’s face scrunched at your touch but he then shrugged it off, picking his backpack up off the kitchen floor before making his way to the front door. “See ya at school,” he said to you over his shoulder. Stopping briefly next to your brother, Chad assessed him before saying, “Um, bye, whoever you are.”

Rick pulled his lips into a tight line, raising his brows in amusement. He clapped his hand hard on Chad’s back a few times before pushing the footballer out the door. “Later, loverboy.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

An hour and a half later, you and Rick were seated on opposite ends of the tufted tuxedo sofa in the living room. A box of half-eaten extra cheese pizza laid open in between the two of you.

Some low budget horror VHS was playing on the TV across from the couch, the volume low. You thought it was called Ghoulies. You kept catching glances of tiny, ugly wet looking monsters scurrying on the screen out of your peripheral.

You’d been talking to Rick about senior year at Fresno Central High (you said you were doing great, straight A’s across the board, but in reality, you were failing everything but English and Music).

You'd been talking about work at Spins and Needles, the record store you’d been employed at for a little over two years now (you told him you’d gotten promoted to Assistant Manager, which was true, but you left out the fact that you were on Strike Two of Three for blowing off shifts to get high with some goth kids that routinely came in a few hours before closing).

And you'd been talking about your mom (this you were honest about – “She’s still a huge bitch, Rick, that hasn’t changed”).

But then he tried to bring up your dad, asking in an obnoxiously forced nonchalant tone if you’d heard from him lately.

That’s where you stopped him.

You were not going to talk about your dad.

Flipping the pizza box lid shut harshly, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Why are you really here?” you demanded.

Rick sighed, defeated.

He knew you’d catch on soon enough that this supposed innocent visit was actually a planned mission. He’d just been hoping maybe you’d be the one to breach the topic of going back to Indiana with him. Maybe you wanted out of this Californian hellhole. A chance at a fresh start, hundreds of miles away.

But he knew you recently had developed a penchant for self-destruction and self-catastrophizing, which meant getting you to see the bright side and the positives of his request was going to be near impossible.

Still, he had to try.

“Mom called me,” he admitted, which earned him a dramatic eye roll from you. “I know you’re failing your classes. I know your boss has been blowing up the landline wondering why you keep closing up shop so early. And I know mom’s a bitch. I’m trying to save you from her. She said she’s thinking of enrolling you into St. Mary’s.” Rick wasn’t surprised at the bewildered scoff you gave to that, St. Mary’s being Indiana’s notorious Catholic boarding school for wayward girls. He’d finally gotten to the point, the real reason he was there: “Come stay with me in Hawkins, Bean.”

“Wow, Rick, so noble. It only took you, what, ten years to come back for me?”

Rick couldn’t help but flinch, your wounding words accusing. And accurate.

It was true.

Rick, at twenty, had left Fresno in an old RV he’d bought for dirt cheap, with plans to travel the country and get the fuck away from his parents, Ronald and Maureen Lipton.

Or, away from his mother, really.

Ron Lipton was generally fine -- until a certain point in his life. To outsiders, the man seemed to be very happy and very put-together, successfully established in both his home life and his career.

Ron and Maureen had gotten married just a few short months following their high school graduation, after finding out Maureen was pregnant with Rick.

With the draft ever present, Ron enlisted in the army, while Maureen enlisted the help of her mother-in-law to take care of Rick (and eventually you, once you were born, conceived on one of Ron’s short stints back home), so she could work on her doctorate in psychiatry.

After being honorably discharged a handful of years later, Ron had gotten his Master’s degree in education and creative writing.

To the public, Ronald and Maureen Lipton were fantastic at keeping up the facade of Perfect Suburban Family.

In private, however, the Lipton household was like living in a layer of Hell.

Where Ron was imaginative and endlessly inquisitive, instilling a love of storytelling and curiosity in his children, Maureen was passive aggressive and judgemental, harboring jealousy for the relationship her children had with her husband. This eventually festered a spiteful dynamic between her and Ron, and between her and her offspring as well.

When the two of you were younger, Rick in his late teens and you in your last years of elementary school, one of your favorite backyard games was to wonder aloud to each other how and why your parents had ever even gotten together in the first place.

You were both sure that it must have been an arranged marriage of some sorts.

Rick thought maybe your grandparents had made a deal with the devil, and to ensure the safety of the family, Ronald and Maureen were forced to be betrothed for life.

You thought maybe Maureen was an evil sorceress who had cast a spell on your father, trapping him in a loveless marriage that he was an unsuspecting victim in.

The truth was not stranger than fiction.

The reason behind their nuptials was simple, really: Ronald was raised to believe he needed to provide for his family, and after having knocked Maureen up not only once but twice, he was resigned to the fact that this was his path in life.

Devoted father, loving husband.

While he couldn’t stand his wife, her harshness and indignation usurping any positive characteristics she may have once had, Ron did love his children. Dearly.

Rick was his wild child; his rebellious, rambunctious trouble maker.

Ron would sit on the front porch late at night, waiting for Rick to get home and tell him all about his latest escapades. What parties he’d gone to, what girls he’d kissed, whether he preferred the high from acid or mushrooms more. Ron lived vicariously through his son, encouraging the boy to play hard, but to play hard responsibly.

You were Ron’s Little Leia of Alderaan; his opinionated, open-minded warrior, brave enough to stand up to any bully who’d dare to make fun of you or your friends. You were Ron’s daydreamer, his whimsical muse, his daily reminder that there was still innocent softness in this cruel world.

You would have Daddy Daughter Dates twice a week, where you’d do things like go to the roller rink or have picnics in the park, and they always ended with a two scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone shared between the both of you.

But Ron’s love for his life dwindled the second he stepped foot inside his house -- where he was forced to occupy space with his resentful excuse of a wife, a woman who would never miss a beat to berate him for every choice he’d ever made in his life.

With your older brother gone, the squabbles between Ron and Maureen got worse.

Rick had been able to placate his father and put himself in the line of Maureen’s fire, taking her verbal hits so his father didn’t have to. You, being only ten when Rick had left, didn’t have much ground to stand on with your parents arguing, and trying to step in as Rick had would usually only make things escalate.

Ron fantasized about leaving, starting over anew. The immediate and resounding “no” that his subconscious always answered himself with, thinking of the kids, dwindled down over time, until all of his fantasizing led him to making actual plans of departure.

Last year, right before summer break was set to start, Ron finally left.

Having taken PTO from the campus, he’d waited that morning for Maureen to leave for work and for you to be on the bus to school. Alone, he took the time to pack all of his belongings, leaving only a few things behind, all with you in mind -- things to remind you of him in his absence. He’d intended on coming back for you as soon as possible, wanting to settle in somewhere before dragging his daughter into his uprooted life.

But it was over a year now that Ron had been gone, and you could count on one hand the amount of times he’d reached out to you.

You could count them on two fingers, actually.

The first time was the night after he’d left, when he’d tried explaining to you his reasoning, which you weren’t at all interested in hearing. You were beside yourself that he’d left you, just like Rick had, except Rick was your brother and that was normal, but Ron was your daddy and he was supposed to always be there.

Your mother, in anger that Ron would attempt to talk to you and not her, had disconnected the call, and while you waited by the phone all night for him to call back, he never did.

The second and last time he reached out was a few months ago, via letter for your 18th birthday. It was postmarked with an address in Fort Worth, Texas. When you’d tried writing back, you'd found the letter you'd sent in your mailbox a week later, marked Return to Sender.

It was mid-November now, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least Rick had kept in touch after he’d left.

He’d sent you care packages every month since arriving to Indiana in '81. They were full of sci-fi and horror books he’d found at the local Goodwill or Salvation Army, newspaper clippings for outlandish Classified segments, scribbled notes on stained notebook paper detailing concerts he’d gone to and new bands he thought you should check out.

Remembering this, you softened quickly after accusing Rick of abandoning, your biting comment causing guilt to swirl in your stomach.

Rick had his reasons to leave, you understood that. He was allowed to live his life. And even though he’d done just that, left and lived his life, he still always managed to keep tabs on you. The two of you hadn’t gone more than a few weeks without letters sent or parcels mailed back and forth since he’d first left home.

Never there, but never gone. Not really.

That was more than you could say for your father.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” you admitted, even though the hurt words you spoke did hold some kernel of truth. “It’s just… I don’t wanna have to start all over somewhere else.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Rick promised, choosing to let the accusation of his abandonment slide. He was sure you'd both get into it more later, considering it was a conversation that was long overdue. “The house is too big for just me anyway, and you know I’m fuckin’ shit at decorating. I’ve basically just been using beer cans for bookends and stuff like that – you could make it look way cozier.”

You laughed, sure your brother wasn’t exaggerating.

Rick was about as anti-capitalist as you could get, and that included being a minimalist when it came to possessions. Give the man a hand-me-down couch, a little TV, some weed, his cassettes, and a subscription to Playboy, and he’d be content for the rest of his life.

You were the opposite.

You loved things.

You had many different collections you’d amassed over the years -- your vast assortment of books had spilled from the two bookshelves in your room to several stacks littered throughout the house, much to your mother's annoyance; your vinyls were shoved into four big storage bins stacked under your octagonal bedroom window, which you draped a blanket over and used as a makeshift window seat nook; your cliques of creepy looking dolls you’d collected from estate sales and antique shops crowded your bed, your vanity, the storage shelf in your closet; the bug assemblages you’d been adding to since your childhood had their own corner of your room, little homes full of ladybugs, ants, and deathwatch beetles.

The idea that you could expand your knack for interior embellishing (hoarding, really) further than the confines of one room was one thing that made you start to consider taking Rick’s offer seriously.

That, and the realization that finally getting the fuck out of Fresno might not be such a bad idea.

Because what did you have there anymore, anyway? Shit grades? A handful of mean exes? A dead-end job?

Was any of that worth staying for?

You thought of your dad trying to reach out to you via telephone, imagined your mother answering and telling him you’d moved away and no longer lived there.

If it were only a few months since Ron had left, you didn’t think you would have gone with Rick back to Hawkins. You would have stayed just for the mere possibility that your dad would show up on the doorstep one day, begging for your forgiveness for leaving you alone with your coldhearted mother.

However, it was over a year now that he’d been gone. One year, four months, and fifteen days... if anyone was counting.

You’d never verbally admit it, but you still were.

There was a page hidden in the back of your diary where you kept track.

Your hopefulness was starting to make you sick.

Maybe a change wouldn’t be so bad.

Going back to Hawkins with Rick sure beat being forced to attend an all girls’ reformatory school, one with a reputation that claimed the headmaster performed shock therapy on students in lieu of giving them detentions.

You were sure that was just a rumor, but still. You didn’t want to take any chances.

“Bean, let me be there for you,” Rick said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his fingers. You noted his nails were painted a lime green. “It’ll be just like when we were kids, except now you’re older and actually cool so I won’t be embarrassed to introduce you to all my friends.” Dipping his head to the side, he wiggled his pierced brows, a grin toying on his lips as he added, “And we can smoke weed in the house.”

Pretending as if that alone was what sealed the deal, you stood swiftly. “Say less. You really should’ve started with that, Richard.” You headed off in the direction of the stairs that led up to your room, glancing over your shoulder at your brother who was staring off after you with a relieved countenance on his face. “Gimme an hour and then we can go?”

Rick answered with two thumbs up before grabbing a slice of pizza, shoving as much as he could of it into his mouth as you disappeared up the spiral staircase.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy x reader #billy x you #mungrove x reader #mungrove #billy hargrove smut #eddie munson smut

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myg-butterfly · 9 months

Text

Nothing New (TEASER)

Idol!Bts x Choreographer!Reader

Hurt/Comfort, ANGST, Eventual Fluff, Jealousy, and Insecurities

Release Date: TBA

A/N: Hi guys! This one has been in the works for a WHILE, I keep getting stuck in certain parts, but I'll be done soon! For now, here is the little preview I posted about like a week ago. I hope you enjoy! Kissies and huggies!

Finally, a long-awaited date with all of you. The boys were filled with energy, talking and joking on the ride there, and you felt your heart growing lighter: you still had them.

They even helped you get off the car with all the gentleness in the world, helped you get in your seat and made sure you were completely comfortable.

The lightness quickly weighed down into something much heavier when you saw Joanna walk in and make her way to the table.

And the weight felt like it had been dropped to you feet when the guys scooted to make space for her, Namjoon even standing up to hug her and letting her sit first so she'd be in between him and Jungkook.

How long has it been since they hugged you with such happiness?

"Oh my god, Y/N, hi! The boys didn't tell me you would be here."

Something about the way she said "the boys" made your hands itch, almost as much as your throat itched to say 'likewise'.

"Welp. I'm here. Haha."

Dinner wasn't fun, to say the least.

Joanna was blatantly saying shit to embarrass you the entire time, and it even worse, your boyfriends seemed to be soaking up her every word, laughing whenever she pointed out something embarrassing about you when she knew you in high school.

"Yeah! And when we choreographed together, she would always forget her parts." She lets out a giggle and Hoseok laughs too: what's so funny?

"It was only once or twice." You groan, mostly to yourself, but Joanna hears it.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Everyone laughs at her words again and suddenly, you start to think that staying home was the better option.

"I've always said she has the memory of a goldfish. Sometimes it felt like I was doing all the work because i constantly had to step in and help when Y/N froze up."

She turns to you to ask her next question:

"How are you doing now that I haven't been here to clean up after you? Are you making Jimin do it?" She laughs and nudges Jimin, who's sitting next to her, on the shoulder, and he happily shoves back with a bright smile on her face.

"I'm fine, it's rare that I forget stuff lately."

She gasps in a dramatic manner - you wish she would just disappear already.

"You? Not wasting time in rehearsal? Because you forgot? That's unheard of!"

You hate the way pretty much all of the guys laugh at her words: they know how much work you've put into being a good choreographer. Why were they laughing at you?

Suddenly, you feel the person next to you pressing up closer against you: Seokjin.

You look at him and he has a soft smile on his face, but not towards Joanna; his entire focus is on you.

"You have a really good memory darling. We can tell you've worked on it." The knot in your stomach softens its grip after hearing Seokjin's words, and for the first time since you got here, your smile is genuine.

"Anyways, how'd you injure yourself?"

"Oh, we were doing some cardio and I tripped. Fell at an awkward angle and it twisted my leg. Haha."

Joanna laughs a little too hard at this.

"I've always also said that for a supposed dancer you sure are clumsy as hell."

Some of the guys giggle at her comment, and you look down at your lap: why were they laughing at you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin sit up a little straighter, and you suspect he's gonna say something.

"Supposed dancer?" He raised a brow and to most people, it would've seemed like he was just egging onto the joke, but you and the rest of the table could tell that there was a serious undertone to his question.

It was no secret in your relationship with the guys that Seokjin had a specific soft spot for you – in a relationship as big as yours, its bound that all of you will have your weak spots for one another: Jungkook and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung, Hoseok and Yoongi, you and Seokjin.

So you were more than relieved when he met your gaze; he knew you were uncomfortable.

And as everyone knows, he's not one to stay quiet.

"I just mean it's surprising that for someone so clumsy she went into the professional world where coordination is crucial."

Jungkook uses this point to tease Namjoon, and thankfully the attention is taken off of you. You catch Seokjin's stare again and this time it's accompanied with an apologetic smile and him reaching out his hand to hold yours.

As your hands meet on top of the table, you seem to be the only one who notices the look Joanna sends you at the display of affection.

