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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 8 months

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 | Dark!Father Paul x Fem!Reader | English

MY MASTERLIST

𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔰 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰

Pairing: Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

Sinope: When Erin leaves Crockett to have her baby, the teaching position becomes vacant in the dominical school, so the Town Council decides to call in someone from the mainland to fill in the vacancy left behind. Lydia Hatcher accepts the proposal without thinking twice, when she catches the Breeze she meets a mischevously handsome man to which she feels immideate attraction. The same happens to him, but what she doesn't realise is that he has way more planned for her than she might concieve.

Genres: AU — Canon Divergence, Dark fic, Rape/Non-Con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Gaslighting, Angst, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Catholic Guilt, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, Non-canon Character Death, Use of Biblical passages as a way of gaslighting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Extremely Dubious Consent, Suicidal Thoughts, Stalking, Dom/sub Undertones, Smut, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Obsessive Behaviour, Horror, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Religious Fanaticism.

Status: TBA

𝔈𝔵𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔲𝔪 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔫

Pairing: Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

Sinope: Nothing here yet :)

Genres: AU — Canon Divergence, Dark fic, Rape/Non-Con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Animal Death, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Catholic Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Angst.

Status: TBA

𝔑𝔬𝔩𝔦 𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢

Pairing: Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

Sinope: Nothing here yet :)

Genres: AU — Canon Divergence, Dark fic, Rape/Non-Con, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Justice, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Fanaticism, Cult , Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Attempted Murder, Smut, Angst, Major Character Death.

Status: TBA

More notices to be added if needed. Let me know when something requires to be added to the warnings/tags, I’ll probably forget something.

A/N:

First of all, I feel that I require to warn you that English isn’t my first language, so might happen you find some writing mistakes, I also don’t have a beta reader, again I’m sorry for any errors. If you feel comfortable, you can tell me about them, so I can fix it.

Initially, this story was planned to be a 2nd person reader fic, but I turned into a 'character x OFC'. However, don’t worry, dear grasshopper, as everything has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

If you desire to be tagged use this Google form to inform me, please, so I can keep it organized =)

This series has a playlist on Spotify, you can find it here, or just by searching for ‘the blood you spill in my garden’ in the search bar.

THIS IS A DARK FANFICTION! Be aware that you will find descriptions at least unpleasant for the more sensitive, if these obscure topics are not your thing man, don’t read, seriously DON’T READ!

If you, dear reader, have decided to ignore all warnings about this story, you are on your own, I am not responsible for anything you find. By the way, minors, this is obviously not for you!

Taglist:

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @un-kiss-the-breakfast, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess, @ledzeppelindeanmon, @vivi-venus, @novywhere

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

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80s4life · 9 months

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The Things I’ve Never Done Pt.8

Word Count: 2,695

Status: Suggested!

@: @outrosins & numerous lovely Nonnies!

A/N: It;s been like a year of multiple ideas and ways to continue this book, but I’ve finally got the ending in mind. These last chapters are gonna HURT!

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Relationship: Caledon "Cal" Hockley x Brown!Female!Reader

Summary: All dreams come to an end soon enough; and that meant the end of the small vacation on the Titanic. Bonds are formed, broken, and pulled as the last, fond memories of the Titanic come to a close - before its name is encompassed by a dark pit in your heart.

Warnings: mature language, switches between past and present day Y/N, some angst, fluff, this is April 13th in April 14th, 1912 when the Titanic sinks in the early hours of the morning, dreams of the future, some nostalgia from older Y/N, uncertain future in the end

Masterlist Titanic Masterlist Part One Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4* Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.9 Pt.10 [epilogue]

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{gif is not mine, credits go to @ofdyingdragons}

Y/N had made her bed that morning, something she didn’t do regularly or without being instructed by her mother. She cleaned her room up and left no traces of dirt behind, skipping breakfast altogether to bask in a long bath. Molly had told the women that she was feeling seasick, allowing her daughter the freedom society only allows rarely.

By lunch, Y/N was draped along a lawn chair on the side deck, reading a novel with a glass of tea. After some choice wording, her mother tore away from the wealthy folk too, and snuck away with her daughter for bonding time. She found her on the deck and played games, describing the shapes of the clouds and just embracing random conversations. It wasn’t much, but it meant the world to Y/N every time they did something like this; to just bask in her companionship and bond with her mother.

And, by night, Y/N sat at the table with the rest of the people once more, claiming she’d felt better with a smile and sly glance at her partners in crime: Caledon Hockley and Molly Brown. It was the same banter, the same gossip. It felt like nothing was out of place and no one had seemed to truly admire the normalcy.

To Be Continued...

Chapter 8: All Good Things Come To A Bittersweet End

<3rd Person Perspective>

With a glass of wine in her hand, Y/N continues to rock in her chair, eyes blurred as she recounts the memories of decades past. Her eyes are trained on her hand, still holding the sharpened pencil above the drawing in her lap; another one to add to all of her special drawings in the folder on the coffee table beside her. The picture, looking back at her, simply just brings more pain. She can still remember the people she’d met, the roles that were so miniscule then, but mean so much to her now. She can still recall the content happiness, humbled hopes and dreams of the young girl she was.

That final day was spent dilly dallying and daydreaming, and for once, she recounts feeling whole - a total and complete fulfillment of what she had on her checklist. She’d found her man of her dreams, saw life for what it was, spent time into education, and was excited for her new adventure in America.

Swirling the alcohol in her glass, she takes a sip. She’d hoped that feeling would’ve lasted. Even now, she fears that feeling would never amount to feel completely and utterly the same again.

///

April 13, 1912

The next day had followed in a blur of events. The poor danced, the rich drank, and everyone talked. As for Y/N, she was found by the stern, cigarette in hand as she watches each individual plume of smoke touch the cold, night air, and disappear. She smirks as she dreams of the future ahead of her and it looks beautiful through her pink shades: a few babies running around buck naked, Cal smiling as he chases them with her placing a hand on her stomach, another to come. They’d be happy with a family of their own, comfortable in their suitable wealth with no other care other than their little bubble they would create.

“There you are,” Cal says softly, his hands going around to encase her waist, head plopping atop her head. “What are you up to?”

“Mischief, of course,” Y/N giggles, one hand going to lay atop his as she finishes off her cigarette. “I was dreaming of our future,” she smiles.

“Ah,” he smirks, “And how does it look?”

Y/N tries to sum up all her feelings into one, beautiful word, choosing them properly, “Gilded and achieved.”

Cal places a kiss on her head, not completely understanding of the choice of words, poking her side to prod her on.

“I would achieve and earn everything I wanted. We would be one, I would be loved and cared for, have a family and live up to my greatest desires. Everything I dreamed I would have as a child would finally finish off the lifelong puzzle I’ve been trying to complete - all I would need would be that final piece.”

“And, what is that final piece?” Cal asks, a look of fear crossing his features as he fears he would not have everything she needed.

“You,” Y/N smiles, turning around in his grasp to wrap her arms around his neck, hands toying with the hairs of his nape. “If I don’t have you, I wouldn’t have that future, would I? At least, not the ending I would hope to obtain without you.”

“I’m right here,” Cal pecks her forehead, “I don’t intend on going anywhere.”

“That’s g-” Y/N is cut off by the sound of boisterous laughter, soon cut off by the company of the pair.

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt Bukater stand before Cal and Y/N, hand in hand with surprise and fear in their eyes. Rose is the first to break the silence, “Cal,” she states, standing defiantly and straight, making sure her hands in Jack’s are known.

“Rose,” Cal says indifferently.

Y/N’s gaze sets upon Cal’s features. He’s fighting an internal war. He knows that he believes Y/N is his forever, but with the sight of Rose, the woman he had been trying to make his wife and future for months, he cannot resist the urge to still fight for her.

“After all this time that I’ve tried to give you everything, to appease your mother and make you both all the more comfortable, you choose him?” Cal asks, a sickness to his tone that causes Y/N to relinquish her grasp on his hand.

She feared this would happen; she feared that she would spend all this time getting to know and love this man for nothing.

“Cal, this does not concern you,” Rose states calmly, trying not to provoke the threatening man.

“This has everything to do with me! What would your mother say? What about your misfortunes, hm? You’d rather be this rat’s whore?”

“I’d rather be his whore than your wife!” Rose yells in defiant freedom.

Y/N is unable to stand another moment. She’s simply watching the man throw everything away just so he can obtain someone he never had. He simply cannot let the past be the past, and this ruins her.

With a soft sniff, Y/N tears away from the group, running away from the area to be alone. She starts off on the starboard just as a hand grabs her wrist. “Y/N,” Jack almost questions her, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“How could I be alright?” she almost screams at the young man. “I can’t stand there and watch my heart break for the third time! I can’t keep watching him choose her over and over and over again...There’s simply no space for me here.”

“Y/N, this will all work itself out, I’m sure of it. You can’t let a good thing go. They’ll...They’ll learn that they’re not meant for each other. You just have to keep pushing.”

Y/N sniffles as her arms wrap around herself. “They’ve already gotten into this type of issue before, and for all I know, this may be a young girl’s fling. I’ve only known the man for a short time. This could all just be nothing at all,” Y/N concludes, trying to mature herself for the first time in her young adulthood.

Jack groans, “Do you love him?”

“I don’t even know if it’s-”

“The feelings you have right now, in this moment, is it love, Y/N?”

“I-I think so. What does this even-”

“These feelings are strong, yes? And, it’s so strong that you’re willing to die for him, go poor with him, help him when he’s ill?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that matters, Sugar,” Jack smiles, “That’s love and you better not waste it, even if it seems helpless. Everything can be fixed.”

“God, you sound like my mother. You need to stop keeping her company,” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully, turning back to Cal and Rose, “But, what about them?”

“Oh, he’ll realize he’s an ass and eventually get over his issues.”

“And, Rose?” Y/N giggles.

“She’ll be mine and waltzing off the ship with me.”

“You seem so certain for such a man of...”

“Oh, no, don’t stop there,” Jack giggles, “Continue off of ‘poor misfortunes.’”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Y/N giggles, shoving his shoulder.

“I know, and I’ll make it all up to her. Just promise we’ll meet again sometime.”

“As long as you’re still in the country, Jack Dawson.”

“Can’t make any promises. It ruins the fun.”

“Then, you’re just a hypocrite then?”

“Sounds about right,” he giggles, jogging away with a wave as Rose tears away from Cal and back around the other direction of the ship’s stern.

Y/N awaits Him with annoyed devotion, arms crossed as Cal catches her eyes. “You have your fun yet?” she asks with annoyance.

Cal simply says nothing, head bowed with stress and uneven thoughts. He starts to walk over to Y/N once more, but he fears if he gets too close, he’d be even more confused than before.

“I know it’s not love we share, Rose and I, but there’s an obligation somewhere in the wind,” Cal starts, eyes still focused on the ship’s starboard planks. “We were - I chased after her for a long time, Y/N. I went through her father, but then he passed away, so I tried to proceed on my own, but she seemed uninterested. I would’ve left her alone, Y/N, I would have, but then her mother came to me. She said everything would be fixed and she’d convince the stubborn girl.”

“So, you do love her,” Y/N tries to remain nonchalant, hands on her hips as if she’s figuring this mystery out with him. She’s trying, she really is, but she can;t help the feeling she would be discarded; that all she had just said to him and the many days prior were just something Cal needed to heal himself and move on. Y/N couldn’t - wouldn’t - be this girl for him: a rebound.

“That’s where I’m lost!” Cal chuckles stressfully, hand going to comb his hair back before he plays with the rings on his fingers. “I was so caught up in the chase, influenced by others, that I lost that spark I thought I had for her. It’s pitiful, really, but all the same painful for both ends. I didn’t mean to bring her through all of this, but I thought it was love that we shared. I just wanted to be that man for her because everyone thought I was. I don’t think I love her anymore Y/N, but I do feel there is a sense of protection and care that I still carry.”

Y/N looks at him impassively, “Well, do you love me?”

“I don’t think I know what love is, Y/N.”

“That’s not good enough, Cal. I know how I feel for you; I’ve told you a million times over, too. I’m willing to set my life down on you, but I can’t do that if you aren’t willing enough to do the same.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You don’t want to keep me either, it seems.”

“I-I do, Y/N, it’s just difficult,” Cal snaps his eyes to meet hers, hand reaching for hers with a pained look. “I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.”

Y/N stares at his hand for a moment, debating on whether or not she’d be willing to follow this man with his heart in knots. She wants him, she knows this, but the question is if he wants her. She fears she might walk down this path with him and somewhere in the woods, he decides it was all a mistake.

“I think you should talk to Jack,” Y/N suggests with a small smile. “He’s very smart and a good ear. He gives very good advice, too, and it seems you need it.”

Cal tries to reach his hand out for her to grab once more, but she pulls even farther away.

“I want you to think this over, Cal, please. I need you to think this over just as much as you do. I don’t want either of use to regret this in the end and I wish for you to be happy. I’m not leaving, not yet. Just - think everything over, and don’t put your heart on me just because you know I need you. I’ll be in my room with my mother when you’ve thought it through,” Y/N smiles warmly. “Besides, even if we don’t work out, we can always be companions and have a crazy story to tell. Maybe cut the infidelity part out.”

Slowly, Y/N avoids Cal’s hands as she leans into him. His arms wrap around her waist as she stands in the embrace. His head leans into the crook of her shoulder in a bone-crushing grasp. She would give anything to hug him back, but it would make him the more confused.

Her hands come up to cup his face, her thumbs stroking the apple of his cheeks. She smiles with a sadness in her features, eyes slightly glossy. Slowly, she leans in to peck a soft kiss to his forehead, then both eyelids, and finally, his mouth with a featherlight touch.

Just as quickly as she had entered his space, she removes herself completely, the immediate chill returning to Cal’s body and heart.

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N smirks over her shoulder, keeping face in front of the man who had broken her and filled her up multiple times in their short while being on the RMS Titanic.

Once she is finally out of view does she let her facade fall, tears brimming her eyes quickly as she makes her way to the bow of the ship, needing some air. She wishes this wouldn’t be so hard, but she knows emotions tend to get in the way of things. What may seem to be such a simple answer would be ignorant to include all the attachments and effects a decision has.

Y/N knows, for her own selfish greed, that she would want Cal to be hers fully, but she also knows that that wouldn’t come about easily. Even if Cal were to pick her tonight, he would still have to learn a life without a woman he had grand intentions for; a man who felt so strongly for a woman and her protection just a few days ago - even if the woman never wanted him.

It’s a hard decision.

Y/N continues to think and mull over her options as she sits on a bench at the front decks, basking in the cold and enjoying the view of the stars. Drawn from her thoughts, in the far distance before her, there’s a huge, dark figure.

She jolts up quickly, fearfully watching as the figure grows closer by the second. It doesn’t take long until the true size of the figure, in its everlasting glory, makes itself apparent.

“Iceberg, straight ahead!” the men yell from their posts above her.

Quickly, Y/N runs back towards the starboard of the Titanic where she had last seen Cal, but she isn’t fast enough. The ships turns sharply to the left, the iceberg coming straight for the right side. Her side. Cal’s side.

She’s forced to throw herself flush with the wall, the ice slamming onto the starboard as a hard, disastrous screech of metal is met with an unstabling shake. Falling on the deck’s wooden planks, she stares in horror as she feels the premature grief and paralyzing fear.

The Titanic has been hit.

#caledon hockley #cal hockley #caledon hcokley x reader #cal hockley x reader #caledon hockley imagine #cal hockley imagine #billy zane #billy zane x reader #billy zane imagine #Titanic 1997 #titanic x reader #titanic imagine #xreader #The Things I've Never Done

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snapessecretdiary · 6 years

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Living somewhere and belonging somewhere are two completely different things. You can count yourself lucky if both happen to the same place.

me thinking I maybe was even the slightest bit poetic

#quote #mine #snapessecretdiary

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anschovy · 7 years

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sooooo I was tagged by @spideyparkerimagines a while ago, and since I’m sick, I’ve got enough time to do this! Also thank you for tagging me! <3

Nickname? Anna, An, Spongi, Wayne, Weirdo. And now the ones that are a little bit difficult to explain and to understand if you’re not german: Zicke, Krönchen, Kleine, Kampfzwerg and Salatkrönung (don’t ask xD) Gender? Female Star sign? Aries Height? 5'2 Time? 14:53 (northern Germany) Birthday? 9th April Favourite bands? Queen, Linkin Park, Green Day, twenty one pilots, Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, The Doors, The Smiths and oh so many more...

Favourite solo artists? Alan Cumming, David Bowie, Michael Jackson and Brendon Urie (burn.) Song stuck in my head? September - Earth, Wind and Fire Last movie you watched? Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban Last show you watched? Brooklyn Nine-Nine When did you create your blog? Seriously I have no idea. What do I post? Sometimes photographs, sometimes my own texts, but who am I kidding? I’m just trash and reblog everything and anything... Last thing I Googled? Charles Bukowski quotes Do you have any other blogs? I’ve got a blog called @badlywrittenimagines but I’m too insecure to post anything and I have no idea how to get attention from others if I would sooo... Do you get asks? Nope. Nothing. Never. I’m a lonely piece of trash and noone want’s to know anything about me :’D Why did you choose your URL? I don’t know. It’s the same as I use on twitter and instagram and I guess it just fits me? Following? 80 (whoa) Followers? 7... why? I’m boring xD Favourite colours? black and purple Average hours of sleep? 5-6 Lucky number? Uhhhhmmm... 13?

