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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

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It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is saying you're sorry #angst with a happy ending #established relationship #hurt/comfort #rock star eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #arguing #modern au #marriage proposals

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essentiallyleaf · 8 months

Text

day 07. public sex. with. soojin, zoa.

2388 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x idol x male reader, reader has the tiniest hint of rizz, but is still a loser at heart, public sex, double blowjob, standing doggy, pussy eating, fingering, stand & carry, 1mg of rimming, very smut heavy, basically unedited, complete mess.

notes.

horny + tired sounds like a recipe for terrible writing. and i don’t really know if it is, since i basically haven’t read this back :] generically, leaf.

“I need this now” and “Take me here” might be the exact and only two sentences that could get you to do anything, anytime, anywhere. But that’s a hypothetical, and despite the inhibition of three Manhattans and a couple beers, castles in the sky crumble when you hear those exact words come out of those two’s sweetly curled and devilishly full and luscious lips in the middle of the dance floor.

You didn’t really know them that well. They go to the stationery shop you work at fairly frequently (every other Friday between 3 and 5 p.m., they usually hover around the notebook and colored pens sections, try a bunch of them out - like, sooo many, can they not recite the entire color palette by heart yet? - while laughing you can’t really tell at what, then come to the checkout with about exactly one sharpie and two big smiles, and then leave. What? No, you don’t remember them particularly more than any other customer. Why would you?), but you’d never really talked. That’s why you’re surprised when they approach you on a random Saturday night at the club, talking about which their favorite drinks solely based on color are and how, if bonsai are a thing, there must be a way to make humans exist in tiny, and what if they’re out there now, going around untying shoelaces and stealing any small item that falls to the ground? They don’t look drunk, they look happy, which is a different thing. Aren’t they just talking about gnomes, anyway (which, by the way, definitely exist)?

It’s not how they wear those good girl smiles a second before sandwiching you while dancing, their bodies pressed against yours. Soojin from behind, pawing at your pecs and slowly kissing your neck up to the back of your ear, Hyewon in front of you but facing away, her ass literally rubbing against your now visible erection while she takes your hands and moves them from her hips, to her exposed belly, up to her boobs.

It’s not how she turns her head to kiss you and that smile is still there, like she’s playing a game, like this is just harmless fun between friends. Yeah, friends, you think, until the deer eyed girl turns around to face the two of you, her hands reaching around you and landing on Soojin’s ass and switches from your mouth to hers. What made you think they were just friends again? You’d think of an answer, but you’re distracted by the older girl’s hand venture lower towards your dick, which she starts stroking through your pants.

It’s not even how the three of you (and you in particular) now look like a complete mess right in the middle of the club, your bodies rubbing on each other’s in feral hunger, your tongues entangling with burning lust. It’s really not that.

It’s how pairs of eyes turn towards that filthy scene. Initially just a couple passing peeks, then a few more, longer gazes, mixing aversion with slight arousal, until the whole club is aware of the tonguing, the groping and the humping. And while some of them walk away, the people who stay seem turned on by the scene, as if intoxicated by the scent of your libido.

It really should just be embarrassing for you. And at the start, it was. To be left open-mouthed in front of a live audience like a comically fat dead trout in a fishing contest while two, admittedly gorgeous, girls alternately brush, squeeze and hump your dick wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. But somehow, that embarrassment coexisted with a sense of excitement. And as the two keep making a toy for their pleasure out of you, the latter only grows stronger and ends up completely overpowering the former.

That’s why when Soojin asks “Wanna go to the bathroom?”, the only possible answer is “Why not here~?”

“There’s not enough space”

The crowd was in fact big and quite cramped around the three of you. You are left without choice as she takes you and Hyewon by the arm and leads you towards a small black door right by the bar.

The girls throw you into the wall and kneel in front of you before the door even closes. Four hands take your belt off, or rather attempt to for a while before getting it (it probably would have been easier if only one person did it, but you don’t dare suggest it), then pull your pants and your boxers down. You can still hear clearly not only the music, but every scream coming from the room you were just in (these walls suck, even for club bathroom standards).

Your cock, already erect thanks to the scene you three made back there, falls right in the middle of their expecting faces, and all they have to do is stretch their necks a little further to start sprinkling it with wet kisses and short licks and already causing you to shed some precum. They more or less intentionally happen to move towards your base and take a longer lick up to the tip of your dick, where they collect your nectar and meet in a French kiss. Actually, that’s not even a kiss, more like their tongues messily exchanging three people’s fluids while completely outside either’s mouths, and it looks fucking filthy.

Soojin is the first to wrap her lips around your head and start slowly but steadily bobbing, taking a slightly larger portion of you in her mouth each time. Hyewon, leaving no time wasted, travels further towards your balls, first getting them wet with her saliva, then alternatively taking one in her mouth and sucking it hungrily, seemingly having the time of her life. The older girl, despite the small size of her mouth, fits almost three quarters of your length in her cavern, even managing to keep herself there and brush the underside of your cock while sucking.

“Unnie, leave some for me!”

Soojin makes way for her friend/tongue buddy, who seems immediately much more feisty, though likely less experienced, sacrificing technique for power and a much faster pace. The older gathers Hyewon’s hair together in a makeshift ponytail and starts licking from her jaw and cheek to around her ear, while the younger, gifted with a bigger mouth, is basically already deepthroating you. You hold your hands around her head and push the last bit in, her eyes watering a little as you hold position for a good fifteen seconds. And, cut.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, that was fun!”

This deer eyed slut just deepthroated you without you batting an eye (well, you were quite lost in pleasure yourself, your eyes quite literally rolling to the back of your hair, but you know), and you’re surprised that she swears?

People could literally step into the bathroom at any point, but honestly, the thought is not even passing your mind. Actually, some might have even walked beside you while you were filling their mouths with your hardness, it’s honestly just too hard to pay attention to anything else, with these two. That’s why you can’t even fathom worrying about the rest of the people in the club, even with what happens next.

Soojin drops her jeans along with her light blue panties and sits on the long counter that connects all the sinks together, running along the entire length of the bathroom below the mirror, while Hyewon bends over in front of her, glancing at the other girl with a playful smile before feasting on her gorgeous pink pussy. You only need to get behind her, bunch her white tennis skirt up on her waist and pull her black panties down and to the floor. Her lips are fat, her slit clean and shiny. You look back at her underwear, and notice a wet patch in the center, not particularly small, either.

“Did you cum just by humping me back there?”

“Maybee~”

You hold your tongue out and take one long lick across her womanhood as she lets a moan out and into the older girl’s crotch. Her sweet scent, her soft texture, her perfect taste are- fuck it, you need your dick in that pussy. So stand up again, align yourself to her, and push it in.

Hyewon is tight, but even moreso, she’s warm. Her hole welcomes you like that’s all she was waiting for all night, like you’re her guest and she wants to make sure you know she prepared. And as you slowly thrust into her, making sure to use your hips to hit every little spot, every patch of her pussy, she lets a constant stream of guttural groans into the one she’s eating herself. Soojin can’t help but push the younger’s face into her crotch, stimulated not only by her tongue, taking trips now on her lips, now in her slit, now on top of her pink clit, but also by the vibrations of her lewd sounds, resonating in her cavern and expanding all over her body.

As you grip the girl’s asscheeks tightly, you start picking up the pace, but she immediately reaches a hand behind her and on your wrist. You slow down again, and her whimpers tell you that this is the rhythm she wants you to hold. In fact, her lower abdomen starts tensing up as a sign that her peak is near. She wants something else. She detaches from the older’s pussy, leaving her disappointed and cutely pouting, and takes small quick steps forward towards the counter, until her face is almost reaching the Soojin’s. She then zips her white top fully down. The older, in a better position to take care of it, gets the hint and rids herself of her top as well as her white strapless bra, leaving them beside one of the sinks. Hyewon takes a millisecond after that to attack her friend’s perfectly sized soft tits with her mouth and left hand, and her hole with her right.

The older is completely thrown off by the sudden initiative and the resulting pleasure it brings to her erogenous zones, and she starts moaning uncontrollably. The younger can’t hold it much longer. Her mouth leaves her friend’s boobs to meet her lips in another tongue filled spectacle. Two fingers from her right hand slide in and out of Soojin’s slit, while her thumb circles around her clit. The older’s also so close. But you’re the one who will make the final move.

You bend down towards Hyewon’s body, reach around and under her black one-shoulder top to feel and fondle her big fluffy mounds as you keep pumping your girth into her, and that ends her.

She washes your cock with the whirlwind of her juices while she contracts repeatedly around you and releases the lowest moan of the night. That in turn triggers her friend’s peak, in her case the liquid sprays on the younger’s hand and wrist and her hips buckle as she reaches to the mirror behind her for support.

Hyewon falls to her knees. Both girls are panting for oxygen, but the one you just fucked seems particularly spent from it.

“You good?”

She nods, and shows you her index finger: “One second”

You turn your head back up.

“Can you do it?”

“Can you~?”

This bitch. You step closer to the counter and wrap your hands around the underside of Soojin’s milky, meaty thighs to spread them open even more. You share a glance with her, and she looks fucking obscene. Her hair has lost its parting, her forehead covered in sweat. That lower lip always just kind of hanging there, like she needs something to fill her mouth at all times. So you kiss her hungrily, and she lets your tongue in her mouth like she’s craving it, like she’s begging for it.

Meanwhile, you guide your head to her slit and part it, slowly entering her cavern. She is so tight. She whines softly into your mouth as you get deeper and deeper. Once you’re fully in, you give her a second to get used to your girth.

“My neck. Your arms around my neck”

She obeys as you immediately raise her from the counter and carry her towards the center of the bathroom as you start pumping into her tight heaven.

Who fucking cares at this point, people could walk in on you and you would thank them. They’d love to have a cock big like yours, to have a girl as beautiful as yours, and to fuck the former into the latter like you’re doing right now. No. They’d just have to watch, like some pathetic frat boys peeping at an older girl they couldn’t even pray to get.

Your hands grab onto Soojin’s ass so you can bounce her pelvis on yours while pushing up, accentuating the movement, as she keeps kissing you like her life depends on it. You feel your orgasm building up.

Then, you feel something below you. Hyewon, revitalized after her orgasm, is now kneeling below you, open-mouth kissing your dick, your balls, her friend’s slit and, you guess, anything else she might find in the way. This girl can truly never be idle. Meanwhile, as you get closer and closer, you switch to quick, single, powerful thrusts. One. Two. And-

You feel Hyewon’s tongue brush your asshole. It’s a sensation you never felt before, it kind of tickles, but it almost stings, at the same time. What it surely does, is to make you cum on the spot. You fire multiple shots of white liquid into Soojin’s pussy, the sensation making her scream (they definitely heard this one outside) and triggering her waterfall a second time, and as only so much matter can fill such a tight space, all of her squirt and probably most of your cum end up dripping down and coating Hyewon’s face. Her mouth is promptly open, so she gets to taste your combined fluids.

She shuffles them around her cheeks for a while, then one big swallow.

“Yummy~”

“Fuck, Hyewon. Was that on purpose?”

“Huh?”

“Your tongue”

“Oh! Well, did you like iiit?”

“He fucking came as soon as you touched him! What do you think?”

“Well, let’s see if it happens a second time, then”

footnotes.

it’s 4am. god. finally, leaf.

562 notes · View notes

tj-dragonblade · 3 months

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[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] Love, Rain Down on Me

Rated: M Word Count: 2272 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, stargazing, care packages, acts of service, kisses in the rain, realizations, confessions, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, 5+1 fic

Notes: Final entry for Fluffbruary 2024; turns out I wasn't done with this Umbrella Boys AU just yet. Shoutout to @academicblorbo for asking about Dream's pov and suggesting the first 'I love you' as an idea; my brain said 'Oh yes' 1489-Hob-style and while this is not exactly what I first envisioned, I'm still happy with where we ended up.

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 25: fox twilight sweat Day 26: fluff woolly care package Day 27: table blush laundry Day 28: reward shelter piano Day 29: breakfast valley sign alt prompts: wish hot solid

Summary: 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not

On AO3

1. The first time Dream realizes it, Hob has taken him to the astronomy department at the college, after hours, to look at the stars. "Gale lent me the key," Hob had laughed when Dream expressed trepidation about breaking into Hob's place of work. "I'm allowed to come moon over the stars sometimes, and I'm allowed to bring you with me if I want."

So they are taking turns looking through the telescope, peering into the perpetual twilight of the heavens and marveling at the beauty that cannot be properly seen with the naked eye nor from within the light-polluted aura of the city. Hob laughs when Dream observes as much. "Maybe come end of summer we'll take a drive out of the city, camp out for a night in the countryside and do some real stargazing. Sound good?"

And Dream looks at him, this beautiful man squinting up at the skies through his colleague's telescope, the way his hair falls around his face, the scruff of his three-week-old beard and the elegant line of his nose, this beautiful man who offers anything he thinks Dream might like as if it's nothing. Hob has shared with him the woes of past breakups, the consensus that he is too intense, moves too fast, is too much to put up with, and he has admonished Dream to please please tell him if he ever oversteps or pushes too hard, too far because he is trying to do better, but all Dream can think in this moment is how warm he feels in Hob's affections, how priveleged to receive his time and attention.

I love this man, he realizes, like camellias blossoming beneath his ribs, like the sun breaking over the horizon.

"Dream?" Hob is looking at him now instead of the stars, eyebrows raised, mouth curved in a patiently-amused smile.

"That. Would be lovely," Dream answers at last, smiling warmly back at Hob, and cradles his newfound revelation close in the hollow of his chest.

2. The second time, Hob is away at a conference and Dream has emerged from a morning of fitful writing to discover a neatly-wrapped package delivered for him, tied with a ruby red bow. His sister has brought it up and left it by his door rather than interrupting his writing time, as they've agreed. Upon opening it, he finds a letter from Hob atop an airtight plastic container.

Hey Dream, reads the letter, just wanted to say that I'll miss you while I'm gone and can't wait to lavish you with sweet kisses when I get back. Meantime, I made you some of those lavender-rosemary-lemon biscuits you love and here's my shirt you can sleep with if you want. Enjoy ~♥

Delighted by the package and the letter and the biscuits, and the intent behind them, Dream lifts the container out of the box; beneath it, there is a compact umbrella nestled in what turns out to be one of Hob's favorite t-shirts, worn just enough to smell like him. Dream presses it to his face and inhales, absurdly touched, and smiles as he picks up the umbrella.

Of course Hob has sent him an umbrella; that is their 'thing', that is how they met, and he is also terrible at remembering to bring one with him. Tied to the handle he finds a piece of card stock about the size of his palm, with a drawing penciled on one side. It's a rough cartoon figure that is recognizably Hob, smiling brightly and holding a sunny yellow cocktail umbrella that has been carefully attached through the card so that Hob's penciled hand appears to grasp the toothpick handle. Don't forget! says his speech bubble, and Dream feels tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as his smile grows too wide for his face to contain.

I love you, Hob Gadling, he thinks, both hands wrapped around the umbrella, and presses his lips gently to cartoon-Hob's precious happy little face.

3. "You did not have to do my washing, Hob," Dream protests, somewhat futilely as the deed is already done, dried, and being folded. "I am a grown man, capable of doing my own laundry." Never mind that his clothes had been accumulating in Hob's flat all week while he worked through additional revisions to The Seeds of Fate; Hob's space was conducive to this particular story, he found, and Hob was generous in allowing him to hole up here during the day while Hob was at work and on into the evenings when he returned, overnight when Dream wished it.

Hob shrugs. "They were here, I had a load of darks, they fit. Don't worry, my washing powder's the allergy-free stuff and I checked your tags for temps and such. Which reminds me." He sets the black jeans he just folded aside, takes up a pair of his own. "Your fancy lace shirt's hanging in the shower; hand washed it in cold just like it said and put it up to drip-dry."

Dream is keenly struck by the soft warmth of Hob choosing to do mundane everyday chores for him, taking care with his things, simply because he wants to and he can. It is not new, by any means; Hob has engaged in little acts of service the whole of the time Dream has been acquainted with him, from the very moment he first offered shared use of his umbrella to Dream. The domesticity of this moment settles something deep within him, something that sings of home and happiness and contentment.

"Hob Gadling, you are a chivalrous and wonderful man," he says, when what he means is I love you. "Truly, you make my life so much easier." He comes close, presses a kiss to Hob's cheek.

Hob just smiles, soft and warm and pleased, and continues folding his laundry. "You're welcome, duck. My pleasure."

4. "Here, take ours," Hob says, handing his umbrella to the woman with the toddler at the bus stop as the skies open up.

"Oh I couldn't!" Her eyes dart from the umbrella (which Hob is of course holding over her and her child) to Dream and back to Hob. "That's very kind, but then you'll get soaked!"

"We're not far," Hob assures, pressing the umbrella into her hand. "I insist. We'll be fine."

"Well…if you're quite certain?" She clutches it gratefully.

"Of course. Take care." Hob offers a friendly smile, the kind that makes his nose scrunch up adorably, and they turn to leave.

"Thank you!" the woman calls after them.

Dream finds that he doesn't mind the rain, is not inclined to run for shelter, not with Hob beside him, not when their getting soaked is because Hob does not hesitate to offer kindness to strangers. It gives him a warm glow inside, to know that he loves a man who works to put kindness out into the world, to brighten the days of those around him when he can. Damp clothes and wet hair are a small price to pay, and the summer rain is not so cold.

Halfway to Hob's flat, Dream steps around in front of him and drapes his arms behind Hob's neck. "That was a very kind thing you did," he murmurs, stepping backwards, drawing Hob with him so they do not stop moving onward. It is very much like a slow sort of dance down the street, and Hob's arms wrapping about his waist only heighten that impression.

"Yeah?" Hob shrugs, smiling. "She needed it." Like it is truly that simple.

To Hob, it is.

Dream kisses him, pressing close while the rain falls upon them. "Not many would give up their own comfort for a stranger." His lips brush Hob's with the words and then Hob is drawing him back in, warm, hungry. Dream fancies he can taste the rain, between them.

"Not a hardship, not when I've got you to keep me company," Hob finally says, nipping softly at his lips, water dripping steadily from a loose lock of hair.

"Such things you say." Dream is intoxicated with the moment, the atmosphere, the swelling of feeling he holds for this man and the tender warmth in Hob's eyes gazing back at him while the skies wash the world around them in soft hazy grey.

I love you, he thinks, kissing Hob again, pulling him close in the falling rain, I love you, I love you, I LOVE you—

5. He thinks it next when he is tangled with Hob in his bed, breathless and sweating and coming apart in Hob's practiced hands, when every time Hob moves within him he is crying out, starlight bursting behind his eyes.

He thinks it as Hob shivers to a halt, pulsing hot inside him, trembling in his arms.

He thinks it laying in Hob's embrace after, Hob's chest solid and warm beneath his ear, rising gently with each of Hob's sleeping breaths. I love you, I love you, I love you, he whispers in his head, in time with the steady beat of Hob's heart, and lets himself drift to sleep, content.

One day, one day when the moment is right, he will say it aloud; until then, he hoards it like a precious secret safe in his heart.

+1 Dream wakes on Sunday with a groan, protesting the sunbeams that have found his face; they had not closed Hob's bedroom curtains last night and he is paying the price for this oversight now.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Hob says, leaning on one elbow beside Dream with his head propped in his hand. He is supremely unbothered by the brightness, leading Dream to surmise he awoke some time ago.