............................

#bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts au #bts imagines #bts angst #bts ff #bts comfort #bts hurt/comfort #bts poly #bts ot7 x reader #bts reactions #bts x y/n #bts x you

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sour-bonez · 3 months

Note

alr so I was wondering if you'd be down to write a vox x f!reader where vox is always manipulating/hypnotizing her so shes always confused ine everything this can be fluff angst romance or smut idc

Omg thats a Great idea! I love Vox he’s my favourite so I’ll try my best with this one and I think he would totally to that if he was obsessed with the reader, hope you enjoy! :) I didn’t proof read this btw but I hope it’s good-

Vox x F!reader

You won’t feel a thing..

You where Vox’s assistant, you have been for a few years now, but something odd was happening to you, for a few months now you woke up back in your office when you swore you where in his office a few minutes ago, and your body always aches and you couldn’t remember what happened prior to waking up. One day you walked into vox’s office with his morning coffee. “Good morning Mr.Vox” you said as you handed him his coffee “good morning my dear, how are you this hellish morning?” He said calmly as he took a sip of his coffee “I’m good sir thank you for asking, how are you?” You said as you stood in front his his desk, holding your clipboard “oh I’m ok same old shit every fucking day… y’know” he noticed you standing “sit.” He said calmly but with a slightly stern undertone, you did as he said and sat down in the chair across from his desk, you noticed him admiring your outfit you had picked out, it looked good on you and you kinda hoped he would notice.. “relax, you look tense” he said softly as he went to take your clipboard out of your hand, when your hands touched a small electric shock shocked your finger that you had a ring on, you flinched a little, he noticed your ring “sorry.. what a beautiful ring you have there..” he said as he took your hand and inspected the ring “hmm.. you have very nice hands..” he said in such a casual tone but you where actually kinda caught if guard by it “oh Uhm thank you sir-“ he continued to hold your hand gently “no need to be so formal, you can just call me Vox” he said with a slightly smug smirk on his flat screen “say do you think you could do me a favour, dear?” He said as his grip on your hand tightened “oh uhm of course si- uh Vox” you said as you say up more “there’s a good girl, can you come and sit right next to me please” he said as he pointed to a spot right next to him, you pulled your chair over to the spot“perfect.. now just sit still..” the last thing you saw was his eye go into swirls and you felt numb, next thing you know you woke up in your bed with hickeys all over you and bite marks too, your legs felt weak and your shoulders hurt, you felt a stinging sensation from the inside of your left thigh, you looked down there and saw a small heart carved into it. “What the-“ you cleaned yourself up and walked back into Vox’s office. “Hello again sir” you said “again?whatever do you mean dear you havnt been here this morning?” You where shocked to say the least “what? I couldn’t sworn-“ you said as you looked around in confusion “nope you haven’t been here at all this morning, I’m still waiting on my coffee” he said with an evil grin on his screen, he knew exactly what he was going but you didn’t, you scuttled out to get his second coffee of the day.

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #vox smut

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dustydaddyyy · 5 months

Text

v: continental drift | joel miller x f!reader

flash point (series) masterlist

pairing: pre-TLOU! joel x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: on a particuarly wet night, you run across tess servopoulos and joel miller, and they help you out of a tight spot chapter warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, depictions of death and decapitation (don't fucking ask), wound stitching (not sure this is a warning but for my queasy peeps), swearing, FEDRA is still an authoritarian regime, decent amount of POV-changing, the slowest slow-burn of slow burns (because I'm trash and like to make you all wait for it), a decent amount of angst

a/n: the way i giggled nervously when I realized it's been a month and a half since my last update......sorry you guys. also the sam tea is hot so please enjoy it. also this is officially the end of side a so the next time we see joel and reader will be closer to the TLOU canon timeline

The next day, you’re surprised to find Joel back in the coffee shop at the end of your shift.

“Need something else already? Or just coming to make sure I haven’t been kidnapped?” you ask him sarcastically, as he steps up to the counter, raising a single eyebrow.

“Just came for some coffee, thanks,” he says, and you sigh.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you tell him, peering around the shop, “I just sold my last cup.”

“Oh,” Joel lets out, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Joel seems awkward.

“I’ll make you a fresh cup,” you say after a second, giving him a tired smile, “I work here, after all.”

“Thanks,” he lets out, and you have to bite back a laugh at how woody he sounds.

Who knew coffee would stump Joel Miller.

“Did you hear what happened?” he asks you, and while his tone isn’t necessarily urgent, it’s clear the information he acquired is worth sharing as you get to work making an extra cup.

“I came home yesterday and crashed,” you inform him, “So no,”

“Really?” Joel’s eyes fall pointedly on something that looks suspiciously like a fresh hickey at the top of your collarbone, “You. . . crashed?”

You give him an unimpressed look. “60 years of life and no one’s ever told you it’s rude to stick your nose in other people’s business?”

“60?” Joel asks, eyes widening and gruff expression melting from his features almost entirely for a second, “You think I’m sixty?”

Your cheeky smile gives you away as you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head before giving him an expectant eyebrow as his scowl returns. “What happened, then?”

“They found bodies this morning,”

“Bodies?” you ask with a frown, looking up at him, “Where?”

“Abandoned church on Salem," Joel says, and for a second, your eyes widen, before your frown sets deep again, "Two young guys, both carrying assault-rifle type weapons,"

"You don't think –"

"–that when your little soldier boyfriend said there was a good reason it had been boarded up, he was damn right? That's exactly what I think, sweetheart,"

Your mind is running too many miles per hour to pay any attention to the nickname or the much more comfortable tone Joel seems to take with you as your fingers absent-mindedly reach for the coffee tin.

"Infected?" you ask him, and he nods.

"Overheard a few of his guard buddies talking about it. They're pretty sure it was infected, bodies were so torn up they couldn't ID them,"

"Jesus," you mutter to yourself, your fingers absent-mindedly reaching for the coffee beans tin, only to find it empty, "Shit,"

"Still sure you got enough for a coffee?" he asks, undertone sarcastic, and you manage to roll your eyes.

"Yes," you say pointedly, before turning to peer upwards, where you spot one of the 5-kilo coffee bean bags, "But you're going to have to help take down the new bag,"

Joel nods, walking around and behind the counter to join you as your arms reach out, fingertips barely grasping the edges of the bag. Joel has an easier time reaching, and together, you manage to lug the thing down.

"But why would they stay in the church?" you wonder out loud as you set the bag down on the counter with a huff.

"Beats me," Joel says with a shrug, which only makes the gears in your head whirr harder, frown deepening.

"Doesn't make sense," you mutter to yourself as you use one of the scissors on the counter to open a corner of the bag, leaning it slightly over the edge so you can fill the tin easily.

"What are you thinking?" Joel asks as he observes your face, and you look up at him for a second as your hands go on autopilot, dropping a handful of beans in the grinder.

"I'm thinking–" you say pointedly, "That they had no business being in that church, no reason to be there. . . the whole place was boarded up, there's signs everywhere. . . they may have been thugs but I doubt they were stupid enough to stick around,"

"Maybe they were just waiting to move the barrel," Joel says with a shrug, and you grimace slightly, shaking your head.

"There were three of them," you point out, pouring the ground coffee into a clean pot, the kettle whistling to your left, "And the checkpoint had already been abandoned for the night. . . best window to do it would’ve been immediately,"

"I'm not sure I follow," Joel says eventually as he stands next to you behind the counter, and you shake your head, bringing your hand up to rub your forehead.

"Don't mind me," you say with a sigh, "Been a long shift,"

The rest of the process happens in silence, neither you or Joel saying a word to each other as you finish making the coffee. Joel can tell from your expression that you're still pretty deep in thought, and the expression only clears from your face when you've made two steaming cups of fresh coffee. You hand one to Joel, who reaches into his pocket for a ration card.

“Don’t be silly,” you say, shaking your head with a frown as you finally seem to be pulled fully out of your thoughts, “I don’t want to see a single ration card come out of your pocket, Miller.”

Joel’s hand freezes in his pocket, and for a second, he doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught off guard by how friendly your tone is, and he’s silent for a minute before he clears his throat, his hands staying in his pockets.

“Alright.”

"Who was this job for, anyway?" you ask Joel as you take a sip of the coffee you've just made, and he shrugs.

"Dunno," he says, and you resist an urge to smile at the fact that he's talking to you now, "Some wiry fucker Tess knew. . . I think his name was Peter,"

You grimace. "Creepy name for a creepy dude,”

Joel makes an agreeing snort into his coffee.

“Fertilizer, huh?" you say, making a face, "What the fuck's he gonna do? Plant a garden?"

Joel lets out a hum as he swallows down his sip.

"And fuel oil, for some reason," Joel says, clearing his throat, "You put anything extra in this?"

"Wait, rewind–" you say, and suddenly your voice is serious as you set down your cup, "You never mentioned he wanted fuel oil."

Your mind is racing as you finally put together the pieces of the puzzle. The reason they asked for such specific items, staying in the church after, not wanting to be asked nosy questions–

Joel frowns as he turns to look at you, raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "Shall I write you a full report? Or just the transcript of our negotiations?”

"Who was he?" you ask him, tone urgent as your eyes become wide, and Joel frowns deeper, “Joel, who was he?”

"Don't know, told you that already," Joel says, before his eyes flicker with mild concern, "What's wrong?"

You give him an alarmed look.

"Joel, ammonium nitrate is the main ingredient in fertilizer," you say, your voice low and filled with panic as your eyes flit around the half-empty coffeeshop, "And fuel oil––. . .they're making ANFO, Joel, it’s a goddamn–"

You don't know how Joel understands what you mean, but his eyes blow wide as he finally puts the pieces together

"-bomb," he breathes, and at that moment, there's a sound of crashing glass as something shatters the front window of the coffeeshop. Some people scream, those sitting by the window jumping away. It's a brick, and just as people gather to look at it, something else flies through the shattered window.

"Joel–" you yell, and you only just manage to turn your body, hand flying over Joel's shoulder as you push him down behind the counter, going to do the same–

BOOM.

The explosion is unlike anything you've ever heard, and if you hadn't had the good sense to press your hands over your ears as the sheer force of the explosives propelled you against the opposite wall, you're sure both your eardrums would have burst as sounds tear through the atmosphere around you.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself on your back, and everything hurts. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling of the building, your temples pulsing with pain, and all you can see above you is smoke, half burning embers floating through the air as you try to blink the dust out of your eyes. Plumes of dust and smoke obscure your vision, but you can still see the gaping holes in the ceiling from which pieces of stucco rain down. There’s a deafening silence in your head, filled only with a distant ringing, and your eyes blink several times as your vision becomes less blurry, bringing into focus the burning embers floating through the air as if dancing on the wind.

For a single moment, the silence is almost peaceful as you watch them flutter down around you, eyes still blinking as your mind seems to process what has just happened, before you feel your lungs expand with a breath, and the illusion of peace shatters.

The next breath you take is stifling, the dust scratching the inside of your throat as you try to breathe any kind of oxygen in your lungs. You’re vaguely aware of something entering your vision, a familiar face, but your eyes don’t immediately focus on Joel’s face until you feel his hands on either side of your arms, pulling you upright and propping you up against the wall. You're still dazed as your eyes roll over the scene. Most of the counter is still standing, but the front, near to where you’d been standing, has been blown to bits and everything once standing on it, is either in pieces, or strewn across the floor.

Your eyes are torn away from the scene as you feel a squeeze in your arms, and your gaze meets Joel’s. His face is dirty, covered in grime, but his eyes are alight like you’ve never seen them, more present and alert than ever as they inspect your face. He looks relatively unharmed, except for a few bleeding cuts and scratches on his face as his eyes search your face, and you see something in his eyes you'd not seen on him before. He looks worried.

You watch as he moves his mouth, and it looks like your name, but you still can’t hear anything except for that damn ringing. Your eyes try to make sense of the movement of his lips, but you’re too distracted by the thundering of your heartbeat in your chest. Joel seems to finally understand you can't hear him as his eyes look into yours. They’re wide with shell shock, continuously flitting between him and your surroundings in an effort to gain your bearings.

Everything feels like it's moving in slow motion. You swallow hard, trying to clear your ears, but still the ringing doesn't subside. The only thing that seems to work is your nose, and the smell is horrible, a mix of acrid smoke, burning plastic and thick dust which oppresses your lungs. Joel gives your arms another squeeze, forcing you to look back at him, the shape of your name once again appearing on his lips. You shake your head at him, eyes wide with fear as they stare into his. You watch him as he swallows hard, eyes flitting around desperately, seeming to consider something. Then he moves beside you, taking your arm and slinging it over his shoulder. He says something else that you still can’t hear, but you nod as he looks at you, anticipating it as he pulls you up. You let him, trying to cooperate as much as possible, but your whole body hurts, screaming at you to lie back down again.

The minute your eyes focus on the full scene of the coffeeshop, your stomach turns and you wish you had never seen it.

Smoke and debris fills the air, casting an eerie haze over the scene; tables and chairs are strewn about like discarded toys, and the floor is a harrowing canvas of debris, bodies, body parts. . . you can see some people moving, crying, screaming. . . bending over others that lie face down and deathly still, blood smeared across the floors of the shop like morbid strokes of paint. The entire front of the coffee shop has been blown open, and the ground is littered in glass from the shattered windows which glitters dangerously in the fading daylight.

You can’t focus on it any longer as you feel Joel pull you towards the back door, keeping one arm around your waist to hold you up and using the other to push open the door. You quickly move past the backroom, before Joel is pushing against the heavy fire escape door, which sends you both stumbling into the alleyway as it gives way. You let go of Joel at that moment, and he helps you down on one of the upturned boxes against the wall of the alley.

Your hearing is slowly returning, the ringing becoming less and less as you can start to hear your own heavy breaths. It’s still muffled as you try and calm your thundering heartbeat, hand coming down to rest on your knees as your bow your head, shoulders shuddering. Your mind keeps flashing back to the images from inside, the acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh still so present in your nostrils it makes you violently nauseous; the tears streaming down one woman’s grime-covered face, the man screaming in pain as his hands desperately the thigh from which his bone is protruding, a teddybear lying in a pool of blood, loosely clenched in the hand of its lifeless owner. . .

Your breathing is shallow as you register what you've just seen, trying hard to keep your breath under control, but your pants are ragged as you try to steady your shaking hands on your legs.

"Oh god,"

You bring a hand to your mouth, the feeling of wanting to throw up overcoming you suddenly, but you find that nothing comes out except for a hoarse cough.

A voice drifts through the fog, muffled at first, before it becomes clearer as it repeats your name. You look up at Joel as your hearing finally sharpens, so you can hear the blaring of sirens in the street as several trucks drive past the alleyway, the shouts from outside and the screams from inside.

“Those people. . .” you stammer, your eyes wide as they meet Joel’s, glittering with tears, “We have to–”

“There’s nothing we can do,” he says, a little breathless, but his voice solemn, “We have to get out of here. . . there could be more–”

“Joel!” you let out, your voice still tinged with horror and shock.

“We can’t!” he lets out, shaking his head as he looks down at you, “We can’t help them, okay? We have to go. . . if they decide to blow up another building, or god forbid, the fucking FEDRA army descending on this place right now, we’re in deep shit.”

After a second in which you stare at each other, you nod shortly, heaving a breath.

“You still have the keys to your place?” Joel asks, and you take a second to feel for them in your back pocket. Thankfully, they appear not to have fallen out during your ordeal, and you nod.