Instruments? Guitar and didgeridoo... (don’t ask) What am I wearing? a bandshirt from mcr and sweatpants How many blankets do I sleep with? One. Dream job? I would like to work in forensics, as a writer, a psychologist or something like that :3 Dream trip? London, Scotland, Ireland, Iceland... Favourite food? chickpea falafel, thai food and almost every kind of soup Nationality? German Favourite song right now? In The Lap Of The Gods - Queen

I have no idea who to tag, so here are some random people I really like: @hufflepuffholland @snapessecretdiary @the-blue-haired-boy @lotsoffandomimagines

You really don’t have to do it if you don’t want to or already did it, just see it as compliment and as a thank you for your posts, and your existence in general! You’re awesome, stay as you are!

#whoa that was awkward since nobody will care #but yeah here you go #now you know a little bit about me

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80s4life · 2 years

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Mine!*

Word Count: 2,242

Status: Requested!

Ask: Pornstache smut with female inmate please?

@: a sexy anon!

Relationship: George “Pornstache” Mendez x Female!Inmate!Reader

Fandom: Orange Is The New Black Series 2013-2022

Summary: You never knew what his type was. Was it tall African Americans? Was it short ginger-haired girls? Blondes? Brunettes? It never seemed to matter to you; only the short glances and smiles. That was until he pursued someone. Someone who wasn’t you.

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, size kink, forbidden sex, against the law, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls), language, jealousy, homophobic name calling (only the use of “dike”)

Masterlist Orange Is The New Black Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{gif belongs to @deadeanna}

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you furiously exclaim, walking the yard with Polly and Sophia.

“Woah! Woah! Watch the hostility! You could be thrown in SHU for just looking at these bastards wrong,” Polly warns, scanning the perimeter of the yard for all the security lookouts. Which, quite frankly, were never filled properly anyway with only 2-3 guards actually “present.”

“I usually wouldn’t say this, but she is right Y/N/N. They’ve been on edge these past months with Caputo being Warden and shit,” Sophia adds calmly, her clear-mindedness calming your fueling rage.

They knew why you were so pissed; they were truly the only people that understood you if you were being honest.

“Those fucking Hispanics are always doing anything to get off the hook for cheap,” you mutter, not quite mad at them if you were being honest with yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, but they’re not all that bad,” Polly states. “Come on, let’s get lunch before they let you starve.”

Walking beside the women, you walk through the many bland and boring rows of doors and white walls until you reach the clearing of the cafeteria. Stepping in line with Piper and Vause, you grab what’s left of the edible slob the state offers you. Begrudgingly, you sit down and dig in with small bites, not bothering to eat the so-called vegetables that stink.

The women engage in conversation in which you nod or smile or frown at, not all too concerned with the normal complaints anyway. Rather, your attention was drawn to the tall, brunette guard stationed at the exit of the cafeteria a few tables ahead of you.

He looks at you discreetly, smiling that damn smile once he officially caught your gaze. You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto yours at his blatant disregard for who else was watching - that was until the familiar Spaniard walks by Mendez, stopping to whisper in his ear.

You groan, face falling and causing you to look away in disgust. In truth, you were jealous. Jealous at the attention that no longer lasted more than a few seconds. Jealous at the way Mendez’s smile seems to increase tenfold when Daya gave him attention. Jealous at the fact that he was fucking her instead of you.

You never quite figured out when, why, or even how their affair started, but all you knew was that it was almost a daily activity in one of the janitor closets you refuse to pass by now.

If it wasn’t for his ego, or even his good looks, you wouldn’t be so hung up over him. If it weren’t for your lack of enjoyment in oral activity that you would indulge in other women just fine like Boo, Stella, Poussey, Morello, and the various other women usually do to ease their feminine desperation. Hell, you would do another officer. But they weren’t Mendez.

“If you keep staring laser beams into their heads, you might actually fry their brains,” Big Boo giggles, throwing her arm around your shoulder.

“If they even have any,” Nichols adds with a sly yet understanding smirk.

“Shit, I really don’t know why you even like the guy, Kid,” Boo questions, pulling you into her to let your head rest on her shoulder.

“It’s love!” Morello adds, her eyes almost bugging out of her head and getting all googly-eyed.

“It’s not love,” you protest.

“Oh God, don’t say he’s something different, Y/N/N.”

“They’re dogs Y/N/N, all the same breed too,” Vause comments, sharing a glance with Piper. “Why don’t you think I switched to women so quickly?”

The group shares a laugh, Boo nudging you and then letting you go to finish what’s left of whatever you were able to eat.

///

You made it your mental mission, over time, to act as if whatever was going on between Daya and Mendez didn’t faze you. You had a new idea in mind, actually. If Daya could take what she wanted, you were to do the same.

You were going to make him yours.

Walking down the corridor leading to the TV room, you could feel him before you even saw him. “To what do I owe the pleasure,” you state sarcastically.

“Just checking in, it’s been a while, Tiny.”

“Has it?”

Mendez stays quiet for a moment, falling into step with your much slower pace. “What’s up with you lately?”

“Not much, but it seems like you’ve been getting around. Isn’t that right Pornstache?” you side-eye him. He hates that nickname.

Your question seems to startle him, his body going rigid and pace faltering - but only for a second.

“No need hiding it, Bub, news spreads fast within this small prison. Besides, I guess we all have needs, even if you are a free citizen,” you smirk.

“That’s ironic,” he grunts, “Like you haven’t been getting action of your own?”

“What?” you stop in your tracks.

“Oh don’t give me that. I’ve seen you hanging with the dikes.”

You don’t need to look at him to hear the jealousy dripping from his voice, so you play coy. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Clearly,” he tsks again.

Giggling, you push him into the wall, careful as to not be in the line of visibility of both the cameras and the inmates. “If I say so myself,” you trace your index finger up his chest, “I would say you’re jealous they’re the ones keeping me company at night. You know, all you have to do is ask, Pornstache.”

He stifles a groan, the sensation coming out as a growl instead, rumbling in his chest. “I thought I told you not to call me that,” he stares down at you, trying to hide his growing lust.

He fails poorly, the indication of his attraction starting to harden beneath his tight trousers, forming a bulge.

Stepping between his legs, you prop your knee beneath him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “What are you gonna do about it, Pornstache?”

Swiftly, Mendez snatches your bicep, yanking you down the hall briskly to meet the closet - their closet. Unlocking the door, he pries it open, throwing you in the moment he does.

Stumbling to find your footing, you grasp at the shelf before you, your back to the door. Taking the opportunity, Mendez closes the door and pins you down from behind. “I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do about it, Tiny.”

Spinning you around, he grabs your wrists with one of his hands, the other roughly grabbing at your hips. Lowering down to meet your height, his lips clasp yours in a heated make-out. Whimpering, you pull at his hands, begging to tangle yours in his short locks and deepen the kiss.

He doesn’t allow it, however, leaning in closer to you to make you feel his bulge on your thigh. “You see what you do to me?”

“You mean what all us women do to you.”

Smirking, Mendez pins one of his legs beneath you, his hand moving your hips to grind against him. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, ya know that?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t so easily swayed.”

Groaning again, Mendez shuts you up with another kiss, releasing your hands to remove your shirt, delighted to find nothing but your bare breasts beneath. Biting his lip harshly, Mendez detaches himself from you, temporarily giving you the upper hand just enough to flip yourselves.

Now you stand before him, shoving him harshly into the shelves. Tugging at his belt, you unbuckle it with swift fingers, the tips almost feeling numb with desire.

Yanking down his trousers, you allow him to step out of them. Hand wrapping around his cock, the tip red and precum already oozing, you ask, “Tell me, Pornstache, does she suck you off? Does she let you have control? Does she let you cum?”

Inhaling sharply, his eyes close as his head rolls back. Grasping his jaw, you force his eyes to meet yours. “I asked you a question,” you order, thumb grazing everywhere around his sensitive slit.

“No.”

“No what, Mendez? I know you have the ability to speak; you’re rather loud when you want to be heard.”

“No, she doesn’t let me have my way.”

“Well, she just sounds boring, doesn’t she?”

“Mhmm.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yes!”

“Not so loud, we don’t want her hearing this,” you giggle.

Taking both hands, one massages its way on the tip, teasing and squeezing, while the other focuses on the base and fondling his balls. Within no time, you feel his body tensing and bucking up to meet your hands every so often. The veins poke and prod, his breath quickens, and when he’s just about to reach the brink, you let go of him.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.”

Whimpering, he looks down at you with blown pupils. Pushing him onto the small desk beside the shelves, you force him to sit on top of it. Following him, you remove his shirt as well as your pants and panties. Idly, you use his thighs for support, straddling his hips with your clit brushing the side of his cock.

“Tell me what you want, Big Boy. All you have to do is ask,” you smile mischievously.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

Slowly sliding your clit along his dick, you stare at him, “Nah, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Please FUCK ME!” he almost yells.

In one swift movement, you raise your hips and surge downwards, taking his cock fully inside your wet pussy. Collectively, you both moan at the intensity, allowing yourself a moment to adjust.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you allow him to place his hands on your hips and thighs for balance. Slowly, you start to bounce on his cock, careful as to not fall off of him.

He grows needy once again, the familiar sensation of bliss encouraging him to help grind your hips into him more harshly, taking the initiative to thrust into you from underneath. You start to feel the coil in your own core tighten as well, moaning into his neck, leaving bite marks and hickeys in your wake.

Once more, you both feel yourselves in need of release, but not yet. Stopping all movements, you slowly release yourself of his cock, a lewd pop making your cheeks burn.

Groaning in need, you see Mendez visibly grow tiresome of your games. Good, that’s what you wanted.

With frustration, Mendez gets back onto his feet, grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging your head into his chest. You feel a delicious sting on your scalp, smiling with satisfaction. Roughly, Mendez bends you over the desk face down, plunging into your aching core once again.

He doesn’t bother to use the slow and torturous pace you’d done before, rather, pulling your hair back to arch your spine. The peculiar position targets your G-spot, making it hard for you to keep quiet.

With one hand latched onto your hair, the other squeezes at the back of your neck, Mendez’s hips thrusting at a dangerously fast and hard pace. The coil tightens once again, squeezing his cock as it endlessly pounds that special spot again and again and again.

Once more, you feel his dick harden in a painful solidity, veins rubbing your walls in just the right way. Breaths hard and fast, his thrusts get sloppy, signalling his upcoming release.

“Cum inside me, Mendez. Fill me to the brim.”

And that he does, letting go of your hair and neck to bruise your hips in a death-grip, thrusting one final time. Leaking his seed in sensational shots, your orgasm crashes into his own, milking his cock. He lets out a final moan like an animal, his cock softening as the last of his cum seeps into you.

Pulling out of you when you’re both satiated, he lets out a breath of relief. You stay leaning against the desk for a little while more, legs weak and wobbly. Mendez giggles at the sight, in which you finally get up and dressed with him.

“The answer is no by the way.”

“What was the question?”

“Nobody is as good as you are,” he smiles.

“Is that a compliment or are you just trying to make one-time-thing-conversation?”

“It’s a compliment. You’ve always been my favorite, Y/N.”

“Thanks?”

“I love you, Y/N. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

The room goes quiet, and you just blink at him. “Shit, Y/N, I-”

Your face breaks into a sly grin, pulling him into another kiss. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Both of you laughing, you guys take your leave. Mendez leaves a few moments before you with a quick kiss and goodbye. Then, counting to 10, you walk out after him, his figure disappearing down the hall. Yet, as you turn to go the other way, you just barely catch sight of a shocked Daya propped against the wall.

Giddily, you give her a shit-eating grin. “Told you he was mine.”

#george mendez #george mendez imagine #george mendez x reader #pornstache #pornstache mendez #pornstache imagine #pornstache mendez imagine #pornstache x reader #pornstache mendez x reader #pablo schreiber #pablo schreiber x reader #pablo schreiber imagine #orange is the new black #orange is the new black imagine #orange is the new black x reader #oitnb #oitnb x reader #oitnb imagine #female reader insert

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80s4life · 2 years

Text

Old Habits Die Hard

Word Count: 2,678

Status: Suggested!

Ask: Hiii i hope you are doing well ! I wanted to request a lil oneshot/imagine with eric coulter x reader . Where its like a old flame type deal , the reader is amity born and when they were teens they met and fell in love , but they grew apart since they were in different factions , butttt they both chose dauntless on their ceremony day and met again

@: a lovely anon!

A/N: I absolutely love the amity x dauntless dynamic! It’s so night and day but so full of passion and protection that the opposites crave!

Side-Note: Somehow, I read this differently and made them both come from Amity (I know Eric was a transfer from Eurodite) and I apologize if it wasn’t what you were looking for!

Fandom: Divergent

Relationship: Eric Coulter x Reader

Summary: You thought you knew him, maybe in another life. You thought there was nothing that could tear you apart. But, as years go by and growing ensues, time takes a toll on not only him, but you as well. You thought this was what you wanted, yet now that you’ve come to see him after all this time, the spark just isn’t the same.

Warnings: language, a little angst, sexual thoughts (briefly), FLUFF

Masterlist Divergent Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{I do not own this gif, credits go to -> @radioactive-creative-bug}

Silence. Stone cold, stifling, intense silence is what you’re met with after looking up from across the training gym. There he was; you almost wanted to scream. After all this time, he was hidden in the depths of an underground hole. After all the heartbreak and the lies, he stood proud and confident. It left a bad taste in your mouth and an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. He wasn’t like this. This wasn’t your Eric...

“Whatever happens...” he starts, eyes glazing over the rainbow flow of the ever running lake.

“Whatever happens would be of your volition and what’s right for you,” you state as calmly and empathetic as you could muster, more so trying to soothe yourself.

“Yeah,” he still doesn’t meet your eyes. It hurts. Everything hurts.

“Eric,” you finally look at him, unraveling your arms to delicately place your hands on his cheeks, “If the future has us in our cards, we will be together again. If we aren’t, time will heal us and show us a new way. For now, I want you to know that I love you,” you start to bubble up, the tears, pressure, and fear threatening to break through and wrack your body in sobs.

“I love you, too,” Eric cries, unable to look you in the eyes at all, falling to his knees and placing his head into your gut, tears staining your shirt.

Your facade breaks the moment he hit his knees, urging you to pull him into you further, hands sprawled across his head and hair. You pull him up, wrapping your arms around his armpit and resting your hand on the base of his neck, other hand coming to stay on the back of his head.

He buries his face in the crook of his neck, breathing in your scent that he’s promise to remember for eternity. He locks his arms firmly around your waist, even with the height difference. “I just don’t want this to hurt what we have.”

You knew either way that him leaving would affect everything. He was your brother, the boy next door. The cheeky kid with a side that could brighten your day, and a sensitive side that would keep you calm and give you someone to talk to. No...He was more than that. He was your lover, your best friend, your everything. “Everything that is broken can be fixed,” you look up, a teary smile on your face.

Your positivity doesn’t last long, however, as the last bits of the sunset disappear and darken, you start to feel just as hollow, cold, and dark as the sheets of stars cascade along the sky. Looking down at your hands, you tug at the tiny scrap of metal you’d found years ago in the junkyard. Almost guiltily, you pull it off, and outstretch your hand, palm up with the ring in your hand.

“No. No, please, Y/N/N. Keep it as a memory. A token. Something. Just. Keep. It,” Eric begs, his ring still wrapped coolly around his finger. “I-I just want you to have something to get by, or, to just- I don’t know.”

You simply nod, placing the ring back in its rightful place, nodding to him with a forced smile. As your emotions start to get the best of you, the sudden need to flee hit you hard, not wanting your last memory to be a sad goodbye or a full-faced lie. It already was. Every time he opened his mouth, more and more empty promises were being thrown with no one to catch them and make them a reality. Only he could do that.

A single stray tear falls from your left eye as you look at the 16-year-old-boy. “Goodbye Eric,” you whisper, taking off along the dirt path in which you came, eventually leading through the secret trail within the wheat fields, coming up to the pebbled walkway that leads to the nice cabins, quickly finding yours and running upstairs to your room.

That night, you’d cried until your eyes burned red and no more tears were even able to be forced. It was dark and lonely, finally sharing the room with only yourself; your late-night visitor had no longer snuck his way up the stairs with the secret knock that made your heart race and the inevitable way your body shook with excited jitters.

That morning, as the shy sun peeked through the covers of the tall trees, you awoke with crusty, swollen eyes that just served as a reminder of what was to come today. And, only once you turned your head to check your clock, did the sentiment that couldn’t fit around your fingers sparkle in the orange haze. You wanted to curse at everything that existed, but this was life.

Your mother and sister turned up around the time you’d finally forced yourself to sit up and go through with what you needed to to make the pain swing by faster. Sadly, they helped you up, got you changed, fixed up your eyes the best they could, and sent you on your way with them holding either one of your hands. They knew what you had, they knew what you saw, they knew everything.

Sitting up in the back was the biggest regret, having the best view in the room. Just a little ways down, you could spot his unmistakably blonde locks, his long hair being a nice contrast to the rest of the young and old Amity residents. He never looked at you, never smiled, never fully explained.

