#and it had the similar... i dunno how to call it. but his voice in my head would sound like that when laughing

[crunchchute]

finally finished reading TSE *insert shackles chain breaking at sunset reaction picture*

[ddejavvu]

eddie brock my sweet boyfriend ❤️ you definitely have to teach him how to properly cook cause all he fucking eats is frozen tater tot, chicken nuggets, and takeout.

“Ok now we need to boil water for the pasta”

“How do you do that?”

“???? Eddie????”

Venom greets you at the door to Eddie's apartment before you can even knock, his teeth glinting in the low light of the hallway. You're always uneasy about him being seen, but there's not much foot traffic this far down the hallway.

"The oven is on fire," He informs you, with the same grin that he usually uses to say 'Hello, sex kitten.' He'd heard the phrase in a comedy once, and has not given it up no matter how many times you and Eddie plead with him.

"The- what?" Your similar grin fades, and you shove your way past him into the apartment.

Eddie calls from the kitchen, "The oven is not on fire!" But there's a panicked edge to his voice that you presume means the oven is, in fact, on fire.

"Eddie." You gush when you're finally granted a clear view of the kitchen. The doorway had been blocking most of the counter space, but now that you're standing inside, amidst a cloud of barely-breathable smoke, you see a charred mass inside the oven that you can't believe was once food.

"What happened?" You ask, and you wish there was more conviction in your tone, but you can't muster it. You're dumbfounded, aghast, and perhaps flabbergasted as well.

"The lasagna I planned for tonight needed to be thawed," Eddie explains, and Venom, like the traitor he is, sticks by your side, suspended from Eddie's own by a thick tendril of black goo, "And I didn't know that. I didn't have a day to leave it out on the counter, but it said to cook it at 425 for- like, an hour or something, once it was thawed. So I just-"

"Eddie," You warn, as if you can change the fate of the story by stopping him from telling you the ending.

Of course, that's not how it works.

"I put it in there at a higher temperature. For a few hours, too, because there was still ice on the top. I dunno," He scrapes a tired hand over his scruffy face, "I just thought- I thought it would work."

"It doesn't work," You note sadly, "Um- okay. Well, we can't eat that, so shove it in a trash bag and throw it away."

You watch as Eddie deals with the charred mass of lasagna, probably still frozen solid on the inside. You chance a glance into his fridge and something sickly twists at your gut when you find eggs and ketchup. That's it.

A peek into his freezer reveals frozen tater tots. Of course.

"Okay," You huff, shoving your sleeves up your forearm, "We're having breakfast for dinner, Eddie. Turn the stove on."

You place a pan onto the stovetop, intent on cracking eggs into it, but when Eddie turns a knob to heat the glass surface, he chooses the wrong one, and a burner on the other side of the stove flares to life.

"Oh, Eddie." You hum, and he looks appropriately sheepish, "Okay, just- don't touch anything, and watch me."

"I can do that," He nods, and Venom comes to hover over your shoulder.

"Are those eggs from Sonny and Cher?" He asks, and you feel slightly chastised from his scrutiny.

"Uh- yeah, Venom. They are." Eddie nods, watching you with a cautious gaze.

"You said I was not allowed to eat babies," Venom's eyes narrow, milky white and slimy, at his host, "Have babies been on-limits this whole time? How could you not tell me!"

"No! No, Venom, no eating babies," You inform the symbiote, trying to calm his rage before it has a chance to truly begin, "Eddie, while I make dinner, you lay out the ground rules for baby consumption."

"Copy that," Eddie nods, taking on Venom's indignance with a steely gaze and squared shoulders, "Only chicken babies, bud. And only if they're still in the eggshell."

Venom responds to this new information by taking the egg from your hand, crunching it whole between his teeth, shell and all. You suppose that's exactly what he was told to do. Neither you nor Eddie can stop him in time, but when the symbiote decides that raw egg is not his favorite flavor, you're both stunned into stiff silence as you're covered with the goopy, spit-up remains of the egg.