“Alright,” Joel says with a curt nod, before looking down at you, “Can you stand?”

You nod weakly, before getting to your feet. Your legs are still wobbling a little, and you frown as you feel pain flare through your ankle. Joel notices, and doesn’t even ask before he stands beside you again, taking your arm again to steady you against him.

You go as fast as possible, but it still feels like an eternity before you reach the building in which you live, the people in the streets either too busy running towards or away from the wreckage of the shop to pay attention to you. The minute the door closes behind you, Joel walks you over to the kitchen table, and sits you on top, your chest heaving a pained sigh.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, and even though his tone is neutral, his hand comes up, two fingers gently taking your jaw to analyze your face. He tilts your head to look at the side of your face as you groan slightly.

“I can’t hear anything on the left,” you say, and he hums.

“You’re bleeding. . . eardrum must be bust.”

“Shit,” you let out, closing your eyes and trying to take a deep breath as you feel Joel's fingers leave your face before he steps away from you.

“You got a first aid kit? Anything like that?”

You nod, motioning towards the sink. “Cupboard under the sink.”

Joel moves towards the sink, before crouching down and opening the cupboard under it.

“What about Tess–”

“She’s a smart woman,” he says through a strained voice as he gets to his feet again, setting the kit down on the counter, “She’ll figure out where we’ve gone if she has any suspicion we survived that. . . ANFO. . . I should’ve fucking known,”

Joel feels his stomach churn with guilt; of course he knew what ANFO was, they use to use it quite a bit way back when he was still rebuilding houses for a living.

“What was that?” you let out, and Joel’s face darkens as he grabs a glass from the upper cupboard and fills it with water.

“Pipe bomb,” he mutters, before he looks over his shoulder briefly, eyes pausing on the scratches that litter your arms, “Something like nails of bolts in it, from what I can see. . . the ANFO packs a pretty big punch in of itself, but the nails and bolts do double the damage because they act like shrapnel. . . it’s what the Unabomber did,”

Joel vaguely remembers watching a TV documentary on the Unabomber with his ex-wife, which had detailed his similar methods. He briefly wonders– or rather hopes– that the dude died during the Outbreak.

“Jesus Christ,” you let out in a breath, burying your head in your hands, “Who the fuck would do that?”

“People who feel like they aren’t being heard,” Joel says darkly as you hear him step back towards you, and you feel like sobbing.

Hadn’t the outbreak been punishment enough? Weren’t people sick of pain and grief?

“We sold them that shit, Joel,” you say through your hands, the despair and guilt in your tone clear as day.

He comes to stand in front of you again, leaving the kit and the glass of water on the table next to you, before pulling one of the chairs from the side of the table to sit facing you.

“I know,” he says solemnly as he sits down and opens the first aid box, pulling out some rolls of gauze. You finally look back up, eyes meeting his, and Joel can see in your eyes that you’re struggling with grasping this particular fact.

Of course Joel feels guilty, to some extent, but he'd been in the smuggling business long enough to adhere to the policy that once it was out of his hands, it was no longer his business.

“Here,” he says, swallowing as he grabs your arm, zeroing in on the largest cut.

Ironically it looks much worse than it actually feels, and almost the majority of your forearm seems covered in dried and fresh blood from this particular wound. Joel works in silence, cleaning the large cuts one by one and dressing them. You don’t mutter a word either, as you sit still and stare ahead of yourself a little. Joel knows you must be in shock, and he feels a strange amount of concern every time a loud sound from the street makes you flinch.

“Sorry,” you mutter after a particularly loud bang in the street outside makes you jump, and Joel temporarily loosens his grip on your arm as he bandages it.

“S’okay,” he says after a second, looking up at you briefly only to find your eyes unfocused once again, staring almost vacantly at the window. He notices your ears straining for sounds from the street, brows tied tightly together like you were searching them. Then, you feel Joel’s fingers back on your chin as he gently turns your head away from him.

“Still nothing?” he asks as he cleans the trickle of blood that has run from your ears down your neck. You shake your head as you feel his other hand come up, “What about this?”

You assume he snaps his fingers, but you only hear it on your other side. You shake your head.

“No,” you say, swallowing.

Joel lets out a sigh before his hand falls back down to his lap.

“Shouldn’t last very long,” he says, in an attempt to distract you, “Maybe one or two weeks.”

You give a non-committal hum as you nod, eyes still not meeting his as he returns to the final scratches on your arms.

“Stop thinking about it,” he says after a second, and this gets your attention, your head turning to look at him as he hunches over your arm.

“How?” you return, and he looks up at you, “How do you stop thinking about it? I–. . . those people are all dead, Joel. . . that could’ve been us.”

“Well lucky for me you got some fast reflexes,” he says, his tone almost joking as he looks back down to your arm, and you shake your head ever so slightly.

“This isn’t funny, Joel,” you say, and your voice is heavy with emotion as he looks up at you, your eyes shining with tears.

“I know,” he replies with a sigh, looking up at you, “I never said it was.”

There’s a split second in which you look at each other, before you swallow shakily and look away again, silence falling over you both.

It lasts only a second before you speak up again.

“How come you’re always the one patching me up?” you mutter, your tone half-hearted, making Joel let out a small scoff.

“Maybe because you keep getting yourself into trouble, sweetheart,” he returns as he wraps the rest of the bandage over a particularly large gash on your arm, careful to keep his grip loose around the fresh scar of your stab wound.

“Saving your life, you mean,” you mutter, and Joel emits a dry chuckle, before looking up at you from where he’s sitting hunched towards you. He’s not sure what he’s thinking, or if it's even a good idea, but he finds himself putting a reassuring hand on your knee, which he feels under his fingers is still trembling.

“That’s twice now,” he says with a squeeze of your knee, “You done being a hero? ‘Cause I’m afraid there won’t be much left of ya if this happens again.”

His face doesn’t reveal much, but his tone is strangely gentle, caring. . . something you’ve never before heard from Joel.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you say with a groan as you try to sit up a little more, Joel’s hand leaving your knee with a slight pat, before he gets to his feet. Then, his eyes fall on something under your chair, and he frowns.

“Are you bleeding?” he asks you, looking back up, and your eyebrows knit together as you follow Joel’s eyeline and find, to your great concern, a rapidly growing pool of blood gathering at your feet.

“I–. . . I didn’t think I was,” you let out, frowning slightly, before Joel steps around you, and you listen as he takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Your shoulder,” he says as you watch his hand go into the first aid kit and reach for the scissors, “You don’t feel that?”

“I mean a little, but, fuck–. . . ! What was that for?” you ask him, turning around to glare at Joel, who just used what felt like his entire hand to press down on the wound, making your shoulders erupt with pain.

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, as you feel his fingers pick up the hem of your shirt. Then, you hear the scissors cutting through the fabric of your top, “Doesn’t look too deep, but you’ll need a few stitches I think.”

“More fucking stitches,” you grumble to yourself, shaking your head as Joel peels the shirt from your back, “At this rate I’m going to be, like, 90% scar tissue.”

“And water,” Joel adds in an attempt at a joke, and to his credit, you chuckle slightly.

“And water, I suppose,” you say with a nod of your head as he reaches into the first aid kit for something to suture you with. You sit in silence as Joel cleans the needle and then your wound, before you feel him put his hand on your shoulder and he starts to sew you up.

It hurts, and you immediately feel tears spring into your eyes as your shoulders tense and your fingers tighten around the edge of the table, knuckles whitening.

“If you relax, it’ll hurt less,” Joel says, and his voice is practically in your ear, his breath fanning over your exposed skin.

“I’m being stitched up by a stranger with no pain medication or alcohol. . . I think you can understand why I’m tense,” you reply with a sigh.

Joel says nothing, but you can hear him thinking. You wonder about what.

“Stranger, huh?” Joel asks you with a hum, and you snort.

“What word would you use?” you reply, eyebrows creasing, “Because something tells me you’re not the type to have friends.”

Joel says nothing, only letting out a grudging sound as you feel the needle pierce your skin again, which makes you grit your teeth, shoulder tensing up again.

“Jesus Christ woman, relax,” Joel says again, letting out a breath as you feel him put a hand on your other shoulder, “Or I’ll sew you up crooked.”

You try your hardest, letting out a shaky breath and forcing your shoulders to un-tense, but it still isn’t enough, and Joel heaves a sigh as he tries to think of a way to distract you enough so he can sew you up at least half-properly.

“Be honest,” he says eventually, “How the fuck did you survive a month and a half out in the open?”

You’re silent for a second, and Joel waits for your answer before getting back to work.

“I was by myself,” you say eventually, as Joel places another stitch, which you react less violently to than the last one, “That sounds stupid, but I’m pretty sure that’s how. . . you have nobody else relying on you, you’re responsible for nobody and only have yourself to answer to. . . you’re entirely alone.”

“Here I was thinking that’s exactly what leads people to giving up,” Joel notes, throwing another stitch, and you let out a breath.

“You’d think that, but spite is a good motivator,” you admit, “Most of my time traveling I was just angry at the universe for putting me through the ringer. . . so I kept going. . . kind of like a ‘fuck you’, huh?”

“So you’re telling me–” Joel says, stopping to place another stitch, which you hiss at slightly, “–that you survived 2 months of hiking through the American backcountry as a fuck you to the Universe?”

“Canadian backcountry, actually,” you correct, before chuckling slightly, “But yeah, pretty much.”

“Canada?”

“Hm,” you give an agreeing hum, “We’d heard the midwest was hell on earth. . . as much hell as you can get in an apocalypse, I suppose. . . so I crossed the border somewhere in North Dakota, walked along the border.”

“What about infected?” Joel asks, and you shake your head.

“Only in and around big cities,” you note, “The rest is mostly national parks and forest, so I ran into relatively little trouble. . .infected were really the least of my worries, it’s the people.”

Joel gives an agreeing hum, but before he can open his mouth to reply, your front door flies inward with an almighty sound and you hear someone’s hoarse voice call out your name.

You jump again, eyes widening. From behind you, you’re vaguely aware of Joel’s hands having left your shoulders, and you hear the unmistakable sound of a safety clicking off.

Sam doesn’t look too injured as his wide eyes search the room before falling on you. His rifle is slung over his shoulder, and he has some smears of grime on his cheek, as well as a bloody handprint on the side of his pants that looks too small to be his. When he sees you, his face simultaneously relaxes and tightens at once.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice hoarse as he eyes the cuts on your arms, seemingly not even noticing Joel sitting behind you, and you nod.

“Just a few scratches,” you assure him, and he lets out a breath, before his expression becomes stormy. Behind you, Joel moves again, his hands coming back up to your wound where you assume he’s almost finished.

“The fertilizer,” Sam pants in a panicked voice, “Who did you give it to, speedy?”

“I kno–” you say, but Sam doesn’t listen.

“–because if you mix fertilizer with fuel oil you get–”

“–a bomb,” you finish, “I know, Sam.”

Sam’s voice stalls in his throat, eyes widening. “You knew? You knew they were planning on blowing people up and you went along with it anyway?”

“Obviously, I didn’t know that,” you reply sarcastically, and Sam lets out a scoff as Joel puts another stitch in your shoulder, palms coming up to steady your bicep.

“Sweetheart, I’m sure this is a very important conversation, but I’m gonna need you to hold still for me,” he says, his voice low but still audible as he focuses on the stitch.

Something in Sam's face twists when he hears the nickname, and Joel recognizes the flash of jealousy behind the young soldier's eyes that makes him realize this might not have been his smartest move. He doesn't find himself caring too much, drawing some satisfaction in the way Sam sizes him up.

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?" he asks him, moving his rifle towards Joel; not quite pointing it, but enough to tell him his attention has shifted, and not in a good way.

Joel takes up the challenge, moving his gaze from you to Sam, his shoulders setting imposingly as he gives Sam an almost unimpressed eyebrow from over your shoulder.

"Someone who doesn't have the fucking time for your little schoolboy crush."

"Joel," your voice is a sharp warning, "Not helping. . . Sam, I didn’t know.”

“I don’t care,” Sam says with a shake of his head, “Come on, you can’t be stupid like this, speedy.”

You close your eyes as you feel another stitch, face contorting in pain momentarily before you sigh. “I know.”

“–and all those people. . . did you know they killed fucking kids? I mean Jesus Christ,” Sam lets out again, and at this your jaw sets slightly.

“FEDRA hung an entire family for trying to come into the QZ last week,” you say, your tone cold, “You don’t need to lecture me on the blood staining my hands, thanks.”

There’s an uneasy silence between the two of you as Sam takes heavy, angry breaths, and after a second, Joel clears his throat, chair grating as he gets to his feet.

“All done,” he says, his voice back its usual stoicism, but neither you nor Sam pay him any attention as he walks to the other end of the room to clean his hands in the sink.

“You have to stop,” Sam says with a shake of his head, hands on his hips as he gives you a look.

“I have stopped–”

“No, I mean you have to stop smuggling,” he says with a shake of his head, “I don’t ever want you anywhere near this shit again.”

Normally you’d agree with Sam, but something about his tone irks you. It’s too authoritative, too controlling.

“Excuse me?” you utter, eyebrows flying up your forehead, “I don’t need you telling me to do anything, Sam.”

“Clearly, I have to– given you’re in absolutely no fit state to make any sound fucking decisions,” he hisses at you, and his tone has a venom to it you've only heard him use a handful of times.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you let out, and Joel can hear in your voice that you’re stung.

“You really want to know what my problem is?” he seethes, before motioning towards Joel, “This. . . ! This is my problem! This ridiculous rebellion you have going on, that you’ve had since the day you left the academy, that makes you run around here like some kind of untouchable, twisted version of Robin Hood. . . it’s stupid, speedy, and sooner or later it’s going to get you killed.”

“Hasn’t gotten me killed yet,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, and Sam lets out a sound of exasperation.

"I don't fucking care!" Sam lets out, his voice loud with anger and frustration, "You aren't listening–. . . the Fireflies’ cause isn’t any more noble than FEDRA’s regime. . . they’re all the fucking same, they lie and they kill, and sooner or later, they'll turn on you and you'll end up like your fucking dad."

"What?"

Your tone is shocked, and Sam watches with a guilty turn of his stomach as your eyes widen in shock, and grief, glistening with the oncoming threat of tears. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Sam says your name, but you interrupt him as you get to your feet suddenly, the sound of the grating chair filling the otherwise silent room.

"Tell me," you say through gritted teeth, and Samuel purses his lips, jaw clenching in frustration with himself as he takes a second to answer you.

The room is so silent that even with his bad ear, Joel is sure he could hear a pin if it dropped.

"It wasn't some random bystander that snitched on your dad," Samuel admits finally, and Joel realizes with a horrible turn of his stomach what he's about to say, "It was the Fireflies. They weren't happy he stopped helping them, and so they tipped FEDRA off that he’d been letting them run operations through the shop."

Your vision is starting to narrow as you take a shallow breath, eyes boring into Samuel. "How do you know this?"

“It doesn’t matter–”

"No– Samuel, how do you know this?" you say, your gaze going back to the boy you'd known for 13 years, your eyes filled with the puzzle pieces you're struggling to put into place, "If we were ever friends. . . please tell me."

Samuel's eyes plead with yours as your brain works overtime, before he lets out a defeated breath, shaking his head. "Burke is my mom's name, I took it when I joined the academy because I was sure they wouldn’t let me in otherwise. . . my dad's name is Hartwin."