All he had done was sit and stare, and the time passed with ease. Due to the hierarchy of the alphabet, he was called rather quickly, still not taking the chance to look up. Not once. Even as he carves a wound into both his hand and your heart, he doesn’t give you the satisfaction of a look, quickly dropping his blood onto the Dauntless coals, bandaging the cut, and walking away to join his new faction...

That was 2 years ago, and as far as you were concerned, you were a woman of free choice and no longer the child Eric Coulter allowed to be swayed whatever direction he preferred, when he preferred it. You knew where you wanted to go, who you wanted to be - you knew everything there was to yourself. You were Dauntless, but not only that, you were going to stay Dauntless for the rest of your life, no matter the price. No matter whether Eric was there or not, if he still loved you or not.

On Choosing Day, you kissed your family goodbye, their wishes dear and supportive of your obvious choice. When your name was called, they smiled. When you finally cut your hand and bid your ado for the rest of your life, you gave them air kisses with an excited giggle. You would see them on Visiting Day.

...

Now, standing over the ledge of a Dauntless building, you want to curse the far different but still very recognizable face that tries to mask his guilt and acknowledgment of your daring presence.

Eric was no longer a lean, skinny-bodied boy with spaghetti arms...No, he was a built mountain of a man that had piercings on his eyebrows and ears that made you question where else he had them hiding. Not to mention the tattoos that decorated almost all of his skin besides his face, which was chiseled to perfection with ice cold, striking blue eyes. He wasn’t cute anymore...He was hot.

It makes you almost self conscious of your very plain appearance, still clad in your loose-fitting orange dress that was topped off with a yellow sweater and comfortable yellow slip-ons. But, as you find you are unable to look away from him and with him doing the same, you don’t feel so plain.

His eyes have been traveling your figure, sizing you up whilst the initiates hop off the ledge blindly. Cool eyes observe your hair, loosely tied with flowers adorning the curls of the braids, a light flower crown topping the peaceful look off. Even if there were plenty of insults that would come with how you appeared in such a ruthless and scary place as Dauntless, Eric couldn’t help but still see the beauty that resided in such simple attire. He couldn’t wait to see you stride so confidently in stark black, a color he knew would match your complexion.

Snapping out of your haze, you avert your gaze from Eric’s, taking a step up onto the ledge, turning around and smirking, your feet lifting off of the smooth concrete.

Dropping down below, you succumb to the feeling of emptiness, your goal now set and unable to be avoided or forgotten. You’re gonna make it. No one will or can stop you. You are free!

///

“You have guts, I’ll give you that,” prides Four, leading you up to the towers after your gracious victory of Capture the Flag, patting you on the back. “You get stronger everyday,” he whispers soothingly, which causes a smile as you take the sling in hand.

“I intend to,” you nod determined, breaking into a grin just as you prepare to zip-line through the compound. “Thank you, Four.”

“No need, I only guide, you do the rest. Now go, you deserve this!”

Giggling, you salute him with a wink, taking off through an endless ride fueled by adrenaline and your mission completing shortly coming to the neat future. Pulling the hand brake as hard as possible, you pull out of the sling, dangle a bit as you pull your weight off, and then drop down, meeting a common frown head on.

“No need to be all pouty-faced, you get to play the game every year,” you joke, walking up the Eric cautiously, and rather clumsily as you tred on thin ice and undiscovered land.

“I’m not angry, just tired,” he grunts.

“Then let me walk you to your room?”

“No, I got this on my own.”

“Please, I insist. I haven’t seen you in years Coulter, and you haven’t spoken to me either. All I ask is to walk you to your room, then you can continue hating me or whatever it is you have against me. Can I just have this, please?”

Sucking in a huge breath, he exhales, “Fine, let’s go before anyone sees me disappearing with an initiate.”

The label makes you wince. You’d think you’d mean just a little bit more to him, at least the history could, right? “Yay!” you smile, swiftly exiting through the double doors behind all of the waiting initiates still watching as the others wing down.

Walking side by side through the dark hallways, the itch to talk to Eric becomes very prominent. Yet, as you peek at him every so often, his closed-offness almost scares you. What happened to him?

Blushing, you don’t realize the words actually leave your mouth when Eric chuckles under his breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything.”

“It’s fine,” he gives you a lopsided grin.

Smiling back at him, you look forward again, fiddling with your hands as the question ultimately still remains unanswered.

“I remember that tick, something’s bothering you,” Eric points out, still not looking at you. “What is it?”

“Why did you lie to me?” the question comes out more as a demand, the pain laced in with it’s harsh truth.

“I never lied to you.”

“Yes, Eric, you did. Why would you tell me to hold onto that stupid ring if you were just gonna hand me yours? Why would you treat me as if I was insignificant even with all the history we had? I just don’t know where we shifted so badly,” you start to tear up, hugging yourself as the pain resurfaces, the undeniable love for him still pumping in your bones.

He sighs, a hand combing through his hair, “I didn’t want to do something I’d regret, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“I’m sorry Eric, but I’m going to need more than simple, cryptic sentences,” you sniff, hiding your face from him.

“I told you to hold onto your ring because I didn’t want you to think about that night - our last night together - and think about the way you would’ve broken our relationship so badly.”

“But, you gave me your ring?”

“I didn’t sleep that night,” he sighs again, looking down at you with worry and care, “And, after I thought about it, I didn’t want to uphold a promise I could’ve broken at any moment, especially when we were apart for so long. I knew you’d seen the ring the morning after, too, and I couldn’t face the broken look I knew would be on your face. I couldn’t look at the puppy dog eyes I’d easily drop everything for. I wanted this, Y/N, but I didn’t want to lose us.”

Shaking lightly, you cry and hide underneath the layer of hair, “Are you happy now?”

“God no!” he yells, stopping in his tracks and grabbing both of your shoulders, forcing you to meet his demanding eyes. Brushing your hair aside, his blue orbs bore into your tear-stained Y/E/C ones, stern look softening. “You don’t get it, do you, Y/N/N?”

“Get what?” you croak, feeling hopeless even as your heart flutters with the acknowledgment of your old nickname.

“I may have wanted to be here, but I’m still miserable...” he smiles, “Nothing is better than being with you,” Eric admits.

Eyes widening, you look up at him, “Wh-What?”

“I still love you, dammit, and I can’t just watch you walk around the rest of your life here without knowing your all mine.”

Crashing his lips on yours, you eagerly return the gesture, placing your hands on his cheeks as he pushes you into the wall shrouded in darkness.You missed this. You missed him. Nothing shines as brightly as he does and life without him is just bland. Tears circling your mouthes, a salty taste adds to your hunger for each other; 2 years was a long time.

Pulling away with a hearty giggle, more tears fall, but they weren’t the bad kind. Reaching into your front pocket, you pull out little metal scraps, looking back up at Eric. “I still have them,” you show him your promise rings.

Eric laughs too, picking up the bigger one, putting it on his finger halfway, “The sizes definitely changed a bit.”

Gasping, “Wait! I have an idea!” you drop on your knees, tugging at your shoe laces on your sneakers. Pulling them out of the loopholes, Eric holds the rings for you to grab, taking each individually to weave the laces through, knotting the two ends to create necklaces.

Eric smiles at your childlike perk, admiring you as you hand him his new charm.

“You don’t have to wear it, we could make it less noticeable or something. Give it a real chain or just leave it in your room. It’s up to you,” you smile, putting your around your neck.

“Nah, this is important, one-of-a-kind-jewelry right here, gotta hold it close,” he jokes, placing his around his neck as well.

Tugging you with an arm around your shoulders, Eric pulls you with him on the continued walk to his room.

“So, does this make us a thing again?” you poke him in the side, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Of course. I’m not making the same mistake again,” he squeezes you, “You’re mine and I’m never letting you slip away from me again.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

#eric coulter #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter imagine #divergent x reader #divergent #divergent imagine #allegiant #allegiant x reader #allegiant imagine #insurgent #insurgent x reader #insurgent imagine #reader insert #jai courtney #jai courtney x reader #jai courtney imagine

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80s4life · 2 years

Text

Lie To Me”

Word Count: 3,780

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: The Walking Dead 2010-2022

Relationship: Negan Smith x Female!Reader

Summary: He was a monster so to speak. All he ever ensures is pain and suffering, snatching your family with not so much as a swing of his infamous bat and open-ended threats that made or broke you internally or externally. But now the script has changed, he no longer has all of that power. Or does he?

Warnings: language, blood, gore, shooting, killing, zombies, age-gap pairing, angst, kind of platonic/ kind of romantic?

Masterlist The Walking Dead Masterlist

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{gif is not mine, credits go to -> @antoxsmith}

You wished he hadn’t had a name, not one as powerful and fear-stricken as it had become all on its own. You wished it was just as simple as any other, just a word perhaps. Or, maybe, not have the rights of a name at all. He didn’t deserve it. Monsters don’t get the satisfaction of being human after all.

Searching around the large gravel road, you want to curl up in a ball and let the world consume you whole. You can’t, though, because you have a family and a reason for why you were outside of the protective walls in the first place. They were counting on you, everyone was counting on you. Searching for him, your body shaking in fear, you curse him for who he was. Negan.

The Horde is coming. Shaking out of your trance, you start pumping your legs, ditching the trap you were trying to set up and instead, set off one of the cars in hopes of a diversion. The explosion was enough of an impact to send not only you off your feet, but the man you were in search of. The man that was supposed to be the only one qualified in helping you through the ever worsening overcrowding of Walkers.

“Negan!” you scream, catching sight of him looking over at you and turning his head to act as if he hadn’t seen you. “Negan!” you almost beg, cursing yourself for how weak you must appear to him.

He only takes off down the other side of the road, pissing you off far more than you’d like to admit, especially if it was to amuse a man who gets off on such reactions. Cursing under your breath with a pained and rather aggravated grunted moan, you take off your flannel, still keeping your eyes trained on his disappearing form.

Rolling the shirt into a long strand, you wrap the girthy middle around your wound on your upper thigh, tying the smaller ends of shirt’s sleeves tightly enough to encourage a wince. Grabbing a broken off pole, you take off after the 6′1″ beast, enraged as you watch him create a great distance.

“Negan!” you scream again in hopes of him changing his mind, possibly defying all of the rumors and stories everyone had told you.

Tripping, you fall as a shooting pain courses up your wounded leg, another bullet hole appearing in your shin. Crying out, Negan only has so much time to turn in your direction before being tackled to the ground. The Walkers weren’t enough to hold ‘em, you recall hopelessly.

Laying still against the gravel road once more, you consider letting the gang of men kill you. Letting them take your life before something far worse does.

The man approaches you with a sickening smirk, standing above your prone form with sinister delight, gun pointed directly at your forehead. Staring back up at him furiously.

“Aww, don’t give me that look Sugar, this’ll just take a min-” he gets cut off by your pole smashing down on his wrist, ridding him of his gun.

Grunting in pain, he turns to subdue you, only to be met with the pole going through his eye. Snatching up his gun, you turn back towards Negan’s direction, his lean form wrestling with another man as Walkers start to edge closer. Aiming the pistol and shooting, you make a straight shot to the man’s skull, turning to shoot the straggling zombies, then checking the perimeter.

Turning up with no more potential threats besides the man sprawled across the street, you make sure to rummage through the running yellow jeep. It had gas, guns, some canned foods, and no currently alive owner. Perfect.

Waltzing back over to the street, you sneer down at the man half conscious. “I called your name,” you start, your anger overcoming you yet again. “I called your damn name and you ran! You left me to die! You fucking Coward!” you scream, kicking him in the side.

Negan groans, having already taken a beating from the rednecks that tried to drive by. “I was gonna turn back around.”

“Bullshit! You were gonna do the same thing you do to every other person: you were gonna play the part, act as hero, when really, you were just gonna fuck me over!” you want to tear him apart, but at the same time, you need him. So, instead, you kick him again. “Lying Piece of Shit!”

“I-I’m sorry” he coughs, rolling on his side in pain, his eyes now heavily lidded. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Yeah, like I believe you. Your word is good,” the sentence comes more as a statement rather than a question. He wanted you to believe it was a certainty rather than a hoax. Maybe it was.

He doesn’t bother to correct himself, his body going limp as his mind leaves the world. He passed out. You should leave him, you know you should. But you won’t, that’s not how you were raised - regardless of who the person was or how shitty the world has become. You do have morals.

Grabbing him by the underside of his shoulders, you go against your better judgement to ensure that his head doesn’t get any more fucked up than it was, grabbing the older man by his top rather than dragging his head across the uneven, rocky ground. Opening the passenger side door with one hand, you try your best to hold Negan up with the other, propping the door open with your back as you heft his body as gently as possible into the seat.

After some struggling, his body leaning against the center console moved over just enough to allow you to close the door, left you breathlessly jogging around the jeep and into the driver’s seat, pushing him over to lean against the door. Doing a double-take, you almost drive off, but, for extra protection, choose to give Negan a pat down, collecting every and all weapons he carried on him, even Lucille. Satisfied, you place the weapons in the pocket on your door, throwing Lucille under your seat.

The road, long and desolate, allows you some time to think in silence. That was, until a raspy groan escaped your ‘partner.’ Choosing to not speak to him, you lean your head on your left hand, propping your arm on the door frame.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Negan smirks tiredly, looking over at you with his head still leaned against the car.

“Don’t start with me.”

“I won’t, just surprised you didn’t leave me back there.”

“Trust me, I still can,” you mutter, looking out the window.

“We both know you wouldn’t do that, Sweetheart,” Negan giggles, seeing through your mask.

“Would you quit that shit? God damn. You act like there’s no one better than you,” you scoff.

“That’s ‘cause there isn’t anyone better than me, Sweets.”

“There is. And, they are far more loyal, cooperative, and responsible than you.”

Negan can see the lost look in your eye, even from the side view in which he sat. You were still mourning and in pain, you were still young and trying to find your way in this world. It just sucks that the most confusing years of your life, your early twenties, was spent in a half-dead world.

“I’m sorry,” Negan whispers again, looking at you fully now as you turn to look at him.

Staring at him, you take in everything, “Then you have to prove it. I’d rather drop you than keep you and constantly fear when you’re gonna leave. I’d rather depend on myself now than later when I get used to you being around.”

“I understand,” is all he says, turning to face forward and never speaking to you again.

...

Camping somewhere off the side of the road, you score two squirrels and a bunny, having strung them on a stick and slowly roasting them on a fire. Negan, seemingly on the calmer side, sits with his elbows propped on his knees against a log, happily munching away at the food.

Making sure you still have your cut, you grab a separate stick and spear a squirrel, taking it and propping it against your log, going straight back to work on sharpening your knifes and newly made spear.

“If you don’t eat your food, it’s gonna get fucking cold,” Negan snarks, smirking at you as he finishes his squirrel, tearing a leg off the bunny.

“Then let it. I’m busy,” you mutter, the spear’s bit still crooked.

“That’s disgusting,” he quips, looking at you and then spitting out hair, a look of bewilderment adorning the creases on his face.

Stifling a laugh, you fail foolishly, giggling as he sputters and then starts to choke on the unchewed food. Laughing harder, you wheeze and quickly get up to pat his back. Groaning, his coughing lets up enough for him to catch his breath, a chuckle of his own letting loose.

Awaiting to see if there was anymore discomfort, you stand behind for a moment more, moving away again to place some distance. Snatching your hand, Negan stops the movement quickly, pulling your body to lean over his shoulder, “Watch it, you might just fall in love with me.”

“Oh sure, “ you roll your eyes, “I’m just gonna fall in line and praise allegiance to ya too, huh?”

“Oh, I’d love to see ya do that, Baby,” he smiles broadly, leaning in from his previous position.

“I’ll do that once you can manage to stick to one woman,” you spit, smirking down at your spear.

“Never,” he states breathlessly teasing. After a moment of silence, he adds, “Hey Kid?”

“Yeah,” you groan, looking up at him briefly.

“I promise not to leave ya all alone again.”

“Sure, Negan,” you sigh, putting the spear down and finally digging into your squirrel, shaking your head.

He doesn’t argue this time, instead taking his leave and laying down on a grassy area, peeling his jacket off for head support. Finishing your food, you tie your hair out of your face and put the fire out, placing a discarded sheet of metal on top to ease the amount of smoke.

Sticking to your side, you prop your body against a tree. It was uncomfortable but it had to do; survival had no bounds. Nodding off rather quickly, Negan sighs as he rolls over to face your direction, getting up to childishly stalk over to you. Delicately, he pulls your back off of the tree, laying you on your side and swapping his head for yours over the comfort of a thick leather jacket. Smiling to himself, he takes your place on the tree, falling asleep after some time.

...

Waking up groggily and sore, Negan luckily wakes up before you do, finding his head draped over your thighs, arms haphazardly flung across your knees and shins. “Guess the tree wasn’t gonna work,” he mutters to himself.

Stirring awake, you jump before you realize where you were and who you were with. Groaning, you crack your back and sit up, looking over at Negan in confusion and annoyance. Looking down, you put the pieces back in order, handing him his jacket with an embarrassed ‘thanks.’

Your transparency earns him another shit-eating grin, but he ultimately doesn’t say much...for now.

Settling for just heading out early, you mostly remain silent, wandering back onto the streets again and following a map in which only you reads; the uncertainty and mistrust in Negan’s innate ability to lie through his teeth with ease and possibly lure you in the wrong direction being too much of a risk you didn’t feel the need to endure at the moment.