"Chicken babies are disgusting!" Venom declares, gargling water from the sink that nearly breaks beneath his heavy hand, "I would much rather eat human babies."

[nico-the-newt]

Enemies to Lovers - Ellie Williams x reader

summary: you and Ellie had hated each other the moment you stepped foot in Jackson. Others disagree.

warnings: swearing, Ellie's a bit of a dick, mentions guns

You could honestly say that you had no idea how it happened. One moment you were scanning through the old, abandoned supermarket with Jesse for supplies, laughing at something stupid he had said. And suddenly, in an instance, you found yourself being ambushed by a hoard of runners.

Patrol had started off as it usually did when you were grouped with Dina, Jesse and Ellie. The four of you were walking down the old, dirt road to the abandoned supermarket that Maria had assigned you to patrol. As usual, Jesse and Dina were being coupley and affectionate - arms wrapped around each other, hands linked, noses bumping, as you and Ellie grumpily walked beside them, shooting each other looks and making snide remarks. The pair of you had had a strained relationship since your arrival in Jackson two years before. You thought she was rude and cocky. She thought you were obnoxious and demanding. In fact, the pair of you despised each other so much you weren’t even aware that you were very similar - personality-wise.

You still cursed Jesse for forcing you on patrol with Ellie. He and Dina had some sort of weird idea that you and Ellie secretly liked each other, enemies to lovers, as Dina put it. You had laughed in their faces.

“Not if she was the last person in the world,” you had scoffed, but that did not change their minds in the slightest.

When you finally arrived at the old building, you were extremely tired and grumpy. Ellie had spent the first ten minutes of the walk complaining about how late you had been that morning (she had arrived twenty minutes early to patrol just to give you a hard time), which sparked an argument that lasted for the rest of the trip. You could tell Dina and Jesse were completely  over the pair of you and it secretly made you pleased to prove them wrong.

“Jeez, look at this place,” Ellie sighed in admiration when you entered the supermarket. You couldn’t deny that you shared her admiration. There was something so beautiful about the place being covered in vines and sunlight streaming in through a big hole in the roof, lighting up the entire store. You wouldn’t let that be known though.

“‘Jeez, look at this place’” you imitated in an annoying voice that sounded nothing like Ellie.

“Hey, what’s your fucking problem, man!” Ellie exclaimed, storming towards you.

“You are-!”

“Okay!” Dina called, coming between you and Ellie before the shoving and arguing began again. “This place is pretty big - why don’t we pair up and split off. Ellie and I’ll look on this side, you guys look on that side.”

Ellie shot a scowl at you, which you gladly returned, but you followed Dina’s orders nonetheless and trailed off after Jesse.

“You and Ellie need to chill,” he said, after a period of companionable silence.

“Ellie needs to stop being an asshole,” you grumbled, causing Jesse to let out a laugh.

“You’re just as much of an asshole as she is,” he chuckled, shaking his head  in amusement and slipping a bottle of disinfectant he had found into his bag.

“No one is as big of an asshole as Ellie is,” you said pointedly. “Except maybe you~”

“Oof, low blow,” Jesse grinned, placing a hand over his chest in mocked hurt. “However will I get over that one?"

“Please, you’ll get over it,” you had laughed, finally starting to feel at ease for the first time that day. Unfortunately, the feeling had left as soon as it came due to a loud crash coming from the loading dock behind you.

“The fuck was that?” You muttered, instantly grabbing your gun and pointing it in the direction of the loading dock.

“Dunno,” Jesse hissed, drawing his gun too. When there was no other noise after a few minutes, you both slowly started edging your way towards where the original sound had come from. You practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. A cold bead of sweat dripped down the back of your neck and you almost found yourself holding your breath. However, the anticipation was all for nothing, as when you had poked your head around the corner, there was nothing there but old, dusty boxes and a rusty hand truck.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, a frown crossing your brow. “Weird.”