Even Joel recognizes the name; it had been whispered in the streets for the past few years as word spread of the Fireflies' revolution and victory in San Francisco, led by a hardened ex-marine called Jack Hartwin. His name had been spoken with a twisted kind of admiration, word of his liberal use of violence somehow less known.

"Sam," you let out, your voice trembling as you blink once, tears still refusing to spill down your cheeks as your face becomes a mask of realization, "Oh god.”

“Speedy, please–”

He takes a small step in your direction, but you respond with a step back, your body almost flinching at that stupid nickname falling over his lips. It had been for a stupid reason, as well, a name he’d called you after you’d out-sprinted almost your entire class during a training exercise at the academy. You had let him, allowing the nickname to take hold until eventually he had started to use it more than your actual name. Now, the name sounds poisonous coming out of his mouth.

“How long have you known?” you ask him, your voice is trembling with both rage and betrayal, “And don’t you fucking even think about lying to me.”

Sam’s face becomes a mask of solemn guilt.

“Since the beginning,” he admits sorrowfully, “I found out who you were a few days after you joined.”

“You knew–” you say, your voice stalling in your throat as you hear your heartbeat thunder in your ears, “You knew all this time, and you never told me?”

“What would you have done with that information? We were sixteen, speedy,” Sam pleads.

“You were protecting him,” you accuse, your voice hoarse with pain and anger.

"I was protecting you," Samuel shouts back, his eyes wide and pleading, "That's all I ever wanted to do, okay? My father would've destroyed you if you'd gone after him. . . you were my friend, the first and only one I’d ever had, and I couldn’t in good conscience say anything–"

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” you explode, and finally the tears flow freely over your cheeks, “This whole time, you lied to me. . . you looked me the face and you lied to me, for thirteen fucking years, I–”

Your voice stalls in your throat as you take a shaky breath, your trembling hand coming up onto your forehead, your chest tight and uncomfortable as you fight the overwhelming urge to hurl.

“Speedy, please,” Sam says, and his voice is shaky, “I wasn’t protecting him. . . I want nothing to do with him. . . I was horrified when I found out what he’d done, I joined the academy out of spite because I wanted to get as far away from him as I possibly could.”

“How fucking noble of you,” you spit, your tone venomous as you refuse to look at him.

Silence falls on the kitchen, not a word spoken by anyone, until eventually you let the breath out again, just as shaky as when it came in. Sam tries one more time, saying your name, your actual one. . . but you interrupt him before he can get any further.

“Get out,” you say, and this time, your voice is firm and furious. His eyes widen with surprise and hurt for a second, before his brow creases slightly.

“What?” he utters, his voice filled with pain, his eyes even flitting helplessly to Joel for a second, who is still standing in the corner as quietly as he can, wishing he had the superpower to turn invisible right now.

“You heard me, get out,” you repeat, and you’re still not looking at him, fingers pressed against your mouth lightly as your eyes look down at your feet.

His expression becomes almost pleading. “Speedy–”

“Samuel,” you return, your eyes, alight with fury, finally meeting his.

You say it like a warning, and Sam presses his lips together as he watches your expression.

“Get out of my house before I do something I regret,” you seethe, and Joel watches your fists clench at your side. He feels his shoulders tense slightly, readying to move just in case your common sense fails you and he has to actually pull you off the soldier standing in your living room holding an assault rifle. When Sam says nothing, you repeat yourself, your voice raising. “I said get out, Sam, fucking get out, before I–”

“What?” Sam interrupts you anyway, shaking his head “Before you kill me. . . ?”

He doesn’t say it with scorn nor anger, tone maybe a little disbelieving but open and vulnerable nonetheless.

When you say nothing, he takes a breath. “You would do that to me, Speedy?”

Joel knows it’s going to happen before it does, watches as your fingers curl around the glass of water on the table, hears the sound of it shattering as you knock it over. It doesn’t hit anyone, but Sam jumps slightly at the sound, but to his credit, his gun remains unfired.

“Don’t fucking call me that! Don’t you ever fucking call me that again,” you shout at him, “Get out of my face. . . I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam says, and Joel notes that he actually sounds genuinely upset.

“With all my heart I fucking mean that, Samuel,” you say, your voice barely controlled as your eyes shine with tears of anger, “I mean it. . . I don’t want to see your face, I don’t want to hear your name. . .I curse the fucking day you ever even spoke to me, if you’d just minded your own damn business you’d have saved us both the fucking trouble.”

Sam is completely silent as he processes your words, the only sounds in the room that of your breathing.

“Get.out.”

Sam heaves a defeated sigh, his own eyes shining with threatening tears. He doesn’t seem to care one bit that Joel is witnessing this, his eyes focused only on you as his eyes plead with yours.

Finally, he turns on his heel and walks to the door, before pulling it open. He pauses there, before turning his head slightly over his shoulder, but without looking at you.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, before swallowing harshly, “I only did it because I love you. . . you’re my family, not him.”

Every word he says feels like a gut punch, and you show him your back as you try and take a deep breath, feeling your face contort as you’re overtaken with the sudden urge to cry.

The door clicks shut quietly behind him.

You take a deep breath, clearing your throat and looking at the ceiling for a second, before walking towards the door that leads to what he assumes is your bedroom, passing by Joel standing in the corner in silence. Your face is a mask of so many emotions Joel can hardly keep count; hurt, betrayal, rage, and he can see the tears pooling in your eyes and down your cheeks, but you don’t meet his gaze. He says your name, but you ignore him as you pass him by, only saying in a hoarse voice:

“Please do me a favor and show yourself out.”

Joel barely has time to nod wordlessly before your door slams shut with an almighty bang.

END OF SIDE A

a/n: ya'll i PROMISE it gets more exciting/more spicyyy. i just needed to establish this so i could flesh out the reader/joel dynamic and the basis for their relationship. please please bear with me, i have a plan heheheh. as usual, please let me know what you thought of this chapter and the story as a whole, i love hearing your input/feedback :)

taglist:

apart from those of you who explicitly asked to be added, i also took the liberty of tagging some of you that showed interest in more parts (if you do not want to be tagged, please please let me know, in which case i apologize in advance for doing so!)

@tanushreeg27 @user1112223334449890171 @frecklefacelm @samarav @alyssiamarierenee @platinumblondeedition @huntersandpie @lizlil @lumpypoll @pedro-pascal-3nthusiast @phryne-fish @ponyboys-sunsets

as usual, replies, reblogs and likes are highly appreciated!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller fic

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wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 32

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to The Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec list. I read a really long fic this week, so almost everything else I read was a one shot that I kinda crammed in between chapters of the long fic. We have a pretty good variety of pedro boys this week! I'm actually running low on one shots on my TBR, it's full of series. So rec me some one shots!

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Fic Recs Below!

Somewhere Beautiful

Din series by @peetiespetals

Summary: You have been working as a slave since the demise of your people and destruction of your planet. A stranger passes through your life and you make a bid for freedom, thwarted by the very man who inspired you to reach for it. In a twist of fate, the two of you are thrown together and must learn how to live with each other as the lines between slave and master begin to blur. Can you really tell the difference between duty and devtion?

Tags: smut, fluff and smut, angst, rough sex, bdsm, abandonment, neglect, physical abuse, love stories, shower sex, mutual masturbation, dom/sub undertones, oral sex, shameless smut, praise kink, bondage, biting, slow burn, spanking, orgasm control, orgasm delay/denial, cock warming, master/slave, vaginal fingering, deep throating, breast worship, pussy spanking, ball play, public creampie, edging, anal sex, foot jobs, handcuffs, cock bondage, panties in mouth, aftercare, jealous din djarin, hurt/comfort, overstimulation, strong female characters, hurt no comfort, porn with plot, sexual tension, porn with feelings, canon typical violence, slow romance, fluff and angst, anxiety, manhandling, pov second person, vaginal sex, nipple play, dirty talk, hair pulling

Thots: this fic had me in a chokehold all fucking week and then when I finished it I immediately started part two. Obsessed.

Take What You Need

Frankie one shot by @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Frankie needs to calm down before flying you "over the fucking Andes, man," so you help him out

Tags: SMUT. Porn with a flimsy nod to plot.

Thots: Redfly is such a dick. but anyway, I love this concept. reader providing some much needed stress relief? yes please. And it was HOT. I love this so much

I cannot get you close enough

Max Phillips one shot by @leslie-lyman

Summary: “You have to invite me in, sweetheart.” Oh. Right. Vampire. “Come in, please,” you say demurely, and Max’s smile widens as he steps over the threshold into your apartment. He reaches for you again immediately, kicking your door closed and pulling you close. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.”

Tags: A/B/O dynamics; one small scene of men being creepy and threatening towards reader (but, perhaps surprisingly, one of those men is not Max); extremely self-indulgent Halloween costumes on the part of your author; a bit of angst; fEeLiNgS; absolutely way too much plot and character backstory for what was supposed to just be porn; Alpha!Max is his own warning; heat sex; biting; blood-drinking; breeding kink; many, many creampies; Max has an absolutely filthy mouth; look, it’s heat sex with Max, it probably (hopefully?) entails exactly what you think it does

Thots: I think this my favorite pedro fandom abo ever. it’s so fucking good. i love how max takes care of her like a good alpha, but it's not completely mired in shitty omega stereotypes. She still has a whole career and a life and hobbies and shit. Plus the smut is top fucking tier good god.

Chaste

Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: Off the back of a two week retreat to the middle of fuck knows where Dieter Bravo doesn't seem quite himself. You soon figure out why.

Tags: chastity pollen (the opposite of sex pollen - our man can't fuck), mention of past drug use, masturbation, not phone sex but phone sex adjacent, brief mention of Dieter pissing (twice), cock and ball pain (not cock and ball torture), a brief thing with a glove that isn't sexy at all for anyone involved but it's there, the vaguest of dub-con for the ending (Dee sends you pictures of his dick that you didn't ask for/technically said no to but jerk off to anyway)

Thots: This had me dying. It was funny as fuck. Poor Dee... but then the end... that shit was hot in like a totally pathetic way... This came off that list of reverse fandom tropes, and now I want to see more of them.

illicit affairs

Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Summary: it’s my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it.

Tags: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n.

Thots: Mads broke my heart with this one. Joel is such a dick, expecting reader to just put up with the shitty treatment because why? because she's young? Fuck him and good for reader. I kinda wanna see Joel's internal struggle for the next few weeks after this scene.

Was it all a dream?

Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. Or Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Tags: canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, set somewhere between the Book of Boba Fett/very beginning of season three, eventual smut (starts at chapter 4!), line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Thots: I could not be more excited for this series. It's a brilliant idea and it's so fucking cool. I love reader and Din's relationship. I love the parallels between them. I'm so ready to hype this fic up for the next several weeks AGH.

Trigger Points

Ezra one shot by @whataperfectwasteoftime

Summary: Ezra is a massage therapist. What kind, you ask? Internal massage. That’s it that’s the fic.

Tags: Medical kink, massage kink (is that a thing?), erotic massage, mentions of sexual dysfunction and difficulty orgasming, consent forms, the clinical is erotic now, power imbalance due to the masseur/patient dynamic, mentions of uhhh *checks notes* anal massage, lots of vaginal fingering I mean massaging, pelvic floor massaging but make it erotic, dubcon only in the sense that Ezra says orgasm is not the goal and then definitely deliberately gives her one anyway, g-spot orgasms, squirting, Penny gets on her soapbox at the end

Thots: i think i might have a masseuse kink... anyways... there's something about the overly clinical language that made this so hot. like the lack of trying to make it sexy somehow made it sexier. i'm short circuiting

forever is the sweetest con

Joel series by sistersadeyes (AO3)

Summary: your life, post-apocalypse, and the surly old survivor who darkens your door. Growing up with a doomsday prepper as a father hadn't been easy. But after the Outbreak, you can't help but feel a little grateful to the old man. You're almost sad he didn't make it long enough to see how right he'd been. You inherit the farm, the stockpile, and the bunker months before the Outbreak. And in the aftermath, you use it to prove that human kindness still exists, helping all those you can. Set 5 years after the Outbreak.

Tags: no use of y/n, fluff, domestic fluff, romance, eventual romance, post outbreak, eventual smut, texas, homesteading, doomsday prepper, age difference (14ish years), fluff and angst, canon typical violence, canon divergent/not canon compliant, smut, pining, mutual masturbation, mutual pining, vague timeline, time jumps, forehead kisses, fingerfucking, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, praise kink, sir kink, breeding kink if you squint, emotional hurt/comfort, protective joel, angst, vaginal fingering, daddy kink, possessive joel, somnophilia, consensual somnophilia, cowgirl position, creampie

Thots: This fic made me cry tears of pure joy at the end. It's so sweet and precious and full of domestic fluff. But there's also some fucking heartwrenching angst. And really fucking cool action too??? It's a total rewrite of canon and I thought it was super fucking creative and so fun to read. The smut is also... good fucking god is it hot. Joel is perfect in this fic.

go slow

Joel one shot by @frannyzooey

Summary: In the quiet of your bedroom, Joel guides you through it.

Tags: riding, joel talks you through it, p in v sex

Thots: Hot, sensual, perfect, amazing smut.

Honor and Obey

Frankie/Santi/Reader one shot by @magpiepills

Summary: You are Santi’s wife and when Frankie moves in, you have an idea that Santi helps you make a reality.

Tags: SMUT! Threesome, sort of fucking, oral m and f receiving, m/m dynamics, sort of dom reader, sort of sub Frankie and Santi, Frankie is the Pussy Eating King, big dicks, teasing, flirting, mentions of alcohol, mentions of curls, fuck licking, cum shots, creampies, a little overstimulation, one spank, pwp, just porn.Y'all know I love my subby boys... and I really love a MMF threesome.

Thots: This fic had me sweating. Frankie and Santi are so gorgeous together. Pussy Eating King Frankie is always a welcome addition to any Frankie fic, also. Just fucking magnificent, truly.

Blessing in Disguise

Lucien Flores one shot by @pedgito

Summary: you're his best-friend's daughter and he's at a party he can't be bothered to care about, luckily you're the one thing that catches his attention.

Tags: no use of y/n, age gap (not specified, but it's girthy) smoking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, f!oral, unprotected piv, light choking, mentions of reader having hair that can be grabbed (to some degree), lucien is a major dilf and divorced

Thots: I am astronomically down bad for lucien flores. It's giving latino dbf!joel. Every single second of this fic is hot. I need a cold shower. and a nap. and maybe a cigarette. Maybe Luce will share one with me. I hope he smokes spirits.

My Recent Fics

Ravage - smut | AO3 - Ezra x f!reader

Type: one shot Word Count: 1.6k Summary: “Oh birdie�� I could just eat you.” OR Saltburn-style hate as consumption Tags: Weird vibes, period/menstruation smut, bloodplay and blood consumption, weird classism stuff, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving, Saltburn AU

Only Good Girls - smut | AO3 - Dave x f!reader

Type: one shot Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Dave reminds you why you should always be a good girl for him. Tags: PWP/plot what plot, Reader has hair that can be pulled; fingering f receiving; squirting; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; choking; rough sex as punishment; unprotected p in v; mirror sex; bondage (necktie around the wrists behind the back); toaster strudel not a twinkie; excessive hair pulling; spanking

Happy Reading!