However, after some time, and as the early morning spills into the muggy afternoon, Negan’s bored kicks and funny strides in order to occupy himself are of no use to him anymore; settling to use his mouth instead. Naively, you see a shift in his demeanor, Maybe he did mean his apology?

Deciding it’s better to pass the time together rather than alone in silence, you indulge Negan in conversation, his cool nature and off-branded sarcasm provoking more than one smile and laugh. For once, you felt at ease, but ease made you vulnerable.

Talking and joking back and forth, Negan takes the map from you while you take a sip of your hip flask of water. Observing the map, you watch his change in expression, looking between him and then the map, “What?”

“WELL,” he starts, “If we cut through these woods on the left, we could buy us some time instead of walking all the way around. The woods are a straight shot over to the train tracks, and then from there, we could follow them down,” he drags his finger along the map for emphasis. “These tracks will cut off right about here, but we could take a left from them and cut right on to the main street all the way over here. I say that cuts about an hour and a half off and avoids the open roads in case of onlookers. Or, we could continue this way. Your choice,” he hands the map over.

Looking over what he instructed, you contemplate the odds, nodding up at him with a smile, “Okay. I trust your judgement. That looks about right,” you admit unashamedly.

“Great,” he smiles back, brushing the tree branch out of your way, heading straight into the woods. “‘Bout fucking time you cut me some slack,” he smirks at you.

...

It wasn’t long until you’d truly understood the underlying meaning of the shortcut - If you could even call it that.

You were able to find some of the medication you needed, tucking it all into a drawstring bag on your back securely. But, as you turn back around, you could tell something was off. You realized it all before you could even comprehend it properly, discreetly checking the map as you start to go back to the car. The Sanctuary isn’t far from here, Negan could easily escape and flee with his distance so far from home.

Walking along the train tracks, you hear rustling behind you. Then, you hear a branch snap in front of you. Then another, and another, and another, from all directions. Confused, your brows furrow, bringing your gun up to aim at the last source of sound you’d heard.

Yelping in pain, your gun drops to the ground, soon getting kicked away from your hands as it just narrowly licked the dirt. Cradling your bruising hand, you look up at the source: Negan.

He simply shrugs at you, kicking you over to buy him some time to snatch your gun. “Sorry Toots,” he says, cocking the gun to check the magazine, unclipping the safety, and jabbing the butt of the gun on your cranium. The impact wasn’t hard enough, though, causing you to scream out in pain and draw the already overpowering crowd.

Pissed off, you charge at him, tackling him with your shoulder pushed right against his abdomen, temporarily knocking him off his feet to slam him into the ground.

Dumbfounded, Negan fumbles for the gun, cocking it to aim it right at you. Eyes widening, you don’t stay longer than necessary, taking off into the herd, scaring Negan.

Charging through the minority of the herd, you make a quick and discreet exit into the woods in which you came, running as hard and as fast as physically possible. Your heart beats in your ears, your lungs burn and make your breaths labor, throat dry and painful even as your thighs ache for you to stop. You don’t. You won’t.

Tears of both fear and anger and hurt burn at the corners of your eyes, the wind, branches, and bushes scraping up your skin and eyes as you keep charging through. Dead Ones are everywhere, threatening to take you down from every direction. You do your best to just keep going, throwing them out of your way as best you can.

But, your exhaustion gets the best of you, your foot catching on a fallen tree, throwing your body into another one just beside it, hard. Breath quickly leaving your lungs, you wheeze in agony as your vision blurs around the edges. Still, you get back up, whining the second your foot attempts to stand straight again, a dark hue decorating it in seconds.

Spotting the long dirt road you’d started on, you smile gratefully, tripping onto it again, and tumbling on the concrete. A little ways away, you spot Negan again, him having already seen you. You heft yourself back up again, tears staining your cheeks with dirt, grime, and blood.

A gun shot goes off and you jump, turning in its direction. It was close. He’s following me. Picking up the speed again, you ignore the pain as it continues to worsen with your every step, Walkers having caught up with you.

You couldn’t read his expression nor his intentions, deciding it’s better to take off before you found out. Watching you try to distance yourself, he takes off after you; the car at grabbing distance of your reach.

You trip again, the pain threatening to swallow you whole. Hair standing up at the back of your neck, you can feel him edging closer, but you don’t dare turn back or you’ll waste the precious milliseconds you have.

Grabbing the car door handle, you quickly wrench it open, diving in and hitting the locks. The small Hyundai was an automatic, every button and knob just a click away. It came of use when the Turn happened, especially now as Negan smashes his hands against the window, locked out.

Groaning in annoyance, he screams, “Let me in!”

“No!” you squeak, ducking down as he blows a hole through the window.

Yelping, he unlocks the door through the hole, opening the door, and lifting you up and onto his lap as he goes to quickly lock it again. Pain shoots through your whole body, everything hurting all at once.

Crying, you quickly pull yourself away from him, dragging your bottom half through to the second row, gunning for the trunk. Negan, starting the car, presses his foot all the way down on the gas peddle, hitting zombie after zombie in his way of freedom.

All you do is shake, hiding behind the third row seat and curling your body in a ball even after your body screams to untighten for the sake of injuries. About ten minutes later, as the car slows down in a clearing, you move up again quietly, hand on the doorknob.

Settling to a stop, you undo the kiddy lock, swinging the door open to run into the woods again. Negan kicks the backs of your knees out, though, as your wobbling doesn’t get you much of anywhere. Manhandling you, he flips you onto your back, placing a foot on your chest. “Where are you going?” he asks in disbelief.

“Let me go! Let me go! Please!” you cry out in pain, face red and swole. “Please!” you hit at his foot weakly.

Staring down at you, he fully sees the panic, stepping off quickly.

Scrambling to your feet, you raise your hands, “Just please let me go home!” you beg.

Guilt washes over his face quickly, uncertain of what had come over him. He was a monster. What had he done?

Heaving for air, you lose balance and fall over, rolling onto your back again to face him, giving up. Closing your eyes to swallow shallowly, you open them, “You liar. All you do is lie. You could never care for anyone. I’ve done nothing to you, yet here we are, beating me to a pulp,” you state bitterly, unable to catch your breath, “All I want to do is go home to my Dad, my family. All I wanted to do was get Judith and RJ their meds so they can make it through this flu. I just wanted to help!” you scream.

Frowning sadly, Negan drops down to his knees, attempting to reach a hand to your head, but your flinch stops him.

“Don’t. Just go. Leave me here. I’m dead anyway,” you almost whisper the last sentence, slowly fading into hysteria.

“No,” Negan’s deep voice commands, “I wasn't gonna hurt you, I never would. I’m getting you outta here, Kid.”

“Why? Why now?” you sniffle.

Startling awake, your eyes gaze out of the window, watching as tree after tree whooshes by. You smile at the view, going back to when you would do the same as a little girl, taking the long ways home with Rick and Shane, enjoying the summer rides in the police car.

“I fucked up. I gotta get you home, I have to fix this,” Negan mumbles, lifting up your weak body, placing you in the passenger's seat and laying you across it. He speeds off again, your mind fading in and out of consciousness.

...

Your mind went back to old memories with Rick, an amazing father that would always tell you stories when he got home late, nudging you awake way past your bedtime to make sure he was able to see you that day. It went to picking flowers in the backyard to hand them to Lori, insisting she put them in a vase, when they were really just yard weeds that you found pretty. To Carl, playing football in the yard and helping him with homework so he wouldn’t feel so alone; the way he used to get when Dad went to work.

And, as you just get to see the fencing and the sign of “Welcome To Alexandria,” your vision finally goes black, breaths finally softening until there were no more to force. You were home. You were free. Your body goes lax, the bag of medication tucked in your hands. At least you were able to fulfill one wish: save your family.

And, as a final departure to the world, you thank Negan, kissing his cheek and telling him to make up a story so he wouldn't be of blame.

Teary eyed, he looks at you with both disbelief and sadness, "I'm so sorry, Kid."

537 notes · View notes

80s4life · 2 years

Text

Perfect Imperfections’

Word Count: 2,893

Status: Requested!

Ask: Can you do a story about Lee Christmas. Reader is a shy, sweet, gentle, leggings and oversized sweater wearing kind of a girl. The guys meet her for the first time not believing someone like her would be with Lee but they get along with her and become kind of brother like figures for her, then at some point she's walking home from work (the rare moment he isn't able to pick her up when he's not on mission) and she gets beat up. Lee deals with who did it, then takes care of her cause she's a mess

A/N: Idk if you’ve noticed, but I absolutely am in love with Gunnar and his actor, Dolph Lundgren. I think he’s so hot and adorable both personality and looks...It’s kinda ironic how he has no imagines...

Fandom: The Expendables Series

Relationship: Lee Christmas x Female!Reader

Summary: You were a bartender at a known bar in the city. People knew you, hated you, loved you, trusted and lusted for you. The hatred only grew with your forever-burden: the man you love and his colleagues you’d risk your life for without a doubt. They were family and you were a liability. It was stupid, you knew, but love truly is a complicated motivation, isn’t it?

Warnings: angst, fear, lewd allusions, blood, weapons, fighting, reader is injured, blood mention, fluff, language (duh)

Masterlist Expendables Masterlist

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{Gif is not mine, credits go to @theshawbrothers}

Hearing a knock on your gated door, you quickly open it, unlocking the gate with an excited squeal.

“Damn baby, don’t get too excited,” Lee smiles, British accent ever so apparent.

“Why not? I finally get to meet the amazing family you always brag about,” you counter, justifying your racing heartbeat.

“They’re judgy that’s all. I don’t know how they’re going to react to...”

“-To a younger girl that has completely better taste than you,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Well-” he starts, “Yes.”

“Yeah? Well I believe there’s nothing to worry about. They sound amazing and supportive. Just you wait,” you reassure him, grabbing your purse and favorite sweatshirt, checking your hair in the mirror as you pass.

Walking past him, you squeeze his strong shoulder, pecking his lips for good measure. Nearing the door, you snatch up your helmet, excitement thrilling through your bones with anticipation.

“I hope your right, I’d have to drop ya’ if they don’t approve,” Lee jokes, pulling on his leather jacket and helmet before locking the door and protective gate once more.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, straddling the backseat of the motorcycle, patting the driver’s seat as you catch Lee’s childish pout. “I’m not gonna wait all night, Sweetheart.”

Finally looping his legs around the bike and revving the engine, Lee speeds off into the direction of the lively city. Lights sparkling and cars dancing about, you smile as you bite your lip, placing your head on Lee’s back. He smiles despite his worries, lovingly reaching a hand back to squeeze your knee faintly.

As the smell of smoke and music booming catches your attention, you lift your head to catch sight of a bar. It was like any other is what you thought at first, scrunching your face is slight disappointment and confusion. Lee laughs, “This is Barney’s bar. His only bar that he enjoys more than life.”

“Oh,” is all you manage, your nerves now spiking as the earlier excitement shifts to queezy nervousness. Somehow, your moods had both flipped, adopting the other’s previous mood.

Grabbing your hand in his, Lee catches your anxious demeanor, pecking your temple and squeezing your hand as a reminder that he’s right there with you. Looking you in the eye, you sigh, nodding your head as a signal that you’re ready, Lee smiling and opening the large door.

Instantly the air shifts; drinks, laughter, screaming, bets, smoke, dancing, singing, and fights hitting you automatically, paired with the loud upbeat music. You spot the group of men strangely, never seeing them once in your life, yet knowing just who they are based off of the way they perceive themselves.

Leading you to the table, Lee walks to the end of the booth giving the stink eye as a warning. The laughing stops simultaneously, the men catching sight of you, clad in leggings, Uggs, sweatshirt and all.

“Guys, this is Y/N, the girl I’ve been talking to you about for months.”

Silence. No one speaks. Standing awkwardly, you cough, the men sizing you up with immense tensity. “Hi,” you manage, scolding yourself at the stupidity.

On instinct, the largest man at the table barks with laughter, your response striking him unexpectedly. You smile shyly, cheeks heating up, but enjoying the enthusiasm nonetheless, knowing how ridiculous you’d just sounded.

Unable to control themselves any longer, the rest of the men chime in too.

“Oh come on now, sit your asses down and drink. We ain’t gonna bite,” an Italian, Barney you assumed based on Lee’s fondness towards the man, says warmly.

Moving over to make room, you sit between some of the men, a man with a cauliflower ear moving out of the way so you could sit comfortably in the center of the curved booth while he sat back down at the end. Lee, sitting on the other end, smiles as he fist bumps Barney, whispering something incoherent to you.

“So, you’re the Y/N Lee doesn’t shut up about, huh?” the blond responds again, calming down enough to reassume his later brooding look.

“U-Uhm, I guess I am?” you question, unsure due to the man’s vehemence.

“So you’re not Y/N Y/L/N then?” he chuckles.

“Well no. I mean, I am, but Lee doesn’t seem to be as much of the talking type you make him out to seem. It confused me was all,” you answer earnestly, calming as you were given the opportunity to fully explain yourself.

“Ah, I see,” he says, nodding, “So that means that he only acts like a sappy school girl around us then? Lucky us...”

“I guess so...” you look at your man, cheeks heating at the thought of him talking so lovingly about you, even when you weren’t there. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I got your name,” you smile.

“Gunnar. The one with the vegetable ear is Toll, the short Italian with the big mouth is Barney, the even shorter Korean is Yin Yang, and the big black man is Caesar.”

You laugh at the descriptions given, nodding to each of the men as Gunnar called them out dramatically. As he finished his sentence, chugging a beer, everyone had chimed in to give Gunnar a good ‘fuck you,’ throwing napkins and straws at the Swedish mountain.

...

The rest of the night had been a blast. You had gotten to truly know the men and feel just at home in their presence. You’d danced, drank, ate shitty bar food that you actually enjoyed, and even had the opportunity to privately get to know each of the men.

Toll Road was a sweet man who’d earned himself a cauliflower ear from wrestling when he was young. He was very respectful and complimented your clothing, dubbing it “bold.” He talked your ear off about all the things Lee said about you, making you blush more than once. He was supportive.

Hale Caesar was a funny man and embodied the label of ‘Don’t Judge a Book By Its Cover.’ You thought of him as an intimidating force, but he’d automatically broke that chain upon the first greeting. He was a huge Teddy Bear that enjoyed jokes and games. He was fun.

Yin Yang was just a smidgen taller than you, but deflected any mentions towards his work ethic and strength. He was quick-witted, smart, and fast. There was something about him that was encouraging, and he didn’t let you doubt yourself. He liked your character, and for that, accepted you from the get-go. He was down to earth.

You’d gotten a chance to speak to Gunnar once more, and found him to be a very brooding, almost sad soul. He had many emotional scars, just like the rest of the men, that stayed embedded on the side of his head. He was closed off for the most part, but you assumed it was your warm demeanor that cracked him just a little bit. He was protective.

Towards the end of the night, you finally got to talk to the man that seemed to be of the utmost importance when it came to the acceptance of the family. Barney was like a father figure that you needed approval of, yet was the best friend Lee never dreamed of. You don’t know what had sparked when he met you, but you hadn’t argued. He hugged you close out of nowhere, and you had no doubt in your mind that you find home in this tiny group of misfits.

As time passed, you had grown even closer to the gang. You always came over to the bar or the tattoo parlor with goodies. You became almost like the older sister that came with candy you had to hide form your mother, and the men loved it. You had fit in so well that even if you weren’t officially an Expendable, you were given a smaller tattoo to solidify your importance lovingly. Tool had even made sure it was, “Distinctly beautiful. As are you, lovely.”

///

Yawning, you check the time on the clock above the shelf containing the numerous bottles of liquor. Time to go home, you smile. Lee had texted you earlier explaining that he’d be late to pick you up as he was going over the details of his next mission. You agreed lovingly, but now, as the time had gotten extremely late, and you worked an extra four hours to keep busy, all you wanted was to go home.

Texting Lee a quick update, you inform him on where you’re going just to keep him in the loop. Three bubbles appeared then disappeared again. Taking that as a sign that he saw it, you missed his later text that would inform you of what was to come.

Grabbing your coat, you curse your ankles for the tiresome heels your bar required within its clothing requirements. Tying your hair back in a messy bun, you wave goodbye to the poor women and men still stuck bar tending and waitressing. Finally, clocking out and removing your name tag, you step out into the brisk chill of the city air.

Your apartment was just a few blocks over, but due to insufficient funds, you live on the wrong side of town. There was too many crimes to count, and many justifiable reasons as to investing in a gun, which was kept neatly tucked in your purse.

However, upon the cruel shrill of a dog whistle, the chill that courses down your spine was enough to have you picking up your pace on the dim sidewalk. Seeing an alleyway that provides a longer, yet secluded, route to your apartment complex, you walk as fast as your skimpy heels could manage. You could hear the men’s heavy footfalls, you knew you had to hurry, yet the frozen fear and absence of Lee starts to make you feel hopeless.

Unaware of your stuttering pace, a hard figure collides with yours, sending you sprawling into the nearest brick wall.

“Well, well, well...look at what we have here boys. It’s one of those mercenaries’ little whore,” the man teases, placing both of his hands on either side of your body. Trapping you.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you squeak with moderate courage.

“Don’t lie to me girl!” the man screams, spit launching onto your face with force. You don’t dare wipe them away, you don’t dare to even look for an escape.