You stepped back towards Jesse, unaware of the runner that had been coming up behind you until its hands were grasping your shoulders and it was trying to bite your neck off. You didn’t even have enough time to be scared as several gunshots went off and caused our ears to ring like crazy and your vision to fog over.

“Come on!”

Jesse grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the area and back into reality. It was only when you could hear again and actually heard the screams and groans, along with the sound of rabid footsteps behind you, that you finally found control of your legs once more and began to run. Jesse and you crashed through a door and into a small office at the back of the store. Jesse pressed his body up against the door and you quickly copied, as there was nothing to barricade the door with. This is how I die. We’re gonna die. You couldn’t stop these morbid thoughts from bouncing around in your brain as you used all your body weight and strength to push against the door, despite the fact that the strength of the infected easily overpowered you and the door had begun to come off its hinges. You were certain they were about to break the door down completely, and was preparing for the worst, when you suddenly heard a series of gunshots outside, followed by some grunt and yells, and finally, silence. The pressure you had been fighting off against the door had stopped, though you and Jesse remained pressed against it for a few minutes - neither of you sure if it was actually safe. It was only when you heard Dina anxiously yell for the both of you that you realised it was over and cautiously moved back from the door - just in time for her to practically kick the door down and throw herself at Jesse when she realised you were both still alive. You closed your eyes and leaned back against the desk to catch your breath, completely oblivious to Ellie’s presence looming towards you at speed. It was only when she practically shoved you over and cupped your face to see you for herself that your eyes flew open and you stared at her, confused but not disliking the feeling of her hands on your face.

“You fucking idiot!” She exclaimed, letting go of your face and wrapping you in a hug. You were surprised at the contact but didn’t care and hugged her back, simply grateful to be alive and not bitten. And that Ellie was hugging you

“It’s okay. It’s over,” you sighed, rubbing her back comfortingly and raising your middle finger towards Jesse and Dina when you saw them smirking at the pair of you.

“Enemies to lovers,” Dina mouthed with a smug smile.

Part 2 can be found here:

[livingemkayde]

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?”  What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.  “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”  “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head. 

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it. 

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy. 

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.” 

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink. 

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully. 

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all. 

“No, I don’t think —” 

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes. 

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far. 

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.” 

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.” 

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?” 

“Why.” 

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.” 

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.” 

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice. 

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink. 

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside. 

“Hello?” 

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes. 

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window. 

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight? 

“Jesus. No — no.” 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. 

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly. 

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.” 

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought. 

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl. 

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.” 

Love you, bye. 

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately. 

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good. 

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys. 

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers. 

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment. 

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things. 

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day. 

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief. 

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before. 

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten. 

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar. 

“I did good, didn’t I?” 

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. 

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” 

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now. 

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do. 

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy. 

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely. 

Jealous? Yeah. That one. 

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can. 

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice. 

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long. 

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back. 

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.” 

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away. 

Good for him.  

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone. 

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore? 

“You alright?” 

You snap your head to Tommy again. 

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears. 

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.” 

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one. 

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind —  saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault. 

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet. 

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears? 

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop. 

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one. 

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?” 

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.” 

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs. 

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back. 

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers. 

You can see her better in this light. 

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older. 

More like Tommy — more like Joel. 

More age appropriate. 

Less like you. 

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit. 

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud. 

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs. 

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods. 

“What did you study?” 

“English.” 

“Ah. English. Remember those days.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink. 

Great. Journalist. 

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you. 

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation. 

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd. 

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze. 

How could you be so stupid? 

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel. 

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start. 

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway. 

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel. 

~

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him. 

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose. 

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night. 

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed. 

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

 Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building. 

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through. 

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes. 

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser. 

Maybe you want it to hurt. 

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is. 

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude. 

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough. 

“You should come. Right, Joel?” 