"You are watching me sleep, now? You will not convince me that it is entertaining." He blinks once, twice, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Entertaining is not the word, no, but I do enjoy it. You're so pretty when you're asleep, soft and relaxed and at peace. I love that I get to see it." Hob smiles, reaches to trace a fingertip down his cheekbone. "Was trying to decide what to make you for breakfast, actually."

Dream squirms onto his back, throws an arm over his eyes, stretches his toes. "You need not make such effort—" He cuts himself off with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"You're worth it, though," Hob says easily, and Dream rolls his head to the side, meets Hob's eyes again. The sun is striking them exactly right, illuminating the depths of the brown to amber, honey.

He is so beautiful.

"Very well." Dream smiles, indulgent, lazy. "What will you be offering to please my discerning palette?"

"Fry you up an egg and a couple slices of bread? Tomato too, if you want. Blueberry jam for your toast and your sweet tooth. And if you're hungry enough, a nice hot juicy sausage?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Dream arches one of his own in return, and Hob grins. "Yeah alright, that's for later. But I will cook you actual sausage too if you like."

"I will take actual sausage with breakfast, yes, and 'sausage' when I am awake enough to enjoy it." He swings himself out of Hob's bed and makes his way to the toilet, the warm sound of Hob's laughter following him.

By the time he wanders into the kitchen, having donned his pants and a t-shirt of Hob's, bare feet and bare legs and bare arms because he's comfortable and because he knows Hob likes it, Hob has sausages and tomatoes frying in one pan with eggs and bread in another. He's tied an apron over his bare chest and joggers, captured most of his hair in an elastic band, is whistling cheerfully over the stovetop with a spatula in hand. The kettle is going, and Dream retrieves two mugs from the cupboard.

He preps Hob's tea once it's steeped, a quarter the milk and sugar that he puts in his own, and offers it to Hob to taste once he's finished plating their breakfast.

"Perfect," Hob pronounces, handing it back and picking up the plates to carry to the table. "Why's it always taste best when you make it?"

"I infuse it with my charming personality," Dream quips, deadpan, and Hob huffs a laugh.

"God, I love you," he says, his smile still broad, bright enough to rival the morning sun outside the kitchen window; and then he stills.

Dream, too, has gone still; Hob has never said those words to him before, and it sets something joyful and effervescent singing through his veins.

Hob loves him.

But Hob is shrinking in on himself, just a little, as if he could hide behind the plates in his hands and the apron he wears—every inch the man who fears (too much too fast I always come on too strong) the consequence of words he had not intended to speak aloud. Dream will be sad about this later, that he has failed somehow to make clear to Hob beyond the shadow of any doubt how welcome his affections are, how endearing his intensity, and he will vow to do better; but now, in the moment, with his heart soaring, the solution is simple, so simple, as easy as breathing.

He has never said the words aloud either, but they are as familiar to him as the beating of his own heart and they are spoken with as little effort.

"And I love you, Hob Gadling." He leans over the corner of the table, kisses Hob soft and sweet on his blossoming smile. "Now, where is my blueberry jam?"

= Started: 2/26/24 Drafted: 2/29/24 Posted: 2/29/24

The lavender-rosemary-lemon cookies were first written by @softest-punk and then brought to life by @carnelianmeluha; you can find the original fic and the recipe via this link One day I will brave my utter dearth of kitchen skill and make these myself. One day.

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #Dreamling #Sandman #wip: umbrella boys 2

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lincolndjarin · 8 months

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Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 2

chapter two : beware the jabberwock

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : took a while to get out but here is chapter two !!! i have a lot of fun writing this fic bc the pacing is so much different than bks but i'm excited to get this chapter out bc i loved writing it so much and i'm so happy that people enjoy this fic so far !!

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 15.1k (i'm so sorry idk what happened)

summary : new relationships are tricky, especially when your boyfriend likes to disappear for several days with no explanation.

warnings, etc. : dub con?? i'm gonna tag this with that because the sex is like weird in this?? a lot of it is angry or reluctant from one participant at times so i'm gonna tag it just in case, soulmates au, no outbreak au, language, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, fear, feeling of being stalked, feeling of being watched, me making up things regarding the embalming process, animal death, graphic description of the mortuary process, menstruation, derealization (sort of), smut, oral f!recieving, p in v, biting, just like a lot of mouth stuff lmao, cum eating, rough sex, degradation, sort of dumbification, joel is a bit beastly, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, praise, use of the pet name bunny, nightmares, periods, menstruation, joel is a terrible boyfriend, angry sex, injury, blood, blood drinking, manipulation, not a/b/o but something i made up that is sort of along those lines??, body horror, monsters, predator & prey dynamic, a lot of stuff happens this chap so i might have missed some sorry!!, no physical description of reader but joel is described as being abnormally strong and does pick reader up, there is no actual fucking of a monster yet we can't just do that right out the gate it's a thriller it destroys the thrill if they fuck immediately, that being said; this is a monster fucker fic - proceed accordingly

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows.

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you.

It’s Joel.

Just take a deep breath.

It’s Joel. Joel Miller. Sweet, handsome, kind, Joel Miller. Joel who came back, even though you assumed you’d never hear from him again.

It was nothing more than a dream.

Stop making up monsters.

You slip out of his arms, quietly making your way over to the fridge to try and find something to make for breakfast. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, all you’ve got is half a loaf of bread and a few eggs. Good enough. Clicking the stove on you set a pan down, cracking the eggs with a small sizzle as they hit the metal.

“Up already?” You didn’t hear him wake but when you turn he’s propped up on an elbow watching you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Not technically a lie.

“Are you okay?” He sits up a bit and you can feel him sizing you up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You aren’t really.

But you can’t really tell him why, so why bother.

He stretches his arms above his head as he gets up, making his way over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on your shoulder as you flip the eggs.

“Hungry?” You’re desperate to think about anything but your dreams, as you speak his grip around your waist tightens.

“I could eat.” You shudder for several reasons as his teeth graze your neck before nipping at you.

“These should be done in a few minutes, I just gotta make the toast.” You laugh softly as the scruff of his beard brushes against you.

He makes it too easy to forget your fears.

“Mhmm.” The vibrations from his humming make you gasp, nearly dropping the spatula in your hand as he squeezes you for a moment. You work around his advances, putting the bread in the toaster as one of his hands slips under your shirt.

“How many do you want?” You hold up the bread in front of him, trying to get him to pay attention but it’s getting difficult to stay focused on your task when something is currently pressing against your ass.

“I think I’m fine with just this.” He squeezes the bare flesh of your torso making you yelp a bit as his hand drifts further up.

“What happened to your third date rule?” He groans as you reach over to the stove, turning the burner off to keep the eggs from burning before turning around in his arms, your back pressed against the counter.

“We should go to dinner tonight.” He smiles before leaning forward to kiss you but you put a hand between his mouth and yours.

“What makes you think I’ve forgiven you enough to warrant another date?”

He pouts. His bottom lip sticking out a bit as he frowns.

“Wouldn’t matter if I did anyway, it would only be the second date.” You shrug.

“Last night was the second date.” He says rather matter of factly.

“That didn’t count.” You can’t help the smile that threatens to form on your as his frown deepens.

“So you wanna wait for two more dates.”

Definitely not.

“Tonight?” For a brief moment you try and think of anything else you might be doing but you don’t exactly have a social life here in Honey.

“S’gotta be, I’m spending tomorrow with Ellie and then I’ll be busy with work, gotta catch up on some things.”

Why would he need to catch up if he’s been busy all week?

“Tonight works.” Even after what he put you through you still feel the strangest pull towards him, dragging him to the table with you as you set down a couple plates.

“I’ll be here at eight?” He sits, an accomplished look on his face.

“Works for me.”

You have an uneventful breakfast.

Neither one of you talks about his disappearing act. And eventually he has to leave for work and so do you, so he gets his things together once you eat.

“Get dressed, I’ll drive you to Maria’s, I gotta pick up Tommy anyway.” He takes a sip of whatever juice you had left over in the fridge as you nod, finding something clean to wear before following him out to the truck.

He makes it too easy.

He smiles like everything is fine and he holds your hand as he drives.

“Have a good day at work.” You return his smile and he leans across the truck cab to kiss your forehead.

“You too, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.” You wave at him as you walk up to the house, Tommy’s just leaving, giving you a pat on the back as he passes you before jumping in the truck with his brother. With a weak smile you watch them go.

There are no bodies today.

It’s a paperwork day for both of you. You know Maria’s dying to ask about what happened but she never does, just staring up at you every once in a while, always looking like she’s about to say something before choosing not to.

You decide to throw her a bone.

“I’m having dinner with Joel tonight.” You can’t ignore the surprised smile on her face.

“I’m glad you two seem to be getting along.”

“Yeah, apparently he got caught up in his work for a few days.” You try and get a reaction out of her but she goes emotionless, giving you only a hum in response.

You don’t try to start another conversation after that until you say good night at the end of your shift. Giving her a small wave before stepping into the misty evening air.

You keep your eyes on the trees the entire walk home but nothing seems out of sorts and before you know it you’re safe in the camper.

You’re dressed and ready to go when the truck pulls up. You aren’t sure where exactly you’re supposed to be going but you’re ready nonetheless, deciding on just jeans and a plain tshirt. What you aren’t expecting is when Joel steps out of the truck with grocery bags and a grin plastered on his face.

“I thought we could cook together.” He says as he makes his way up the steps inside.

“You know how to cook?” You try not to sound as surprised as you are but he just laughs.

“I have two kids. I know how to cook.” He sets the bag on the counter and you open it, he’s brought bread, cheese, and cans of tomato soup.

“What exactly do you plan on cooking?”

“Grilled cheese.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and any worries you had about tonight go out the window.

“You really went all out for tonight.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He nods, searching through the cabinets for a pan and a pot.

“When you said cook together you meant you cook and I watch, right?” You lift yourself up onto the counter as he lights the stove.

“Obviously.” He sets everything down and you watch him fish around the top of the fridge for a few seconds before pulling down a rather dusty old radio. “I knew she had one somewhere.” He grins as he sets it down beside you, plugging it in and fidgeting with the knobs until the static turns into music.

You don’t recognize the song that plays but he does, as he hums along, opening the two cans, emptying them into the pot.

You had been so nervous about tonight, nightmares aside, you had expected a totally different Joel, the kind of person who ignores you for a week and expects immediate forgiveness. But instead he continues to be just Joel. Joel, who’s very presence lulls you into an overpowering sense of comfort. The moment he stepped inside the camper the entire space became heavy with his cologne, everything smells like the forest, as if you’re surrounded by pine trees and not the four walls around you.

“We should do something this week.” He turns to you as he butters the bread, setting it in the pan with a quiet sizzle.

“Don’t you have work, and Ellie?” You tear open the plastic wrapper on the cheese, handing him a few slices.

“I do, but I can get Tommy to watch her for a night.” He tosses them down onto the bread before opening a drawer, riffling around until he finds a spatula.

You hum along to the music with him when the song changes to something familiar, watching him cook.

He looks at home with you, like he belongs right here.

You both laugh your way through dinner, it’s outrageous how charming he can be, he tells you about the house he’s building, and how his brother ordered the wrong kind of cement. (You didn’t know there was a wrong kind.) And he tells you about how Ellie’s picked up some curse words, apparently there’s quite an argument happening between the Millers regarding who she learned them from.

You’ve always been hesitant to talk about work, especially on dates because you never know how people are going to react. Not everyone has the same relationship with death that you have. So when he says, how has working for Maria been? You aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“It’s good.”

“That’s it? It’s good?” He looks up at you, giving you that lopsided fucking smirk and you can’t help but just melt at the sight of it.

“We’ve been… busy, lots of work the last few days, now we’re just funeral planning, this week we’ve got a funeral pretty much everyday, Maria’s swamped.”

“What made you choose this line of work?”

You never really know how to answer that question.

“Because I like to play with dead things.” Never gets the laugh you hope for, and the real answer just makes you sad.

“I like to fix things.” You instinctively break eye contact, staring down at an uneven floor board you’d never noticed before under the table. “I like knowing that I can help people in that way, to fix them one last time.”

For a moment he doesn’t speak, when you look back up at him he simply looks at you with something that resembles yearning.

“That’s nice.”

You’re glad he thinks so.

He takes the dishes, rinsing them in the sink despite your protests.

Your palms are getting clammy.

This is, by his count, your third date.

Is it weird that this feels scheduled? It was different when you’d brought him home after your first date, that felt natural, your body innately wanted to be with him. How do you even start this kind of thing when it feels so planned? You both know what you want but it feels strange to just outright say, so is this the part where we have sex?

He dries his hands on his jeans and clears his throat as he turns back to you, holding his hand out, you aren’t really sure what he’s doing until he pulls you up from your seat, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

It isn’t the kind of song you can slow dance to, it’s fast and upbeat.

But as far as you can tell, Joel isn’t the kind of guy who dances in the first place, so you bring your free hand up to his shoulder and join him in his attempts to dance.

I heat up, I can't cool down

You got me spinning

There isn’t a lot of floor space in the camper but he makes it work by holding you close and mostly just spinning you as he nods along to the music.

'Round and 'round

'Round and 'round and 'round it goes

If his goal was to put you at ease then it’s working, any remaining nerves you have fizzled out completely. You laugh in earnest, not out of fear, as he bumps his nose against yours.

Where it stops nobody knows

Every time you call my name

I heat up like a burning flame

Burning flame full of desire

Kiss me baby, let the fire get higher

He keeps his forehead flush with yours as you continue to sway your hips back and forth to the beat, the both of you laughing and spinning, you watch curiously as he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Abra abracadabra

I wanna reach out and grab ya

Abra abracadabra

Abracadabra

With a satisfied sigh he opens his eyes, his gaze going from simple infatuation to something darker. When the song ends he pulls you close, so you’re chest to chest and reaches over, turning down the radio.

“So…” You can’t stop smiling as you stare at him through your lashes.

“So.” He gently guides you, his hands on your hips as he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“I’ve got a long day tomorrow, I should probably get some sleep.” You give him an exaggerated yawn and point at the bed, plastering a mock apologetic look on your face.

“You’re really funny.” He leans down to give you a chaste kiss before picking you up. His strength is still a wonder to you.

The way he throws you down onto your bed makes you erupt into a fit of giggles but he certainly isn’t laughing anymore as he drags you by your ankles to the edge of the mattress, a look of concentration on his face now.

“Joel!” You shriek as you hear the tearing of the zipper on your jeans.

“M’sorry.” He grumbles, making no effort to slow down as he tugs them down.

He doesn’t sound sorry.

“It’s a zipper, just unzip it for Christ's sake.” His sudden change in demeanor leaves you a little breathless, in the blink of an eye he’s gone from remarkably gentle to practically unhinged.

“S’too late for that.” He groans softly as he kneels on the camper floor, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“You owe me a new pair-” Your voice trails off into a stuttered moan as his mouth latches onto the front of your panties, dragging his tongue over the wet spot that’s been forming all night.

“We can go to the mall sometime this week.” He mumbles against your cunt before you feel his teeth grazing the fabric before tearing it apart completely.

“Jesus, Joel!” Instinctively your hands grip his hair as he buries his face between your legs.

How sharp are his teeth?

He’s all consuming. Like he’s trying to lay claim to every single part of you. And he’s loud, it’s a good thing you don’t have neighbors. Lewd slurping noises as he laps at your dripping hole like it’s his fucking job.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it through your folds, for a moment you aren’t sure what he’s doing, but it feels fucking amazing. The way his tongue moves in and out of you, occasionally drawing a lazy circle around your clit, it isn’t like anything anyones ever done before. It takes you a moment to realize that he isn’t necessarily trying to make you feel good (despite the effect it may be having on you,) you’re pretty sure he’s tasting you.

Drinking you in. If he’s trying to get you off it’s only because he wants more.

“S’ so sweet.” He mumbles against your thigh, biting the meat there making you cry out a bit before he returns to his work between your legs.

“Joel- fuck, Joel please.” You manage to stutter out between gasps, when did he become so gruff? You never could have predicted that he would be like this in bed, his grip on you is certain to leave bruises and you can barely think straight after just a few minutes with his head between your thighs. The noises he makes as his lips wrap around your clit are down right pornagraphic. Your vision is starting to go white around the edges as he does the first gentle thing since he started, sucking that bundle of nerves almost lazily. Through shuttered breaths you manage to mumble out his name a few more times your vision whites out completely.

You’re a little surprised at how quickly he manages to pull an orgasm from you, your skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat as you sit up, pulling him up by his hair as you crash your lips against his, tasting your own slick on his tongue. He moves so feverishly as you feel his hands spreading you again, teasing your entrance with two fingers before slowly pushing them in.

“Joel- oh my god-” He silences your rambling with his mouth again, swallowing your groan once he’s knuckle deep inside you. His brows furrow in concentration as he starts to pump them in and out of you. “P-please.” You stammer out.

It’s such a sharp contrast to the Joel you’re used to, he’s so… unruly.

“So fucking tight.” He mutters before grinding his palm against your clit, pulling another series of gasps from your throat. “Such a pretty, tight, wet cunt.” He whispers against your jaw and you feel a third finger pushing into you.

You hadn’t expected him to be so vulgar, turns out he’s only all southern manners outside of the bedroom. You’re starting to see stars all over again as you feel the stretch of his thick fingers, he nips at your jaw before pressing them in deep, focusing on grinding the heel of his palm into your clit until you’re soaking his hand, hands tugging at his hair as a second orgasm is ripped out of you with a shudder. Your head falls back with a noisy whine, you can’t decide if you want more or less, his touch burns your skin but you feel so cold without it.

“Please, please Joel.” You exhale the words, scratching lightly at his shoulders with a whine.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is lower than ever and you watch as he unzips his jeans, shoving them off and taking his cock in between his fingers, still slick with your release. Your eyes go wide as he strokes himself a few times, he’s thick, hefty, you’re trying not to stare slack-jawed at the way he fills his own hand. You grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off in an attempt to feel more of his skin against you.

“Fuck me… please.” You tack on the please at the end hoping he doesn’t make you wait much longer as you gawk at his pretty tan skin. You don’t even know where to look, you run your fingers through the coarse sprinkle of black and gray hair on his chest as he crawls further up the bed to hover above you.

He takes your thighs, pushing them up against your stomach, his eyes dark with something reminiscent of hunger. You hook your own arms around your knees to keep yourself in that position as he takes hold of his cock once more, guiding himself into you with a strangled groan.

“Christ…” He mumbles under his breath as he slides just the tip of himself in, your own breath hitching at the size of him. He tilts head town, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

He splays his palms out on your thighs, leveraging himself as he carefully rocks his hips back and forth, slowly working himself into you. The camper fills with the sounds of your collective noises. Joel is loud. Grunting and growling as he fully buries himself in your heat.

He scans your face for signs of distress, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, the tiniest sting from the stretch pulls a whine out of you but you only nod as he stares into your eyes.

“More, Joel.”

Once he has your approval he starts moving, setting a pace that for a few thrusts is slow before picking up. Quickly becoming downright brutal, every slam of his pelvis against yours drives his cock deeper into you. He feels as if he was made for this, he’s just big enough that it doesn’t hurt, simply an overwhelming feeling of fullness.