Repeating your latest statement, you whisper, “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah?” another man pipes up, walking nearer in anger, “So if I were to lift up your sleeves, there’d be no traces of an ‘Expendables’ tattoo? I know all you pricks have ‘em. Like some kind of fucking brotherhood,” the other man demands.

Unable to look either of them in the eyes, you look down, choosing not to answer or even acknowledge the question. You comply as the man grips your arm, ripping you away from the wall in fierce determination.

“Ah...there it is! The little birdie.” A third man jokes, catching sight of the unmistakable work of art.

The man from before, the leader you assumed, restates the other man’s question, “So, wanna try me again, dear?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!” he screams, raising a hand, striking you across the cheek. Tears well up instantly, but they’re all in vain. “How’s about we mark ya up instead? Since ya have no clue who we’re talkin’ about, then there’s nothing t’ worry about, huh?”

They don’t give you the chance to answer. Instead, your mouth is covered by a hand, muffling your cries as the men move to beat on you, pushing you to the ground. Curling up in a ball, you attempt but fail to cover your head with your hands, a hard kick to the jaw sending your head flying back and spreading your form back out across the pavement.

“I have somethin’ better,” another member adds after some time, “Even better than cuttin’ her.”

No...

“Something more personal.”

No...please...

Without a word, the men share some amused glances, then get to work on the new task at hand. Greed, vengeance, and sinister glee resides in their eyes as they stared at you with newer purpose, a new desire blooming in your presence.

A hand, grimy and calloused, meets your hip bone, stroking the soft skin. Roughly, he yanks at your uniform’s skirt, tearing it as he moves to rid any other particles underneath.

NO!

You want to scream...cry...plead. Yet, you remain frozen; no movement or real person still living in the cold skin and bone that made you a person.

As you underwear and skirt are torn from you, the men stand back and around your body, allowing the leader to resurface with a satisfied stare. His hands move to his belt as goes to work discarding it, his cold stare boring into your eyes.

“OI!” echoes a voice from the end of the alleyway, “What the fuck do you think your doin’?!”

Finally, the man’s eyes leave yours, the gang moving to form a wall as to protect what was “theirs.”

You hear the voice faintly, the words swirling around your head in an incoherent heap. However, you still feel as cold and broken as the pavement below you, letting the cool rain pour as a storm breaks out, almost as loud as the war that leaves the gang to fend for themselves.

Warm hands encompass your shoulders, slightly shaking them as they lift your body upwards. Your head dangles weakly, eyes unfocused. You know those eyes, you know that voice.

Lee, splattered in unknown sources of blood, removes his jacket, covering as much skin as he could, whispering in your ear, “I’m here baby girl. I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Soon, Barney runs over with a stern look of concern, the expression quickly softening as his sight catches your form. “That jacket ain’t gonna do much Christmas...Here,” Barney crouches down swiftly, warmly whispering to Lee as he removes his flannel.

Together, they wrap your body in the over-sized shirt, covering up your body properly. Smirking calmly, the world stops spinning and your consciousness resurfaces, the danger no longer apparent.

“There she is,” Barney attempts to lighten the mood, “Got a little worried for a bit.” Lifting himself off the ground, he pats Lee’s shoulder, the pair sharing a nod as Barney moves to round up the group. Straddling their bikes, they speed off to finish the deed, attacking the true monster behind the gang that attacked you.

Then do you finally let the tears fall. Your body crumples in a ball, curling into Lee’s body instantly. Your shoulders shake with the force of your sobs. Luckily, nothing of unsolvable danger had taken place, allowing the mistakes to be righted. That, however, didn’t ease your tension as the events finally sink in.

Protectively, Lee cradles your head with one hand, moving the other to wrap your body closer to his on his lap. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, eventually settling the hiccups and tears.

He feels guilty. Worthless. Ashamed. You could see it even after he’d lifted you off the wet pavement and drove you home safely secured on his bike. You noticed it more clearly once you were home, him insisting to tend to the wounds yet never properly looking you in the eyes as he spoke.

“Lee,” you finally pipe up, stopping all movement of his hands, your body resting stiffly atop the kitchen counter, clad in just the flannel and your underwear. Grabbing his hands, you pull them to your lips, kissing them softly, “Lee...”

His eyes fall to your hands, then the ground, “I know what’cha gonna say, and ya wrong-”

You stop him instantly, “No. First off, I’m never wrong,” you smile, “And second off, there was nothing that could’ve prevented this Lee. It was no one’s fault. If you want to blame someone, blame me for Christ’s sake. I’m the one that left the bar even after you’ve warned me time and time again.”

“Yeah, but I already know that ya don’t listen.”

“It still doesn’t pin the blame on you Baby. Everything happens for a reason. Just please let it go,” you smile sweetly, caressing his jaw and gently pulling it back up to face you.

He places both of his arms on either side of your legs, sighing as he finally looks you in the eyes. He knew if he’d looked up, his resolve would fall and he’d give in to you; and that’s exactly what he did, meeting your eyes and triumphant, shit-eating grin.

You beam at his grumpy face, pecking his lips lovingly. “Stop being such a baby.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles, pecking your lips again, “I am gonna fuck ‘im up though.”

“That’s fine by me,” you chuckle, pulling him in for a hug, head pressed lightly against his shoulder blade.

508 notes · View notes

80s4life · 2 years

Text

We Have Time

Word Count: 1,554

Status: Suggested!

Ask: can i request something for mitch kramer? (dazed and confused)anything pls im desperate🙁

**ADDITIONAL INFO** mm it could be anything really!! either like. what it would be like dating him, or when they meet on the last day of school at the emporium & she’s like woodersons little sophomore sister?

@: a wonderful anon that will forever be mysterious!

Fandom: Dazed And Confused 1903

Relationship: Mitch Kramer x Wooderson!Reader

Summary: The beginning of summer break opens up new opportunities: discovering new things, meeting new people, and making new memories. Only, this summer seems to sparkle a little brighter, meeting a boy that makes your heart to somersaults.

Warnings: fluff, alcohol and marijuana consumption, teen romance (reader is turning 17 soon, Mitch is 16), sexual allusions (Slater and Pink trying to make something happen), language

Masterlist Dazed And Confused Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{gif is not mine, credits go to @dazed-and-confused-appreciation}

Being David Wooderson’s younger sister has its perks...amongst many downsides. To list just a few, you know a lot of the older kids at your school, do shit you’re legally not advised to, and are invited or know of any or all parties happening and when. And, being a sophomore, you have personally been able to master your drink taste and the types of parties you truly enjoy: fruity drinks that match the heat of the summer parties yet to come.

Hitching a ride on the back of a truck with Jodi, Simone, and Michelle, you all gossip and compliment each other’s outfits, going over the endless possibilities for the summer as the school year officially ends this year. Michelle and Jodi were clad in bell bottoms and short tops, Simone settling for a classic tee and jeans, while you basked in the summer air with simple bell bottoms, a nice belt, boots, a cropped tank, and a button-down shirt tied in case of the night getting on the chillier side.

Finally, parking on the curb beside numerous other cars, you confidently make your way into the Emporium, eyes grazing over the multitude of sexed up men and women, and of course, the newly recruited teens coming of age.

“There she is! The life of the party!” Don slings an arm around your shoulders, lightly tugging your head into his abdomen to scruff up your hair.

Pulling on his coveralls, you jab at his stomach, giggling as you make out of his head lock. Groaning, he lets up with a struggled smirk, straightening up quickly when Pink, Slater, and Benny come stumbling in the billiard, already a bit tipsy.

Slater’s eyes catch yours, making a smoking motion with a clumsy smile, walking up to you for a hug. “How’s you going, Tiny?”

“I’m pretty good, can’t say much about you though, huh?”

“What? I’m living my best life.”

You laugh, about ready to get in a tit-for-tat with Slater before a younger boy, not much younger than you, comes crashing through the Emporium’s entrance, Fred right on his heels.

“Hide me! Hide me! Hide me!” he yells, accidentally knocking into you, which throws you off balance and on the floor beside Pink’s feet.

“I’m gonna knock your teeth in, you Skimpy Pile of-!” Fred screams, being held back by Pink, who’s nicely patted your shoulder as he helped you up, and Don, who just wanted to get one drink in before shit hits the fan.

“O’Bannion! You better have good reason for throwing my ass on the floor!”

Instantly, Fred stops struggling, looking you dead in the eyes with a twinge of fear. “I don’t need one.”

“Oh hell yeah you do,” you warn, standing up to him despite your height difference, “That’s Jodi’s kid brother.”

“I know, that’s what made the chase more fun,” he gives you a shit-eating grin, “Then he slashed my tires when I was chasin’ him through the fucking woods!”

“Yeah, alright, I’ve heard enough. Turn your ass around before I beat ya with your own board alright, O’Bannion?”

Standing for a few seconds more, he goes to say something else, but settles for muttering “bitch” as he storms off, going to mess with someone else, claiming “he wasted his time.”

Turning around with a small flustered smile, you do a curtsy as the group of boys cheer you on. “Stop it,” you flush, crouching back down to meet the eyes of the boy that’s been running around the whole neighborhood, “You alright?”

Staring at you blankly, he comes at a loss of words as he takes in your beauty. Finally he stutters after a moment of silence, looking you up and down sheepishly, “U-uh yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I could’ve handled him on my own. I mean, I have been handling him all day. But, thanks?” he boasts, taking your hand as you offer it.

“Of course you did. Anyway, if you have a problem with him, just tell me. My brother will handle him if I won’t,” you grin.

Grinning back, he mutters an, “Okay,” as Pink and Slater take him away, going to get him some beer.

Don, silently watching your gaze, giggles as he notices the two of you still staring even after a great distance was put between you two, “You might wanna wipe that drool before someone mistakes you for a toddler.”

“Wh- I am not drooling! I’m just making sure he’s okay! He’s been chased by O’Bannion since school broke out!”

“Mhmm. Well, in that case, there’s nothing to worry about then since he didn’t get beat.”

“Exactly. I was just checking.”

“Alrighty then!” he concludes, giggling as he takes a swig of beer and join the group of boys in question.

After a few moments of talking, the boys leave the Emporium completely, leaving you to clear your head and enjoy the night. You are not crushing on a little boy, you silently scold yourself. But, the fact was, he wasn’t a little boy. If he was a kid, then you were, no matter the year difference that makes you “superior.”

After some time spent playing pool, dancing, flirting, drinking, and trying to get Wooderson out of trouble, you finally crash down on a discarded couch, catching your breath. The break only lasts a second, unfortunately, as you feel a force plop itself on the other end of the rickety cushions.

Lifting your hand from covering your eyes, you dart them to your left for a split second, doing a double-take as you realize who’d shown up. “H-hi,” you stutter, initial shock masking any further discussion.

“Hi,” Mitch smiles, a little more confident than he had when he first met you. “You wanna go somewhere more private?” he asks, checking over his shoulder at Slater and Don, winking at them.

Lightly grasping his cheek, you turn his head back around, “I would, but that’s if I don’t have to share a room with them,” you smirk.

He coughs as his cheeks turn red, “Well yeah...”

“Come on,” you chuckle, grabbing his hand and leading him up the flight of stairs, finding a desolate room, and ducking into it with a lock on the door.

Twirling slowly, you plop yourself on the bed tiredly, Mitch still standing stiffly at the door. “I ain’t gonna bite ya, besides, what they don’t know don’t hurt them out there.”

Silently, Mitch makes his way over, lightly filling the spot on the bed beside you, laying on his back and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Catching the expression, you groan, “What did they tell you?”

“W- Well- Nothing.”

“Oh no, did they tell you to try and score?” you sit up, shivering in disgust.

“Yeah, they told me that’s how to be a real man.”

You smile sarcastically then turn to Mitch seriously, “Hey, you don’t need to have sex to be a man, okay? If there’s anything my parents taught me, it’s that the right man won’t pressure you, the right time will come naturally... Are you a virgin, Mitch?”

His face flushes a deep red again, going to scratch his neck out of habit. You don’t need him to answer to know, “Don’t worry, so am I. And quite frankly, I’d be more comfortable keeping it that way for a while.” The room goes completely silent for around 10 minutes before you pipe up again, “If you want, it’s been long enough for your first time to be up,” you smirk, “So, if you want, you can leave and say we did it. It’ll ease both of our pressure. Or, we could stay here a little longer and just get to know each other. I’m fine with either.”

Exhaling deeply, Mitch’s whole body goes lax, “I’d like to get to know you,” he smiles, turning on his side to face you and you do the same.

Now it’s your turn to blush, “That sounds nice.”

For the rest of the night, you stay holed up in the bedroom just passing time talking, telling stories of your early childhood, and just generic things like your interests. You’d found Mitch to be quite the talkative and humorous type after getting comfortable, and Mitch was more than delighted to hear your silky, natural laugh. He found it adorable, or in more context, you adorable.

There was lots of hand holding and soft kisses on the nose, forehead, and cheek. And by the first signs of the sun peeking through the blinds, you kissed his lips sweetly, walking him up to his doorstep in hopes of seeing him again, “If you don’t get killed, do you want to hang out on Wednesday?”

“Hell yeah,” he smiles broadly, “How about a movie at the drive-in?”

“It sounds like a date, Mitch,” you grinned, blowing an air kiss as you make your way back to the sidewalk.

“Definitely,” he whispers, watching you disappear before entering the house. I’m gonna marry her one day.

#david wooderson #matthew mcconaughey #female reader insert #reader insert #mitch kramer #mitch kramer imagine #mitch kramer x reader #wiley wiggins #wiley wiggins x reader #wiley wiggins imagine #jodi kramer #michelle burke #ron slater #michelle burroughs #milla jovovich #simone kerr #joey lauren adams

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80s4life · 2 years

Text

Karma’s A Bitch

Word Count: 2,853

Status: Suggested!

Ask: Hey darl! I was wondering (if it’s ok with you) if I would request a Tallahassee x reader fic? The plot can be whatever you like but if you need suggestions it could be about raiding a supermarket (and of course finding twinkies) or picking rooms in the house or something. Anyway I hope your well x

@: a lovely anon!

A/N: OOOOOHHH! We love ourselves a cowboy, don’t we? (Especially when it’s Woody)

Side-Note: There is an outfit idea below with a tag! However, what you want to wear is 100% up to you! All I did was give you an idea (and to boost everyone’s confidence since I believe any body type can pull it off beautifully!)

Fandom: Zombieland

Relationship: Tallahassee x Reader

Summary: Even if the world ends and all else fails, that doesn’t mean there is no light at the end of the tunnel. For example: living in Bill Murray’s mansion, stealing anything and everything you want without consequences, and never having to work or get up at a specific time ever again. However, there are still factors that remain the same: assholes, zombies, and assholes (again for good measure)

Warnings: language, implied smut/sexual allusions, physical fighting, arguing

Masterlist Zombieland Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{I do not own this gif, credits go to -> @veinsandknuckles}

Kicking around a rusted tin can, you feel the urge to argue; having been so bored and angry for months now causing you to get antsy. “Maybe if your short legs could carry your ass fast enough, we might still have the car,” you smirk, knowing damn well that was going to piss him off.

“Maybe if you weren’t so busy eye-fucking me, we would still have our guns,” Tallahassee seethes, already fed up with your shit.

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn old-” you get cut off.

“I-” Columbus drags loudly, “-don’t suggest you finish that Y/N.”

“Oh no, please Columbus, this has been long overdue,” you glare directly at the back of Tallahassee’s head.

“You better watch it Midget, I’ll fuck you up. There ain’t no law holdin’ me back no more,” Tallahassee warns, but you pay no piece of mind.

“Oh, you’ll fuck me up? That’s rich coming from a miserable old man that ain’t done shit but complain. You just sit there and judge, and bitch, and moan, and groan all. Damn. Day.”

girly to pay attention to anything or even lift a fucking leaf,” Tallahassee heightens his voice to sound more feminine, the act giving way towards the end, going back to his usual raspy tone.

You don’t even know why you’re arguing with him. Maybe because it’s been so long since you’ve been able to relax, or get enough sleep, or have late night outs, or normal shit young horny people used to do in their 20s.

“I help out here more than you do! Fuck, I mean, I’ve gotten Columbus out of harms way more times than you have. Hell, I even saved your ass more times than I could count!”

“Oh you Bitch!” Tallahassee jumps at you.

You don’t hold back either, lunging for him as he tackles you to the ground, wrestling like children. Rolling around across the concrete of the old, cracked street. At some point, you think you have the upper hand, smirking at Columbus over your shoulder. Then, Tallahassee takes advantage, spinning you around, which causes you to smash your head into the ground.

“Ow!” you scream, reaching for his neck in a rage.

He blocks the attempt, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head, his legs straddling your hips. Face red with anger, you struggle underneath his strength, unintentional heat thrumming in your core.

“Get the fuck off me, Tallahassee!”

“Not ‘til you call ‘Uncle.’”

“I ain’t callin’ shit!”

“Then I guess we’re stuck here.”

“Guys!” Columbus yells, but you pay no mind, managing to knee Tallahassee in the balls as his head leers in the direction of the scream. Groaning, he lets go in enough time for you to wiggle free, about to tackle him again.

Columbus, with his eyes peering off in the distance, “Guys! It’s our stuff! It’s the girls! Come on!”