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother. 

“To my party?” 

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower. 

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?” 

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere. 

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face. 

Jesus. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met. 

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Need some air,” you say. 

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends. 

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away. 

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words. 

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—” 

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you. 

“I do — wanna help.” 

You smile shyly. 

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.” 

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar. 

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. 

Suddenly, the air feels less playful. 

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you. 

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.” 

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.” 

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face. 

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you— 

Stop this. 

~

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever. 

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —” 

I like you. I want you. I need you. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities. 

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you. 

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind. 

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead— 

“Where are you goin’?” 

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you. 

Because that’s all you want. You just want him. 

“Home.” 

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it. 

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his. 

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave. 

Please. 

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all. 

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

~

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer. 

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too. 

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes. 

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man. 

Not like Tommy. 

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately. 

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken. 

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment. 

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that. 

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to. 

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside. 

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed. 

~

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck. 

You grumble with him. 

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.” 

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving. 

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.” 

You smile lazily at him. 

“Like you aren’t?” 

He laughs back. 

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash. 

Tommy speaks first. 

“What’d you and Joel talk about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much. 

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.” 

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help  — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar. 

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.” 

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.” 

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well thanks anyways.” 

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness. 

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?” 

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question. 

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle. 

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.” 

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest. 

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes. 

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away. 

Tommy continues when you don’t respond. 

“Took her home though.” 

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart. 

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life. 

Tommy pulls up to your driveway. 

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park. 

“Is that —  like —  an issue?”

 Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?” 

“No. Think she’s good for him.” 

There it is again. 

Good for him. 

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion. 

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements. 

You don’t pull away. 

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face. 

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away. 

“Jesus.” 

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time. 

You’re scared of what he might say. 

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips. 

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?” 

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now. 

“No, like — like a date. I guess.” 

_

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

[jusalle]

Richarlison Headcannons💛

When you first met Richarlison, he was shy, but once you got to know him, he was a bundle of joy.

Whenever you called him "darling" "love" or any nickname, he would always get so flustered with you.

Also you absolutely fell in love with his voice, the way he spoke Portuguese to you.

Then the same with you, when he would call you "amor" "baby" "princesa" you would always get so nervous.

Then the same for Richarlison he fell in love with your voice when you spoke Spanish to him.

You would always speak Spanish to him and he would speak Portuguese to you since they were so similar. Also you knew he wasn't the best at English.

His weakness would probably be your kisses. His knees would always go so weak.

Richarlison would always wake up early so he just admire you until you woke up

One thing he noticed about you is that you always get nervous under his gaze

"Amor look at me" Richarlison said while chuckling

When he said that you still didn't look at him, so he grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

Once you looked at his light brown eyes, you face turned red

The way he looked at you just made you nervous, especially when he's taller than you and he had to look down at you.

He loved when you went to his practices and game cause he would always try his hardest for you.

Every time he scored he would make a heart with his hands and point at you.

Richarlison was very observant and he noticed any little thing, if you were quiet he would notice and if you didn't want to eat he would notice.

"Hey are you okay princesa?, you've hadn't even talked the whole gathering, you looked tense. Do you wanna go home right now Princesa?"

When Richarlison had to leave early in the morning for practice, you didn't want him to leave and he did didn't want to leave you either.

"Please stay with me, I don't want you to go to practice, it's to early love."

"Amor I gotta go or else Neymar will kill me again" Richarlison said laughing

"How about when I get home, I'll spoil you with all my love, does that sound good?"

"Of course Mi Amor"

Richarlison really loved that you were so supportive of him and always respected his choices and himself

When he would be stressing and get overwhelmed with people and start tearing up, you would always sit in his lap, facing him and wipe every single tear that fell on his cheek.

When you guys first went into the relationship, he was always so kind to you because he knew about past relationship and you did the same for him.

Whenever you guys were alone, you guys would dance with eachother and hold eachother and be in eachothers presence.