Your body begins to tense up all over again, you wrap your arms around his torso as much as you can in this position, scratching at his back. He leans forward, going in for a kiss before moving around your face, kissing your jaw, forehead, nose, and temples. When he kisses the apples of your cheeks you feel his tongue darting out.

Did he just lick up a tear?

He snaps his hips forward, disrupting your train of thought, his teeth barred as he does so, eyes fixed on every one of your reactions. He’s practically snarling as you let your head fall back against the mattress, the head of his cock driving into your g-spot.

“Wanna come again already, bunny?” You make a real spectacle of yourself, hooking your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper. “Greedy little thing…”

“Joel please-”

“Joel please.” He mocks. “Is that all you can say now?” You keen softly but he only grins as you tighten around him.

“P-please…” You squeak out as he snaps hips forward once more.

“Come again, I wanna feel this pretty cunt come.” He snarls against your neck, leaving a trail of bites until he reaches your shoulder, a particularly harsh bite has you crying out.

“Joel!” You grit your teeth, a wave of heat washes over you as you come one last time, you feel his tongue dragging across the bite mark.

It’s all so close to being painful.

Your stomach aches from the overstimulation, and you register a faint stinging feeling when he laps at the bite. Your walls clench around him, strangling his cock, and his hands instantly leave your legs, gripping the sheets instead.

“Fuck, fuck.” He barely pulls out in time, coming on your stomach. You reach down in your haze, scooping some of his load onto your finger before sliding them between your lips.

Fucking salted caramel.

Sweet and sticky on your tongue.

He pants above you, watching with an intoxicated look as you dip your fingers into his cum over and over again until your stomach is bare.

He nudges his nose against yours, rubbing every part of his face against you for a few minutes. It’s wildly intimate and you're once again a little taken aback by his sudden tone shift.

“Was that okay?” He drawls, once again searching your face for any indication that you might not be.

You nod, beaming up at him and letting him rest the bridge of his nose on yours for a few moments more before you slip out of his arms, stepping into the bathroom. You relieve yourself before going to sort yourself out in the mirror.

You’re bleeding.

Where he bit you, two mirroring crescents, red and angry on your shoulder, leaking blood.

“Shit.” You grab a handful of toilet paper, wiping it clean before rinsing it in the sink and returning to him.

“Everything okay?” He’s pulled his boxers on, tossing you his shirt which you’re eager to put on. You don’t want him to see the bite.

“Everything’s fine.” You crawl back up into the bed beside him.

He stays the night, pulling you to his chest and caging you in with his arms.

And you aren’t haunted by dreams.

In the morning a part of you worries he’ll disappear all over again, you’re a little surprised when he texts you just a few minutes after he drives off. [ can’t wait to see you again soon bunny ]

Joel follows through on his promise.

A few days later he picks you up from work and drives you to the outlet mall about an hour away, saying he needs to get some stuff for Ellie as well. Apparently she likes to throw plates so he wants to find the kind that suction onto the table. As he drives the radio plays a country song you don’t recognize which he hums along to as you watch the trees outside the window.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about my aunt.” He turns the music down once you start speaking.

“Darlene? You probably know her better than I do.” He doesn’t seem very eager to talk about her but it only makes you want to know more.

“Doubt it. All I know about her is that she wasn’t close with anyone in my family.”

“You weren’t close? But she left you her camper.”

“That’s why I need to know anything you might know about her, I know nothing.” He seems hesitant and you’re worried if you keep pushing it he won’t tell you anything at all.

“She was a lonely old woman, had me fix things for her often, I honestly think she just wanted company.” His voice softens a bit as he says it.

“She didn’t have friends here in Honey?”

“Not that I know of, she was a bit of a shut in, sweetest woman I’ve ever met, just a bit… skittish. She worked from home and I’m pretty sure someone delivered her groceries. The only time I ever saw her outside was when I was fixing her roof and she sat in a lawn chair to talk to me while I did.”

“She worked from home?”

“Yeah, something on her laptop, I’m not entirely sure.” You’ve never seen a laptop.

You’ve been living in the camper for nearly six months and you’ve never seen a laptop.

But that’s not what interests you the most right now.

“What do you mean by skittish?” You’re trying to gauge his reaction but he doesn’t seem to have one.

“Maybe skittish isn’t the right word. Eccentric? Some of the kids in town called her ditzy Darlene.” His expression sours as he says it.

“That’s horrible.”

“It was.”

“Why?” He seems more reluctant than ever but now you’re just upset on behalf of the woman who left you everything.

“She fed into a lot of the legends around town, and didn't seem to have any hobbies outside of monster hunting.”

“Monster hunting?”

“She was the only local who went to the gift shops, searching for a monster she swears she saw.”

Sounds familiar.

“Did she ever find any?”

“Monsters?” He laughs. “Not that I know of.”

“Did you think she was crazy?”

“I think she was lonely, and I think when you spend that much time alone your mind can wander.”

“But did you think she was crazy?”

“No.” He puts an end to the conversation by putting the truck in park. You hadn’t even realized you were there, the outlet mall is so small. His southern manners remain persistent as he jogs around the truck to open your door for you, holding onto you to provide balance as you hop out.

You aren’t sure where anything is so you just follow him, taking his hand in yours as you walk. He takes you into a clothing store you don’t recognize the name of and waits patiently as you try on a few different pairs of jeans. It’s been quite some time since you’ve bought new clothes so you get a few pairs, you’re worried it’s boring for him to just wait outside the changing room but when you walk out with three pairs slung over your arm he still looks happy as can be. When you go to pay he opens his wallet, silencing your protests with a reminder that it’s his fault you needed new jeans in the first place.

After that he takes his time, the two of you walk hand in hand through each store, he doesn’t even look around most of them, seemingly content with just spending time with you.

He manages to find a few rubber bowls with suction cup bottoms for Ellie as well as some spanish flashcards and you decide to get a pair of blue hiking boots, if you’re gonna be walking everywhere you might as well be comfortable.

At the last store you stop at you find a nice perfume, spraying a bit into the air and inhaling. It reminds you of springtime, it’s light, floral, but when Joel catches a whiff of it he scrunches his nose up.

“You don’t like it?” You set the bottle back down.

“I like the way you smell now.” You frown, trying to remember what shampoo and body wash you’ve been using. If you recall correctly it’s just some generic brand you’d bought ages ago.

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish?” You remark, pointing at the bag containing the cards, opting to just change the subject rather than give yourself a headache trying to remember.

“I don’t, but Sarah does and she’s been insisting I teach Ellie while she’s gone, something about it being better if she’s bilingual.”

“I think that’s sweet.” You swing your arms a bit, keeping his hand in yours as he walks you out of the store and in the direction of the truck.

“Of course you think it’s sweet, you're not the one with two daughters who will be using their secret language against you.” He takes his keys from his pocket, clicking the unlock button.

“It’s not a secret language, if your baby can learn it then I’m sure you can.” He helps you up into the truck once more, shutting the door behind you.

It’s almost comically difficult to keep your hands off him when you’re alone, especially now that you have a taste for him. Even just being in the truck with the windows up is suffocating, the smell of his aftershave or his laundry detergent drives you mad the moment you’re stuck in an enclosed space with him.

You slide across the truck so you’re in the middle seat as he pulls out of the parking lot. It’s like you feel sick when you aren’t touching him, like you’re suffering from this barely noticeable nausea and you don’t realize you were even dealing with it until it’s gone.

You watch curiously as he keeps one hand on the wheel and brings the other to rest on your thigh. His shoulders relax the moment he does, his frown lines smooth themselves out a bit.

He’s just so warm, and he’s so nice to be near. Today he smells like a candle you used to have, something you lit around Christmas time. He smells like cookies and peppermint.

You can’t help but turn your head a bit, trying to discreetly inhale the scent of his jacket.

To say that Joel Miller becomes the perfect boyfriend would be an understatement.

He drives you to work, he sends you flowers, (which gets confusing in a funeral home.) he holds open doors, and he always texts you back.

Quite literally everything gets better once he’s back in your life.

You don’t get anymore mangled bodies, only a few from the nursing home and one from a nearby hospital, it’s mostly just funeral planning these days. You see Joel daily, Maria and Tommy seem a little surprised every time he dotes on you and you can’t help but wonder what he’s done to earn such a reaction, but he’s so sweet you hardly care. Between both of you working and him having a toddler you’re shocked he makes as much time for you as he does. You see him every morning when he takes you into work but he also insists on seeing you twice a week, whether it’s going out, or ordering in, or just dragging him into your bed, he always makes time for you.

You even spend a little time with Ellie. Joel spends a lot of time with her at the funeral home so you often see her in little doses, she seems indifferent towards you which worries you until you realize she acts that way towards everyone but her father. It’s remarkable to watch him with her, he’s soft with you but with her it’s something else entirely. She sticks to him like glue and you’ve never once seen him look bothered by that fact, you assume she’d get bored just sitting in his arms but she never does. He likes to tell her jokes and you aren’t even sure she understands them but without fail she bursts into a fit of giggles every time he gets to the punchline.

It’s good with him, everything is easier. Everything just sort of makes sense with Joel and for the first time in a long time everything feels right.

Until the morning you wake up, a sticky feeling between your legs and an ache in your belly.

“Shit.” You roll out of bed, quickly shedding your clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin before texting Joel.

[ hot date idea for us, you drive me to the laundromat and then watch me do my laundry ]

Setting your phone down you hop into the shower, washing away the blood with a groan, you spend far too long under the water, when you finally step out and check your phone you’re running late, you pull open the curtains a bit to see if Joel’s already waiting for you but much to your confusion you aren’t met with the familiar sight of the truck.

You had never really discussed him driving you to work; it was just something he’d started doing, you probably shouldn’t have expected it to be a permanent thing.

You haphazardly pull yourself together, tossing on whatever looks clean before grabbing your phone and bag, rushing out the door.

The cool morning air stings your face as you quickly walk down the familiar gravel driveway towards the home, you’re already preparing your excuse for why you’re so late but Maria doesn’t even notice as you step into the office, she’s busy on a call.

You recognize the look on her face, she’s talking to a family. You step inside, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk as you wait. She seems to be at the end of the conversation.

You couldn’t be more grateful that she takes care of telling the families. You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. She hangs up with a gentle, goodbye, smiling up at you as you try and imagine a situation in which your job was to deliver such terrible news.

The ache in your stomach snaps you back to reality.

Fuck. You forgot to bring anything.

“Any chance you have a pad?” You give her an apologetic look.

Based on her expression you’d think you’d just asked her for a lung. Several emotions flash across her face in an instant, but mostly she looks like someone who just solved a riddle that had been plaguing them for quite some time. She snaps out of it quickly though, giving you a curt nod.

“Of course, let me just run upstairs.”

It’s an older man, graying and wearing what is obviously hiking gear.

Poor guy.

He’s torn apart, the worst you’ve seen so far, his limbs have all been individually torn off, they lay, separated from the rest of him on the table.

It’s an open casket so you’re gonna be down here all day.

You text Joel one last time before setting your phone down.

[ gonna be pretty busy all day, got another bear attack, i’ll call you when i’m on my way home. ]

With that you get to work, putting on your gown and gloves, and starting at the torn clothes. It’s hard to figure out where his clothes start and his skin ends with the condition his body is in but you manage to cut him out of everything so you can properly assess the damage.

You’re getting used to seeing these messy wounds, the sight of torn flesh. It should be a pretty easy job all things considered. He’ll be in a suit so you’ll just reattach everything and no one will ever have to see the extent of his wounds.

You check everything twice, making sure that you’ve got the left and right correct before you start sewing things back up. You try to mimic the way you saw Maria do it, careful and practiced stitches.

You finish the legs easily enough, both had been ripped off just above the knee, you’re about to start on the arms when you drop the needle in surprise.

How didn’t you realize this before?

You’ve been preparing these bodies for weeks now and you’ve never once noticed one harrowing detail. You’re used to tending to bodies that have already seen a pathologist. Bodies with their organs in a bag, with their blood drained, ready to be prepared for a funeral or cremation. And you’ve been so focused on doing a good job to impress Maria that you’ve failed to take note of the most obvious thing before you.

There’s no blood.

None of the bodies you’ve tended to from the bear attacks have blood, all of their organs remain intact but because Maria declares cause of death you know she doesn’t drain them. You’ve drained everyone who hasn’t been sent in from a bear attack.

Maybe Maria drained them before you got in.

But that isn’t possible, you know that, you’d have seen the equipment, and you’ve gotten bodies straight from the scene, already drained.

You reach over to grab a scalpel off the table.

You shouldn’t do this. You could probably be fired for it, but as long as no one finds out you’ll be fine. All the damage to this cadaver has been done to its limbs, so hypothetically, if you were to slice open his chest you would see blood, dried or otherwise.

So you do just that.

You carve out a small, clean, incision vertically on his sternum.

Nothing.

You’ve got a pen flashlight that you shine into his chest cavity only to find his organs. Dry.

He’s been completely drained of his blood.

You stitch him up quickly, finishing the job as swiftly as possible before running up the stairs, mumbling a rushed excuse to Maria before running the entire way home.

Joel doesn’t text you back.

This isn’t happening, not again, he wouldn’t do this again.

You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

An image flashes through your mind.

Joel.

Lips curled back in a snarl.

No. That wasn’t real, it was just a dream. Although the line between the two has been getting blurrier.

Joel isn’t out there draining people of their blood, that’s absurd, even if he goes missing and those dates happen to coincide with the days that you get bloodless corpses.

It’s a coincidence.

Or it isn’t.

Maybe for one second you should just let yourself consider the possibility that something is terribly wrong.

You thoroughly check the two bodies you get the next day.

They come in together, a couple from out of state hiking in the park. Neither one of them bleeds.

The day after that you wake up early and walk to the funeral home as the sun rises. You watch the hearse wheel in the body, and you make sure you’re the first person to see her.

A tragically beautiful woman who appears to be in her late forties, maybe early fifties.

None of her wounds are bloody, and when you open her chest cavity it’s like someone drank her insides with a straw.

You’re nearly at your breaking point, nothing you’re looking at makes any sense.

You spend that night in bed, unable to sleep as you try and figure out what the hell is going on.

Joel doesn’t answer your calls.

He doesn’t respond to your several angry texts.

And something deep down within you tells you that asking Maria would be a mistake.

You’re completely alone on this.

So you call Maria and you tell her that you’re sick and won’t be in tomorrow. Then you look up the bus schedule in and out of town.

The bus comes in and out of Honey twice, every other day. Lucky for you, today is one of the days the bus will be there in the morning, and return in the evening.

The bus stop is empty when you arrive, the misty morning air clings to your skin as you stare out into the surrounding forest.

Something is out there.

And you’re gonna find out what it is.

You can’t keep being afraid, this is your home now, and you won’t be driven away by some imaginary monster.

It starts to drizzle when you look out the window of the bus, watching Honey disappear behind you.

You have a plan.

Well sort of.

You’re going to find some literature on the subject. You’re sick of feeling crazy so you’re going to prove yourself right. Something is very wrong in Honey, and monster or not, you’re going to figure it out.

You don’t catch the name of the town you end up in, you just get off at the stop that looks the most tourist friendly, assuming that there has to be a book store somewhere in town.

You only have to walk main street for a few minutes before you find it.

It’s a quaint little shop tucked in between an attorney's office and a gift shop.

Betty’s Books

Dimly lit and jam packed wall to wall with books, a small elderly woman sits behind the counter, reading a Stephen King novel.

“Excuse me?” You clear your throat as she looks up at you over her wiry glasses.

“How can I help you?” Her smile is warm, it fills the entire shop with an aura of comfort.

You’re going to sound ridiculous. And the moment you do this you’ll be speaking it into existence.

You don’t have any other options.

“Do you have anything on local urban legends?” You try not to sound too ashamed but her smile never falters as she points.

“Back left corner, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” She’s already buried her nose back in her book before you turn towards the rest of the shop.

You begin searching the shelves for anything that could possibly help you, there’s several different books on bigfoot and the loch ness monster. There are a lot of empty spaces between books and you have to assume that this is what most tourists are buying.

People in search of ghosts and myths.

Are you any better than them?

Running out into the darkness, looking for a monster you very well may have made up.

You look through a few more options before finally settling on a thick, leather bound book, you pull it from its place and stare down at the embossed cover.

A Beginners Guide to Cryptozoology : West Virginian Monsters

You aren’t going to find a better place to start.

You move back towards the front, stopping in front of the children's section.

Lullabies & Poems for Bedtime

A rabbit with a pocket watch, asleep under a tree, adorns the cover.

Ellie might like that.

Even if you’re madder than hell at her father.

You grab the little white book, setting both onto the counter, paying before stepping out into the rain. You’ve got hours until the bus back to Honey returns so you quickly make your way to a diner across the street, keeping the books tucked into your jacket.

A little bell chimes as you push the door open, sitting yourself at one of the free booths you set the books down on the table.

The waitress brings you coffee and water as you set your jacket aside, you order a plate of fries just to give you something to do as you watch the rain on the diner windows for a bit.

Eventually you know you can’t put it off anymore so you open up the book and sit back, taking care to read every single page, not wanting to miss a thing.

The first thing you learn is that there are a startling number of unnamed monsters.

It covers the basics in the first few chapters, mothman, bigfoot, chupacabra, and werewolves, but the second half of the book is entirely monsters with no names, only ink drawing accompanying the descriptions. For a while you find nothing, eventually ordering a milkshake which you sip as you skim the pages.

After two hours you’re about to give up when you stumble across a page that finally shows something familiar.

A drawing of a body, mangled, with wounds you recognize.

Five slashes across the chest, both arms completely torn off.

This creature is thought to reside only in heavily wooded areas, it was speculated to be located in the southern United States for several decades before disappearing completely.

Since then people have claimed to have seen this creature in many different locations although the majority seem to be centralized to the east coast of North America, resembling a lich, or a wendigo.

When you turn the page the illustration of the monster stares back at you.

It’s hard to make out what’s what and it looks mostly like inky scribbles but within those lines you see the creature you’ve been imagining. Long, sharp limbs, massive shoulders, and a face almost reminiscent of a humans, everything is just… distorted.

While technically unnamed, there are many unique pieces of folklore attached to this specific creature. Witnesses claim to have seen this monster transform from human to creature and vice versa, as if they walk among us in their free time.

What sets the creature apart from many other creatures of this variety is their affinity for humans. More often than not we’ve gotten reports of these creatures seeking out human mates.

We have several different claims from people saying they’ve seen the transformation happen right before their very eyes. One man claimed to have watched his sister in law turn at Thanksgiving dinner. Another says that he saw a cousin's boyfriend disappear into the woods during a wedding, transforming into a beast as he did.

According to old legends there is thought to be a connection between these creatures and their mates, quite literally bonding them in blood. The males are believed to be linked to their human mates menstrual cycles; if they have one, the females are linked to their own. There are many different descriptions of what this means for human mates. Some believe that when this creature comes in contact with their mate that they permanently revert to their human forms. Others believe they’re hunger for flesh only grows after coming in contact with them.

But most believe that they eat their mate. Plain and simple. That their blood is more potent to them than anyone else’s, so much so that any love they may harbor for them is irrelevant, they are simply blinded by their bloodlust.