Giving Tallahassee the stink eye, he reciprocates the gesture, but otherwise you both let up with aggravated huffs. “I’ll show you helpful, Dickhead,” you mutter loud enough for him to hear, running ahead of the group to sneak back up to a seemingly useful parked truck, the engine rumbling calmly in the distance.

Tallahassee follows closely behind, panting as he crouches beside you.

“Don’t have a heart attack on me now, I don’t feel like reviving your ass through CPR or some shit.”

“First off, fuck you. Second off, fuck you twice.”

“Ooooh, good one,” you giggle, turning back around and feeling the ghost of his breath fan against your neck, his body hovering just behind yours to catch sight of what you are looking at. You shiver unconsciously, missing the sensation.

Ignoring your tumbling thoughts, you motion for Tallahassee to go around the other side as you close in on the car. Nodding, he does as follows luckily and to your amazement. Making your way over to the front of the truck you whisper and count to three, jumping up with slight yells to see who’s in the car. Catching sight of nothing, you almost jump out of your skin when your hear another voice.

“It’s about time you guys showed up, we were about ready to just leave your asses down the street,” states Little Rock, shotgun in hand.

Wichita makes her way out of the apartment complex next, smirking devilishly as she catches sight of a confused Tallahassee. You smile too once you catch him slipping up.

“Shut up.”

“That’s all you got?” you laugh.

“Oh, give me a break, will ya?” Tallahassee groans again, peering at you desperately.

“Come on, there’s some nice houses in Beverly Hills. It’s not too far from here,” Wichita states boredly, placing her shotgun in the driver’s seat through the window while pulling out the car keys from underneath the front wheel.

“So we're a team again?” you ask exasperatedly, slightly taken aback.

She, in turn, doesn’t give you a reply, unlocking the car door and turning the ignition, “Get in,” she grits.

Snorting in disgust, you look over at Tallahassee, he seemingly having already been staring at you. You gesture in her general direction, and with a simple once over, he points to the back seat. Face dropping, you look him dead in the eyes before grabbing the door handle, only for Wichita to lock it.

“No, you two get in the back. I’m not going to listen to you two bitch.”

“Like putting us together is gonna do any good?” Tallahassee scrunches his nose.

“Listen, I don’t fucking like you too much Old Man, so get in the back before I leave you here.”

Flipping her off just in the right direction for her to catch you in the left-side mirror, you mouth ‘fuck you’ before not so gracefully hopping on the truck bed.

Columbus, after watching from afar and doing a series of stretches, jogs over and steals the passenger seat, which Wichita allows. Tallahassee and you quickly take notice to the freedom, but otherwise ignore her. For now. Little Rock sidles into the backseat with a huff, and then lays a possessive hand over the guns laced there, having scored quite a hefty amount in the neighborhood.

///

The car ride was mostly silent, somehow actually getting into a comfortable conversation with Tallahassee. He really wasn’t a bad guy once he let his ego slip, giving way to the real boy underneath. If you were going to admit one thing to yourself, it was that Tallahassee was, in fact, hot as hell, but otherwise, so was his aura, voice, demeanor, and personality. It was quite the confusing mix of emotions the man elicits, especially once you forget about him as a person and remember his bitchy and childish attitude when something he doesn’t like happens.

Jumping off the truck, Wichita makes sure that your finger was returned, an added sway in her hips as she steps directly in front of you, up to the front door.

“I’m tellin’ everyone right now, if you see me go feral on her ass, no one be surprised. I ain’t gonna put up with this ignorant behavior and using us kinda shit. You got that, Wichita?” you state, heat trickling up to your face as anger threatens to overrule her self righteous ass.

Nodding weakly, you quickly see her pissed expression soften. Perhaps she’s realized her ways and put herself in my shoes?

“Ya know, your kinda sexy when your angry,” Tallahassee giggles, whispering in your ear so no one else could hear his attempts, the scruff of his chin lightly poking at your ear lobe. Another shiver brings a coat of goosebumps up to your skin as your choice of words are quickly lost on you.

“Let’s look around,” Columbus says, having walked around some of the grand rooms at the entrance of the mansion you’d wandered into, and you almost wanted to thank him.

The mansion was beautiful despite the current environment and “living” organisms roaming the world currently. Breaking off into groups, Columbus and Little Rock walk around the first floor, Wichita walking around the opposite end of the younger two. Tallahassee started walking behind Wichita, but realizing your presence wasn’t sensed, he turned around to see you walking straight up to the second floor.

“Hey! Hey, wait Y/N!” he calls, jogging up the flight of stairs to you. “What’cha up to?”

“Well, Nosey, I was gonna go pick my bed before the Princess snatches the sweet. It’s Bill Murray’s place after all, and I want the best room in the house before I get stuck with a shitty ass mattress. I deserve it.”

“Well, in that case, so am I. If you think I’m gonna sleep on the couch, you best be mistaken.”

“Whatever Tallahassee,” you mutter, smirking as you could see through his cover-up, leaving the conversation for another time.

Catching sight of the very obvious Master Bedroom, you have a split second to glance at Tallahassee before he’s ttrying to shove you out of the way. Easily, you gather yourself back up and go to push him over this time, and with success, he grabs your ankles to pull you down with him. “Dammit!” you grunt, trying to kick at him as he pulls you towards his body on the floor. “C’mon Tallahassee!”

“I ain’t lettin’ you get it that easily, you call dibs like a proper adult!” he states, pulling your body flush underneath his chest, back squished against the floor as he uses you as padding on his stomach.

“This is childish!” you scream in aggravation, pushing at his face as he threatens to crush you.

“What’s childish is not letting the mature adults have the most comfort!” he is temporarily blinded by your insistent hands.

“Why? So you could die quicker and leave the younger people to sleep painfully as we do the work for you?”

“Oh would you quick pickin’ on my age?! I ain’t that old and still limber enough to bash your ass!”

Heat pools at you inner areas again, causing a blush to quickly flush up at your cheeks. Coughing in an attempt to clear your thoughts, Tallahassee takes the unintentional distraction as an advantage, pushing you on the ground and keeping you there until he is back on his feet and running away.

Scrambling back to your feet, you run after him again, but it’s too late. He’s already opened the door, and made a show at flopping on the bed as you reach the entrance. Groaning, you almost cry in frustration, looking him dead in the eye with his smug grin.

“I win.”

“Yeah... You win,” you say, turning back around and closing the door lightly, not rising any suspicion. If you would’ve slammed it, he would’ve chased back after you, and all you wanted to do was be alone.

Moping around, you find another room, not entirely as huge as Murray’s room, but it was quite spacious, earning you somewhat of a grateful smile as you drop your bag. Exhausted, you allow yourself the reward of kicking off your tennis sneakers, checking some drawers and scoring pajamas.

With your luck finally turning up, you giggle and jump around just a little bit, pulling out comfy shorts with an adjustable tie and pockets, clean underwear, a sports bra that was just about your size, and a breezy tank top that was open at the sides; the outfit overall providing comfort and a breeziness under the hot California sun. (x)

Placing the outfit on the bed and continuing to mosey about, you spot a Walkman, a choice of gold plated headphones and earbuds, and score your own private bathroom. Smiling happily now, you turn the shower handle to check, hot water pouring out of the shower head and cascading onto the huge granite tub. Taking your time, you take a long, hot shower, basking in a long awaited cleansing with your earbuds in.

After what felt like years, your skin was beat red and warm, fingers shriveled from the moisture and condensation floating about in the bathroom. It had been so long since you were able to enjoy little things like these; being able to just live.

Humming to yourself, you mutter the words to the old rock song as you play around with your hair, placing it into whatever was the most comfortable now that it was clean and somewhat manageable. Caught up with the newest rhythm, you miss the presence of someone other than your own, turning away from the bedroom door in order to strip your towel and gather your undergarments. Pulling on your underwear, you pull the bra over your head, slip your arms through, and then adjust your shorts around your hips.

Finally turning around, you flinch so hard, blood running cold, and eliciting an ear shattering scream. “Tallahassee! You- You- Get out!”

Tallahassee, still dumbfounded, stares in awe before a startled smirk adds to his face, laughing harshly as he lets himself out slowly, stealing one last glance before closing the door with a soft click.

Your heartbeat pumps loudly in your ears, shock still causing you to stand stock-still for another 10 minutes. Easing out of your embarrassment “gracefully,” you hurriedly pull on your shirt before begrudgingly opening the door back up again. There, Tallahassee stands with his legs crossed, arms folded, leaning up against the copper rails in the hallway just across your room.

Smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Tallahassee acts as if nothing happened, “I just wanted to swing by and ask you how you’re settling in.”

“S-So you were worried about me?” you smirk, still flaring with a beat red face full of regret and stupidity.

“Something like that,” Tallahassee admits, letting his focus shift to your clothes, absentmindedly licking his lips on occasion.

“Like what you see?” you giggle, crossing your arms as he straightens back up on his feet.

“Yes, actually, I do, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, T?”

“I gotta ask you somethin’... Why...” he clears his throat, “Why d’ya hate me?” he finishes the question, looking at his feet for distraction.

You sigh, “I don’t hate you Tallahassee, you hate me. The only thing I dislike is your ego, kind of.”

“I never hated you, Kid, I just didn’t know how to properly live with a young broad like you. And, what did you mean ‘Kind of?’”

“Well, your ego both frustrates and attracts me, to say the least. Your not a total Dickhead,” you smile, “What did you mean by ‘Young broad like yourself?’”

Edging closer to you, Tallahassee breath fans your face, calloused hands coming to rest on your bare hips. “What I meant was a strong, independent woman that constantly makes me run for my money and keeps me hoping for a better future.”

“So...What you’re saying is that you like me just a little bit,” you beam.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Tallahassee chuckles, pulling your body closer, “Do ya like me a little bit?”

“Hell yeah,” you pull him closer to you, closing the gap between yourselves, attaching your lips to his.

Eagerly, he kisses you back fully, hands going up to cup the base of your skull, groaning into the kiss as he tries to gather you up in his arms, not wanting you to separate from him. Passionately, you pull him closer, subconsciously grinding with extra friction.

Apparently, with your mouths and bodies preoccupied, you miss just how loud you were becoming, still in the nakedness of the outside world. Your attention finally refocuses with loud gagging noises and a shrill shriek. Columbus quickly covers his mouth, embarrassing himself in front of everyone, avoiding eye contact with Wichita.

Little Rock, unfazed by the projection of intimacy, she bluntly states, “If you guys want to fuck, do it in private! No one gives a shit what you do, just do it away from everyone else!” she bellows from the foyer.

“And quietly!” Wichita adds with a playful smile, waving you off as she goes back to the indoor theater, bucket of popcorn in hand.

Columbus and Little Rock follow her in tow quickly, leaving you to your own activities. Chuckling again, Tallahassee looks down at you with a naughty swirl in his clear ocean blues, “I’ll show you old, Babygirl.” Without another word, he hefts you up and unto his hips, your legs locking just above his ass, and leading you into your bedroom. With a loud slam and a small click of the lock, he throws you onto your bed. I guess the guest bedroom was better than Bill Murray’s.

#Tallahassee #tallahassee imagine #tallahassee x reader #tallahassee zombieland #woody harrelson #woody harrelson imagine #woody harrelson x reader #zombieland #zombieland x reader #zombieland imagine

402 notes · View notes

80s4life · 2 years

Text

If We Go Down, We Go Down Together

Word Count: 1,762

Status: Suggested!

Ask: hello !! idk if u still do these but could we get a Mr. Andrews x reader fic ? 👁👁 i’ve been obsessed with titanic since forever and i’ve always been in love with Mr. Andrews. could it also be about him being protective over the reader ?? tysm and i love ur work btw. so talented omg

@: a wonderful anon that will forever be mysterious!

A/N: I absolutely love Mr. Andrews! He was such a sweetheart and an honorable man, even in the time of death, knowing his creation was destroyed. And thank you so much for all the compliments, ya’ll are too kind to me!

Side-Note: I’m so sorry for this! I realized afterwards that you probably wanted a heartwarming imagine, and I completely screwed with it! Mr. Andrews isn’t completely overprotective in this, kind of softly claiming you as his? Hope you enjoy anyway?

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Relationship: Mr. Thomas Andrews x Reader

Summary: It was the ship of dreams; the unsinkable, grand ship that would take people all the way to America, the country of opportunities. Personally, it was the ship of endless possibilities, falling even harder for a man you’d want to spend the rest of your life with. But, will fate allow that? Will you be able to have your happily ever after?

Warnings: angsty, fluff-ish, impending doom, surprise ending (it’s not gonna be what you think...I think?), fight to live, depression, multiple deaths, threats, sexist remarks (only one- it’s the 1900s)

Masterlist Titanic Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{gif is not mine, credits go to @badge1995}

Rocking on your chair in the drawing room, you look up and around you fearfully. It had been smooth sailing so far. Blood running cold, the thought scares you upright, quickly gathering up your recent sketches, putting them in a folder and grabbing your knit sweater, just catching the start of people filing into the hall. This is absurd.

Ignoring the confused murmurs and initial shock of what was still unknown, you book it to staff quarters, making your way up to the wheelhouse. Once there, you are met with serious faces of distraught, hopelessness, and some of determination.

Walking passed them with a kind, sympathetic demeanor, you lightly squeeze the shoulder of the young wheel boy. He wasn’t much older than 20, still embracing younger puppy-like features. Just to the right, you briskly open the double doors, being met with the familiar founders and shareholders that each took their part in making this extraordinary franchise.

Mr. Ismay, frustrated, addresses Captain Smith just as they make their way into the room you’d just entered, “This is most unfortunate, Captain.”

As more of the main staff file in, Mr. Andrews uncoils the blueprint of the Titanic, uncertainty laced in his voice as he recalls, “Water fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes...in the forepeak, all three holds and boiler room six.”

“Can we get underway, dammit?” Ismay asks, annoyance caught between the gaps of his question.

“That’s five compartments. She can float with four compartments breached, but not five. Not five. As she goes down, the water will spill... over the tops of bulkheads at E deck, one to the next, back and back. There’s no stopping it.”

“The pumps,” Captain Smith tries.

“The pumps buy you time, but only minutes,” Mr. Andrews looks around the room, his eyes catching yours adoringly. His eyes water at the sight of you, his next sentence coming as a painful stab to the heart, “As of now, no matter what we do...Titanic will flounder.”

A wave of sadness overcomes the room, even as Mr. Ismay continues his onslaught in futile interrogation. You were hopeless. How were you supposed to rise up from this?

“Captain Smith...” you start, afraid to continue, “She...She hit, Sir?” You catch sight of your fiance, sadness laced in between the creases of his brows and forehead. You walk up to him, grabbing his hand tightly within your own, interlocking the fingers.

“I-I-I’m afraid so, young Y/N,” he says bewildered and ashamed, realizing now that many of these passengers are going to die, and, unlike him, they can range far younger than even you.

“We are back at full speed, Sir,” announces an attentive Officer Murdoch, “As well as a signal. There is one of the twin ships about four hours away.”

“We don’t have four hours,” Thomas pipes up, dropping his head in the crook of your collar bone, settling there for a moment as he tries to gather himself. “Two at most,” he assumes, voice muffled as his emotions overcome him.

Captain Smith tries to ignore the reminder, motioning for the staff to follow him, getting to work in emergency mode.

Trying your best to ease Thomas’ tension, you know he’s about to break any moment, trying to prevent it by petting his head and hugging him. “Don’t be discouraged Love, we can still save people,” you whisper, still hopeful.

“But not all, Y/N. Not all,” he whimpers, nuzzling his head further into your neck.

Taking his face in your hands, you adjust his gaze to match yours, “You can never save everyone, but at least you can save some. That’s the difference that makes the biggest effect. You believe me, don’t you Thomas?”

“Of course I do,” he smiles sadly, fiddling with one of your hands.

“Then let’s go make it.”

It takes a moment for your words to resonate with him, but when it does, he instantly changes perspective, determination flashing in his eyes as he meets your gaze again. “It’s now or never.”

You smile, “Quite a hit or miss.”

He giggles, pausing for a moment before pecking your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you return the gesture, detaching your hand from his as you both take your leave to opposite sides of the ship, going to help as best you can.

Reaching the left side of the ship, you are met with many fearful expressions, anxious looks, and distraught. Swarms of passengers butt and shove around, unsure of what their fates have in their favor. Saying your “excuse me’s” and “may I get through’s,” you reach the sturdy fencing, instantly getting ahold of the ropes to help lower people and boats.

“Women and children! Only women and children at this time!” yells Officer Lowe.

Hesitation halts you for a moment, looking over to Lowe, “We can’t section the people! It’ll cause further alarm! We won’t be able to stop them once they get antsy Harold!”

“It was Captain’s orders, we’ll be punished if we disobey,” he looks over helplessly, offering a hand to an older woman boarding the longboat.

Looking at him, you can see his own apprehension, “Harold, we need to do this right.”

Properly facing you, he sighs and nods dutifully. Together, you load as many people that could fit then load them swiftly and systematically. However, the more people you helped escape, the more that came flooding in. The people were hysterical, more so as the ship began to shake and quiver.

Startled, you try to find the source, noticing the ship starting to lift. “Shit!” yells a passenger, holding on to the nearest pole. More slurs and screams were met with his, the ship starting to lift up higher and higher to the point that you begged for the strongest upper-body strength available.

Just as the ship stands straight up, the front of the Titanic snaps off, sending the back crashing back into the ocean properly. The passengers that hadn’t fallen swarm the boats again, this time threatening to throw staff workers over.