#fic recs #the spreadsheet digest #fanfiction recommendations #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction

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ofallplaceswhythis · 2 months

Text

tcoptp thoughts pt.17

I have officially lost count of how many of these i have done. currently at ch86 and everything is fine and dandy :)

scratch that everything is not fine and dandy- THEY PULLED REGULUS OUT OF SCHOOL. WHEN I FIND WALBURGA

Marlene and James <3333

the black brothers angst will kill me one day. Write it on my grave

I didnt think it was possible for remus to panic even more but jealousy seems to do the trick

GOD THEY'RE SO AWKWARD I LOVE THEM

can the lesbians please stay together i need them they're probably the only sane couple around here (apart from sunflower)

its 2 am please i cant laugh. what i do find funny is that at the start sirius and remus were all like 'lEtS gIvE tHeM sIgNaLs tHeY'lL fIgUrE iT oUt' and then at the end they were like 'we dont care about society's views we will make out just so you can understand'. AND THEN LILY JUST SAYS SHE KNEW IT ALREADY (valid tbh)

james and sirius kissing in the toilet while drunk and then never talking about it again is peak bff behaviour.

marlene 'tell me again what they said' mckinnon i wanna hug you

noo not mary and marlene guys please asdfghjkl

NO NOT THE LESBIANS

.........not the unrequited marylene havent i had enough angst

.....this is another level of kinky behaviour

.......peter was literally so close fuckk

wolfstar's entire love language is bickering and its beautiful <33

james just absolutely panicking in front of marlene im dying

....oh mary you sweet summer child

'you've lined us up for slaughter' god i love them asdfghjkl

.............................................................................................................

god mary's day is just filled with shocks and suprises

'shes a woman not the devil' I WISH. ONE DAY SHE IS GOING TO DIE BY MY BLADE AS A THOUSNAD COCKROACHES RUN DOWN HER FACE INSTEAD OF TEARS

I am going to kill her and make her eat worms for eternity in hell just so that she can feel just a scrap of pain that she had inflicted

.....what just happened.... asdfghjklqwertyuiopzxcvbnm

.......SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE SIRIUS A HUG HE DESERVES IT

CHRIST IS VOLDEMORT FUCK YEAH (no hate to christianity btw just hate to the blacks)

THE BLACK BROTHERS SORTING THEIR SHIT! TOGETHER!🥹

HOW DO THEY THINK OF THESE THINGS 💀💀

........this is genius wtf

k now its just getting embarrassing tbh pls stop

......regulus?? trish??? reginald? hoooly fuck

.......ITS A PROMISE RING!!!

'i find those reeking in heterosexual undertones' ily sirius

kinda feel bad for peter tbh

....oh... oh no... fuckk

someone give sheila a hug god knows that woman has had enough

#the cadence of part time poets #my thoughts #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #the black brothers

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alwaysxlarrie · 2 years

Text

my fav fics masterlist part 2 (N-Z)

here we are! i genuinely thought this list was going to be slightly shorter than the first one, and i can honestly say that i have no idea if it actually is. again, alphabetical order. hope u find a fic on this list that u end up enjoying :)

needing you more and more, let’s give love a try by supernope (mpreg harry, best friends to lovers, pining, angst, fluff, domestic fluff, protective louis, harry foams at the mouth over louis’ strength & honestly? same, dom/sub undertones, lawyer louis/photographer harry)

no one likes to be alone by @lululawrence (nesting, alpha louis/omega harry, protective louis, getting together, awful disregard for omegas’ safety, distressed harry, strangers to friends to lovers)

never be by @cherrystreet (studying abroad au, strangers to friends to lovers to exes to friends to lovers, slow burn, dom/sub undertones, quite a few heaps of angst, complicated relationships, harry’s obsessed with louis what’s new, minor louis/omc, minor harry/omc, louis is a little shit, american louis/british harry, this fic is gonna make you fight for your life through the angst but you’ll make it out to the happy ending !!)

no bunny but you by @crinkle-eyed-boo (oooo i love this fic!! bartender harry/artist louis, strangers to lovers, bathroom sex, dom/sub undertones, louis is an absolute minx and harry falls in love the moment he lays eyes on him,

no pressure, no diamonds ‘verse by @karamelised “there’s so much to say i don’t even know where to start but thief louis/grifter harry, slow burn, complicated relationships, criminal au, strangers to fwb to enemies to lovers -- or something like that LMAO -- eventual getting together, there’s just. a lot. but the suspense is so good!!)

oh glory by @alivingfire (olympics au, swimmer harry/gymnast louis, closeting, mentions of zouis, getting together, dom/sub undertones, slow burn, sexual tension is immaculate, angst)

opulence thrills by @brightgolden (dom/sub undertones, sex club au, auction au, mentions of past relationships gone awry, miscommunication, bsdm elements, slow burn, getting together)

our lives, non-fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (famous louis/famous marcel, writer louis/fan fic writer marcel, virigin marcel, book tour au, strangers to enemies to fwb to lovers, miscommunication, angst, learning about how to navigate healthy relationships and sex! we love to see it!, fluff, domestic fluff)

one day to believe in you by @mediaville (magic elements, canon elements, friends to lovers, implied getting together, poor louis can’t catch a break, confessions, angst)

only reason by @letsjustsee (fake identity au, stolen identity au, idk it’s one of the two lol, strangers to lovers, conventions, louis makes a fool out of himself in the name of love and harry is endeared)

only thing that can quench my thirst by eyesofshinigami (kink exploration, established relationship, this is written so well in terms of louis’ confusion, denial, uncertainty, harry’s acceptance, and then louis’ acceptance ugh)

our chromosomes in sepia tones by orphan account (sculptor harry, homeless louis, famous harry/non famous louis, angst, guarded louis)

play the odds by @alivingfire (bet au, best friends to lovers, college/university au, lots and lots of kissing, light angst, love confessions, getting together, concerned liam & niall)

plenty of time by @juliusschmidt (alpha louis/omega harry, sexual tension, responsible louis, desperate harry, strangers to lovers, implied getting together)

picture this by @kingsofeverything (bouncer harry, club goer(?) louis, mentions of covid/pandemic, surprise assholes, getting together, misunderstandings, light dom/sub undertones imo)

precious little thing by mercutionotromeo (phone sex operator louis, university/college au, daddy kink, kink exploration, poor harry is just trying his best, bdsm elements, harry is louis’ baby, getting together, light angst)

pulling on your heart to push my luck by mercutionotromeo (ugh i love this fic sm, phone sex operator louis, dom/sub undertones, phone sex, harry is louis’ baby, amazing dirty talk, ambiguous ending)

peppermint and lavender (and coffee) by @2tiedships2 (coffee shop au, alpha louis/omega harry, employee/customer if u wanna get techincal, soulmate au, possessive/protective louis, niall is over louis’ shit, breaks of the fourth wall, getting together)

packed lunches, sticky fingers, and accidental levitation by @londonderrytea (normally i’m not a huge fan of fics that spend 90% of the fic world building and like less than 50% on larry, but i really do love this one so much, witches au, potion maker harry/cultural interpreter louis, single dad harry, kid fic, pixie zayn, the humor/crack in this is pheromonal i love)

renegade by @littlelostpieces (now look acab right however this is fiction so we allow it u feel me anyway, cop harry/criminal louis, louis is a minx, banter, teasing, slow burn, this is so cute i adore it)

ready to fall by @crazyupsetter (minx louis, bathroom sex, acquaintances to fwb to lovers, harry is obsessed w louis & his ass, courting, determined harry, semi phone sex, slow burn kinda)

right now (in the nick of time) by @nudistyles (skater louis/fan boy harry, he’s not a formal fan but essentially he is, roller derby au, strangers to friends to lovers, competitive louis, car sex, this fic is so cute but funny at the same time, slow burn, sexual tension)

red brick heart by hazmesentir (this fic is a rollercoaster of emotions as are most of this author’s fics lol, sexuality crisis, college/university au, student louis/student harry, mentions of louis/omc, mentions of alcohol, mentions of homophobia, slow burn, eventual happy ending, lots of angst but also lots of fluff and banter)

raise a glass to the four of us by @2tiedships2 (we got each other’s baggage au, is that the formal name idk, strangers to lovers, new york au, omega louis/alpha harry, airplane sex, louis and harry join the mile high club what a time to be alive, the ending is so cute i love)

say i hate you but i always stay by @liltinylouis (enemies to lovers but with a twist, football player louis, teasing/banter/all those things, implied smut, getting together)

set alight my veins by whiskeyinthejar (blind date au, punk louis/nerd harry, crack internal monologue if that’s a thing, mentions/occurrences of bullying, paranoid harry, i do love the author’s note at the end tbh)

say something by @kingsofeverything (alpha louis/omega harry, older harry/younger louis, divorced harry, homie is v much using cognitive dissonance for about 70% of the fic lolol, supportive/protective louis, heat/ruts, heaps of angst, slow burn, kink exploration, pregnancy kink, mpreg harry)

stranger stars by @sunshineandhisrainbows (the sexual tension in this!!!!!, tour guide/leader louis/lawyer/singer/songwriter/photographer harry, travel abroad au, safari au also works i think, mentions of louis/ofc, sexuality crisis, they kinda share that really, complicated relationships, mentions of internalized homophobia, mentions of homophobic laws, slow burn, this is so good & worth the read)

sail across me by @canonlarry (pirate au, prince harry/captain louis, slow burn, protective/posessive louis, they kinda share that really, angst, mentions of violence)

strip that down by @chloehl10 (college/university au, student louis/student harry, thigh fucking, pain kink, hickey kink, idk if that’s a thing but if it’s not it should be, bathroom sex, waxing, mentions of alcohol, implied getting together)

secrets don’t make friends by @thedevilinmybrain (ugh love this fic!! college/university au, student louis/student harry, established relationship, feminization, dom/sub undertones, light angst, implied homophobia, top tier smut & dirty talk)

steal my heart; whatever it takes to get you off by @artxghoul (liiiisten i love this one but the last chapter gives me a run for my money w the angst, dom/sub undertones, office au, coworkers to fwb to lovers, talks about homophobia, coming out, office sex, spanking, bsdm elements, hurt/comfort)

single bells ring by @absoloutenonsense (christmas fic, alpha louis/alpha harry, sexual tension, slow burnish, puns, fluff, implied smut, implied getting together)

sometimes you just know by @2tiedships2 (omega louis/alpha harry, exes to friends to lovers light on the friends tho lol, angst, learning healthy communication, mentions of louis/omc, protective harry, fluff, getting back together)

starbucks lovers by @jaerie (strangers to implied lovers, bathroom hookup, idk what to tag this homie just goes into a starbucks to find a hook up and finds one lol)

sun-kissed hurricane, perfect storm by @canonlarry (high school au, popular louis/nerd harry, tutor harry, lots of poetry, classmates, student harry/student louis, this fic is overall so cute i love the progression of their relationship)

so kiss me by @harryventura (kiss cam au, strangers to lovers, innuendos, football player louis, supportive harry, this is just so cute i cry)

sit next to me by @allwaswell16 (famous harry/famous louis, plot twists, miscommunication, implied getting together, there’s angst but it’s overall a cute and lovely fic)

somewhere only we know by @icanhazzalou (hurt/comfort, desk sex, office sex, implied gettting together, sexual tension, slow burn kinda, i love how their relationship progresses in this one too ugh)

stood up by panda_bear21 (famous louis/famous harry, blind date au kinda, implied smut, mentions of closeting, sexual tension, implied getting together, i love their dynamic in this too ugh!!)

sound like a song by @allwaswell16 (puns so many puns, post high school au, teacher harry/coach louis, getting a second chance au, getting together, idk man just read it i love it)

send me your pillow (the one that you dream on) by flowercrownfemme (omega louis/omega harry, nesting, distressed harry, worried louis, hurt/comfort, established relationship)

stars will align for us by @2tiedships2 (omega harry/alpha louis, courting, college/univeristy au, football player louis, determined/protective/caring louis, getting together)

somethin’ bout you by @missandrogyny (heist au, thief louis/government agent harry, complicated relationships, enemies to friends to lovers, dom/sub undertones, angst, getting together)

so hot, give me your gasoline by ballsdeepinjesus (actor louis/fanboy harry, implied getting together, semi public sex, virgin harry, top tier smut & dirty talk)

sonic sounds by orphan account (canon fic kinda, x factor era, humiliation kink, kink exploration, under negotiated kink, ambiguous ending)

smell the sea, feel the sky by @lightwoodsmagic (light angst? kinda?, friends to lovers, spanking, dom/sub undertones, sexual tension, slow burn, getting together)

santa baby honey by @sadaveniren (crack fic, christmas fic, boss/employee, ceo louis/employee harry, slow burn, under negotiated kink exploration, sex club, secret santa au, the sexual tension build up to smut & dirty talk is so good, getting together, light feminization)

‘sup by @mediawhorefics (divorced harry, anxious harry, cute-meet, coffee shop au kinda, fond louis, implied getting together, i just love how louis reacts to harry uggggh)

save a dolphin, ride a... by @londonderrytea (college/university au, loud louis, distressed harry, look just read it. u won’t regret it)

said i’ll always be a friend by daddylouist (girl direction, dubious consent in a way, friends to lovers, it’s cute & hot what more do you want)

skip the small talk by @sadaveniren (omega louis/alpha harry, dom/sub undertones, bdsm elements, wax play, spanking, negotiated kink, breeding kink, mating kink, top tier fic !!)