Its victims often resemble that of an animal attack. Bodies torn apart, mangled, often believers of this legend are ‘disproven’ because of this fact, but there is always one thing that separates this creature's kills from that of an animal. Animals who eat their victims will do exactly that, eat them, this creature does no such thing, while it does massacre its victims it will rarely consume its flesh, preferring the taste of blood.

There have been no confirmed sightings of these creatures and we have been unable to trace its origins or obtain any photographic evidence, maybe it really is just an animal.

Monster or bear? It’s up to you.

It’s up to you.

You slam the book shut.

It’s nonsense.

Joel isn’t some blood drinking, period monster. But you came all this way, looking for a monster, and seemingly you’ve found it.

You pick up the little book for Ellie, taking a sip of your coffee.

Maybe it’ll make you feel better.

You open it to find a familiar little song on the inside of the cover.

I know you,

I walked with you once upon a dream.

You flip through it, mostly admiring the beautiful illustrations, they look like watercolors. There’s a frog with a crown, princesses with flowing gowns and witches grinning up at you from the pages. It isn’t until some random page in the middle that you actually stop to read the poem. The drawing accompanying this one isn’t colorful, only black ink, a drastic change from everything so far.

Jabberwocky

By: Lewis Carroll

It unsettles you to look at so you focus on the words instead. You know this creature, it’s from Alice in Wonderland. The poem is whimsical, you can imagine a child finding it rather entertaining should a parent read it with enthusiasm. You don’t have a parent reading it to you though, you’re alone, staring at the lines that have caught your eye.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

No more books today.

When you check your phone there are no new notifications. So Joel is either a terrible boyfriend or a potential murderer.

How comforting.

Fuck it.

You click on his contact.

[ TEXT ME BACK RIGHT NOW. OR WE’RE THROUGH. ]

Monsters aren’t real.

Joel Miller is just the worst boyfriend (soon to be ex-boyfriend) on the planet.

It doesn’t help that you catch a glimpse of a tampon wrapper in your bag when you throw your phone back into it.

It’s a coincidence.

You can’t say anything to anyone about this, how would it look if ditzy Darlene’s niece showed up and started spinning stories of her own? You can’t do it, you know exactly what people would say. They’d say it ran in the family and they’d find a reason to be cruel to her even in death.

So you take the bus home in silence.

For the next few days barely speak to Maria other than polite greetings, you’re certain she doesn’t notice, both of you are swamped. You’ve got a body everyday the rest of the week and she’s up to her neck in paperwork.

And Joel never texts.

Maria’s juggling Ellie and trying to fill out papers when you get in the next morning.

“Thank god you’re here, can you run upstairs and grab something for me, there’s a little makeup bag on the counter in the bathroom, I forgot it earlier and I’m waiting on a phone call regarding the couple we had.”

“Of course.” You set your things down before reaching for Ellie. “Here, let me take her so you can do that.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” Almost as if on cue the phone rings the moment she says it. You head towards the stairs, the toddler in your arms scrunches up her face as if trying to recall your identity.

“You know me, silly, I’m friends with your daddy.” At the mention of her father she seems to relax and you open the door at the top of the stairs.

You’ve never actually been in this part of the house before, you’ve always stayed in the business section. You don’t get a chance to look around, the bathroom is the first door on your left. A bag the size of a pencil box is on the counter, you hand it to Ellie, her little hands play with the bag as you carefully bounce her in your arms.

“Do you know where your daddy is?” You poke her in the belly making her smile at you for the first time. “Not gonna snitch?” You tickle her side, earning a tiny giggle. You let her play with the zipper as you bring her back downstairs. “Any bodies today?” You yell as you descend the stairs.

“Had a cremation from the home this morning, I’ve just got a lot of papers, I’m planning six funerals simultaneously right now.”

Six massacred corpses in six days.

“Where’s Tommy?” Ellie puts up a bit of a fight for the bag but you set it down on the desk just in time to watch Marias grip on her pen tighten.

Yikes. Must be a sore spot right now.

“He’s got a work thing, left me with that little monster.” She uses the pen to point at the toddler who’s already starting to get antsy in your arms.

If you’ve got no bodies today you might as well offer to help.

“I can watch Ellie if you’d like.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, want me to keep her upstairs? I’m sure you don’t want me watching her in the basement.” You laugh a little as she nods.

“You really are a lifesaver, I don’t know how I managed without you.”

“Oh stop, you clearly did just fine before I came along.” Your face gets a bit hot at the compliment.

“I’ll be up in a few hours once I finish up here, you two have fun.” She doesn’t give any instruction beyond that so you just take Ellie back upstairs. You haven’t spent much time with her beyond the small interactions in passing but you know she doesn’t like doing nothing unless it’s with Joel. She’s trying to get out of your arms the second you’re at the top of the stairs. You set her down in the entryway and she’s already running into the kitchen.

You don’t want to snoop but you actually get to take a good look around as Ellie settles in front of a pile of notebooks and a mess of crayons on the kitchen floor. It’s a pretty open floor plan, the kitchen and living room are all one big room and from the looks of it they must watch Ellie often, an outsider would assume they have a child of their own. A play pen is set up on the floor of the living room and toys are scattered everywhere.

“Are you hungry, sweetie? Do you want something to eat?” There’s different snacks on the counter as you walk over to where she’s playing.

“Yes please.” Her voice is clear and high pitched, you’re actually a little surprised, you didn’t even know she could talk, she’s always silent when you’re around. There’s an assortment of different things on the counter so you just find something that’s already open. Handing her a little container of apple puffs, she doesn’t look up from her drawings, just blindly reaching over and grabbing a handful as you sit at the counter to watch over her.

She’s a very well behaved baby all things considered.

You have to stop her from drawing on the walls a few times and at one point she stuffed a handful of food between the couch cushions but other than that she’s rather relaxed. She sits and draws mostly, only occasionally getting up and doing a few laps around the room before returning to her papers.

At one point she makes her way to where you’re sitting, slapping your leg to get your attention until you pick her up, she points to the window above the sink and when you take her there she simply stares out at the trees.

She’s focused on the woods as you watch her expression, her face is oddly serious.

After a few minutes you set her down, unease filling your body. She doesn’t seem to mind though as she runs back to her drawings, you return to the counter, checking your phone for a few minutes until she appears in your peripherals once more, tapping your leg again, handing you one of her drawings.

At several different moments this week you’ve thought that you’ve reached your breaking point.

None of those compare to how you feel when you pick up the paper Ellie had been scribbling on.

It’s crude and mostly indiscernible but you know exactly what you’re looking at.

A monster.

A broad shouldered, sharp toothed, crayon monster.

You stare at the little girl, trying to keep your composure as you pick her up, setting her in your lap and pointing at the mess of scribbles on the page.

You feel crazier than ever, asking a toddler for help but no one else is around and you’re running out of options.

“Can you tell me what that is, sweetie? What did you draw?” You hand her the drawing back which she crumples a bit in her fist before setting it on the counter, you point again at the creature. “Ellie, honey, can you tell me what this is please?” You’re doing your best to keep calm as she kicks her legs a bit before staring up at you with a frown.

“Daddy?” For someone so small she speaks so loudly and clearly, but you just shake your head.

“I know, honey, you want your daddy, I wish I knew where he was but you’re stuck with me today.” You smooth out her hair a bit as she scrunches up her face, looking rather upset.

“Tío.” She points down at the drawing before looking back at you for approval, you just smile. You feel like an idiot. Asking a child for help. A child who can barely speak.

“It’s okay, you’re too little to understand.” You hold her under one arm as you walk around the counter to the fridge. “How about I get you some juice.”

You find a clean sippy cup, pouring her some apple juice before setting her back down, handing her the cup and searching through your bag.

“I almost forgot, I got you a present.” She perks up immediately, setting her cup down as you hold the little white book out towards her.

“Thanks!” Her eyes light up as she takes it from you, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen her smile without her father being in the room, sitting on the floor before looking back up at you, tapping the spot next to her until you sit as well.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” You watch as she sets it down in front of her, she’s surprisingly gentle as she flips open the cover.

“No thank you.” She’s enraptured by the illustrations, not caring for the text, laying down on her stomach, and sitting up on her elbows as she slowly flips through the pages, her eyes wide as she points out everything she sees to you. You rub her back, nodding along, you’re mostly just happy that she’s excited.

She kicks her feet as she explains the big red bird on the page to you. After a few more minutes of her babbling she turns the page again.

Jabberwocky

She giggles wildly as she points at the page and suddenly you’re filled with dread all over again. She’s positively captivated by the drawing, refusing to turn to a different page when you urge her to move on.

You don’t speak again until Maria comes upstairs to check on her, when you do it’s to tell her you aren’t feeling well, and you’re going home.

You’re going on a monster hunt.

There’s nothing left to do. You need to soothe your fears before you lose it completely and you aren’t going to stare at the trees and wonder for the rest of your life.

You stop at one of the tourist traps in town, you need supplies for tonight.

A camera.

It’s an easy in and out stop. You buy a polaroid camera, and several packs of film.

No one will believe you otherwise, you’ll be ridiculed the same way they did Darlene. You think of her as you walk back home, what if she was right about everything? She spent her life in fear of a monster no one believed in and they mocked her for it, and at the end of the day she might have been right.

Maybe the monster is real and it isn’t Joel.

Either way you’re going into the woods tonight. Your backpack is packed with the essentials, your water bottle, camera, an extra film pack, one of the knives from the kitchen (wrapped in a towel,) and a flashlight.

Once you’re packed you put your boots and jacket on and head out.

It’s like everything quiets down the moment you step outside. The forest hums, beckoning you in, and how could you refuse such an offer?

You manage to keep your hands steady as you flip the switch on your flashlight, stepping into the trees. It feels so much colder now than it did when you were walking home.

With dusk settling the sun is no longer there to keep you warm or to guide your way. You haven’t actually seen much of the forest, so you decide to walk in a straight line to avoid getting lost as you carefully step over a tangle of roots. As a child you loved nothing more than playing in the woods behind your house. But after just half an hour in these woods you suddenly resent the trees, they no longer bring you any comfort as you carry on into the cold dark night. You’re just about to give up and turn back around when suddenly something changes.

Without warning and with seemingly no cause you feel a chill rush through your body, your hair standing on end. Your blood runs cold and you hear a sound you’re all too familiar with at this point.

The tearing sound rips through the air.

Your instincts tell you that you’ve become prey rather suddenly in this situation but you can’t turn back now, not when you can prove to yourself that you aren’t losing it.

As quietly as possible you reach back into your pack, grabbing the camera already loaded with film and holding it in your free hand. The beam coming from your flashlight trembles slightly as you carry on towards the noise.

It’s louder than it ever was in the dreams. In the dreams it was subdued, almost as if you subconsciously knew that it couldn’t hurt you. As you carry onward you can’t help but wonder if you’re just imagining it at this point. It doesn’t seem to get louder as you walk. It simply fills the air completely, you’re being directed purely by your instincts. You know it’s this way as you move forward a few more steps.

You scan the trees with your light, seeing nothing out of the ordinary until you finally see it. Your finger instinctively flips off your flashlight.

You almost didn’t catch it.

But your legs keep moving and you get closer and closer to the hunched figure.

It’s hard to describe, like your eyes don’t want to accept what you’re seeing. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re getting too close but you can’t seem to stop yourself as you carry on until you can get a good look at it.

You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you realize it isn’t Joel. But that relief only lasts a moment as you see what you’re actually dealing with.

You aren’t sure how big it is. It’s big. That much is clear but it’s crouched down, it’s almost human, it may have once been human. You’re having trouble making out most of it in only the moonlight. It’s less broad than the illustrations you’ve seen, almost slim, with how close you are now you can see that it’s eating.

A buck, one of the biggest ones you’ve ever seen is splayed out across some rocks. It’s stomach has been ripped open. You watch, with morbid fascination as it digs its maw deeper into the gore.

How curious, it’s wearing clothes. Or at least the remains of some clothing, a bit of fabric clings to its crooked spine, it wears the tattered collar of a shirt like a necklace. Navy blue sweatpants stretch around the creature's waist, the fabric pulled taut, it looks like they make it just past its knees. The elastic around the ankles has snapped.

The funniest part of all of this is that you feel nothing but fear for the creature. You aren’t disgusted and you certainly don’t hate it. You’re just afraid, so afraid that before you can slap your hand over your mouth you burst into a peal of laughter.

Fuck.

It all happens so fast, you aren’t ready in the slightest to be face to face with it and suddenly you are, purely on instinct your hand twitches and with the flash of the camera you get a single moment to stare at it.

It’s so close to being human.

It’s mouth is too big, a blood soaked tongue falling past a row of jagged, pointed teeth. It’s almost like someone stretched out a person's face like it was made of clay. And it’s male. Intricate branching horns stretch out from under the hair crowning its head.

“The doe’s don’t have antlers.”

Your dad was a hunter, you know your antlers, you aren’t exactly sure but if it was a deer it would be a thirteen pointer. You should run, you’re about to but then you finally look it in the eye, just as the final remnants of the camera flash flicker out.

There is something worse than hunger, or thirst, or rage in its eyes, if that was all there was you could scream or cry. But this leaves you frozen in place.

Recognition.

Like it knows you.

And the moment it recognizes you it snarls, an ear-piercing sound that rips through the quiet of the forest, blood spewing from its maw at you, flecks of crimson tint your clothes and hands as your eyes go wide.

It’s a good thing your legs move faster than your brain, you’re already sprinting away from the creature.

You lose your flashlight almost immediately but you know where you’re going, you couldn’t be more thankful for your decision to go in a straight line. You don’t stop moving, running blindly back the way you came, never once daring to look behind you.

You know it’s there, you can hear it, and you can feel it.

Its breath is hot on your heels, you can hear the branches splintering directly behind you. Everything is a blur, stray branches sting your exposed skin but you don’t stop, you can’t, your muscles ache as you push onward, keeping your hands out in front of you to guide you through the darkness until you finally see the road up ahead.

You’re nearly there, almost feeling relief, almost.

An icy hand wraps around your ankle, you’re yanked backwards before you can process what’s going on, your back dragging across the forest floor and in an instant you’re beneath it.

This is it.

You wanted a monster, you got one. And now you’re going to die for it. It snarls as its maw falls open, you’re face to face with a row of shimmering, gore smeared teeth. This is it.

He smells like cinnamon.

It tilts its head ninety degrees, its jaw closing in on your throat as you close your eyes, tears now flow freely down your face and finally you can’t contain your terror anymore.

You scream.

A trembling shriek falling from your lips and much to your confusion a killing blow never comes. After one more shuddering breath you open your eyes only to find you’re just staring up at the trees. You sit up, still out of breath.

He’s a few feet away now.

Thrashing around frantically as he stumbles backwards. As if your scream had upset him. He bellows, his twisted hands clutching his skull like he’s angry with himself. You cover your ears instinctively when it snarls in pain.

He can’t help it.

You’re scrambling to your feet once more, giving him one final glance, you look into each other's eyes.

“Run.”

It speaks.

You break into a sprint once more, not daring to stop until your feet touch pavement. You don’t get the sense that you’re being followed anymore but you’re still in shambles. The adrenaline is slowly starting to fizzle out and you’re painfully aware of the wound you sustained during that encounter. Your ankle is torn up, two deep gashes from where it grabbed you are bleeding an alarming amount. You stumble, the sight of it making you nauseous.

You get a moment's respite and you manage to compose yourself enough to retrieve your phone from your pocket. Walking backwards, keeping your eyes on the forest as you slowly continue to back away. In your desperation your blood stained fingertips frantically swipe across your phone screen, you don’t realize until it’s too late that you’re calling the only person who isn’t going to answer.

Yet when you bring the phone to your ear you hear a click.

“Joel?” You can’t fucking believe it. He actually picked up.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He can definitely hear the panic in your voice.

You just break down.

“I’m by the road, on the way from Maria’s to my camper, I- I need you to come get me, please, it’s- it’s following me, but I think I lost it please, Joel.” You’re in hysterics as you catch a glimpse of one of the few streetlights down the road. You hear the sound of keys and you swear you hear Maria saying something in the background but you’re too frenzied to focus on that.

“Who’s following you? Stay right there m’on my way.” You can hear the truck starting in the background as you keep running, not daring to stop even though it doesn’t feel like you’re being pursued anymore.

“The monster… in the woods… it’s not a bear Joel.” You’re out of breath when you finally stop, standing in the middle of the road underneath the street lamp, spinning around to try and somehow keep an eye on all of the darkness around you.

“Stay where you are, I’ll be there in two minutes, okay? Stay right where you are.” You’re about to beg him to hurry when the line goes dead.

You must look like a mad woman. Standing in the middle of the street, covered in blood, and spinning in circles to try and keep an eye on every single direction as you listen for any signs of movement.

Your heartbeat never slows, you can hear it pounding in the crushing silence that surrounds you.

It only takes a few minutes before you see headlights approaching in the distance. You don’t even let the truck come to a full stop as you open the door and jump in, closing it behind you as you scramble towards Joel as if he could protect you from the goliath you saw in the darkness.

“Drive! Now Joel, go!” You yell as he accelerates just to the point of following the speed limit as he heads towards your camper.

“Bunny, please, calm down.” He wraps the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel around you but you shove him off, sliding back to the other side of the truck.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Joel, not after what I just went through, I saw it, a real monster grabbed me.” You’re stumbling over your words, trying to get them out as quickly as possible.

“Slow down, just tell me what happened.”

“I told you on the phone, I just found a fucking monster, Joel, that’s what happened.”

He’s gone silent now.

He probably thinks you’re crazy.

That’s fine. You know you aren’t, you saw it, watched it feed. There’s deer blood on your boots.

“You didn’t see a monster.” When you look he’s shaking worse than you are. You don’t dare turn your head further but you watch in your peripheral as he grips the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.

He’s lying.

Why would he lie?

“I did, I took a-.” You reach into your bag and your stomach fills with dread as you realize you dropped the camera.

“You didn’t. You’ve been spending too much time alone, and you shouldn’t be going out in the woods by yourself to begin with.”

“And who’s fault is it that I’ve been alone?” You snap.

He doesn’t have a response to that. And you don’t have anything else to say, not like he’d believe you if you did. You should probably break up with him, for several reasons.

Except you can’t.

If you do, how will you stop people from being needlessly murdered? He may not be the monster, but he knows something, and you need to find out what it is.

So you’ll ‘forgive’ him. Again. Because you need to get to the bottom of this.

And maybe, despite it all, you’re still terribly attached to him. He keeps disappearing, without warning and with halfhearted excuses as to why and all you can think about right now is how badly you missed him, and how badly you need him.

“Does Tommy have Ellie tonight?” You mumble, trying not to sound too irritated.

“I was stopping in to see her before leaving her with Maria for the night when you called.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna come over here and apologize.” He sounds just as sincere as he did last time but you still scoff.

“What’s the excuse this time?” When you turn to scowl at him he looks guilty.

“I was out of town on a work trip.”

“And you couldn’t answer your phone.”

“I forgot my charger at home.”

It’s a preconceived lie. You’re certain of it based on how quick he replies, and it’s not even a good one. He could have borrowed a coworker's phone or bought a new charger; it wouldn't have been difficult. But he doesn’t want you to know where he really was.

Every bit of this confuses you.