Stumbling back, you catch yourself from slipping, trying to reason with the people, too caught up in your own fear. But the passengers keep pushing, Officer Murdoch pulling a gun as he reaches your side.

“Stand back! Stand back I tell you, or I’ll shoot!” Murdoch yells, the people only taking few steps away.

“No...” you look at him, “No...This isn’t right. No, your scaring them. Stop!” you warn, tears forming in your eyes.

Officer Murdoch ignores you, unfortunately, uncertainty fueling his actions. Rather, he shoves you into the crowd, “If you cannot work with us, you minus well join them. We wouldn’t have been in this mess if you’d done your job successfully; better yet, if you’d done your designated job: stayed home and done the wifely duties!”

Stopping all movement, shock courses through your veins as you stare at the man. He’s just scared, you try to reason, but the pain is still there. Shaking your head, you rush through the crowd, letting some of the tears fall as you enter the interior of the ship once more, making your way down the grand staircase.

Too caught up in a swarm of emotions, you bump into a young auburn-haired girl, apologizing briefly before continuing. You are halted within the first few steps however, the girl holding your elbow hostage, “I know you,” she starts.

“I would assume so,” you sniffle.

“You’re Mr. Andrews’ fiance; you helped build this ship, correct?”

“Yes Ma’am,” you flinch.

“Then please, for the love of humanity, you must know what’s happening?”

Staring at her guiltily, you consider not answering.

“Please,” she begs, “Mr. Andrews had told me about the boats, I just need you to confirm my suspicions.

“The Titanic hit, Miss. We are trying our best to alleviate the issue, but-” you inhale sharply, tear welling up in your eyes again. “-But she will sink. And if you truly know the problem with the boats, you do know there’s not enough for everyone?”

Her eyes widen, then her body goes slack, standing openly with her arms at her sides. Nodding weakly, her blue orbs encompass yours, pulling you in for a hug in thanks.

Returning the compassion, you pull away quickly, “You said you’ve talked to Mr. Andrews?”

“Yes, I just saw him in the other room- The First Class Smoking Room,” she recalls as quickly as possible, “I’m sure that’s where you’d been looking for?”

“Yes, thank you so much. Please, get to safety. I truly mean it,” you beg, already speeding off into the direction of your beloved, the ship already beginning to sink lopsidedly.

“Thomas!” you yell, running through room after room, just barely missing his silent, remorseful form draped in front of a mantle. “Thomas!” you cry, tears finally cascading freely.

“Y/N!” he gasps, pulling your body into his instantly. “I couldn’t save them, Love, I can’t.”

“I know Sweetheart, I know,” you sob, pressing his head as tightly to your body as possible.

Slowly, your bodies droop to the floor, still holding each other close as the Titanic creaks and moans. “We tried, My Love. We truly did,” Thomas tries, stroking your hair as you lay your heads in the crooks of each other’s necks.

“I love you, Thomas,” you choke, water crashing through the doors on the opposite side of the room. “I want you to know that there’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you.”

“I love you, too Y/N. Don’t you cry, there’s a special place for us up above, My Love. We are soulmates.”

The water starts to climb towards your feet, enabling more helpless whimpers and tears. Thomas caresses your face, “Don’t pay it any mind. We will be together very soon.”

Sharing a passionate kiss, you wrap your arms around Thomas tightly, as does he, latching onto your back and hips. Together, you close your eyes just as you feel the first splashes of freezing water on your shins; the rest of the world disappearing in a painful darkness as the rest of the Titanic is fully submerged by the Atlantic Ocean. April 15th, 1912, 2:20 a.m.

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80s4life · 2 years

Text

Oh The Places We’ll Go!

Word Count: 1,779

Status: Requested!

Ask: hyeee I hope ur requests are open. is it okay if I request for Fabrizio from Titanic 1997 fluff? Nothing particular for the Fabrizio fluff ask!

@: a cute anon!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I finally got my motivation back and wanted to go back to my older asks! Please don’t be mad at me (including others who have asks, they’re on their way, I promise), they will all get done!

Spoiler: There’s a little guest appearance in the end!

Relationship: Fabrizio x Reader

Fandom: Titanic 1997

Summary: You were class just as he was. You had just as many opportunities as him; the same dinner bowl, dealt hand, and money. But, with all these disadvantages, nothing mattered except for him.

Warnings: fluff, language, not proofread

Masterlist Titanic Masterlist

Taglist: @tangledcopperstrands @snapessecretdiary

{not my gif, it’s @penelopelanefanfiction}

Running across the bridge briskly, you huff as you hand the man the ticket; him looking you over, checking it, and sending you on your way. With an excited laugh that booms off the hallways, you are pointed in the direction of your room, all the possibilities racing in your head. Slowing down as the numbers start to edge nearer to your assigned room, you smile mischievously, knocking on the door with your duffel bag clutched closer to your hip.

You hear some rustling and then a curse, causing you to giggle as the door opens. The man - no, boy - opens the door with a red tint to his cheeks, eyes wide as he takes you in transparently. You clear your throat in order to bring his attention back to your eyes, smile still plastered on your face.

“Hi,” you stick out your hand, “I’m Y/N, and you are?”

Stunned, the boy doesn’t speak for a moment, still staring straight through you. You clear your throat again, coaxing him out of his daze, “F-Fabrizio,” he stutters out with a rich Italian accent.

“Well, F-Fabrizio, you are blocking the door,” you smirk, leaning against the door frame, ultimately forgetting your hand and dropping it. Within seconds, he flies out of the way, still holding the door as he realizes his mistake. You giggle again with the shake of your head, taking in two other boys in the room and choosing the only bed without a duffel bag or some sort of belongings on them.

Clearing his throat, Fabrizio closes the door and turns back around, hands in his pockets. “You can have the bunk if you want.”

“I’m fine with either or, if you want the bunk, you can keep it. I don’t mind the bottom.” Turning around, you acknowledge the other boys, “And, what about you guys? What’re your names?” you smile again, cheeks red from all the excitement.

“I’m Tommy Ryan,” the Irish boy speaks, giving you his hand in great confidence.

“I’m Jack Dawson,” the blonde American speaks up, jumping up from his bed to also offer you his hand, throwing his head back slightly to remove the hair from his eyes.

“Hi again, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you turn back to Fabrizio, “And like I said, ‘I don’t mind the bottom.’”

Nodding, Fabrizio sheepishly climbs on top of the bunk bed, nodding at you before turning to face the wall, going to sleep. Snickering, you nod at the boys as well, jokingly saluting them as you take your leave as well.

...

Waking up, you find that Tommy and Jack are already out of the room. Confused, you look towards the window to find that Fabrizio was still there, writing in a tiny notepad. “Good morning,” you call out, slightly startling him.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he says tight-lipped.

“Where’d the guys run off to?”

“They wanted to explore the ship, cause some trouble while they’re at it... Maybe get some food,” he doesn’t look up at you.

“Why didn’t you go with them? Aren’t you friends with Jack?”

Sucking in a breath, he refuses to meet your gaze, “I wanted to stay back with you. I waited until you got up.”

With both your face and his blushing a deep shade of red, you momentarily are at a loss for words, calming just enough to say, “Oh.”

Nodding, Fabrizio gets prepared to leave, embarrassed as he packs up the little book and pen in his pockets. Just before he leaves out the door, you grab his wrist, “Hey, wait. Let me get changed, we can go exploring together,” you offered.

This time, he looks up at you, smiling, “Sure.”

“Could you wait outside the door though?”

“Oh yes, of course, sorry.”

“You’re not gonna leave while I’m not looking, are you?”

“No, I promise,” he says, face stone still and neutral; he was telling the truth.

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” Smiling, you close the door with a soft click and listen for footsteps for a minute, then dub it okay to get changed. Settling for a light gown that’s in the best shape, you settle it along your body and curves.

You weren’t dealt the best hand when it came to money or luxuries or anything of the sort, but you were content with what you had. You didn’t need all those things to be happy; they were all just short-lived, materialistic objects that last only as long as you’ll let it, then throw it all away. Life, however, was different. It doesn’t go away, at least not for a little while. It gave you things no one else could, and led you to one of a kind adventures. Now that, that was just fine with you.

Clearing your throat, you open the door again, and let go off a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He stayed.

Sticking out your hand, you sarcastically curtsy, “Shall we?”

...

For a while, you’d walked side by side with Fabrizio around the ship, hardly speaking. You just assumed he was shy, or unwilling to get out of his own head, encouraging you to spur him further with jokes and soft nudges.

What you hadn’t known, though, confused you when none of it was reflected off of the exterior of his body. He was truly way too hard to read and seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere but with you.

For, on the inside, Fabrizio was anxious. It was like love at first sight when he saw you, and now he has you all to himself for the day. You were truly gorgeous. You seemed mesmerized and content with everything; you took in every detail, person, or thing that was displayed on the ship. One in a million, if you’re so inclined.

Noticing as the air seemed to cool as the sun started to go to bed, you slumped against a rail, enjoying the scenery. “You can go back to the dorm if you’d like. I believe I’ve dragged you along long enough,” you say, not looking at him willingly.

“Why would I do that?” he asks, leaning against the rail beside you, watching the sunset as well.

“I feel I’ve dragged unwanted company,” you sigh, “I am a bit much sometimes.”

Facing you now, Fabrizio grasps your jaw to make your eyes meet his, “Not at all. Sei un raggio di sole, Cara.”

“I’m sorry?” you laugh, caught off guard.

“Sei un raggio di sole, Cara; You are a ray of sunshine, Dear,” he smiles, blushing lightly.

“Oh,” you blush scarlet, looking down. “Why didn’t you just start with that?”

“I was observing,” he smiles, eliciting a laugh from your chest.

Punching him lightly, you both turn back to watch the end of the show, the stars now wide awake and glittering.

“Well, if that’s the case, I have one more place we can visit and then you’re free to go, Good Sir,” you giggle.

“Lead the way, Cara.”

...

Stepping down the old, rickety stairs of an abandoned below deck, your shoulders and muscles easily relax to the booming warmth of lights, laughter, music, and cigarette smoke. My people.

Through the thick mass of people, you make out the two familiar forms of Jack and Tommy, smiling as you wave to them; returning back to your individual tasks.

Taking Fabrizio’s stiff hand, you giggle, pulling on his arm and swinging him into the mass of sweaty, dancing bodies. “Just loosen up and move with the rhythm!” you scream over the music, indulging in the partnership of a man swaying his hips beside you.

For hours, you danced and swayed. Drank and smoked - only a little! However, the pinkish tint in your eyes refuted your claim. Over time, you watched as Fabrizio had grown into his own skin, playing drinking and card games with the boys in your dorm and even a little dancing with many girls your age.

In your buzzed haze, you would have to admit to yourself that you were a little jealous, but this is what you wanted; he went out of his comfort zone and indulged in the moment.

An Irish jig flipped the once pumped-up American music, encouraging the onlookers and people to clap as they form a big circle around the center of the dance floor. One by one, couples and friends would run into the middle, doing a little dance and hop off.

Jack, accompanied by a ginger-haired broad run into the middle, asking for him to hold her drink as she lifts her dress up to her knees. Slowly, she raises with socked feet unto her tippy toes. Exceeding the normal limit, she stands atop the tips of her toes, screaming out and falling down after an impressive amount of seconds.

Laughing, Jack takes her hand as the crowd cheers, a new couple bounding in, while they go off to dance along the sidelines again. Catching Fabrizio’s eyes, his narrow in on yours, shaking his head in a blurred panic.

You ignore his uncertainty, running into the middle and pulling him in from across the floor. Together, you take arm and hand, doing a swift 4-step. “I knew you could dance!” you laugh, swaying with him as a price would his princess.

“Only with you, Cara,” he smirks, swooping in to catch your lips in his, stopping all movement altogether.

The crowd cheers once more and you can distinctly hear Tommy’s thick, Irish accent whoop above all others.

Pulling back with tinted cheeks, he grab your hand. Smiling with such adoration, it takes Fabrizio’s breath away, pulling you out of the crowd and up those same steps you’d came from initially. You look at him with adventurous and naive eyes, only focused on him.

Bustling through the crowd, you edge up the stairs just as another couple slowly steps down. There was a young woman about your age, pulling a much taller, sophisticated brunette begrudgingly along with her.

You smile, nodding at her whilst she winks, escalating up the stairs with Fabrizio. Where you were going didn’t matter, it was just the mere fact that you were with him. As long as you were together, the world would just slowly fade away, slowing down time just to cater to you. The world was whatever you wanted it to be, you just had to take the bull by the horns.

#fabrizio de rossi #fabrizio de rossi x reader #fabrizio de rossi imagine #fabrizio titanic #fabrizio #fabrizio imagine #fabrizio x reader #titanic 1997 #titanic imagine #titanic x reader #reader insert #jack dawson #leonardo dicaprio #danny nucci #danny nucci x reader #danny nucci imagine

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80s4life · 3 years

Text

Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity.

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased.

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you.

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty.

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted.

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least.

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension.

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation.

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

#john kreese x reader #john kreese imagine #john kreese #martin kove #martin kove x reader #martin kove imagine #terry silver #tig #thomas ian griffith #mike barnes #sean kanan #kk3 #kk1 #kk #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1 #karate kid 3

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80s4life · 3 years

Text

Under Construction

Word Count: 1,841

Status: Suggested!

Ask: Can it be from Stand By Me with Ace were I’m like Teddy’s older sister and also wear glasses and Ace and I don’t really get along, we always bicker and he always teases me, when I’m out in the front yard I hear his car and he runs over my mailbox when I get upset and confront him we get in a little teasing argument when he pushes my glasses from sliding down and we have a moment and kiss.

@: @gpiggy98

Fandom: Stand By Me 1984

Relationship: Ace Merrill x Female!Reader

Summary: He knew you before you knew him. Of course he did. He was the "King" of Castle Rock, or more like the main terrorist that everyone knew about, but never personally. When your brother had left for two days on a trip he stated to be a so called "mission," Teddy returned a different young man. It wasn't until some time later when you'd figured out the truth, that you'd be taking charge and standing your ground to protect your brother. With a big mark on your back and an enemy to subdue, you couldn't help but see more than you'd ever seen before.

Warnings: language, minor injury, fluff!

Masterlist Stand By Me Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @intersellars-the-alien-of-human

{gif not mine, credits go to @gold-chaotic-wizard}

Walking through the front door, silent and head down, Teddy glanced up for a moment, catching your stare, then continuing to his right to go up the stairs. “Teddy?” you call after him, but receive no answer. Placing your book down on the couch and pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose, you call again, “Teddy?” Something's off.

Following him up the stairs, he attempts to slam the door in your face. The attempt, although feeble, made your steps falter a moment. Teddy’s never been one to back out of anything, not even a potential fight- that is, if he’s pissed at you. “Teddy?” you try for the last time, head placed against his bedroom door as you knock lightly.

“...Just go away...” he sounds from within his room, voice muffled and slightly forced. He’s crying. The thought occurs after a moment, enabling you to push through the threshold of his room. Finally able to see him properly, his bag was thrown across the room, glasses dropped beside his bed, his body sprawled across it belly-down. Confirming your earlier thoughts, he lifts his head to look at you for a moment, eyes red and damp with many shed tears.

“What’s up, Bub?” you ask lightly, sitting at the corner of his bed and pulling his head into your lap.

“Promise not to tell mom?”

“I promise,” you say, kissing the tip of your pinkie, then lifting it to the air, “Pinkie Swear, even.”

“I didn’t go to Gordie’s this weekend. Instead, we went on this bitchin’ adventure to go for that lost boy that was in the news. We were going to be on TV if we found him! ...And we did...He was all cut up, and bloody, and torn apart, and-and-and he was just so young. He was my age Y/N. But, then, when we were about to leave, Ace and his gang came to screw us on the whole thing and take the fame, but really, we didn’t want it anymore. Gordie and Chris were trying to cover the boy up instead, we figured it’d be best if no one knew where he was. We thought it would be better if we let him rest in peace rather than being blown all over the newspapers and stuff, ya know? Ace wouldn’t let up though, he didn’t care like we did, so Gordie pulled a gun on him, and he left...for now. He promised he’ll get us for it,” Teddy rants about the whole story of events that happened this weekend. It was when he described the boy’s body that you could finally see why he was so upset. No person should ever see such a thing, even if it was intended as a little adventure.

“Guess they don;t look the same like the movies, huh?” you try to joke, albeit sadly as you could see the swirl of emotions in Teddy’s eyes. He’s never been so vulnerable before, none of his liveliness or joking anywhere in sight.

“God no! That’s what I was thinkin’ he was gonna look like when we got there, but no. It was way worse. The producers and people got that shit wrong!”

“Hey, listen. I’m not gonna tell mom alright? And don’t worry about Ace. You, Gordie, Chris, and Vern have got nothing to worry about, I’m not going to let him get to you guys. Alright?” you ask again, cradling Teddy’s face in your hands as you wipe away the remaining tears with your thumbs. When he nods, you give him a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now get some sleep, I’m making some soup for dinner. Then we can watch Mickey Mouse Club if you want?”

“That sound good,” he mumbles, smoozing into the pillows and blankets comfortably.