sing when you’re winning by hazmesentir (football player louis/journalist harry, coming out, mentions of closeting/homophobia in the sports industry, eleanor is louis’ pr manager, angst, slow burn, sexual tension, louis just wants to fuck harry and doesn’t know what to about it LMAO, getting together, uncomfortable work environments)

show me yours and i’ll show you mine by awriterwrites (look i don’t condone cheating but i do love this fic and at least louis cheats with harry & not on harry, office au, coworkers to friends to lovers, angst, coworkers au, getting together, office sex, secret relationships)

the melody you never heard by @anylessreal (mentions of past hook ups, enemies to friends to lovers light on the friends tho lol, camping au, angst, miscommunication, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vomit, getting together, slow burn, boat sex)

them butterflies by @gaycousinlarry (words cannot express how much i love this fic !!!!, graphic designer louis/social worker harry, navigating healthy communication, sexuality crisis although there’s really no crisis tbh, smut as a means to character development iykyk, one homophobic situation, strangers to fwb to lovers, mentions of past louis/omc, dom/sub undertone

the night sky is changing overhead by orphan account (strangers to fwb to lovers, bsdm elements, dom/sub undertones, daddy kink, office sex, desk sex, sex toys, top tier smut & dirty talk, world building, tattoo artist harry/teacher louis, choking, angst, kink negotiation, un negotiated kink, possessive louis, this one has it all tbh

take me higher than i’ve ever been by @ireallysawanangel (office au, coworkers to friends to lovers, virgin harry, fluff, domestic fluff, harry is louis’ baby, light dom/sub undertones, miscommunication, getting together)

the lonely planet guide to second chances by @1diamondinthesun (travel abroad au, teacher louis/graphic designer harry, exes to friends to lovers, getting back together, light dom/sub undertones, mentions of alcohol/weed, light exhibitionism, angst, learning healthy communication, harry is louis’ baby)

three french hems by 100percentsassy and gloria_andrews (crack fic, designer louis/singer harry, fluff, light angst, coming out, getting together, bathroom sex, louis loves harry’s thighs we been knew)

the brightest lights by @all-these-larrythings (actor louis/actor harry, side niam, mentions of suicide for the movie, tw for james corden, secret relationship, mentions of closeting, coming out, older louis/younger harry, getting together, strangers to coworkers to friends to fwb to lovers, v sweet fic overall)

the sound of your voice from far away by pukeandcry (lots of angst imo, canon fic, friends to fwb to lovers, complicated relationships, road trip au, mentions of closeting, coming out, it’s hard to get through the beginning bc angst but the ending is sweet)

the orchards of jessop by @jaerie (mentions of covid/pandemic, older louis/younger harry, sexuality crisis, smut as a means to character development, miscommunication bc lack of communication, mentions of death in the past, mentions of louis/ofc, getting together, mentions of past homophobic situations)

that boy’s got my heart in a silver cage by orphan account (canon fic, obedience kink, humiliation kink, praise kink, bdsm elements, dom/sub undertones, established relationship, mentions of closeting, light angst, implied coming out)

the shirt you hate by @isthatyoularry (mentions of past toxic relationship, background sophiam, exes to lovers, angst, courting, artist harry/ceo louis, getting a second chance au basically, attempted office sex lol)

this thing upon me (howls like a beast) by @sadaveniren (alpha louis/omega harry, strangers to fwb to lovers, heat/rut, pregnany kink, slow burn, getting together, mentions of danielle - just had a moment of self awareness of how weird it felt to type that when one of my friends was friends with her while she was louis’ beard but such is life lmao - anyway, negotiated kink)

the king and i by @canonlarry (gang au, criminals au, gang leader louis, poor harry’s just trying his best, side niam, office sex, strangers to coworkers(?) to lovers, boss/employee relationship, betrayal, angst, dom/sub undertones)

the lion man by @canonlarry (vampire louis/human harry, med student harry, miscommunication, implied cheating, moral dilemmas, getting together)

the risen by @creamcoffeelou (cult au, dark fic, cult leader louis/journalist harry, omega harry/alpha louis, hypnotism, emotional manipulation, mental manipulation, forced bonding, exhibitionism, public sex, brainwashing, louis’ fuckin good at what he does & he’s so sexy while he does it tho ugh, dom/sub elements, dirty talk imo at least)

the library universe by @allwaswell16 (i! love! this! fic!, librarian harry/installation coordinator louis, slow burn, harry’s in denial, sexual tension, miscommunication, louis is a tease, puns, getting together, niall & harry cook together)

to lure a hummingbird (you had me at moonstruck) by @broken-beaks (amazing plot twist towards the end, neighbors au, enemies to friends to lovers, personal trainer louis/photographer harry, mentions of alcohol, angst, slow burn, getting together, harry is louis’ baby, hurt/comfort)

take our bodies higher by @littlelouishiccups (phone sex operator harry, student louis/student harry, university/college au, dom/sub elements, secret identity, getting together, healthy communication, negotiated kink)

then we kiss (all i wanna do is have a good time) by orphan account (boss/employee relationship, writer harry/writer louis, harry is louis’ baby, slow burn, crack fic imo, getting together, office sex, it’s so cute ugh)

the clock strikes christmas by @jacaranda-bloom (homeless harry/rich louis, anxious harry, mentions of abusive past, harry is louis’ baby, kinda sugar baby au, except harry insists on being independent, hurt/comfort)

tastes like strawberries by @sadaveniren (nesting, alpha harry/omega louis, distressed louis, implied getting together, mild hurt/comfort, such a cute lil fic)

the one where harry really doesn’t have ten cats by LoadedGunn (pet sitter harry/actor louis, famous louis/non famous harry, slow burn, puns and innuendos, miscommunication, cats on cats on cats on cats, getting together, implied smut)

tangled up in you (you and i collide) by trustingno1 (mentions of harry/omc, canon fic kinda, famous louis/famous harry, sexual tension, slow burn, pain kink, harry is a minx & louis has had enough™️, mentions of past rejections, implied getting together)

the money mark by @brightgolden (sugar baby au, omega harry/alpha louis, hostile work environments, exes to fwb to lovers but like sugar baby edition, miscommunication, independent harry, i love how like..casually louis progresses their relationship ngl)

taken by the wind by @scrunchyharry (witch harry/human, poor harry is just trying his best once again, neighbor au, halloween au, louis basically stealth courts harry it’s my fav, fond louis, getting together)

to the ends of the earth by @aliensingucci (angst angst anst, flashbacks, exes to fwb to lovers, dom/sub undertones, post hiatus au, mentions of beards and closeting, i looooove the ending of this, learning healthy communication, getting back together)

this is my jam by @disgruntledkittenface (gay bathhouse au, mentions of aids/hiv, ambiguous ending, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism, possessive louis, harry becomes louis’ baby in 2 seconds we love to see it, implied happy ending, safe sex)

tell me what you need by @disgruntledkittenface (coffee shop au kinda, barista louis/photographer harry, side ziall, harry is a gay diaster, fond louis, louis is a tease, implied getting together)

talk dirty to me by @briannamarguerite (mutual masturbation, dirty talk, mentions of harry/omc, best friends to lovers, smol lil plot twist at the end, harry is louis’ baby)

there’s always another option by anonymous (dubious consent, discussions of cheating, somnophilia, prefnancy kink, getting together)

this is not my cat by @londonderrytea (hybrid harry/human louis, crack fic, i love this sm it’s so cute and funny)

the flower that blooms in adversity by @hershelsue (alpha louis/unlabeled harry, camping au, new years eve au, this fic is amazing read it rn, praise kink, pain kink, humiliation kink, pregnancy kink, the dirty talk is top tier)

vampire au by orphan account (vampire au, vampire harry/vampire louis, harry is louis’ baby, dom/sub elements, stubborn harry, scared harry, mentions of abandonment, spanking, getting together)

want it flowing through my streams by @screwstyles (wimbledon au, omega harry/alpha louis, courting, heats, bad boy louis au, harry is louis’ baby, dom/sub elements)

what do you mean he’s coming? by @mediawhorefics (louis is gemma’s best friend au, wedding au, photographer harry/actor louis, famous louis/non famous harry, getting together, this is adorable i’m obsessed)

wasn’t expecting that by @yourpricelessadvice (sexuality crisis, single dad harry, construction worker harry/teacher louis, harry is louis’ baby, angst, hurt/comfort, harry’s trying his best but he figures it out)

watch him as he goes by loadedgunn (police officer louis/photographer harry, mentions of violence/blood, slow burn, sexual tension & innuendos, getting together)

whirlwind by @haydolce (actor harry/football coach louis, famous harry/non famous louis, childhood friends to lovers, this is cute. i love it. read it asap)

we are ghosts amongst these hills by orphan account (this fic makes me miss a 17th century soulmate i don’t have goodbye)

we’re still going, eight in the morning by @nooelgallagher and @yoursongonmyheart (dj louis/baker harry, slow burn, phone sex, fluff, light angst, harry is louis’ baby, read this!!!)

whatever you like by itiswhatitisbutterfly (sugar baby au, dom/sub undertones, getting together, daddy kink, praise kink)

we’re watching a television with no sound by orphan account (kiss cam au, just a cute lil fluff fic, implied getting together)

weigh us down (we’re in love) by orphan account (strangers to best friends to lovers, larry throughout the years, harry is louis’ baby, just overall so much fluff ugh)

whoever, however by @twopoppies (director louis/pornstar harry - to some degree anyway, praise kink, posessive louis, exhibitionism, voyeurism, implied getting together)

wrapped in light, in life, in love by orphan account (childhood friends to lovers, louis’ gemma’s best friend au, mpreg, doctor louis/teacher harry, harry is louis’ baby, fluff fluff fluff)

welcome back from the friend zone by @2tiedships2 (best friends to lovers, fake marriage au, omega louis/alpha harry, hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, getting together)

waiting by @allwaswell16 (omega louis/alpha harry, best friends to lovers, louis takes care of harry and then harry takes care of louis, getting together)

waste the night by @wicked-archer (famous louis/non famous harry, one night stand, implied getting together, porn with plot basically)

want you more than a by @donotdialnine (best friend’s brother au, dom/sub undertones, orgasm denial, harry is louis’ baby, nerd harry, occurrences of bullying, hurt/comfort, obsessed with their dynamic in this fic)

you’re my favorite bird by supernope (strangers to lovers, ornithologist harry/camera shop owner louis, world building, i love how their relationship progresses in this too, louis calls harry his baby need i say more????)

yours in fractions by @kingsofeverything (strangers to fwb to lovers, miscommunication, christmas fic, fluff, domestic fluff, getting together)

you’ll breathe me in (you won’t release) by loadedgunn (dom/sub undertones, `bdsm elements, strangers to friends(?) to lovers, moral dilemmas, discussions of power dynamics, pain kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, daddy kink, harry is louis’ baby, older louis/younger harry, overstimulation, there’s too many to tag but i love their dynamic & the smut & dirty talk)

you take me over, you’re the magic in my veins by supernope (magic au, royal au, prince louis/prince harry, forbidden love, arranged marriage, supportive gemma, possessive louis, mpreg harry, sexual tension, world building, marriage proposals, harry is louis’ baby)

you are my favorite place by soleilouis (famous harry/non famous louis, body worship, mentions of closeting & beards, getting together, harry is louis’ baby)

you smile like the sun by softspoken (fluff fluff fluff fluff, marcel au, read this asap)

you come beating like moth’s wings by supernope (travel abroad au, strangers to friends to fwb to lovers, world building, getting together, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort)

you’ll be home for christmas by @2tiedships2 (omega louis/alpha harry, heats, getting together, louis is in denial what’s new, protective harry, best friends to lovers)

young hearts on the chase by @polaroidlouis (omega harry/alpha louis, courting, fluff, light angst, getting together, valentine’s day fic, this is so cute i cry)

you’re like a sponge (abrasive and colorful) by @londonderrytea (look louis’ just trying his best, coworker au, insults are compliments, getting together, fond harry, crack fic)

you’re stumbling like the nazarene by sarcasticfluentry (porn with plot, priest louis/church goer harry, idk if church goer is a term but it is now, orgasm denial, getting together, fwb to lovers, religious kink, praise kink, dom/sub undertones)

you make the world taste better by @loveislarryislove (fairtyale au, dark fairytale au, plot twists, descriptions of violence & death, getting together, strangers to friends to lovers, bittersweet ending)

you can be the boss by lourries (boss/employee relationship, ceo louis/intern harry, office sex, desk sex, spanking, daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, porn without plot)

there it is !! hopefully there’s little to no mistakes lol. thank you to all of the talented authors for creating such lovely fics !!! if you end up reading any of these fics & like them, let me know! i love hearing what people think about the fics i recommend :)

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japanifornication · 5 months

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20 fic questions

i was tagged by @mutxnts thank you ash!!

1. how many works do you have on Ao3?

21, ayyy, one less than ash!!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

189,718. this does not surprise me.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

ace attorney and very rarely ff7 and the last of us.

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

late night (257 kudos), tasting (121 kudos), finality (114 kudos), alive (91 kudos), distance (88 kudos) all of these are ace attorney, three of them are part of a series lol.

if we want to include my art that i've posted to ao3, holding would actually be in second place, with 218 kudos.

theoretically another fic should be in the top five instead but i left it out because i just don't like it and don't plan to update it again/will prob remove it at some point (it was my first in the fandom, was trying to do a case fic before realizing i am bad at them).

5. do you respond to comments?

i try to always respond but sometimes i just don't know what to say! that being said i am always open to chatting about my fics. please. please talk to me oh my god i want to talk about ace attorney.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oughhhh....... i guess no one told me it would be beautiful? it's one of my shortest fics and part of just a short series of a post-apocalypse au. it's not exactly the angstiest ending, i have another series in mind for that, but the whole fic has an undertone of angst, and series will too. i just write it in spurts when i feel the need to write something that isn't one of my WIPs.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i think most of my fics end on a sort of higher note! my fics have strong undertones of angst but with lighter endings, but i think the winner would go to status :) because it's the happy ending to the long angsty series! and also it just makes me happy, i feel like i really stuck the landing, we get to see the boys laugh over the most absurd situation and it makes me laugh too.

8. do you get hate on fics?

i've never gotten hate on a fic but shortly after i posted fic that met this description in the tags once, someone i follow made a post making fun of the idea that edgeworth would ever be a sexy dom. listen we are all playing in our own sandboxes.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

we all know me, come on now. i write trans phoenix getting railed in all configurations smut. every e-rated fic has at least one creampie. we know this.

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i don't, but i do have one in mind. i've been planning a severance ace attorney fic for a long time.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

kind of? tybalt wrote a fic in the universe of one of my series! which kind of counts? idk! but he didn't feel like posting it so i did lol (he's co-author on it). but i do RP a lot, just none is published yet. maybe some day.

14. what’s your all time favorite ship?

of all time??????? tifa/cloud/aerith probably

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ohhh god maybe my vampire fic, wait for the morning. i'm trying. i'm trying for the homosexuals.

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think i'm best at writing dialogue honestly, that is what i love to write the most, especially arguments. otherwise in the Real World i am very good at writing passive-aggressive but still somehow polite and professional emails to get shit done.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i have a lot of problems with just repetitive vocab.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i have a lot of feelings on this i can't exactly elucidate well. i only speak english fluently. i have a very beginner's knowledge in french. i'm also indigenous, but i don't speak the language of my people, which despite being one of the largest indigenous speech communities in the US, still only has around 2,000 native speakers.

so... i have a lot of feelings about language that take up a lot of space in my chest. but i just am kind of stuck writing in english. if i need to write dialogue in another language, i try to source from friends who speak the language first, then elsewhere on the internet if i don't know anyone directly who speaks it (e.g. asking in a public discord or reddit or somewhere), and use online translation tools as a last resort.

19. first fandom you wrote for?

theoretically it was accidentally tomb raider when i was in 3rd grade but i didn't know that's what i was doing at the time. intentionally, the first fic i ever wrote fanfic for was ff7.

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

i really and truly cannot choose here. it's like picking your favorite child. for the writing skills alone i have to pick wait for the morning (unfinished, i'm sorry). clarity is another one i think shows off some writing skills, idk, i just like it! for the characterization, something about decadence really floats my boat. and for the one that really earns its e-rating, it's tasting (especially chapter 3), my magnum opus of smut.

i am tagging.... who am i tagging. i hate tagging ppl bc i get sooooo anxious that ppl will be annoyed but i am going to tag @sandboxer @m-aximumjoy @samioli if you want to do it, and i have forgotten everyone else's tumblr urls in this exact moment it's like the men in black just memory-wiped me

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ficbrish · 9 months

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Waking Up With You Chapter 2

“Damn… is it time to go already?” [AO3]

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Tags: During Canon, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Developing Relationship, Shameless Smut, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Some Humor, She falls first, He falls harder, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss, First Time, Kissing, Bathing/Washing, Shower Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Oral Sex, Ass to Mouth

[[TW/CW: Grief, smoking, alcohol, food, booty-eating, fisting, light dom/sub undertones]]

[Previous Chapter]

MacCready didn’t mention breakfast meant Diamond City. Renée had made the perilous trek between towns often enough by now to recognize their route after that first turn, but he still held onto their destination like it was a secret.

“We’re going to Diamond City, right?”

“You’ll see.”

Renée was so hungry by the time they got there she even started to regret passing up one of those super mutant grab bags on the way over. Sticking her hand into a pile of dismembered flesh, that had been lying on the floor for who knows how many days, and pulling out a bit of bloatfly would have been better than the pit of anger now festering in her belly.