You saw something in the woods, but it wasn’t Joel? Joel was with Ellie and then he was with you, he couldn’t have been slaughtering lost hikers. It doesn’t make sense. One thing is for certain though, and it’s that you can’t break up with Joel until you know what's going on or more people are going to be killed by that thing you saw in the woods. You aren’t really sure what to call it, but you know that you found the thing that’s been killing.

And he knows something about it.

He had no reason to get as rattled as he did if he didn't know something about what you saw. So you can’t break up with him, not until you figure this all out. Until then you just have to play the part of a clueless, loving girlfriend. Which shouldn’t be too hard considering the fact that for some reason there is still a sick and twisted attraction to him despite everything you know, settling in your stomach. You bite your tongue, going the rest of the short drive in silence. When he finally pulls up to the camper the engine goes quiet as he turns the key. You had no intention of inviting him in but you won’t stop him if he follows.

You slam the truck door shut, stomping up to the door, his footsteps following close behind.

“Let’s talk about this.” He reaches for your arm as you’re unlocking the door but you just shove him off. You leave it open, kicking your shoes off as you slip out of your jacket as you flip on the lights.

“I don’t want to talk.” He shuts the door behind him, you note that he locks it behind him.

How presumptuous.

Correct, but presumptuous.

“You’re clearly upset, bunny.” He kneels down, untying his own boots before kicking them off. You glare down at him until he stands, trying to pull you into his arms but you just shove him away again. His eyes go wide as he takes you in.

Based on his reaction you really must be quite a sight.

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” He looks genuinely concerned but you brush it off.

“Thanks.” You scoff but when you look down you realize you’ve been leaving a trail of blood in your wake.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You should send him away. Tend to yourself and go to bed, but instead you just point to the cabinet containing the kit, sitting on the table as he retrieves it, tossing it down beside you. He doesn’t ask what happened, grimacing as he lifts your leg to examine your ankle.

He doesn’t need to ask, he knows what happened.

He tends to your wounds in silence. You wince as he wipes the lacerations on your ankle, they look bad enough that you consider just going to the hospital but he doesn’t seem too worried. They’re just shallow enough that you don’t think you’ll need stitches.

You don’t watch as he sprays it with antiseptic, quickly wrapping it in a layer of gauze and then bandages.

When he’s finished you’re ready to get angry with him all over again but the moment you open your mouth to yell at him he grabs you by the chin, taking a clean piece of gauze and gently dabbing the thin cuts that litter your face.

You stare up at the ceiling light, refusing to meet his gaze.

He tends to every one of them, taking extra care as he smears ointment on each one. When he’s finished he takes anything bloodied and gathers it in his hand, standing to toss them into the bin under the sink. You don’t turn, but out of the corner of your eye you see him bring his hand to his mouth.

Your blood.

He tasted your blood.

You can feel the bile rising in your throat but you just swallow it back down.

“Now we can talk.” He makes his way back over to you but you just shake your head.

“I already told you, I don’t wanna talk.”

“Bunny-” He takes another step towards you.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be like that.” There’s real remorse in his eyes, you might even feel bad if you didn’t know that he was lying to you.

“Shut. Up.” You push him so he stumbles back onto the bed. “I’m not crazy.” He props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you say it.

“I know.” He sounds almost apologetic.

“Take your clothes off.” You mumble, already tossing your shirt to the side.

“Are you sure?”

You’re sure that he knows what’s out there in the woods and he isn’t telling you.

“I am.” You kick your jeans off to emphasize your point. You know he won’t deny you this. Whatever sick, unexplainable force pulls you into his arms affects him as it does you. You don’t just want him, you need him.

You hadn’t realized it until he’d disappeared again, but now you couldn’t be more aware. It’s as if your entire life you’ve felt wrong. You’ve been in a state of discomfort for as long as you can remember, like a vital part of you was missing. But you got used to it, and you learned to live with the odd sensation of never feeling like you're in the right place, nowhere ever felt like home.

Joel feels like home, in a sort of twisted way.

From the moment you first saw him everything cleared up. It was like you had finally found your center of balance, and when he disappeared he took all of that with him.

This is more than just attraction.

With that he tugs his flannel off, you grab the bottom of his shirt, impatiently pulling it up over his head, not wanting to look him in the eyes, you stare at his shoulders as you climb up onto the bed, straddling his lap.

“I really think we should talk-” He starts again so you reach behind yourself, unclasping your bra, glaring at him as you let it drop.

“Then talk.”

He looks at you like you’re something to eat.

“That’s not fair.” He finally manages to pull his gaze off of your chest, looking you in the eyes, his pupils swallowing his irises leaving you to stare into the darkness of his eyes.

“There’s nothing to talk about, you went away for work and you forgot your phone charger.” You reach between the two of you to remove his belt, tossing it behind him on the bed before trying to unzip his jeans. “It was just an unfortunate series of circumstances.” You grumble before lifting yourself off his lap so he can shove his jeans off.

He’s glaring at you now. Good. He should know that you’re challenging him. Everything from this point on is a game, you just have to catch him in a lie. You grind down against the straining fabric of his boxers, hands on his shoulders to balance yourself as you rub yourself against his clothed erection, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. Before you know it his hands are gripping the hem of your panties.

“Go on Joel, rip them off. I know you’re plenty capable.” You say it like the accusation it is. He’s strong enough to do a lot of things, you aren’t sure if tearing a person in half is one of those things but you’re determined to find out. He knows what you’re implying but he does it anyway, grabbing the fabric on either side of your hips and easily tearing them to shreds.

“You don’t know what you do to me.” He murmurs, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

You do.

He does the same to you. A carnal desire, your most basic human instincts are reduced to nothing the moment your skin is against his.

You don’t waste any time, slipping your hand under the waistband of his underwear, watching his cock spring free, slapping against his stomach. You unceremoniously spit in your hand before taking him in your fist, watching his jaw go slack as you rake your nails against the underside of his cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. You keep your eyes trained on his face as you notch him at your entrance, tilting your head to the side as you hesitate.

The veins in his neck jut out as you slide the head of his cock over your clit, hissing softly as you do.

He’s purposefully showing restraint.

He clutches the sheets, his knuckles go pale and you can’t help but wonder if he isn’t touching you because he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You lean forward, biting his stupidly plush bottom lip. He doesn’t move his hands from where they are and you can’t help but scowl against his mouth.

He’s holding back.

He knows exactly what you’re doing and he’s trying to prove you wrong. How long has he been holding back?

In one sharp motion you slide down on his cock, forcing an obscene moan out of yourself, but it isn’t loud enough to cover the ripping sound. Your eyes wander downward, his are rolled back but all you can focus on now is your torn bed sheets in his clenched fist.

Holy hell.

“Fuck. Me.” You rasp out, lifting your hips again before dropping them back down. His head falls forward this time, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, muffling his growl.

You know that growl.

“Fuck me or leave, Joel.” You take his face in your hand, roughly pulling him back so he’s eye to eye with you.

You heard that growl in the woods less than an hour ago.

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He glares at you but you just stare right back.

“I won’t say it again.” You give him one last warning and he finally brings his hands to your hips, with a grunt he lifts you up, slamming you back down on his cock, you can feel him brushing against your cervix as you cry out.

At his age he shouldn’t be able to do that.

He does it again, moving you like a ragdoll up and down on his length, a lewd squelching fills the air, egging him on. He tilts his head down, his teeth scrape against your breast, and you can hear a roar building in his throat. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving you effortlessly up and down on his cock, your chest bouncing with each thrust.

He shouldn’t be able to do any of this.

Neither one of you speaks, you can feel the camper swaying ever so slightly as he slams into you, thrusting his hips up to meet yours as he pulls you down onto him.

He makes it look effortless.

Another growl rips through the air and you know neither one of you is gonna last long if he keeps going at this pace. He hammers into your sensitive spots with every thrust, your clit rubbing against the dark curls along his pelvis.

He’s merciless with the force at which he moves you, he’s started nipping at your shoulder and you know he’s close as they get harder and harder. You finally feel him break the skin and just like that he’s lifting you off of him, his mouth clamped down on your flesh, you feel his cum between your legs as he finishes on your folds. The sensation of him slipping out of you sends you over the edge right along with him, your stomach tightening as you groan, letting your head fall forward onto him.

You feel better already.

Not good, just better.

He manages to keep you both upright for a few more moments before collapsing down on the mattress with you in his arms.

And then it’s just quiet.

Until the mattress squeaks as you get up. Wiping yourself off with a towel and turning the lights off before returning to bed without a word. He’s the one who finally breaks the silence.

“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

“You can stay.” You mumble, rolling over to face away from him.

It’s better if you know where he is.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It’s easier to swallow that excuse than the truth, that you can’t shake the terror from your encounter with the creature and now amount of fucking is going to change that. You don’t want to be alone, no matter how angry you are. He doesn’t seem to take the hint though, snaking his arm under yours and pulling you to his chest.

You start to push him away but you feel a wave of calm wash over you when he does so you just settle back against him. You close your eyes, praying sleep might come but all you see in the darkness is that open maw closing in on you.

You know that growl.

It isn’t Joel. It can’t be Joel, he was with Ellie and then he was with you.

It wasn’t Joel.

You’re more than used to waking up in the woods at this point. Monsters and men torment you in your dreams whenever they get the chance to.

But tonight is different.

You don’t feel the cold, wetness of the forest floor on your back before you open your eyes. Instead you only feel steel, you make an attempt to sit up on instinct but you can’t. In a panic you open your eyes to find yourself cuffed to the cadaver carrier from Marias basement.

This can’t be happening.

This is the kind of dream you get after your first body.

You’ve had this dream, years ago when you’d just started studying mortuary sciences. Although now it feels worse, more ominous than it had previously.

That probably has to do with the fact that you can’t move.

In response to that petrifying thought you begin to uselessly tug on the cuffs, your ankles and wrists attached to the cold unforgiving steel of the table you’ve sewn countless bodies back together on.

You don’t strap cadavers down, there’s no need to.

The door swings open and you’re thankfully able to sit up enough to watch Maria and Joel walk in, solemn looks on both of their faces.

You open your mouth to call for help but something stops you.

No.

No, no, no.

Your jaw is wired shut.

The sudden realization makes you gag as you shake the table with the force of your panic.

Maria is always thorough, your mouth is full of cotton.

They act as if you’re as lifeless as any other corpse as they stand beside you, despite your muffled screaming, tears immediately flowing from your eyes as you feel your throat constrict around the cotton.

“What happened to her?” He sounds so far gone even though he only stands a few feet away.

“You know what happened to her.” Marias sorrow turns to a look of resentment as she turns to Joel.

“Bear attack.” He says it more to himself than to her.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do.” Her voice is full of a hatred you haven’t ever heard in reality.

She looks at you with a pity you’ve had on your own face before. It’s the same look you give every corpse on a table.

You follow Maria’s gaze down at your body and find your chest sliced open, the inside dry.

And then you wake up.

Of course Joel is there when you sit up in bed with a strangled cry, a fresh flood of tears falling down your face.

“Bunny?” His groggy, sleep ridden voice resembles a growl, sending you backwards away from him, your back hitting where the mattress meets the camper wall. He’s already up, he moves towards you but the moment you flinch away from he stops. “Are you okay? What hap-“

“Don’t come any closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Thankfully he doesn’t move towards you, he holds his hands up ever so slowly. He’s acting like you’re a cornered animal.

You can’t seem to find your voice. Every single logical and rational part of your body and mind tell you to get as far away from him as possible. To fight tooth and nail to get past him, to run away and never look back. You’d never get away with that though, he’s too deeply rooted in you already. He’s made for you. Sculpted by the gods to be everything you’ve ever wanted all in one neat little salt and pepper package, served up to you on a silver platter.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He inches forward a bit but the way you pull your legs up against your chest, trying to make yourself smaller makes him move back. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Yeah Joel, that's the problem.

a/n : i have such mixed feeling abt this chap but whatever i really like it so ?? idk

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 11 months

Text

Beloved

Fives x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Hormones vs Pheromones

Summary: A horrible smell leads to a precious discovery. You and Fives have been enjoying your life together, but everything is about to change now that you’re pregnant. While your hormonal imbalance rages, Fives must hang on for dear life as he’s dragged through the stages of fatherhood. Luckily, the 501st has his back and comes to the rescue more than once.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Kix

Tags & Warnings: established relationship, suggestive themes, pregnancy, morning sickness, vomiting, humor, domestic fluff, insults, sarcasm, light angst, dialogue heavy

Word Count: 4.8k

Author's Note: I came up with this idea after listening to a podcast about a woman whose pregnancy hormones made her absolutely hate her husband. Then it turned into a series… Whoops. Written in second person, but from different perspectives. Main focus is on Fives. Also, lots of dialogue because sarcasm and insults require some talking.

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine because I was going to throw this fic in the trash and she convinced me otherwise. Thanks babe 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Fives

Chapter 1

Your life is blissful nowadays. You and Fives live peacefully in the GAR Commons, which houses the entire 501st Battalion. The communal building complex has multiple accommodations, including studios, one bedrooms, and multi-rooms that will fit up to four clone troopers at a time. There’s also a community mess hall, medbay, shooting range, weight room, and even a courtyard with benches and flowers to enjoy. For GAR standards, it’s a nice place to live.

As an ARC trooper, Fives was able to swipe himself a one bedroom for the two of you. It’s a little thing, but it’s cozy and it’s spacious enough for all of your needs. When you first moved in, you completely fell in love with its simplistic charm. It has all of the necessities, a bedroom, refresher, kitchen, living area, and lots of closet space. You quickly set to work making it a home for you and Fives by adding pictures, a couple decorative pillows, and some nice curtains.

There’s not much else you could ask for to complete your little world. The life of a clone trooper’s wife isn’t always the best, but you never let yourself dwell on the unpredictable aspects of the war. Some days Fives will wake up and be gone for sixty-five rotations and other times he will wake up and be gone for two rotations. Better still, some days he wakes up and doesn’t have to go anywhere. Those are your favorite days, the ones where you get him all to yourself.

Everything is pretty quiet at the moment. Fives hasn’t gone out on assignment for eighty rotations, which is his longest base assignment on record. Although, he still has duties at the GAR headquarters. Sometimes he trains the shinies and other times he has local missions, but at the minimum, he still makes it home for dinner every night. Well, almost every night. Once and a while, he’ll kick back at 79s with the boys and drink late into the night like old times.

Fives isn’t the party boy he used to be, so you find it funny when he makes an attempt. When you first met him at 79s, he was wild, rowdy, and an absolute terrible flirt. He tried time and time again to get you to go out on a date with him using cheesy pick-up lines, but they never worked. Eventually, he stopped trying, and you found yourself missing his playful advances. You thought he was charming and funny, and adored his hearty laugh. Finally, you caved and began dating.

Now married, he spends more time at home and less time at the bar. Neither of you know when he will ship out again, so it’s important to spend quality time together as a couple when he is at home. This particular evening is brimming with relaxation while you watch the latest holo-film. Both of you are snuggling in bed, your head resting on his shoulder while he holds a bowl of popcorn on his chest. You put your hand in the bowl, take a few pieces, and pop them into your mouth.

“He’s going to die,” you say while munching away.

Fives cocks his head. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you nod.

“Why do you say that?” Fives asks while grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“They’ve built him up way too much to let him live,” you point out while gesturing towards the holo-film.

“Brutal,” Fives shakes his head.

“I know right?” you chuckle and toss more popcorn into your mouth.

As the holo-film draws to its conclusion, you begin to doze. You nod off repeatedly, all the while Fives giggles to himself at your adorable attempts to stay awake. He turns his head to look at your sleeping face and plants a small kiss on your temple. He flexes, stretching his legs, and carefully lifts you off his shoulder to lay you down without waking you. He turns the holo-film off as the credits roll and gets up to bring the popcorn bowl into the kitchen.

He returns to bed and crawls in next to you, spooning your back tightly against his chest and draping an arm across your stomach. He breathes deeply, inhaling the faint scent of your gardenia and jasmine shampoo before snuggling in for the night. But, just as he gets comfortable, you shift under his arm. He shifts with you and readjusts. A couple minutes later, you shift again. He sighs and repositions himself to accommodate you. The third time you squirm is when he breaks the silence.

“What’s the matter?” he mumbles into his pillow.

“Do you smell that?” you ask as you scrunch your nose. You can smell a putrid odor in the air, but you can’t figure out where it’s coming from.

“Smell what?” Fives takes a whiff, but all he can smell is your shampoo and maybe something else mixed in with it.

“That smell,” you answer in annoyance as you roll out of his arm’s hold and onto your back. “You don’t smell it?”

“I don’t smell anything but you,” Fives laughs as he props himself up on his elbow.

Your face scrunches in repulsion of his movement and you pinch your nose. “It’s you!”

“Me?!” Fives exclaims, a mix of surprise and confusion.

“When was the last time you showered?” you ask in disgust.

He blinks in bewilderment at your question. “This morning.”

“I don’t believe you,” you argue while sitting up. “You smell awful.”

“You were there,” he reminds you with a sigh. “In the shower, with me.”

You think back and realize he’s right, you both showered this morning and you’ve been together all day. You wonder what else it could be. “Deodorant?”

He sniffs his armpit to make sure. “Yeah, I put that on too.”

You both look at each other, puzzled at the weird occurrence. You think as hard as you can about where else the smell might be coming from, but you swear it's originating from Fives. You ask him to move again and he sits himself up against the pillow. Your nose is immediately assaulted by a horrendous smell and you gag in response. You turn away from him and gag again. Fives raises an eyebrow in concern at your bizarre response to his body odor.

“Why don’t I go take another shower,” he says as he gets out of bed.

You're not sure if it will help, but you nod in between gags as he moves away from you.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not knowing what else to say. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but it seems like he’s the cause and he feels bad about it.

You lean back against your pillow and try to relax. The awful scent still lingers, but at least it’s weaker now that Fives has left. You grab his ill-scented pillow and toss it off the bed to try and get rid of the rest of the smell. You roll over on your side, away from Fives’ side of the bed, clutch the covers to your face, and begin to cry. Why you're crying, you don’t know, but you feel the need to cry anyway. At least the congestion from crying will help clog your nose and keep the stench out.

When Fives returns from the shower, toweling dry his wet hair, he sees you laying in bed crying. He drops the towel, rushes over, and crawls onto the bed next to you. He places a tender hand on your back to let you know he is there. “Cyare, what’s wrong?” he asks with concern.

“I…” you say through coughing sobs. “I don’t know. I… I just want to stop.”

“Stop what?” he inquires, looking for any semblance or idea of what is causing you to be crying so suddenly. He visually looks you over to make sure there’s nothing externally wrong with you.

“Everything,” you cry harder and curl into a ball.

Fives is even more baffled. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I don’t know!” you yell in frustration at yourself for also not knowing what you mean, and for the fact that he’s asking you questions you don’t have the answers to.

“Udesii, cyar’ika,” Fives soothes while rubbing your back. “Shh. It’s alright.”

As his hand gently circles your back, the putrid smell returns and you reach around to push his hand away to make him stop. Fives is taken aback by your rejection and recoils his hand. You turn your head to look back at him with apologetic eyes. You’re not sure why you pushed him away, but you don’t want him touching you right now. Something isn’t right. This is all wrong. Your emotions are running wild and you can’t seem to get them under control. You start crying again at your helplessness.