Going down the stairs to prepare dinner, you hear a smashing noise from outside. Running to the front door quickly, you’re just able to catch Ace and his gang in a car, peeling down the street with a baseball in Billy Tessio’s hands. “Fuck you Ace!” you yell at him, satisfied when you see his head snap round to look at you, your middle finger high above your head. Just as you expected him to narrow his eyes in anger, he smirks instead, shaking his head and turning around in his seat, disappearing down the street in which he came.

///

This soon became a natural occurrence, Ace either appearing in his red convertible by his lonesome or in a group. Everyday, you are greeted with the same smashing noise of your wooden mailbox being smashed to bits. At some point, even your parents noticed Ace’s behavior and seemingly target on your house. So much so that they’d finally had enough, ordering you to either get him to stop or pay for the replacements. The latter is what you’d ended up with in the end, getting into multiple squabbles with Ace that end the exact same: him finding amusement in the whole ordeal, you flustered and out of good comebacks, and the result being that Ace continued his charades. It pissed you off to no end, the way he’d just flaunt his shit, all cocky without remorse.

That’s when an idea occurred.

///

Marching down the front steps leading to your front door, you continue your way down to the end of the driveway. Looking down the street, you catch the familiar glow of his red convertible, this time only him in the car. Nodding to yourself, you hide behind the bush nearest the mailbox, out of view of Ace when he arrives. For days, you timed when Ace came around, the times almost lining up perfectly, like this was a part of his everyday schedule now.

The car, now coming to a slow stop, parks but remains on, the driver’s side door clamping shut upon impact as Ace steps out. Grabbing the wooden bat from the back seat, he makes his way around the car and prepares to line up his shot on the mailbox. Just as he gets ready to swing, you jump out from the bush; a horrible decision as his grip slips, the bat making connection with the side of your knee.

Jumping back a little, it takes him a moment to notice what had just happened, your body splayed across the grass as an already purple bruise forms on your leg, whimpering in pain. “Ow!” you scream at him, trying not to cry as you get back on your feet, rubbing slow circles on the area, “Dickhead!”

“Who-Who you callin’ Dickhead, Sweets?” he stutters, still starstruck.

“I am! You just hit me with a damn bat, you Idiot!”

“Oh, so now I’m an Idiot, too?! Who the hell jumps in front of someone with a fucking bat in their hands?!”

“I didn’t expect you to swing, dammit! I thought you’d stop when you saw me, not go through with it!” you yell, trying not to cry even more now as the pain becomes evident and the tears bubble up in your eyes.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have gotten so damn close, and I could’ve missed!”

“You shouldn’t even be here! You shouldn’t be coming around here every. Damn. Day. Just to smash my fucking mailbox that I pay for by the way! You’ve broken so many of them that now it’s become my responsibility to pay for the new ones! And for what? Because a couple of boys found a dead kid? What were you even supposed to gain from that?! Why couldn’t you have just left everyone and everything alone?!” you scream, voice cracking at the end as the tears start to fall in frustrated droplets.

The air seems to get filled up in an intense silence, neither of you speaking nor looking at each other directly for a while. After some time, Ace speaks up, “Is that why you came out here today? To tell me everything I fuck up in?”

“No, Ace, I wanted to tell you to leave my brother and his friends alone. And, if you were just a smidge kind enough, to keep my mailbox out of it too,” you sniffle, looking at your feet.

As your glasses start to slide down the bridge of your nose again, you go to push them back up, Ace beating you to it however. Looking up at him, his hands stay on either side of your face, his thumb stroking at the soft skin. Eyes darting from his eyes to his lips, your cheeks heat up at the proximity. “What are you doing, Ace?” you whisper, so close, your breath ghosts across his lips.

“You mean, what are we doing?” he whispers back, pulling your face to his in a searing kiss just as you go to argue once more.

Slowly, you ease into the kiss, eyes fluttering close as you give in to the warmth and love behind it. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, he goes to wrap his arms around your hips, finding comfort there. You forget about the pain in your knee for as long as possible, eventually pulling away from him in a flustered, embarrassed way as you go to check up on the bruise.

Getting on his knees, Ace takes your leg in his grasp, looking over what he’d done, ashamed. “It looks pretty bad, Y/N...Want me to go take you to go get it checked out?” he asks nicely, a different side of him.

“It’s just a bruise, I’ll be fine. I swear. But, if plan on this getting anywhere,” you start, pointing between the two of you, “then you better wise up, ya got me?”

“Yes ma’am!” Ace solutes lazily, smirking as he looks at the ground.

“Good,” you try to say sternly, breaking into a grin when you looks up at you through his eyelashes. “You wanna come inside and help me ice it?”

Chuckling now, Ace straightens, going to shut off the car and take the keys, grabbing your hand and leading you back through the front door. Giggling, you follow him as he tries to find everything himself, sitting you down on the couch, switching the TV on, scrambling around to find the freezer, and coming back with a bag of frozen peas.

Panting as he hands you the peas, he stands out of breath from the little scavenger hunt, watching you. “Come on Lover-boy,” you say, pulling him down next to you on the couch by his shirt. Kicking off your shoes, he follows the same, eventually spreading out to cuddle one another. As your eyes drift to sleep in a light haze, you completely forget about the soup in the oven, jumping back up when the smell of smoke fills the room, “Shit!”

#ace merrill x reader #female reader insert #ace merrill imagine #ace merrill #stand by me #stand by me imagine #stand by me x reader #teddy duchamp #billy tessio #vern tessio #gordie lachance #chris chambers #eyeball chambers #kiefer sutherland #kiefer sutherland x reader #kiefer sutherland imagine #1984

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80s4life · 2 years

Text

Party's Over

Word Count: 852

Status: Not Suggested!

A/N: GUNNAR! GUNNAR! GUNNAR! *squeals*

Side-Note: This one’s an unintentional shortie and I hate it. I apologize in advance.

Fandom: The Expendables Series

Relationship: Gunnar Jensen x Reader

Summary: Stubborn. Rude. A hot head. A basket Case. Crazy. Suicidal. Many people had warned you of the Swedish Mountain's faults, yet, you stayed anyway. Because, to you, that's what they were: faults, just like any other person. He was perfect. Determined. Smart. A Teddy Bear. A Protector. He was yours, even as he is forced away from you, burdened by his own demons.

Warnings: language, bar fight, under the influence (alcohol), name-calling (defense mechanism), potential break up, pretty angsty

Masterlist Expendables Masterlist

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

{I do not own this gif, credits go to -> @bullwinklemoose}

*His grouchy face gives me tingles...And his voice...And his body...And- I'm sorry...*

“Gunnar!” you scream, following the huge mass of man out of the bar he’d just destroyed, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What the fuck am I doing? What are you doing?” he swings himself around, quick to attack you with his own words.

“I was having a great old time before you came charging in! I wasn’t doing anything this time!”

“Like you weren’t showing yourself around? Like you weren’t trying to be Caesar’s perfect little bitch?”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you! Like you weren’t flirting with Maggie back when we were trying to fight off Vilain?! Oh, but that’s right, I’m not allowed to say something like that because it’ll piss you off! God forbid I call you out when you act like a damn baby all the time!”

“It was different then; a long fucking time ago too! We weren’t together yet and you were still stuck whoring around the place!”

“I was whoring around?!” you scream, completely ballistic now that you got him alone in the alleyway, no one able to hear you. “You get jealous if one guy so much as looks at me for less than a second! Especially Caesar! You do know I have a life outside of the time I spend with you- a life before you!”

“Good! Then it’ll be just as easy to go back to it then, huh?”

“W-What?” you stuttered, caught by surprise at his insinuation.

“If it was so damn grand before you met me, then go back to it! I never asked you to get together with me. Fuck, I mean, I never even wanted you in the first place! You were just so easy to wander into my bed when I wanted you to!”

“I was easy?!” you scream, his words slashing at your heart.

“Oh come on! The way you strutted around the place, wearing next to nothing just to spite me. The way you’d give me the look all the time just to see if I was watchin’! Yeah I saw all of them!”

“You want to know what the look was Gunnar? Huh? Do ya?!” you taunt him, slowly teetering off the edge of sobbing on the ground right in front of him. But you won’t do that, you won’t let him beat you down just to feel superior.

“Oh please-”

“Love! Cold hard, bone crushing, soul-wrenching love! And, get this, for a man that can’t stand being with me for an estimated 2 hours!”

“That’s not true-”

“Oh, but it is Gunnar! You see, we don’t work together. Despite how hard I try, you always seem to seek reasons to tear us apart because it makes you feel weak,” you inform him shakily, drops of rain starting to fall out of the forming storm clouds.

“I warned you time and time again before we even got together Y/N. I’m a broken man you can’t just fix and make brand new. You can’t change a person to be how you want them,” Gunnar states, turning his back on you.

“Gunnar-” you get cut off by the rain starting to pour down, only increasing as time passes by. Gunnar takes this chance to start walking off, flipping his hood on his head for some cover, hands tucking into his jacket pockets. “Gunnar!” you yell, tears starting to mix in with the rain.

He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t even spare you a glance. If you squint, you could swear he honestly sped up.

“Gunnar! God dammit!” you scream helplessly, “Please!”

Your beg stops him in his tracks, grimacing at the sound of your voice cracking with tell-tale signs of crying.

“Gunnar...I-” you choke up, “I don’t want this to end. I won’t let it end. I just - can’t,” you sob, hugging yourself as you hear his footsteps once again, overpowered by the rain.

Just as you go to look up, unable to sense your surroundings, strong and warm arms coil themselves around your shaking form, Gunnar’s head resting on top of yours. Feeling his body against yours again, you sob harder, knowing what you’re fighting for is not one-sided.

“Please Gunnar. I wanna work this out with you. Not Barney, not Yin Yang, or Lee, or Toll, or Caesar for Christ’s sake - you,” you sniffle, wrapping your arms underneath his own, and clinging your hands on the backsides of his shoulder blades in an attempt to keep him as close as you could muster.

“I know baby, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” Gunnar whispers, a hand coming up to lightly pet your head. “I’m going to try Y/N, I swear. I’ll put down the drinks. I’ll even doing breathing techniques or somethin’,” Gunnar swears, a tear of his own slipping from his eye as he witnesses the pain he’s sent your through, still in disbelief that someone like you could feel so much for a man like himself.

208 notes · View notes

80s4life · 2 years

Text

Being A Chambers Kid & Dating Ace Merrill HC”*

Word Count: 1,254

Status: Requested!

Ask: headcannons for what it would be like for the reader being eyeball and chris’s sister dating ace merill? and some NSFW ones too if you’re okay with that :)

A/N: Hi anon! This HC ended up being split up by before, during, and after the relationship had ended *depending on choice*. In addition, in order for me to fully portray what I’m trying to say, I have a song list below as well (it’s not too long, like 5 songs). Enjoy!

Fandom: Stand By Me 1984

Relationship: Ace Merrill x Female!Chambers!Reader

Summary: You were his forbidden fruit, his best friend’s little sister, strictly the only woman Ace couldn’t have. But, he’s has never been one to follow rules, has he? Ace simply straps you down for the long-haul of emotions constantly swirling about, making you wonder, “Is this good for me? Is this just a fling or something built to last?”

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary @tangledcopperstrands

Warnings: smut, dirty talking, breaking the law, running away from the law, angsty thoughts, angst/sadness, fluff, sweet gestures, abusive tones (but not much)

Masterlist Stand By Me Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits go to @buckygal95}

Before: “The Calm Before The Storm”

You were the “Small Chambers”

Although you were stuck between the two boys, Richard “Eyeball” being 19 and Chris being 12, you were the complete opposite of the two, 17, and only girl in a house filled with testosterone and hormones

Since childhood, Ace had been tied to your brother and family - always around, always apparent, always smart-mouthing

In some ways, you liked it, loving Ace from the moment you met him

However, you were his brother’s best friend, and he was a dangerous man always shouldering the world

During the summer of 1955, you’d taken up a summer program across the country, always seeking to excel in school

Ace secretly felt as if something was missing when you left, but was unable to truly pay attention to it

He couldn’t be in love, it just wasn’t Ace

It wasn’t until you turned 17, when you returned to Castle Rock in 1959, did Ace finally take notice to your changed appearance, no longer the little girl he remembered picking on

Your figure was fuller, comfortable in its final shape, decorated with just right amount of curve, deliciously plump lips, and catching eyes that seemed stern and determined even on a clam day

You were gorgeous...but Ace wasn’t going to let you know that

During: “The Missing Pieces Finally Connect”

He never formally asked you out. Instead, he simply grabbed your arm while you were walking down the sidewalk with your friends, saying something like, “You look hungry, you should really eat something,” whilst he steered you around and dragged you to the diner

You played pool, drank, and smoke, like old times

It felt comfortable even after all the time you’d been away, and by the time you were ready to leave, a whole day was spent

He dragged you into the alleyway that night, tipsy and happy, pinned you against the wall and did something you’d always dreamed of, he kissed you

From then on, you tried to keep the relationship under wraps

Never had a mom to gossip to and not enough trusting friends, but you told Chris

Chris almost fainted. Couldn’t believe, “That Asshole’s dating my sister!”

He promised to keep the secret after he realized how happy you were

Eventually, Eyeball does fins out too, but says nothing except shaking his head defeated

Dating Ace is bliss:

Light touches when the boys weren’t around/paying attention

Forehead, cheek, and nose kisses, although they are very fleeting (unless making out privately)

Smashing mailboxes with the boys

Setting abandoned houses on fire

Stealing stuff from the drug stores

Running away from the cops hand-in-hand

Laughing and joking constantly

All-night car drives in the middle of the summer

Making out in the backseat of his car

Definitely fucked in his car, parent’s bed, on a table, in a bathroom, anywhere he could get his hands on

Ace loves hickies, bites, or just generally marking you as his even if the public didn’t know it, “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine.”

Ass and thighs worshiper (I said what I said)

10/10 with his tongue

Loves to peg you over and over again with his mouth and hands alone

Even with your strong character, you are definitely a bottom when it comes to Ace

Fucks you long and hard without remorse

WILL keep you up all night if he was really antsy or wanted to “teach you a lesson”

You’re a brat, but who cares?

Your relationship does have its lows though:

Petty arguments every once in a while

Ace, although hides it under his mask, is very insecure

Gets jealous after a while of being around one of the gang/men/males in general

His tough upbringing does make him deny any feelings for a person, let alone giving and receiving love, making it hard for you to break down his walls

You DO get through to him though, scaring him as he “feels weak,” but feels that he can trust you (as he should lol)

Ace says “I love you” first

It caught the both of you off-guard, but made the moment even better as he’d said it from the bottom of his heart

You cried (I would cry) and easily reciprocated with sincerity

He gives you pet names like “Baby doll” “Baby Chambers” “Munchkin” “Doll-face” “Honey (sarcastically most of the time)” and “Queen (occasionally)”

You settle for whatever fits at the moment, and when something new sparks, Ace always flushes a pink tint and smiles goofily while he looks down

You do have some common ones though, “My Man” “Daddy (just to mess with him)” “Blondie” “Gummy Bear” and “King of Castle Rock/King”

The Breakup: “Can’t Live Without You”

Most likely his jealousy

Ace likes to runs his mouth when he’s pissed off and doesn’t watch it when it comes to you

Throws things near you, never at you

Calls you all the names under the sun, but it’s ��whore” or names based on cheating on him that hits you harder

Compares how wild you are when with him to you cheating making sense, “I should’ve known, the way you suck was just too good, huh?”

You fire back as well, mentioning his behavior rather than the unjustified claims he spews, knowing you’d never felt any other way than you did with him, completely loyal

By the end of the fights, it either ends in make-up sex or separating yourselves for a few hours

Ace isn’t one for apologies, but he does show you kindness and a softer side when he’s given the chance

Scolds himself when he hears you cry about something he said in the spur of the moment

The fights don’t ever end in breaking up, you can’t live without each other

That is, until you feel enough is enough

It’s hard, but you pack your stuff when he’s out with the boys, avoiding you

You don’t give him the say, he’s said enough

But, you do at least leave a note of your departure, going back home to Chris and Eyeball

They take you in with open arms, Eyeball somewhat being understanding and sympathetic when you go through your depression period

Constantly wondered if what had happened was your fault, if something could’ve changed the way you went out

Chris made jokes, “You know...I never really liked him anyways.”

You feel as if this is the end for you, but you’re better than that

After: “Love Lost, Lessons Learned”

You still see each other all the time, making moving on harder than you originally thought

Every place arises at least one good memory with Ace: the diner, the park, the long dirt roads, mailboxes, shiny new cars waiting to be driven, even toothpicks

You do, however, find the closer you were missing

You move on, you forgive him, you become you again

Or, a new you, as Ace had never deteriorated the person you were, he helped build an even stronger woman (he’s not manipulative/abusive!)

You catch each other staring sometimes, talk too

A friendship was rebuilt, the man you’d known was always still there

And, who knows, maybe a break was all you needed, and a story is still left unfinished?

Songs: “Bittersweet Melodies”

“Fire on Fire” by Sam Smith

“You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae

“It’s You” by Ali Gatie

“Dandelions” by Ruth B.

“Infinity” by James Young

“Happier” by Ed Sheeran

#ace merill imagine #ace merrill x reader #ace merrill #kiefer sutherland #kiefer sutherland imagine #kiefer sutherland x reader #eyeball chambers #bradley gregg #chris chambers #river phoenix

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