MacCready looked so proud of himself standing in front of the noodle bar with his hands triumphantly placed on his hips. The light beaming through his expression made him seem as if he’d just gifted her the world.

Or maybe it was just the same shit-eating grin that refused to leave his face ever since this morning.

The robot spoke first, “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yes! Two of them!” MacCready tossed his caps on the counter smoothly like a noir protagonist before his Icarus burn, “And stay nearby! Today we eat ‘till the lady’s had her fill.”

Renée settled onto one of the stools, “Oh, you dreamboat.”

He joined her with a tsk, tsk, “Better start showing some appreciation for my generosity, boss. I’ll unionize, you know.”

He looked up at her through the brim of his cap and her face flushed with sudden heat.

Two could play at that.

Renée gracefully reached for the side of his face. Her fingers gently wrapped around his ear, her thumb tracing along his jaw. The smugness left his eyes for something softer. He covered her hand in his.

“And how would you do that?” she purred, “You’re my only mercenary.”

MacCready took their hands off his cheek to rest them in his lap.

“I’ve got bargaining power,” he stated confidently, moving her hand slightly further up his thigh. He was subtle about it. No one saw. Her heart thudded as her palm brushed over that secret part of him.

Clouds of steam carrying the smell of hot noodles got placed under their noses.

They dug in without another word, slurping and swallowing without even tasting. Behind them some man started shouting at a security guard to stay away from his wife. Something like that usually immediately captured their attention, but the bustling market around them became a dull thrum to their senses. There were only noodles; they took over completely.

After all of about five minutes, half-satisfied and ready for a nap, Renée and MacCready sat back in their stools. The robot cleared their empty bowls.

“Noodles for breakfast?” she asked as they waited for another round.

“Well, it’s past noon, which makes this lunch. Perfect time for noodles.”

A gruff individual next to them in a green jacket and ratty cap interrupted the robot from its preparations, “They had some already! I’m next!”

They shared an amused look and a smirk. MacCready took his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Renée, which she gladly accepted.

“You ever gonna get some of your own?” he asked, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips, “Or are you just gonna keep borrowing from me?”

She leaned in as he held out a flame for both of them.

Their faces hadn’t been this close since the walk over when he pulled her into an alley to steal a kiss. They smiled and blushed at the memory as they inhaled, and the sparked cherries cast a warm glow over their expressions.

He’d very obviously wanted the gesture in the alley to be spontaneous, but she’d known what was coming—he took the time to clear the area first. Now that Renée knew about Lucy, she could see her dreadful fate in every ounce of RJ’s thoroughness. She saw the strength of his affection in it as well. Words could never ring as sweet as the sight of his professional paranoia taken up a notch by her presence.

He’d tangled his fingers in her hair as he consumed her. It wasn’t wise to be so oblivious to the Wasteland around them. Having something precious to protect was the only reason they were able to pull away and keep going.

“Technically, all the cigarettes are mine,” Renée blew her smoke into the street, “I just make you carry them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He took another drag and chuckled at the end of his exhale.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“This!” that ear-to-ear smile of his was back, “I mean, can you believe this?!”

Renée tried to hide her gleeful expression with another puff, but she wore the corners of her mouth as earrings just like he did.

Pre-war men only ever acted like this before they made it between your knees. Even Nate had tried to brush her off before she swallowed her pride and begged him to stay. It wasn’t about whether they cared for you, or how much. That’s just how men were.

Then that world ended.

“Oh, thanks!” RJ’s eyes grew wide as their second round of noodles got placed in front of them.

Renée tried to look at hers the same way he looked at his. Now that she wasn’t ravenous, the bowl in front of her had lost some of its appeal. It wasn’t the salve to her desperation anymore. It turned back into more strange food from this strange, new world.

Their hands touched as they put out their cigarettes in the ashtray between them. MacCready laced his fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze before he let go.

That feeling hadn’t changed since the bombs, that rush. Blood still boiled the same. Nerves still crackled like lightning.

Renée took a deep breath.

Maybe the lingering sourness would never go away. A pre-war relic, she would always be spoiled. She’d known the real Earth; RJ and most everyone else only knew Hell.

“This is shaping up to be the best day of my life,” MacCready said with a mouth full of noodles.

She slurped up some of hers through the steam. Renée couldn’t deny a certain comfort they brought. They were warm, hearty; and razorgrain added something exquisite that didn’t exist before.

Even taking their time, it wasn’t long before they were lighting cigarettes again over emptied bowls. RJ took hold of her hand and played with her fingers as they smoked.

“How long has it been since your last date?” He was absolutely smug about it.

“Is that what this is?”

“I didn’t ask you about this one. I asked you about the last one.”

She rolled her eyes, grinning, “Oh, you know. Over 220 years. But who’s counting?”

“No,” he chuckled, “That’s not what I meant. Before that stuff.”

“That stuff?” she laughed, “You mean the global, nuclear apocalypse and being cryogenically frozen?”

“Yeah.”

A cloud of smoke left her lips, “Do married dates count?”

“Of course they count!”

“Hmmmm… It was before we knew about Shaun. Actually… just a little before we found out. We went out to the drive-in.” She paused, laughing bitterly, “If I’d known that would be our last date—Hell, my very last trip to the movies!—I wouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

RJ’s face went a bit dark.

“Oh, fuck,” she realized, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how—You know… Falling asleep and… and all that. Unless you weren’t even thinking about!—And now I’m bringing it up…”

He chuckled, “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can handle it, talking about what happened. Now that you know, I probably won’t stop talking about it. No, I was just thinking about how I—”

He thought for a moment and continued after a drag, “I understand it. That last day with Lucy… the two of us kept fighting. It was something really dumb; how my manners and language were a bad influence on Duncan, other small things I can’t really remember… Whether it was warm for the season! But really, it was just because we were hungry and tired.”

Renée nodded thoughtfully and ashed her cigarette, “Funny how that happens. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone. Eventually, everybody’s gotta sleep.”

Their laughter overtook all other sounds in the heart of the crowded marketplace. Their animated joy stuck out like radioactive material in the obsidian-black night, but no one turned their heads. The way their hands lightly rested on each other’s thighs marked their little sphere as too intimate to interrupt. Even catching a glance of the expressions in their eyes felt like a violation.

They lit another cigarette instead of ordering more noodles. MacCready pulled out a bottle of bourbon they’d found earlier from his pack to pass between them.

The sun started to dip before he leaned in and whispered, “Where can I get you alone?”

* * * * * *

MacCready hadn’t been inside Renée’s Diamond City house since the night she bought it. The shack was an impulse purchase she’d immediately regretted, something Renée did just because she could. Just because she went from someone who lost everything to someone who could throw away 5,000 caps just to lighten her pockets, and she needed something tangible and external to prove how far she’d come.

It was a tomb then, packed with a dead man’s furniture. Their first steps into its threshold disturbed layers of dust like piles of snow. No one had been in there since its previous owner disappeared years ago. The mayor never bothered to have it cleaned before he sold it. Just like Kellog’s house, it sat locked and untouched.

Contained, locked, undisturbed; these all meant one thing—safety. After months of watching each other’s backs, they finally had security beyond themselves and each other; walls with locked doors that only they had the keys to, a solid roof, and Diamond City security outside. They also had two stories of space to spread out in and the chance to sleep alone. Renée stretched out on the dodgy bed. MacCready took the beat-up couch on the floor below.

All that space in the dark. Alone.

Renée called down for him pretty quickly, and MacCready went right to her side without any hesitation. Back-to-back again in the dead man’s bed, they were finally able to sleep that night.

Everything about today was different.

They crossed the threshold with their hearts in their throats, having come this time solely for the purpose of sharing the same bed and each other within it. The moment that the front door was shut, everything they’d ever held back was expressible, even promised.

“Oh, woah! You did all this? Since when?!”

Renée laughed it off, “It’s just a side project. Nick and Piper sometimes help out too.”

The house itself had transformed just as much as their intentions. The whole place was completely gutted and renewed.

“Just a side project,” he repeated, mocking her in awe. “It’s amazing!”

“Nah.”

MacCready took his hat off. Then he shook his head as if he had long, flowing hair instead of his short crop. He ran his fingers through it, scratching his scalp along the way.

Renée always watched him do that whenever they were about to settle in for the night. He did it reliably, like a signal marking their territory. It wasn’t a unique gesture. Plenty of people took their hats off in similar ways. It wasn’t even a sign that he was relaxed. His back rarely faced the door; his gun stayed nearby. Just something he did out of habit.

This time with an uncharacteristically huge smile on his face.

“You have lights! And art! And a kitchen! That’s a whole kitchen!”

Renée chuckled at the way his voice cracked with excitement, “Yes, it is. You know what else it has?”

“What?”

“Indoor plum—”

“INDOOR PLUMBING?!”

“And—”

“And?!”

She couldn’t help but match that smile of his, “Hot—”

“No!”

“—water.”

“Shut up! No!”

“Yes,” she laughed.

“You’re crazy!”

Still laughing, she unlaced her boots and asked him to do the same.

“We should shower,” she suggested as they lined up their shoes by the door.

“Oh, you had me at ‘hot water’!”

Renée led the way, stripping off her clothes and leaving them in a trail along the floor to be picked up later. Everything she took off, he took off too. Socks left their bodies first, then bits of armor. They were both topless by the time the faucet started running. Their pants were the last to go.

They hadn’t kissed since the alley, but that was remedied the moment their heads hit the flow of water. It was breathless, gasping. Their lips made chaos of time. They’d only crossed that line this morning, but the feeling was ancient like meeting again across lives. Every touch was the very first and the very last. They had so much to make up for.

“Gross!”

“Eeew!”

Streaks of dirt ran down their faces like mascara on a rough night.

Renée was horrified, “But we took baths yesterday!—Oh god!”

MacCready caught her train of thought from the panicked look in her eyes, “Relax. I would have tasted it on your neck. No, this has gotta be from all that fresh Boston air on the walk over.”

“The walk you insisted on us taking?”

“It got us here, didn’t it?”

Renée smiled, “Guess it was worth it.”

She positioned her face under the water, eyes shut tight against the flow. MacCready was glued to the way the water bounced off her cheekbones and ran down her lips. The dirt washed away, leaving her cool, brown skin rich and fresh. He never let himself really, truly see her before, and the sight of her now hit his heart like a view of the ocean.

“You’re—”

She shook her head, stepping out from under the faucet, “I’ve got facewash somewhere.”

MacCready stepped under the flow while Renée leaned half-out of the curtain.

“Codsworth made these,” she said while his eyes were still shut.

“Made what?” he asked, and the water rushed into his mouth, which he instinctively spat out.

“RJ!”

Laughing, he stepped out from the faucet and wiped the water off his pink face, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“You just spit all over me!”

“What did Codsworth make?” he asked, laughter still dying out.

“What didn’t he make? We’ve got facewash, soap, shampoo, and moisturizers for both the skin and hair.”

“Skin and hair?” he teased, “Ol’ Butler Bot’s been busy.”

“Yeah, well, after 220 years of waiting around, he’s picked up a new hobby or two.”

They took turns scrubbing and rinsing their faces with Codsworth’s cleanser. It had a refreshing minty quality to it that made them both astounded he’d ever been kicked out of a town. Robot or not, this was art. But such an outcome was also plain and predictable; bigotry was never based on anything real.

Renée grabbed the shampoo after putting the bottle of facewash away. It came in a solid bar like soap, and its creamy color nicely complimented the lighter skin under her hands. MacCready always found them unbelievably soft. No matter how many times they picked up a gun, the way they felt defied logic. Not that he had a lot of experience touching her hands. Not yet. The sight of them now possessed him with an impulse to tear that bar out of her grip and press her smooth palm against his face. Then kiss her fingers one by one.

“Bend down,” she told him.

He lowered his head, ready for anything. She ran her hands though his wet hair, lathering it.

“Oooh, that’s nice.”

Renée chuckled, “Have you ever had your hair washed before? I mean—By another person?”

“No. You?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it. Her hair, now thoroughly soaked through, bounced with loose, dripping curls.

“By my mother when I was a kid. And then every time I went to the salon,” she answered.

“God this feels good.”

“Not even before a cut?”

“Always cut my own hair. I even did Lucy and Duncan’s.”

“Wow. Impressive.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” she giggled.

When she took her hands away from his scalp, he straightened up and shook his head like a dog. Speckles of suds flew everywhere.

“You’re next,” he was barely audible over her shrieking laughter.

MacCready’s hands were strong and covered her whole head. She was going to tell him to make sure to really get into her roots, but she didn’t have to. The same focus and concentration he had through a scope, he took to her coils.

“How do I compare?” he asked, a cocky smirk in his tone.

Renée couldn’t help but cackle, “Compared to who? My mother? Or the women at the salon?”

“I don’t know. If you tell me I’m not as good as Ethel or Tiffany…”

“Ethel and Tiffany?” she laughed, “Why is that their names?”

“Old world names,” he shrugged.

They were too hysterical to help each other out with the conditioner. Every time MacCready started to touch her hair, he pretended to be Tiffany, and Renée kept doubling over from the joke. They had to scrub and rinse it out of their own hair.

She grabbed a washcloth when they were done.

“We’re not sharing that, are we?”

“Obviously not, RJ,” she rolled her eyes, “Turn around.”

“What? You’re going to wash me now?”

“That’s the idea, smartass.”

“Nah, uh, ladies first,” he took the sudsy cloth out of her hand, “You turn around.”

MacCready’s touch was rough, but thorough. He started with the back of her neck and went up behind her ears before moving on to her shoulders.

“Arm’s up,” he told her, and scrubbed her underarms as she lifted them. It tickled and she broke into squealing breathlessness. She felt him grow a bit behind her as she squirmed against him, a thickness starting to poke her bottom.

He brought the cloth down Renée’s spine next. One, slow stroke followed by a kiss to her shoulder, and she let out a long sigh. He meticulously attended to each part of her back, washing from left to right, top to bottom. Then he took the same level of attentiveness to her arms. One at a time, he wrapped them in the sudsy cloth before dragging it all the way down to her fingertips.

“The trick is getting under your fingernails,” he said scrubbing them, “Dirt likes to hide under there.”

“Oh, does it?” she chuckled.

MacCready washed his along with hers. Holding her hands as he scrubbed them, he traveled from her fingertips to his.

“Can’t wait for me to do that?”

“Not with what I have planned.”

“Really? And what would that be?”

“You’ll see.”

His confidence seemed to vanish when he asked her to turn around so that he could wash her other side. Renée noticed his eyes dart down.

He guiltily looked back up, “You ready?”

She snickered, “You like my boobies, RJ?”

His shock of laughter ricocheted boldly across the tile walls, echoing around them before he decided to play along, “I do, but they’re not nearly as nice as mine.”

The army had beaten the silly stick out of Nate. Renée was so used to his disgruntled reactions that time seemed to split out of MacCready’s playfulness. She found herself falling so easily into something familiar, affectionately provoking the man who made her melt. But RJ’s responses were so different. Not better, not worse. Just different, and she saw the moment play out both as what it was and what it wasn’t.

MacCready’s nervousness seemed to disappear when he brought the cloth over her throat and collarbone. Renée could feel her pulse race up by her ears. Then his hand moved over her heart and a calm rushed over her. A sigh came out like a half-sob.

“You okay?” His eyes and expression were tender with concern.

She nodded, “Just feels really nice.”