“Cyare…” Fives trails as he watches and listens to your insatiable distress, but there’s nothing he can do about it. If he knew what to do, he would be doing it already. There’s nothing in his training that has prepared him for whatever this is. All he can do is be here for you if you need him.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say through your tears.

“Maybe we should go see Kix in the morning,” Fives suggests.

You nod, thinking it might be a good idea to have a medic look you over. Fives brings a hand down to cup your cheek, a sweet gesture he always does when you’re feeling down, but instead of leaning into it, you slap his hand away. You put your hands over your mouth in shock at what you just did. Fives curls his lips and sighs as he flops back against the backboard in defeat. He doesn’t know what to do and you don’t know what you want him to do. Everything is confusing.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as more tears fall. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Fives interrupts before you can berate yourself further. “I know.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you repeat as if saying it out loud will help you solve the puzzle.

“If it’s my smell bothering you,” Fives begins, his voice wavering with uncertainty, "why don’t I sleep down there, with my pillow.”

“Fives,” you begin to protest, even though you really do want him and his unbearable stench to be somewhere else.

“It’s fine, really,” Fives chuckles as he slips off the duvet and lays himself down next to the bed. “I’ve slept in worse places than our bedroom floor.”

You bury your head in your pillow as your shattering cries take over again. Fives can hear your muffled sobs and it kills him that he can’t hold you through them. You don’t know why you’re upset. It’s a terrible emotion to both want and not want your husband. It never crossed your mind. You have a playful and fun relationship, and always enjoy his company, that is, until now. You can’t wrap your head around it, but you’re hoping a good night's sleep will fix everything.

Eventually you both fall asleep, for the first time, separately. When Fives is home, you always sleep together in some form, whether it’s backs touching, spooning, or legs intertwining, even his hand accidentally smacking your face. No matter if you're happy with or angry at each other, you never sleep without some type of contact, that is, until tonight. You both feel it, the sting of separation, but there is a part of you that just can’t bring yourself to touch him right now.

As the early hours of dawn break, you feel a stirring in the pit of your stomach. You shift to try and alleviate it, but it only gets worse. The feeling travels up your esophagus and into the back of your throat, making you squirm in discomfort. “Fives,” you call out to him as you hold your aching stomach.

“Mhm,” he mumbles sleepily from his little blanket nest on the floor.

“I don’t feel good,” you answer as you curl yourself up a little tighter.

“What kind of ‘not feel good’?” he asks as he slowly sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“I think I’m gonna puke,” you say while jolting up and putting a hand over your mouth.

“Oh no,” Fives groans as he stumbles up off the floor to find a bucket. “Hang on!” he calls back as he scurries to the kitchen.

Your stomach muscles contract and you start to gag. “Fives!”

Fives rushes back into the bedroom with a small bucket and comes around to your side of the bed, but he’s a little too late. Your mouth fills with saliva in preparation of what’s to come and you can’t hold it in any longer. Fives dives for it, but misses by a couple inches as you vomit on the bedroom floor. He’s able to catch the end of it, while simultaneously grabbing most of your hair to hold it out of the way. You continue to vomit into the bucket until the spasms stop.

“Sorry,” you pant when you can finally speak again. Your chest hurts from the convulsions and your throat burns from regurgitating your stomach contents.

“Don’t worry about it,” Fives says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll clean it up.”

You smile lazily at him and are grateful he is there to help you, but something still doesn’t feel right. As he gets up to find some cleaning supplies you get a whiff of the same smell from last night and start gagging. Fives turns to bring the bucket back just in case and shoots you a worried look. Something is wrong with you. Something is very wrong with you. You don’t know what it is about his scent all of sudden, but it’s the most nauseating smell in the galaxy.

“Please, get away from me,” you plead through gags while putting up a hand to signal him to stay back. “You smell so bad.”

“That’s it,” Fives sighs while rubbing his forehead. “We’re going to see Kix.”

He leaves the bedroom to empty the bucket and comes back to clean up the floor. He places a clean bucket on the bed for you to use, trying with difficulty to respect your new boundaries. He then opens the dresser and throws on whatever he can find the quickest and tosses you one of his shirts. You grab the shirt, but it's covered in that horrific smell so you throw it at his back and it plops on the floor by his feet. He slumps his shoulders and you put your head in your hands and start to cry again.

Fives lets out a discouraged sigh and grabs something of yours from the closet that will be comfy to wear to medbay and something you won’t mind throwing up on, just in case. He eventually finds an oversized hoodie he knows doesn’t smell like him and he tosses that to you. You smell it to be sure, and you sigh in relief as you pop it over your head. You grab the clean bucket and slowly get up from the bed, legs still wobbly from the stomach convulsions earlier.

Fives does everything in his power not to hold you steady. He reaches, but he pulls back knowing you’ll probably start vomiting again if he gets too close. He grabs the keys and your bag and opens the door to the GAR Commons hallway and waits for you to follow him. You trail after him as he leads the way to the medbay. It’s strange walking behind him and not alongside him, or holding his hand, but you quickly realize that following him was a terrible idea.

You stop and vomit into your bucket. You’re not sure where all of this is coming from, because there’s no way you have this much food in your stomach, but you don’t take the time to try and figure it out. Fives stops at the familiar sound and turns around to look at you. His eyes are compassionate. “I’m leaving a trail, aren’t I?” he asks knowingly.

You nod.

He sighs. “Why don’t you take the lead and I’ll follow you?”

You nod again and walk past him while holding your breath.

As you enter the medbay, you see Kix bustling about as he gets ready for the day. The medics always start early, but since Kix is in charge of the Common’s medbay, he has to start earlier than the other medics, which is great for the both of you. He doesn’t notice you at first, but as you both hobble awkwardly into his periphery, he catches a glimpse and stops what he’s doing. “Are you two okay?” Kix asks as he checks the time and looks at your fatigued states.

“I think I’m sick,” you answer while clutching your bucket.

“I can see that,” Kix says as he notices the bucket you're holding and glances at Fives suspiciously standing a good distance away. “Come on, let me take a look at you.” He gestures with his head for you to follow him to one of the exam rooms.

You both sit down, on opposite sides of the room, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Kix. He can already tell something is amiss. He sits down backwards on the rolling medical stool and crosses his arms over the seat back. He looks at you, sitting closest to the door, and then swivels the chair to look at Fives sitting in the opposite corner. “So, tell me what’s going on,” Kix asks as he swivels back to look at you.

“It started last night,” you begin to explain. “We were watching a holo-film, ate some popcorn, and then went to sleep. But, suddenly, I started smelling this weird smell and it made me super nauseous. But the weird thing is that the smell was coming from Fives.”

Kix raises an eyebrow at your last comment and looks over at Fives who’s sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping rapidly on the floor. Kix can only describe the expression on the ARC trooper’s face as a mix between confused, concerned, and annoyed.

Feeling Kix’s stare burning a hole in his skull, Fives adds to your comment about his odor. “Then, I took a shower thinking that would fix the smell issue.”

“Did you use soap?” Kix asks blankly.

“Yes, I used soap,” Fives answers with an unamused huff. “But she still said I smelled.”

Kix narrows his eyes and looks back and forth between the two of you, but doesn’t say anything about what he’s thinking yet.

“Then I woke up this morning feeling like I was going to vomit,” you continue on with the timeline of events.

“Yeah,” Fives interjects with a small laugh. “And she missed the bucket too.”

“Shut up, Fives!” you exclaim in frustration at his irritating laughter. His penetrating voice grates against your eardrums, so you rub them to try and get some relief. None of this is funny to you and you don’t understand how he could be laughing so flippantly about it. Something is seriously wrong with you and his perceivable apathy is making you furious.

Fives’ mouth drops open in shock at your uncharacteristic outburst, but Kix just snorts at it. Your overreaction is the last piece of information he needs to connect a few dots that have been rolling around in his head since you got there.

“What are you smiling at?” you exclaim at Kix with annoyance. You wonder why everyone all of sudden thinks you’re suffering is a joke.

“I think I know what your problem is,” Kix chuckles as he pushes his feet to the floor and rolls his chair backwards to one of the drawers. He pulls the drawer open, grabs a small box, and slowly wheels himself back over to hand it to you.

You look at the box and your eyes widen. “You’re joking?”

“Afraid not,” Kix grins while placing his chin in his palm. “You have most of the early stage symptoms.”

“What?” Fives asks nervously, completely oblivious to the contents of the box as he cranes to look from his position across the room. “What is it? What does she have?”

You let out a heavy sigh at Fives’ pestering questions and toss the small box to him with an exasperated shake of your head.

He examines the box and gives Kix a puzzled look. “This is a pregnancy test.”

“So, you can read,” Kix says sarcastically.

“How did that happen?!” Fives wonders in shock.

“If I have to explain it to you, then you probably shouldn't be having sex,” Kix answers bluntly.

You place your head in your hands in defeat and let out a small squeal of irritation. How in the world did you end up with this idiot for a husband? What was it that you saw in him that made him so appealing? At this point, he has as much appeal as a bantha’s backside, and that’s being generous. This changes everything. You can’t be pregnant, can you? Your life has been perfect up until now. You don’t need anything else to make you happy.

“I know how it happens,” Fives retorts with an eye roll. “I’m just surprised that it did happen.”

“Contraception isn’t one hundred percent effective,” Kix explains. “Abstinence is, but we both know you don’t have any of that.”

“Does it even matter?” you interrupt their annoying banter, about ready to smack them both. You’re not sure where all the agitation is suddenly coming from, but your fuse is wearing thin. You get up and walk over to Fives. “Give me that.” You swipe the box back from him and go to the nearest refresher to take the test.

“So, how did you know?” Fives asks after you leave the exam room and close the door behind you.

“Easy,” Kix answers with a shoulder shrug. “The hormone changes during the first trimester can be drastic, including morning sickness, food cravings, breast tenderness, irritability, heightened sense of smell, and in rare cases an aversion to the father.”

“She has at least four of those,” Fives notes while listening intently.

“The others will come eventually,” Kix explains further. As a medic, pregnancy is not what he is trained for, but he can never be too knowledgeable about these types of things, considering the amount of men he has to look after. One of them was bound to have a baby at some point in his medical career.

“Is she really not going to like me anymore?” Fives asks nervously, still thinking about the list of hormonal changes Kix mentioned.

“Eh,” Kix scratches his head, trying to be realistic and honest. “More like she’s going to hate your guts, if this morning’s events are any indication.”

“Hate?” Fives questions with concern. “How long is that going to last?”

“Could be just the first trimester,” Kix begins while thinking out loud. “Or the full 280 rotations.”

“280 rotations!” Fives exclaims. “What am I supposed to do during all that time?”

“I don’t know,” Kix says. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

“Can’t you give her something for it?” Fives frantically asks as he goes into panic mode.

“Yeah,” Kix says sarcastically. “Vitamins and prenatal supplements.”

“No, not that,” Fives corrects while waving his hands. “I mean for the hormonal changes.”

“You want me to give her something to change her pregnancy hormones to non-pregnancy hormones?” Kix clarifies with a raised eyebrow. “Fives, I know you can be clueless at times, but that’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“But, how am I going to survive this?” Fives asks, desperate for guidance. “She can’t even stand the way I smell.”

“Again,” Kix repeats. “My only concern is mother and baby, not your identity crisis.”

“C’mon, Kix,” Fives pleads. “You gotta help me.”

“Get a therapist,” Kix advises bluntly.

Fives and Kix’s conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you swing open the door to the exam room. Fives sees you crying and isn’t sure if they are happy tears, sad tears, or angry tears, but he’s bracing for all the possibilities. You look at Fives, smile, and nod your head to let him know that the test is indeed positive. You are pregnant. You are going to be a mother and Fives is going to be a father. You feel an overwhelming sense of joy at the prospect and can’t stop smiling.

“Congratulations,” Kix says with an ear-to-ear grin. “You're going to be parents.”

Fives takes a deep breath as his heart beats rapidly in his chest. Him, a father? A parent? He doesn’t even know what a parent is, let alone how to be one. All at once, the issues of last night and this morning seem to melt away as he’s now flooded with anxious thoughts about what the rest of your lives will look like. Will he be a good father? How does one take care of a baby? He’s a soldier. He isn’t bred for this sort of thing. It’s not part of his genetic make-up.

Rex is good with kids, but him? He is the most awkward person alive when he gets around kids. Most of the other clone troopers seem to be naturals, always knowing what to say, what to do, and just fun to be around. He, on the other hand, makes children cry. Echo too. Maybe his batch got messed up during the cloning process. Maybe the rest of Domino Squad was terrible with kids and he just didn’t know it since his original batchmates have long since departed.

You cock your head at your husband's silence as his brain short circuits from the news. “Fives?” you prod to try and get a response. He hasn’t moved or said anything since you came back into the room, so you’re not sure what his thoughts are. What if he doesn’t want to be a father? What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if he doesn’t want you anymore? The destructive thoughts wash over you in waves as your anxiety increases while awaiting his response.

Kix, seeing the dazed look in Fives’ eyes and your nervous expression, picks up a tongue depressor off the counter and throws it at Fives’ face. It bounces off his cheek and he slowly looks up at the two of you. Finally realizing he is not alone with his thoughts, he snaps out of his swirling haze and sees your worried face. The affection and protectiveness he feels for you, his now pregnant wife, begins to overwhelm all his senses.

Fives shoots up from his seat, rushes over to you, and pulls you against his chest. He squeezes you tightly and presses adoring kisses against the top of your head. “We’re going to be parents,” he whispers against your hair, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest as fresh tears of joy roll down your cheeks. “We are.”

Kix watches the adorable display and sighs happily. It’s not every day a clone trooper makes a baby and he knows he’s going to have his hands full with your prenatal care. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about what the rest of the pregnancy is going to look like and if Fives will be able to survive it. However, something is nagging at the back of his mind and he can’t quite put his finger on it. But then his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of you retching. Oh, yeah.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to Kix. You are mortified at what you just did. It was so involuntary that you didn’t have any time to find somewhere else to let it all out.

Kix shakes his head and sighs as he gets up from the medical stool. “Don’t worry. I’ll get an orderly to clean it up.”

“Can you get me something to wear while you’re at it?” Fives requests as he looks down at his vomit-covered clothes.

“Might as well get used to it now,” Kix waves dismissively as he leaves the room.

“Sorry,” you apologize again while looking up at him in embarrassment. “I forgot how bad you smell.”

“This is going to be a long 280 rotations,” Fives sighs while pulling off his soiled shirt.

“It might get better, right?” you encourage while trying to offer some optimism into the bleak situation.

“I hope so,” Fives agrees, but he has a sinking feeling it won’t be that easy.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

A03

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minkkumaz · 11 months

Text

EVEN WHEN I'M NOT WITH YOU

when han was with you, alcohol tasted less bitter and the world seemed a little less loud. he agreed to take things slow, but the smoke of a clouded bathroom made the two of you seem to forget about that. PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING han jisung x gn!reader WC 1.2k TAGS best friends to lovers trope. safe alcohol use. mentions of drugs. making out. implied toxic past relationship. cussing. OMI NOTE this one is my favorite omg :(

jisung was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system, or if you just looked so fucking ethereal under the terrible club lighting. he kept a tight grip on your hand as you swayed along to the music, taking the occasional sip of your drink. throughout the chaos of tight bodies rubbing against eachother, he didn’t want to lose you.

he squeezed his hand in yours, and you looked over at him with a goofy smile. the same smile that made him fall in love with you over and over again. if he was in a time loop, he’d be happy to repeat the same moment with you for the rest of his life.

your guys’ dynamic was confusing. the two of you had been such close friends for who knows how long. he would comfort you whenever you had a broken heart, pushing down his intentions to aid you. but you did the exact same thing. you both loved eachother.

his heart constantly grew whenever you’d loop your legs in between his on the couch, or when you brought him snacks for those not so great nights, or even when you’d just be on the phone with him yet completely silent. busying yourself with reading a book or watching a show, he’d admire you through his screen. whispering a small i love you when your figure becomes still and sleepy.

as soon as he confronted you about his feelings, you reciprocated whole heartedly. but you didn’t want to ruin this. you wanted to take things slow, and show him how much this relationship meant to you. the mere thought of hurting him made your stomach sink.

staring back at him, you lean into his neck and talk just loud enough so he could hear you over the music blasting, “let’s go hang out in the bathroom? i don’t think anyone is in there and i need a break.”

he nodded at you bashfully as you lead him to the gender neutral restroom (where club goers usually fucked). you had to bump by quite a few people but they were too drunk to even be upset with you.

the restroom was littered with empty stalls. there were people in the corners doing drugs and vaping sweet scents like strawberry and cotton candy. besides that, it was very clean, so you and jisung locked yourself in the first one and settled on the tiled floors.

“fuck i can feel my head ringing.” you groaned, throwing your head back into the wall and straightening your legs.

“i think i might have tylenol in my wallet.” across from you, he pulled out his wallet and dug through it, pulling out a blue and red pill.

“you carry tylenol in your wallet?” you question, taking it from his hand.

“i have a lot of things in my wallet. safety pins, bandaids, condoms, advil.” he listed.

“condoms? what did you think was going to happen tonight, sungie?” you teased, making him blush.

“nothing! i just always have them on me just in case a friend needs it or–”

“it’s okay jisung i was just messing with you.” you sigh, “but honestly my mind is already reeling from basically being unwillingly hot boxed.”

“some of the boys get stoned so late at night, so i honestly got used to the smoke.”

“you don’t join them?” you tilt your head, not knowing that they were allowed to smoke being idols and all.

“nah, it’s not my thing. i’d probably have a panic attack if anything.”

you laughed at him, letting out a long exhale afterwards. the music was still loud, so nobody in the bathroom could hardly hear you anyways. yet the distance between you and jisung was perfect. you let your head fall to your shoulder as you gave jisung a tired grin. he smiled back.

“do you ever wonder what our younger selves would think of us now?” you question, making eye contact with him.

“mm… my younger self is probably be questioning how i ended up with you.”

“how, or why?”

“i wouldn’t be able to tell them why. because even i don’t know.” he chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“is that the alcohol talking?” you nudged his side with your foot playfully.

“i’m not sure. it’s just kind of hard to explain how i feel about you, y/n…” he admits.

you pull your head up from your shoulder and bring your knees close to your chest. in all honesty, you’re unsure how to explain your feelings for you either.

“could you try?” you ask sheepishly.

“well–” he laughs nervously, fidgeting with his fingers. “even when i’m not with you, i’m still with you. i just feel like you’re always here. in the back of my mind. i’m always thinking about you.”

he looks up at you and you cover your face with the paws of your sweater, blushing. his words made you melt and you didn’t know how to feel. you wanted to take things slow, but everything in your body was telling you that you wanted to kiss him.

“even when i can’t kiss you, i’ll still wait to.” he whispers underneath his breath.

peaking through your fingers, you see him biting the tip of his finger. he’s not looking at you, but you want him to. you push yourself up on your knees and crawl towards him, lodging your body in between his legs.

out of instinct, he puts both of your hands locked on your hips. the touch of his skin against your body makes you shudder.

“what are you doing y/n…” he mumbles, looking up at you with stars in his eyes.

“i don’t think i can wait anymore, jisung. i need this. i need you.”

your face was eerily close to his, feeling his hot breath against your lips. if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to see it quivering slightly.

taking the initiative, he closes the gap between you two, catching some smoke in between. the kiss was desperate, you could taste the bitter alcohol against his lips, his tongue. but you moved against him as if this wasn’t the first time.

lips perfectly locked in a bathroom stall.

as the two of you made out, you felt your eyes turn glossy. was it the smoke, or were you just really emotional? when he pulled away, you whimpered at the loss of heat. there was a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. he cupped your face gently, pecking your lips again.

“did you know that you’re my first kiss, sungie?”

his eyes blow wide and you giggle, caressing his cheek and pushing the hair out of his face.

“i’m your first kiss? but– but you’d had boyfriends before?” his mouth gaped slightly.

“i had boyfriends before, sure, but i don’t usually kiss people when i don’t know if i love them. i’ve always loved you, jisung.” you press your sweaty forehead against his.

“it’s good to know that i’m the only one who can cut you further.” he kisses you again, more fueled by love than desperation.

you smile sweetly against his lips. despite wanting to take things slow with him, you’re happy with the way things turned out. you figured that maybe things didn’t need to follow a plan as long as you loved one another.

“what is love besides two souls trying to heal eachother?”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz !

PIERCE THE VEIL series

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ndostairlyrium · 10 months

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✨ Self Rec Tag Game✨

I was tagged by the creator of the tag game herself, @shivunin and I'm terribly sorry if I came back to it super late ;; it was super fun looking at what others made with it tho <3 people are so talented!!

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made.

Something you absolutely adore

Something that was challenging to create

Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably)

Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.)

Something you want other people to see

For those I'll tag: categories aren't necessary, "they're more guidelines than rules" (cit. @shivunin)

I may have broken the rules because I'm chronically undecided << hopefully it's fine sorry in advance

Something you absolutely adore

I just... I'm into chill and comfy vibes <<' These three together bring me so much joy, like, I remember reading all their interactions on the wikia and smiling like an idiot because I wished that all of it was more blatant rather than "yea there's a 3% chance you'll get this interaction in game"

Something that was challenging to create

Probably the first batch from everything-else-but-Inktober 2020. I decided to drop the idea of messing with inks and straight up exercised on things I usually fail at / wanted to improve. The whole challenge was, well, a challenge. I remember struggling from day 1 to 30 because I'm terrible at studies, I tend to filter and filter and filter and... But I like the results!! Far from perfect, but I've learnt big deal through it ;; If you're interested, here's the links to the instagram posts: Weeks 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably)

I can't decide! Aaaaaargh Here, have a multitude of things that make me crack a smile :'D

...I wanted to add more but I don't wanna make another monsterpost :'D

Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.)

This fanart of Ophélie from Le Passe Miroir, which I'm very proud of ;; I know it doesn't seem like a huge accomplishment or an art megazord, but I was very in my head before opening Photoshop but during the process, when I realized I was doing exactly what I pictured beforehand, I just couldn't stop being proud of myself lol which is something I don't experience a lot :'''

Also this comm I did for @n7viper that made me say "oh, you can handle this" This was quite the experience ;; thanks again for letting me work on this dude <3 I started with a greyscale then added colors, which is a technique I used some times and like, I was sure it was challenging because it's super hard to balance everything out, but when things came out exactly how I wanted them to be?? Woah, alright Picasso, slay

Something you want other people to see

-My dwarven ladies 🧔✨

you can check it out here

-The things I'm doing for this artfight lol I think I leveled up in some cases 👌

These are previews, everything will be posted in this blog, my artblog, insta, twitter etc etc

-The collabs and trades I made with some of the most talented people I know and cherish ;;

Like this one amongst the many I did with @greypetrel who dragged me back into Lord of the Rings after years and I'll be forever thankful for that ;; but also for the experience <3

Or these ones I did with @underneathestars Plus our joint effort for last year's N7 Day: her post - my post That was a challenge and your girls served 💅

Also This!!! Courtesy of @demandthedoodles This was like, one of the funniest - yet astounding - outcomes from a sketch I almost forgot I made lol I need to print this out when I can!

I would include all of them, because I traded art and collaborated with people I really appreciate but I can't possibly include other things ;; I'll mass reblog / share them in the next days!

Also, thanks again @shivunin for this tag game ;; I discovered things I've never seen from people I follow and found out awesome new things from people I didn't follow already. So super fun <3

I'm tagging (no pressure, no commitment): @n7viper @underneathestars @qwib @skeltrr @lethalhoopla @kassarts @aukanemin @ii-then @daggerbean @vaesivlasta @sparatus

#long post #tag game #self rec tag game #ndo sta l'art tag #of course I did a monsterpost siigh #listen I'm easily entertained when it comes to shitposting I had to spam :'#no I didn't have to but I did it anyway because I have no self control #I didn't include fics tho <<#I need to stop tweaking this post gdi

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moral-terpitude · 8 months

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Misadventures - Part 13

so c'mon and swing it back and forth just like • my heart is on a pendulum tonight • if your lungs are mine I only wanna watch your clouds • linger in the darkness

[Masterlist] [Series Masterlist]

Misadvetures taglist: @cillmequick @emotionalcadaver @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms

Summary: Quinn makes a hard decision after meeting another member of the Shelby family.

Word Count: 7,360

Warnings: sex, alcohol, swearing, discussions of past traumas.

A/N: I had a hard time letting this one go at less than 10k words, but, there wasn’t anything else I could think to say! I have a small taglist for just this started because I don’t think I’m fully shadowbanned but I don’t think posts are showing up right either. I am not wrangling my big taglist anymore. If you want to be tagged, just let me know! (I just guessed and added the people who I know have been reading, if you want taken off let me know too!)

Things had been weird since Tommy had spent his time taking care of her.

Not bad, not in any way, Quinn just wasn’t used to feeling like she was living in the strange area of the unknown.

If they didn’t see each other, they usually did at least spend the day messaging back and forth, and Quinn realized with how busy both of their schedules were that that was something she was going to have to accept.

Occasionally he would call her as he finished up some work and she finished cleaning around the shop, catching up on their days.

Not that she was complaining, however. At least they were on the same continent. Ada’s words during their meeting gave her some perspective of how it could be worse.

That morning, she had been surprised when she got to the studio, Hannah had already beat her there by a good hour, that there were flowers sitting at the front desk.

“What’s this?” Quinn stared at them as she shook around the iced coffee she had stopped off for, the almond milk not quite blending right, as she stared at the arrangement, pink camellias, sunflowers, red carnations, and purple peonies.

“Ain’t for me,” Hannah called, “and I don’t think anyone is sending Dante flowers, so, must be you.”

Quinn plucked the card out to see her name written on it carefully. The script was looping and scrawling and it made her realize she had never actually seen Tommy’s handwriting.

“Those are kinda an ugly combo though, Chuck.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, opening the card, to see the only word written inside was a question.

Lunch?

She laughed, looking back to the flowers, and at Hannah’s quizzical look as she turned the computer behind the desk on.

“No, they’re not. Flowers all mean something.”

“Okay, well, I think they mean homeboy is terrible at picking flowers.” She bit back, sitting down in front of the computer.

They were still somewhat on the outs, and it seemed to be getting worse any time Quinn stayed away for the night.

But, Quinn wasn’t going to lie, she enjoyed being there. Despite the fact that she was no closer to getting the clarity she now saught after surrounding what exactly they were doing, she enjoyed Tommy’s company.

And the sex was fucking phenomenal so she tried not to put too much thought into it.

After her first appointment was over, a smaller floral chest piece on a woman that had traveled all the way from Wisconsin to come see her, she had made her way to Tommy’s office building.

It wasn’t quite what she would have pictured. Some old brick building, the inside made modern while still appreciating the exposed brick that housed it.

She perched on the corner of the desk, waiting patiently, as he was in the middle of the phone call, and Quinn was thankful for all of the glass windows in the office being frosted as his hands began to roam her legs as he continued talking.

“Okay, put me on hold then,” one hand was already to her thigh as he pushed a few buttons and returned the phone to its cradle, the Muzak track now coming through the speaker, “Department of Taxation and Finance is trying to tell me the registration is expired.”

Quinn hummed as he stood, his lips trailing her neck, both hands moving up her skirt in an effort to pull her panties down as quickly as possible, which she assisted in happily, her shoes falling off her feet to join the black underwear on the floor. She was already panting and he hadn’t even unzipped his fly yet.

“Yeah?” The question was breathy, and she wasn’t even sure what she was asking, fingers in the longest part of his hair, forcing his lips to meet hers as she slid off the edge of the desk, two fingers plunging into her wet heat as her hips bucked against his hand, “If this is supposed to be a quickie, you’re not being very quick.”

His lips parted, pupils dilating with desire as he took In her position, leaned back on papers and things that didn’t even matter right now as the track playing over the speaker switched.

The loss of the pressure inside of her caused her to exhale with a huff as she reached for his belt, balancing precariously on the desk, as she fiddled with the fly and shoved the slacks and underwear to the floor, with a satisfying clink.

He pulled the straps of the tank top from her shoulders, elated as the fabric pooled at her waist that she wasn’t wearing a bra, as she freed his cock from its constraints, stroking with a firm grasp on hot flesh as her name passed between his lips with a hiss.

Quinn pressed her feet into the back of his legs, guiding him inside her before resuming her previous position on the desk, his hands now firmly grasping her waist as he began slamming in to her, a squeak escaping through gritted teeth as she found herself rather turned on at needing to remain quiet in the instance that someone came on the line before they were done.

“Fuck, Quinn,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear as he continued to enter her, falling victim to the pleasure of hot velvet that tightened around him, “you’re so fucking tight. So fucking wet, love.”

She trembled as she rolled her hips to meet his thrusts, lips meeting his as she tightened around him, biting at his lower lip, knowing they were playing with fire as she felt him swell inside her, “sit down, in the chair, Tommy,” she breathed, as the line started to ring through.

Any other time she wouldn’t have minded, but she was not walking around the rest of the day with the remnants of their adventure coating the inside of her thighs when she still had to go back to work.

He snatched the phone from the receiver as her warm mouth enveloped his cock, the head toying with the sensitive part of her throat.

A moan rippled through her throat as she continued to finish herself, oblivious to the words he was managing to choke out in a rather composed demeanor.

Tommy was thankful when he was put on hold once again, a rare association with the action, and a low groan passed through his lips as he shot hot ropes down the back of her throat.

He couldn’t have taken the stupid grin off of his face if he tried, he could have taken her picture the way she looked, partly undressed, kneeling between his legs.

Quinn started to recompose herself as someone came back on the line, and with Tommy talking, she could only silently protest as he reached over the arm of the office chair and stole the skimpy underwear, tucking them in the breast pocket of his jacket. Her eyes grew wide at the action, slipping back into her shoes and raising a brow as she settled herself in a chair opposite him on the other side of the desk.

“I need an answer by the end of the day with what the issue is. Nothing is expired and this is holding up an insurmountable amount of freight.”

He clicked the phone back into the receiver, rubbing a hand along his face before standing to pull the pants back up to where they belonged.

“So, lunch? That may have been the longest way around the block to ask me.” Quinn laughed.

“Phone was tied up earlier, went out to smoke, was the next thing that came to mind. The florist is a block over.”

“A text would have sufficed.” She smiled, standing from the chair to follow him from the office as he shrugged his suit jacket back on.

“No fun in that.” He rebutted, locking the door behind them, his hand falling into the small of her back as they walked.

The people they passed in the halls, the few that they were, seemed to just move out of the way without a thought. A few of them seemed to acknowledge Tommy in silence, a nod or a smile, but that was all.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a pair of women talking near the reception desk Quinn had passed on her way in. She wouldn’t have paid them any mind if Tommy hadn’t spoken as soon as they departed.

“Fucking hell.”

“What?” Quinn peeked up at him, seeing the frustration clouding his features.

“That’s me aunt.”

“Is she not supposed to be here?”

“At the moment, no, she wasn’t supposed to be.”

Quinn felt uneasy as they approached the woman regardless, a situation that, just like with meeting Ada, she didn’t feel that she had time to properly mentally prepare for.

She was smartly dressed and looked like someone who didn’t take shit from anyone, and while Quinn usually found those qualities endearing and interesting, there was something about Tommy’s hesitancy and her unfamiliarity with the woman that she didn’t like being on the other side of that much boldness.

“Pol,” Tommy spoke, pulling the woman away from her conversation, to join them a few steps away.

Tommy looked between the two of them before speaking, and Quinn already felt an uneasy sensation spread through her from the woman’s presence joining them.

“Quinn, this is my Aunt Polly. She’s the one who raised us. She’s the Treasurer of the company and at the moment she’s here on some important business.”

The woman stared her down, her look lingering on the not yet quite healed scar on her face, and Quinn couldn’t help but feel, considering, that she was rather underdressed for the entire interaction.

“Polly, this is Quinn.”

Quinn offered her hand, but the older woman only looked on, her steely stare and cold personality biting through, covering any warmth that may lay beneath.

She didn’t quite like the way that she simply only was “Quinn” in Tommy’s introduction, but really, what were they?

Nothing. Maybe being introduced as friends would be worse, somehow.

“Hmm,” Polly huffed, crossing her arms, brow raised in a way that should have defied the laws of science, “of course.”

Quinn swallowed, drawing her hand back as the silence hung between the three of them for what felt like hours until Tommy cleared his throat, a loud swallow following.

“You’re early, Pol.”

“The meeting with the investors got moved up. They’re waiting in the boardroom now, Thomas. Give the poor girl her underthings back and meet me there.”

Polly stalked off, grabbing a folder from the counter and brushing off the woman that she had been talking to as if she weren’t there at all.

“How—“

Tommy shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

Quinn shrugged, not quite sure what to say. The entire interaction left her pretty much speechless, skin crawling in a way that, after the look she had received, made her feel like she needed a shower to scrub herself, to make she was no longer as dirty as she had been perceived to be.

The way that Polly had looked at her as if she wasn’t good enough made Quinn feel like she somehow knew far more than was being let on.

She forced a smile as Tommy ran a thumb along her cheek, warm palm pressed against her skin.

“Rain check on lunch?” She asked, trying not to sound overly disappointed.

She had been so surprised, thinking, hoping, that maybe he was trying to move things forward.

Maybe there was some good news to be shared.

Maybe things went through and he’d be telling her that the divorce was final.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, rain check. I’m sorry.”

He leaned to press a quick kiss to her forehead before walking off in the same direction his aunt had just gone.

The entire interaction had left her deflated with a knife twisting in her gut.

Quinn had trudged through the rest of her appointments for the week, answering Tommy’s messages but not quite carrying the conversation to its fullest extent.

She felt like she was bordering on becoming actually ill over the whole thing. Her interactions, no matter how small, with Tommy’s family members, the ones she had met so far anyway, had been wishy-washy at best.

Ada had been kind and relatable, but, the look his aunt had gave her had made her feel like an absolutely disgusting human being.

Quinn had wallowed in her own self pity for around two hours that morning, weighing her options.

She could let things continue on the way they had been, with no foreseeable end in sight of whether or not this divorce would pan out any time soon, or, she could cut her losses and cut it off.

Just the thought of making such a firm decision made her stomach turn and her heart race.

In all reality, if it weren’t for the unknowingness about the situation as a whole, the words she couldn’t even really speak, Hannah’s seed of doubt growing by the day about if Tommy was actually divorcing his wife or not, she would probably let things carry on as they had been.

Sure, whatever they were doing was fairly casual. But, Quinn didn’t mind, at least she had thought she didn’t. Tommy was nice and kind to her and there wasn’t anything about the situation that scared her.

She finally forced herself up. All of it had been bothering her enough to schedule an appointment, one that she had dreaded calling and making.

She had always thought that her ending of her therapy after she had worked through everything she left behind would be enough. What would warrant going back?

But here she was, stomach in knots as she tried to find a way to fill her morning before going back, doing something that made her feel like she was starting all over.

As she walked along the sidewalk, cool breeze smashing into her face and blowing her hair all around, she knew the quick trip she had decided to take down to the bodega was going to be a mistake.

She didn’t want it. She didn’t need it. But there was a comfort in her at the thought of something familiar.

“Can I get a bottle of Bombay and whatever your cheapest champagne is?”

The cashier nodded, not bothering to card her.

Had she been here before? She had went to one further from the apartment in hopes of not seeing anyone.

Quinn felt stupid. Stupid that she felt that she had to go do this. Stupid for giving in.

She tapped her nails on the debit card nervously, relinquishing it as she took hold of the brown paper bag, and scribbled her name incoherently on the line before setting back off for home.

It felt like she was running, cradling the brown bag tightly to her chest as if to keep it a secret. Holding on to the worry that someone was going to see her and call her out on even dreaming of fucking up the two years of sobriety that she had so dilligently fought for up to that point.

She took one of the hurricane glasses from the cabinet, filling it with ice, before opening the lid of the Gin with a satisfying crack.

Quinn didn’t measure a thing. She had made enough of them and drank enough of them that she could guess fairly well how much needed to go in the glass.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring at the made drink.

Just a singular sip wouldn't kill me. Right?

One, just one.

Quinn stared the drink down, holding the glass in her hand before taking a sniff. The smell of the pine of the Gin and carbonation of the Champagne invading her nose made her want to vomit.

She tucked the bottles under her arm, shuffling to the bathroom, and threw the lid of the toilet open, dumping the entire contents of the glass before upturning both of the bottles in a similar fashion.

The prickle of sweat on the back of her neck as the tears crested over her eyelashes made her realize that she had been making the right decision all along, but, there felt like something along the way may have been costing her her sanity because of it.

All that self awareness, and it wasn’t even 1PM.

“How are you today, Quinn?”

“I’ve been better. Just kind of a shitty day.”

Monique nodded, waiting for her to continue. Even though Quinn hadn’t seen her in awhile, she remembered that Monique had figured out her rambling was the best way to dump all the information out.

Quinn sighed, curling up on the cushion, knees pulled up to her chest.

“I…god it feels so stupid. I went and bought alcohol today. For the first time in two years. I dunno. I’ve just been feeling stressed out, and so I walked a couple blocks, and I bought a bottle of champagne and a bottle of gin and I made a drink.”

Monique nodded, “Did it help?”

Quinn shook her head. “I didn’t actually drink it. I just, something, I just wanted to smell it. To have the option, but then once I got that far I didn’t want it. I went and dumped it all down the toilet.”

“Was there something that made you feel like you needed to do that?”

“I just, I’ve been seeing someone and I don’t really know what we’re doing.” Quinn mumbled, realizing now as she sat in the comfort of that same space, that there was something that sounded so silly about the words as she spoke them in comparison to the other problems she had came there for.

“Have you asked?”

“No. I don’t want to push. I feel like it’s a delicate situation. He’s separated from his wife and has kids and, I don’t know.”

Quinn sighed, rubbing at her eyes. Trying to pinpoint how excatly to get all of the right words out.

There were so many things that she knew were wrong about the situation, but she tried to think of the good things.

She enjoyed their conversations. The simplicity of spending time together at times and not talking at all. The feeling that, regardless of what had happened or what she felt other people judged her for, that Tommy still appreciated her and accepted her regardless.