“I like it too.”

She smiled; her eyes still closed.

“Um, can I…?” he asked, staring at her breasts.

She caught his gaze, “Go ahead, RJ.”

“Man! I’ve thought about doing this—I mean!”

Her face already hurt from laughing so much, “It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too.”

“Then, um…” he brought the cloth over one and rubbed his hand over it.

“You feeling me up, MacCready? Or cleaning me?”

“Both,” he chuckled.

He took his time on each breast, and then brought an equal amount of care to her waist. When he finished washing her belly, he got on his knees and kissed the stretch marks adorning her hips.

“That’s dangerous,” she sighed.

“Nuh uh. Not yet.”

He rubbed the cloth all over her hips before bringing it between them.

“You ready?” he asked looking up at her.

She grabbed a fistful of his wet, clean hair, “Do it.”

He pulled the cloth between her legs, tenderly scrubbing every detail. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You ever have anyone do this for you?”

“No,” she admitted, “It’s kind of weird. But I don’t mind you doing it.”

Still kneeling, he scrubbed her thighs next. RJ kissed her knees when he finished them, before moving onto her calves. Then he lifted her feet up one by one and even got between her toes.

“Not having your stinky feet in my sheets tonight.”

“I could easily kick you in the face right now, you know.”

“But you won’t.”

She almost fell backwards pretending to try. He caught her as she started to slip.

RJ saved the best for last, “Show me that a—spin around.”

She obliged, “Is this situation not explicit enough yet for you to curse in?”

“Not yet.”

Renée felt the smack of the wet rag bounce off her ass and gasped.

“Shit! Was that okay? I mean—Shoot was that okay?”

She wiggled her hips, “Do it again.”

She felt it hit the other side.

MacCready scrubbed each of her cheeks individually before getting between them. And once he got between them, he seemed to never want to leave.

“You good back there?”

“Uh… too good.”

You could hear her stupid grin in her tone, “I must be pristine enough now to eat off of.”

“And good enough to.”

His words and the ragged way they came out bewitched her.

“You can put your face closer if you like.”

She felt his nose brush against her cheek and caught the groan in his throat.

“You like my ass, RJ?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, feeling like a femme fatale from one of Nate’s movies, “I bet you want to eat it.”

“I do. Please, boss. Please let me taste your ass.”

He said “Boss” like it was the name of a deity. It made Renée want him to pin her down and tear her to pieces.

“Go ahead, merc. Eat it.”

His tongue went right for her asshole with a high, desperate moan. Renée braced herself against the wall and spread her legs apart as he licked around it and sucked. He squeezed her cheeks in his hands, crushing his face between them.

His moaning and gasping under the flow of water was driving her mad, “I need you RJ.”

It took him a moment to pull away, “You’ve gotta wash me off first. But I guess… Since I like ya, I could let you cum.”

“Please,” she begged, arching her back.

He resumed his task, bringing his fingers to her front. He teased them along her folds as he indulged in her ass. She felt so good he bit her ass on the cheek and moaned.

His fingertips found her stiffened clit and traced circles over and around it. He resisted the urge to feel inside of her until she pleaded more. When he finally just had to, Renée cried out with relief.

“More!” she demanded again.

He added another finger.

“More!”

And another. In fact, he ran out of fingers before she ran out of demands. RJ pumped in and out of her with his whole fist as his other hand teased her clit. His tongue played with her asshole and licked up and down her crevice.

He didn’t stop until she screamed and clenched around him.

He held her steady until she regained her balance, her knees having gone weak. She turned around. He was still kneeling, and she was still shaking.

“Your turn,” she panted.

They laughed as he stood up and Renée changed out the washcloth. MacCready held his mouth open under the water and rinsed it out a few times.

“I want you to kiss me,” he explained when he caught her watching.

Renée could barely even think, so she stole RJ’s scrubbing technique starting with his back. His shoulders somehow seemed even wider without his clothes on.

“You’ve got moles.”

“Guilty.”

“I like them. One, two, three… four, five of them. They look pretty on you.”

“Pretty? Me?”

“Yeah. I said what I said.”

He chuckled, “Thank you.”

“In fact… You’ve got a lot of pretty things on you, RJ. For example…”

Renée liked how she could tell from the back of his head that he had his brow raised.

She reached around to his front and grabbed hold of what she was looking for, “I think your dick is one of the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

She could feel it pulse in her grip, throbbing as thickly as the heart inside her chest. Her breasts pressed into his back, and she could feel the echo of his own heartbeat under his skin.

MacCready’s body tensed when she let go of it. She resumed scrubbing his back.

Renée cleared her throat, but neither of them talked. She just kept washing him in the same way he washed her. Top to bottom, chest to toes. Until there she was on her knees, face-to-face with his cock as the water beat down over her head.

“All clean.”

MacCready had a hungry, far-away expression on his strained face as he ran his hands through her wet hair. His eyes rolled back as she took hold of his shaft and placed her lips at its head. She opened her mouth, and he let himself be consumed.

He groaned and gave into it a bit before lifting Renée off her knees.

“I can’t get enough of this,” he said through a mouthful of kissing her.

“I need you, RJ.”

“Say it again.”

“I need you.”

They were slippery, but MacCready still managed to lift her up into a similar embrace from this morning. With her legs wrapped around his hips, he guided himself between her thighs and dove inside her. She greeted him with a high, ecstatic whine and a gasp.

He leaned in for another kiss. It was his new favorite thing, rutting deep within her while messing with her tongue.

“I want more,” Renée moaned into him.

He groaned from the frustration of leaving her lips, “Wanna get on the floor?”

She nodded and he carefully let her down after pulling out.

Renée got on all fours with her ass up and felt MacCready catch it in his strong grip.

“Get back inside me,” she begged.

“You really want me?”

“I want you deep, please.”

She gasped as he put in his full length, with his big, rough hands wrapped around her hips adding power to his thrust. She could feel his balls clap against her as he continued to bash himself into her again and again. It shocked her how much she liked that. It sent waves and rushes of blood from her stomach to her toes.

“Fuck me,” she shouted over the water. It echoed, bouncing between the tiles.

He slowed down and she groaned.

“Cum for me and I’ll go fast again.”

It was already happening before he asked. When he felt her tighten and pulse, he sped up.

Renée’s head felt the same as it did after a second hit of psycho jet. Nothing in all her fantasies of him could have prepared her for the feeling of an orgasm being torn out of her right on top of a waning one the way it was happening now.

“I’m still cumming,” she squealed in a voice she didn’t recognize.

He just moaned, and that echoed through the shower too.

Renée felt incredibly stupid when the next wave came on. Nothing of herself was left but a sensation that compared to having her soul sucked out of her body through his cock. No thoughts. No sense of being. Just a vague sense that if he stopped now, it would kill her.

“I’m cumming,” she heard him shout, “Oh god, I’m cumming!”

The sound of his voice was far from her consciousness. Consumed with sharp pleasure, her being was boiling inside her center and being torn apart like a star meeting a black hole.

It was like she could feel his climax on top of hers. Like the bruise of two good aches stacked on top of each other.

The sensations finally let go of them. He fell back onto the shower floor in a daze, and she settled onto his lap. They sat there holding each other under the water with the best kind of overwhelm.

Finally, MacCready was able to speak, “Can we get out now? Kinda getting sick of all this water.”

Renée kissed him in agreement, laughing her mind back into her head.

* * * * * *

“Codsworth make this too?” MacCready asked as Renée rubbed lotion on his back. He was lying on his stomach on her brand-new bed, in what was a completely different loft than the one from before. It was well-lit, clean, and colorful; with Grognak posters covering the walls and bright green plants in every possible corner. She straddled him, still naked, running her hands all over the length of his back.

“No, um… Actually, this one was a… a gift.”

Her response was uncharacteristically cagey, but she sounded more shy than secretive. MacCready wasn’t about to pass that up.

“From?” he poked.

“A certain… a certain singer at the Third Rail.”

“Magnolia?!”

“Don’t start!”

She could see his heaves of laughter through his back.

“You fucked Maggie?”

“Wait, she lets you call her Maggie?”

“Not to her face.”

Renée playfully smacked him between shoulder blades. It was gentle, but he acted like it wasn’t.

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh no, my hands slipped!” she said unconvincingly, “They’re just so lotion-y.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Wait, did you fuck her too? Did we fuck the same person?”

“I tried,” he shrugged, which from his current position was more like a squeeze of his shoulders.

Renée laughed, “Damn do I have better game than you, RJ?”

He twisted around and pulled her squealing down onto the bed. Again, he found himself all over her mouth like it was a drug.

“Holy shit, where have you been?” he asked breathlessly.

“Language!” she teased, “And right the fuck in front of you. This whole time!”

“Sharing the same bed,” he laughed.

“You’re an idiot, RJ.”

“I really am!”

“No! You’re not!” she pouted.

“Okay. I’m not.”

She smiled again, “That’s better.”

Looking at him like that, she found words that felt like a betrayal. She was only supposed to find those words while lost in different-colored eyes. They were the only thing on her mind, the only thing she wanted to say. But they felt like spitting on the dead, so she held her tongue.

MacCready knew her better than that, knew there was always a story behind her knitted brows.

“What’s up?” he asked, suddenly serious.

She smirked without any levity in it. Then she just shrugged. MacCready took the hint to just sit there and hold her.

“Moving on…" she started hesitantly, “Moving on means not holding back with each other for the sake of the past, right?”

“Right. I’d say so.” He didn’t know where this was going, but he was patient.

“And that doesn’t erase them? Moving on?”

Something in her tone made him think of Duncan. It shared a quality with the way he’d ask if there were monsters in the night.

He thought for a moment, searching for the best answer.

“I don’t see how anything ever could.”

Renée buried her face in his chest. She groaned a few times, and lightly banged her head against his bones before speaking again, “The things I want to tell you feel like cheating even though I saw him die.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to say anything before you’re ready to, but can you tell me one thing?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good.”

“Good.” He breathed a sigh of relief that made her head lift and go down with his chest.

“I just… um…” Renée bit her lip, “And I’m not saying that I’ve never been satisfied or that Nate was bad or anything. Okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

“I’ve just… I never… I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before. Like I’ve done it, but I’ve never felt that.”

She looked up to find the most disgustingly smug expression on his lips.

“Oh, fuck off with that,” she warned him.

“What?” he was grinning so hard that his voice was strained with self-satisfaction.

She just lowered her eyes.

He softened his, “Hey, come here.”

His hand consumed the side of her face and she shut her glare with contentment.

“I don’t know if what I felt was more intense or just different, but I know I haven’t felt anything like that since Lucy. And you two are impossible to compare.”

“Lucky. I can’t help comparing you and Nate.”

“That’s okay too. A little scary, but okay.”

She chuckled, “You really don’t compare us?”

“It’s not that I can’t, it’s—Okay I know this sounds silly, but I don’t compare you because it would break my heart. Not because you’re better or worse! Not anything like that. But because it’s… It’s not fair. You can love Nate forever, and I can love Lucy forever, but they’re not here. We get to feel this, and be this together, and they’re just dead.”

Renée adjusted her arms to hold him tighter. They stayed there like that for a while, holding onto each other as a tether against cosmic injustice.

She spoke again to lighten the moment, “Magnolia was my first here. After Nate.”

“Maybe it was the blue vault suit.”

“Oh, are you not gonna let this go now? That I’m better than you?”

“It’s tight in all the right places.”

“RJ!”

MacCready sat up, bringing Renée into his lap. They were both naked, their cleaned skin still drinking up the lotion they’d put on after their shower.

He held the back of her neck and spoke so close to her lips that they touched on certain words, “And after Magnolia?”

“Just some guy.”

She’d save the story about Pickman for later. It was a long one, and she was enjoying the way he was so close to her mouth too much to interrupt it.

“And then?”

“And then you.”

The way he finally grabbed her lips was hungry.

“And then?” he asked again.

Her eyes were soft, “And then just you.”

“Yeah?” his voice had a desperate hitch.

“Yeah.”

“Say it.”

“Just you, RJ. Only you.”

“For how long?” he asked, kissing all over her neck.

“Forever,” she admitted, “Is that crazy?”

“Yes. But I like it.”

It was their first time in a bed. Not a pantry wall or a shower. It was the first time he threw her legs over his shoulders and heard her scream his name into his chest.

It was the second time she came that hard.

Afterwards, only MacCready could speak, and then it was only one word, “Cigarettes?”

The terrace was the best part of Renée’s impulse purchase. All the buildings in Diamond City were ugly, but seeing rooftops sparkle in the city-lit darkness always had some kind of magic to it. No matter where you were or how good the view.

Plus, it gave her a place to smoke.

“We smoke inside all the time.”

“Yeah, but not anywhere that’s ours. This is my house. I bought it. We smoke outside.”

“Woooow,” he took a drag, “Take off your shoes, smoke outside… You’ve got rules.”

“I do.”

“And here I thought you were the lawless type.”

“I am! People are complex, RJ.”

He laughed.

Then he wrapped an arm around her and said, “I wish we never had to go.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Hey, Renée?”

She looked up at him with her cat-like blue eyes, a trail of smoke leaving her lips, “RJ?”

He kissed her once before he spoke, “I love you. Big time.”

She smiled, “Big time?”

“Huge,” he grinned.

“I love you big time back.”

* * * * * *

They fell into a pattern for the next few precious days. From the bed to the terrace, and the terrace to the bed, they dragged each other into a blissful oblivion.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t in the stars for them to stay. Reality waited by the door. It hovered on the welcome mat, haunting their ecstatic pause.

One night, smoking on the terrace, MacCready opened the door and let it in.

“Daisy, uh… Daisy said I could leave with one of her caravans to visit the homestead.”

“When—?”

He took a drag and ashed his cigarette, “Transmission came through today. Duncan’s doing great.”

MacCready’s voice got caught in his throat at the end of that sentence. Happiness and relief welled in his eyes, as did all his pent-up worry.

Of course Renée was happy, ridiculously so, but she’d literally killed for the moment RJ was having, and would kill again as many times as it took to have it herself. They knew Duncan was okay, and where he was. He was safe, cared for. MacCready had the chance to see him, hold him again. All while they still knew next to nothing about Shaun.

Renée spoke over the envy lodged in her throat, “That’s so great!”

They embraced and cried, celebrating that one of their children was going to make it.

“You need to be there, RJ.”

“I know. Would you—?”

She shook her head, “We’re almost ready to storm Ft. Hagen. I’d love to! But I have to be here.”

“Wish I could be here for that.”

“I know, me too.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s Duncan.”

He squeezed her tight, “You’re going to find Shaun.”

For the first time, she let herself feel her full fear. Her voice trembled, “We’ve already waited so long.”

Her cries were muffled by his jacket where she buried her face. MacCready held Renée while she broke apart. Months of terror, uncertainty, and searching came crashing out of her in hyperventilating cascades. His emotions escaped with hers, and they stood there purging every feeling until they had nothing left inside.

He got them water when they calmed down. Then they sat down and smoked until the sun came up.

One more day together, and then they’d make the trek back to Goodneighbor.

“Maybe when I’m back, we’ll be able to figure everything out for the four of us,” MacCready said as they sat there on her roof, “You, me, Duncan, and Shaun.”

Renée squeezed his hand, “I hope so.”

#sole survivor/maccready #smut #fluff #renee kilburn #fallout #fallout 4 #full fic #sole survivor x maccready #maccready x sole survivor #waking up fic #BrishFics

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