She enjoyed waking up with him in the morning when the world was still black and white. The contact of skin, her face pressed into the spot between his shoulder blades where her cheek rested just right or his chest, the smell of tobacco and cologne, and something that was just Tommy and altogether different and—

“I think I’m just scared that if I say anything and try to make it, us, whatever it is, become something that it’ll all just crumble in my hands. I was fine for so long without anyone and now that I have someone and some semblance of something that’s close to a relationship I don’t want to push him away.”

She sighed, letting her head fall back on the cushion.

“Quinn, you need to let yourself actually feel the feelings instead of intellectualizing them. It’s okay to feel scared about change, to worry about loss.”

She sighed, the twinge in her chest at the thought about not having Tommy around being too strong for how long she had really known him for.

“I know. I just, keep getting consumed with this feeling that…” she huffed, “I think part of my hang up is that he’s the first person in years that I’ve had sex with sober. I’ve never,” her nose scrunched, “this might be way too much, but, I’ve never had sex that’d I would describe as ‘making love’,” she pretended to gag. She hated the way the words sounded coming out of her mouth, “but I actually feel like he’s doing it for me, not him. Part of me thinks I should be content with just whatever it is for now, but, the part of my brain that’s winning is telling me that I don’t want to keep just having what feels like an actual relationship without some kind of label.”

Monique nodded, and Quinn was relieved to have someone that was fully listening to her without judging her for the situation she had found herself in.

“But I can’t let myself let it become a relationship while he’s still married.”

She squirmed in the comfortable chair, thankful for the cup of tea that she had been offered.

“Do you find it difficult to express that because you feel it’s already happened and, since you have defined expectations for a relationship, that you’ll push him so far away he won’t come back after the divorce goes through?”

Quinn blinked and shook her head slowly, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’ve gathered that you feel comfortable enough with him to overcome a strong fear you’ve had for awhile, a fear of letting someone in too close.”

Quinn nodded.

“If it’s someone that cares about you enough to ensure your needs are being met before their own, won’t he be receptive to the idea that you want a relationship after his divorce is finalized and that maybe you should take a break until then?”

Quinn paused, taking a deep breath. She hadn’t thought that way. Hadn’t thought to actually talk to Tommy and ask, instead letting the feeling of worry grow in her stomach until it felt like it was going to consume her.

“The break is what worries me, what if someone else comes along, you know?”

“Well you won’t know unless that happens.”

Quinn nodded, “Right.”

“Has that been the stressor?”

“Not entirely. We went home for my sisters wedding, Tommy went with me as my date, and it was a shitstorm. I just haven’t been talking to my family since I came back. He took care of me, too, I got COVID, and he stayed with me for like a whole week so I wasn’t by myself.”

Monique nodded, “How was your family?”

“My mom still has her favorites and unknowingly makes it clear that I am not one of them, unless it’s convenient for her. I didn’t know that Emily’s now husband worked with Gerard, and he was in her wedding. And, honestly, as much as we don’t get along, Emily and I, it really hurt, because she had someone who did all of that terrible shit to me standing up there in support of her marriage and I wasn’t even asked.”

Quinn took a shuddering breath, staring out the window at the accumulating rain drops. The more it had became a topic of conversation in her recent past, the more she realized that she wasn’t as over it as she thought she needed to be.

Would she ever be, though?

“Someone that took so much from me, and,” she felt her eyes well up as she thought of standing in that room once again, a physical representation of all the locked up memories she tried to keep pushed deep down, “and they didn’t know. But, now they do. Emily just had to push me. Push the blame on me,” she scratched at her forehead, taking a sip of the tea, “um, the morning after the wedding, Gerard found me, waited until I was alone in a back hallway and he—“

Don’t you dare fucking cry, Quinn. Don’t give someone that terrible what he wants even when he isn’t fucking around. He wants you to be miserable.

“He attacked me.” She felt her mouth press into a thin line, making eye contact with Monique for one of the first times the whole time. “He attacked me, and Tommy made sure he didn’t kill me because he was holding a gun to my head. And my sister tried to blame it all on me. So, so, now…they all know.”

Her mouth felt dry as a few of the tears leaked out.

“They know about Robin. And Tommy knows and I’m really not sure how I feel about all of it. The worst part is,” she shrugged, sipping the tea, finally breathing at a normal pace once again as she forced herself to take deep breaths, “there’s nothing I can do.”

Her thoughts flicked to the photo her mother had sent her of her and Tommy outside, Sweetie, I know things haven’t been easy, but I’m happy to see you’ve found someone that makes you happy.

The worst part: she was happy, and she thought she had.

That night had continued on in the way most of their nights had. It was the first time in a few days of just talking that Quinn had finally made her way over there, leaving Hannah to sulk in her own judgment as she left with her backpack packed full of things she would need, and went to Tommy’s apartment.

She had made dinner as they caught up on their days, their week, before they sat down to eat. Which, in Quinn’s perspective, they had behaved so well until she had ended up in Tommy’s lap at the table and he carried her to bed. Her thoughts let her be until that moment when her mind and body had finally come down from the bliss, and the guilt started to settle in once again.

“Are you alright?” Tommy questioned, finger tips tracing the lines in her back as Quinn’s head rested on his chest.

She hummed and gave a shrug. He had never witnessed her being unenthusiastic after, and the way she was laying against him now wasn’t any different than usually, however something felt wrong.

Fuck, he ran a hand through his hair, did she not fucking finish, fucking felt like it—

“Quinn,” he tried to keep his voice even and non-accusatory as he spoke, something that could be quite the challenge, “you can talk to me, eh?”

He waited, feeling her grinding her teeth before she took a couple breaths, and sat up looking away.

“I…” she moved to get off the bed, pulling the black underwear on before she stood, “I can’t.”

She shook her head, rubbing her hands through her hair as she picked up various clothing items.

Tommy watched her intently as she found which were hers and dropped his back to the floor.

“Yes, you can.” He grabbed for the pack of Pall Malls on the bedside table, lighting one, as he sat, elbows braced against his knees as she tried to put the clothes back on.

“No, no. This.” She gestured, eyes watering, between the two of them, “I, I can’t keep doing this,” she huffed, fumbling with the clasp of the black bra, “this, whatever it is I can’t.”

Tommy could feel the acid churn in his stomach as he reached for the underwear off the floor, pulling them on, before he stood across the bed from her.

“Like what are we actually doing?” Her eyes roamed the ceiling as she held back tears, trying to remind herself that she said she wasn’t going to cry.

“I can’t,” she crammed her legs through the leggings, color rising in her cheeks and getting flustered when they wouldn’t pull on right, “keep playing with fire, this, whatever we’re doing, can’t keep happening while you’re still married, okay?”

Her hands went to her hips on the last word, watching carefully his movements.

“C’mere,” he offered a hand, trying his best to think of a way to get her to calm down without startling her.

“No, Tommy.” She tried not to look at him, not wanting to give in to that glimmer in his blue eyes as her conscience got the best of her.

She sniffled, wiping away a stray tear as she pulled on the sweat shirt, realizing she had no clue where her keys or shoes were.

“Quinn, I know—“

“No. Don’t. I feel like this is either taking an exceptionally long time if the only thing you’re waiting for is Ruby’s blood work to come back, or that you’re just taking me for a ride, and in all honesty,” she walked past him, opening the door before stalking past the dining table where the still uncleared plates sat, “if it’s the latter option, I don’t really want to know.”

“Quinn—“

“And, you know, I think the worst part is,” she held out her hands and crammed her feet into the shoes before she snatched the keys off the counter. Tommy took another long drag off the cigarette as he clung to every word she was saying, “it’s like you know we’re doing something wrong because you can’t even let yourself be seen in public with me. One time! Once and we didn’t even make it to lunch!”

He swallowed.

“Your aunt made me feel like some disgusting little slut and maybe that’s what I needed to put into perspective for me that something with this equation just, just, is never going to add up.”

“Would you stop and listen to me?”

She was trying her best to give him a wide breadth and resist giving in to the other part of her that didn’t want to leave, “No. I’m going to go home. I don’t know if I’m gonna to be ready to talk, in all honesty, in a day or a week or whatever, or ever, so,” she chewed her lip, shaking her head, “I guess unless you have proof, something real and tangible, to show me, just…let me be.”

“Let me take you home.”

“No.”

“Quinn, it’s late and dark—“

“And I functioned perfectly fine in the city before you came along.”

Tommy stared on as she softly closed the door with a click, the cigarette smoke rolling the only movement now left for him to look at, no longer faced with the frustration and confusion clouding her features.

It took everything in him to not turn back to the table and send the plates hurling into the wall.

Everything had been going so well.

Quinn made it off the subway before the tears finally took over, leaving her a sniveling mess for the remaining few blocks before she got to the apartment building.

Try as she might, she couldn’t get over the overwhelming feeling that someone was always just around the corner, lurking in her shadow, close enough to follow but far enough away not to be seen.

She tried to get it together, she needed to get to bed and be to the airport in a few hours, because despite how much the anxiety bubbling in her stomach made her feel terrible, she still had obligations and a flight to get on.

Her arrival in Munich would only be one flight away, and despite how much she was looking forward to going, she realized part of it was because she would have had someone to come back and share things with when she returned to New York.

“What’s the matter, Chuck?” Hannah eyed her with suspicion as she hooked her keys on their spot by the door and toed off her shoes.

“Nothing, don’t try and make me laugh right now.” Quinn sniffed, pulling the hood down and looking at her friend with what she was sure was a pathetic face before the tears rolling down her face intensified, “I’m not, fuck, I’m not okay. And, I just want to be left alone. Okay?”

Hannah’s mouth pressed into a firm line, holding back what Quinn assumed was a snarky “I told you so,” cleverly disguised as sympathy.

“Okay.” She agreed instead. Turning back to the fridge in an effort to give her some privacy.

Quinn stalked off to her room, shutting the door and stripping herself of all the layers, because they smelled like him and she hated it.

Hated the smell of his fucking cologne now that she could smell it again, and his fucking Pall Mall’s and, fuck, hated, that she didn’t really hate it at all.

She climbed into bed with a huff, not bothering to redress and pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling as if it were going to have the answer to her questions in some fine print in the shadows.

Two hours later and many tears shed, she ran out of anything else to cry and resigned herself to sleep, otherwise she would be destined to wear sunglasses the entire flight to hide her puffy eyes, and something about that just didn’t sit right with Quinn.

“Quinn, you look like hell.” Joanna’s thick accent cut through the mental fog as the dark haired woman pulled her in for a hug.

Her shag haircut and dark wardrobe were something that hadn’t changed any since the last time Quinn had seen her, and the familiarity of someone so patient and kind was like a breath of fresh air.

“Well, it’s been a rough last few 24 hours. But I’m here and that’s the important part.” She forced a smile.

“Oh, you poor thing. Tell me all about it over coffee, ja?”

The car ride back to their house was mostly in silence. Quinn watched the sights of the city pass by, taking in the same blue sky she could see anywhere looking completely different from here.

The shuffle into the house with the luggage was completed rather quickly. She had packed rather light except for the equipment she had packed to bring with her; the hard cases were probably double the weight of all the clothes she had in the backpack.

“Hi, Quinn!” The wave and words came from the other side of the picture window, screens open and the fresh air coming in at a slow pace, just enough to rustle the plants near the window.

She rubbed at her bleary eyes before responding, as Bronze, Joanna’s rather tall partner stood from where they were working on their most recent project in the back garden.

It looked to be some kind of metal sculpture that they had been welding pieces to, spirals that reminded Quinn of double helix segments.

“He, um, can go out,” Joanna spoke, nodding at the dog as Quinn opened the door, the gray French bulldog, who’s name she thought was Basil from the pictures and messages she had received when they got the puppy, leading the way as Quinn padded barefoot through the grass.

“What are you working on?”

Bronze took off the welding mask, setting down the tools on some scrap wood pieces that made an impromptu workstation.

“Something for some rich fuck with more money than he knows what to do with,” they said, a chuckle escaping, “how have you been?”

“Oh, good. Busy. I—“ she paused, realizing she had wanted to mention her sisters wedding, but all that did was flood her thoughts with Tommy and that wasn’t going to do her any good to go down that path right now, “have been looking forward to coming to visit. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen you two.”

“Well it has!” They said, putting the mask back on, before ushering Quinn back in the house with a warning, “You won’t want to look.”

“Does Bronze always get to work so early?” Quinn asked, glancing at the clock and accepting the fact that it was truly 7AM, and happily taking the steaming mug of coffee as she sat down at the kitchen table with Joanna.

“Oh, yes. Lately,” she nodded, glancing at the window, adoration looking to her other half working busily away ,”they finally were able to join the office at Bogenhausen, that does the ketamine treatment.”

“How is that?”

“The beginning was a bit intense, but going better now.”

“That’s good. I mean, I know the process of getting to be able to do it is usually a long road, but it’s good they found something that works for them, I mean.”

The pair sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, quietly sipping the coffee before Johanna sighed, “So, what has my kleine amerikanische schwester being so blue?”

Quinn tried to smile but she knew it came through as a frown instead. Maybe it was the lack of good rest. The nights lately where she slept alone had been few and far between.

“I never thought I would let myself get worked up over a guy ever again,” she stared into the partly depleted mug somberly.

“Why not? Is not love part of life?”

“Yeah, but,” she rubbed at her eyes, discarding her glasses onto the table, “I’m tired of worrying about getting hurt.”

“Hmm, well what if you stop with the worry?”

“I did. For a bit. Then my conscience came back.”

Quinn opened her phone, continuing on in the way that she was good at torturing herself, to pull up the photo of her and Tommy from her mother that she had saved.

She tossed the phone on to the table, crossing to fill the mug as Johanna looked at the photo.

She opened the door to let Basil back in, his happy trot and little face as he came to join them bringing a smile to her face.

“Okay, to start, that dress is beautiful,” Johanna slid the phone back, the roses inked into her palms hidden as she wrapped her hands around the mug once again.

“Thank you,” Quinn spoke, sitting back down at the table.

“But, for two, Quinn, this is how people look at eachother when they’re in love.”

Quinn blinked, taking a deep breath as she stared back down into the steaming black liquid, “I know.”

“So, why, what happened?”

“He’s married. Well, he’s in the middle of a divorce that’s taking a strangely long amount of time.”

“So?” Johanna shrugged, “If they’re separated, what’s the worry?”

“What if they’re actually not?”

“Where does she live? Does she live with him?”

“No, she still lives in England. From what I’ve gathered, she lives in a house he bought for her with the guy she cheated on him with.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“But, did he tell you that; or how did you find all that out?”

“He…yeah, he did tell me.” She was surprised at the clarity Johanna was bringing to the situation for her, “Actually. It took some time, but, I mean I knew about the kids, but, yeah. He told me.”

“So, you are upset with someone about being honest with you?”

Quinn paused, cup halfway to her mouth. “How are you making this sound so simple? Hannah is ready to tear me apart each time I come home from there.”

“I never said it was simple. The situation is complicated, ja?”

Quinn nodded.

“But, If you want to make it work, then it is worth a little bit of a fight to get through the tough part? Like, um, if you got some sickness, it wouldn’t be fair to be left alone to deal with a tough thing, right?”

Quinn narrowed her eyes, “Have you been talking to Hannah?”

“No.”

“Johanna…”

“I did not speak with Hannah.” Her tone had an air of teasing that Quinn wasn’t sure if it was purposeful or not.

“Dante has a big mouth doesn’t he?”

“I’m not throwing anyone to the wolves, Quinn.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, her question as answered as she could ever expect it to be, “Okay, well, we can shelf this. I don’t need to sort it out right now, because it’s already done,” she choked up a bit, “I already told him that I can’t keep on that way. So, did you get my banners printed?”

They had spent the whole day loading and unloading tables and equipment and hauling them into the building in Munich to get ready for the following days.

The setup wasn’t even the worst part. Thankfully Johanna had extra tables and chairs for Quinn to borrow. She couldn’t imagine the cost of the overseas shipping if she would have had to pack her own things and bring them with her.

There were people everywhere. People chatting and laughing and having a good time seeing friends and acquaintances they hadn’t seen in ages.

Quinn felt like a stick in the mud. She felt frumpy and tired and crabby as she tried to thread the PVC pipe through the hole in the banner she had just taken out of the tube, black curtains already setup behind where it would go, just like it was for everyone else.

Someone had said to her in passing that she looked, “rather American,” and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about that statement or how to take it.

When she had made the banner she had been a bit more optimistic about things to come, and she was cursing herself as she sipped on her coffee, something really good from a shop up the street they had been back and forth to, staring at the collage of photos, thinking herself rather a fool for including the finished line work from Tommy’s back.

It wasn’t a good representation of her work.

Not that the execution wasn’t good, but it wasn’t even finished.

Her lips felt numb and her tongue tingled as she continued to think about it. Why had she made such a rash decision to include it? She had other finished pieces that, with their color and shading and lighting in the photo, actually showed off the quality and depth of her work.

She pursed her lips, feeling someone come to stand next to her.

“It’s looking good, ja?” Johanna asked, hands tucked in the pockets of her windbreaker.

“I guess.”

“You guess? I think you didn’t come all this way on a guess, Quinn.”

She sighed. Maybe if she threw herself into work for this week she could forget. And then do it for another week, and another after that, until it was all just a long forgotten memory.

Just like she had before.

Quinn stared at the ceiling for the longest time that night.

She wasn’t homesick, that didn’t quite feel like the right word. Was it nervous?

Maybe.

She hadn’t travelled this far in a long time. It wasn’t the traveling alone that had bothered her, not at all. There was just something, lacking.

She sighed, glancing at the empty phone screen, the little face of a sleeping Beelzebub when he was littler coming to light.

No notifications.

No missed calls.

No Tommy.

It hurt, but he was doing exactly what she said.

2:13 AM.

It would only be 8:13 PM in New York and Quinn was having the hardest time not calling and apologizing for how she flew off the handle.

But, she knew that wasn’t going to help, not that soon.

It was just the instinct of trying to smooth over the situation any time “she” had upset Gerard, the want to make it better before it got worse.

She unlocked her phone, met with the photo she had shown to Johanna earlier.

Fuck, why do we have to look so happy there?

She threw off the covers, thankful for the familiarity of a burning cigarette in her hand once her feet found the grass.

It wasn’t even about the sex, she realized.

She could go on Tinder and probably find someone to have baseless, meaningless, sex with in about five minutes.

If she wanted to.

But she didn’t. Hadn’t any time in the last two years, didn’t feel the appeal of it now.

She liked Tommy. She knew that. It wasn’t a secret. But at almost 30 years old, she felt like she still needed to tiptoe around it in the childish passing note manner of “check yes if you like me.”

She rolled her eyes. Half tired and emotional wasn’t the time to be trying to sort all this out.

She felt the tears streaming, thinking about the fact that maybe she wasn’t emotionally as mature as she might have thought she was.

Maybe she wasn’t ready for a relationship.

But if she wasn’t then why was she so distraught at the thought of her actions making it that she possibly wouldn’t see him ever again?

This is probably what no one was expecting from this part, but the devious part of mine has been plotting this from the beginning! Let me know what you didn’t like or did! I may have another part out sooner than once a month if my ambition for writing cooperates.

#modern tommy shelby #modern Tommy Shelby X oc #tommy shelby x oc #modern day au #modern au #quinn meyer #misadventures #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic

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