Richarlison is a interesting person, he would do the most funniest and dumbest things. Like for example he would do his pigeon dance.

After the a hard game for Richarlison, you would always cook his favorite foods. Then lay in bed with eachother and you giving him massages.

When you have a cold, you didn't want Richarlison to take care of you, you knew Richarlison already had alot on his plate but no, he's stubborn and still helps you.

"Amor don't come near me, I don't want you getting sick"

"Princesa, it's okay, just let me help you please"

••••

Hello everyone, I hope you guys enjoy this one, somone requested it so I'll shall deliver. But if you guys have any request I'll gladly ACCEPT💛. Also yall need to give me new characters to write about cause I dunno if yall like some Jude Bellingham or some more ochoa or chicharito or ney?

[faux-ecrivain]

Yan Investigator

(Fourteenth Official Post)

(Yan’s name is Samuel Goodman)

(This is more of my old writing style.)

(Trigger Warning: You are a serial killer in this post and there is also blood, mentions of death and kidnapping.)

Yan investigator who was hired by his client to find his client’s wife, of course he accepted, because he needed the money. 

Yan investigator who finds his Client’s wife, but she sadly passed away.

Yan investigator who discovers that maybe his client’s wife’s death wasn’t an accident, maybe it was murder.

Yan investigator who starts to ask questions about his client’s wife’s (her name is Anna) whereabouts. 

Yan investigator who immediately finds you suspicious, especially considering that strange smile on your face. But then you mention other suspicious individuals and you treat him so kindly, there’s no way you could be the killer.

Yan investigator who finds that Anna’s death is quite similar to other deaths in the area where Anna was found. He concludes that Anna was a victim of a serial killer.

Yan investigator who studies the past serial killers victims, who finds that the killers M.O usually involves playing dress up and posing their victims.

Yan investigator who begins to find evidence linking you to the crime, but he has to be sure.

Yan investigator who learns that your a photographer and a makeup artist, but surely you wouldn’t be dumb enough to base your M.O off your skills. (You are)

He groans and face palms, for some reason he found you to be frustrating. This could be due to the fact that you don’t answer any of his questions and keep running the conversation in a circle. He massages his temple and exhales sharply. “Okay, let’s try this again. Where were you Friday the 21st of November at 11:30 p.m during the year 2023?” He made sure that this was a clear enough question, surely you can answer that.

You tilt your head and place a finger on your chin, you narrow your eyes and pretend to be remembering that night. Then you shrug and respond with a rather air headed tone of voice. “Dunno, can’t remember. Would you like something to drink?” Samuel resists the urge to strangle you, as you respond in a rather annoying manner. This is the seventh time you’ve asked him if he wants something to drink  and the fourth time you said you didn’t remember. He can’t tell if you’re playing stupid or just playing pretend.

Yan investigator who gives up on questioning you directly, no, he’ll go about this is a different manner. He’ll earn your trust and then gather all the evidence he needs. So, he begins to befriend you, which is surprisingly easy. You’re quite friendly.

Yan investigator who finds himself denying the possibility that you could be the killer, although he knows he shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss such theories, but you’re so friendly, so charming and everyone likes you.

Yan investigator who, over the course of a few weeks, begins to view you as a potential spouse rather than a simple suspects.

Yan investigator who is appalled at your willingness to share everything about your life the moment he simply asks you to share some secrets. (You mean he didn’t have to spend hours questioning you, all he had to do was have a sleepover with you and share some embarrassing secrets?!?!?) 

You even show him mementos of your victim and confess that you killed them because they tried to leave you. Which, Samuel wouldn’t lie, it made his heart flutter at thought of your devotion. (If you could call it that, but i would call it possessiveness) Then, you tell him that you’ll do the same to him if he ever tries to leave.

He stares at you, mouth agape as he tries to formulate a response. He’s flattered but also intimidated, how should he respond to this? I mean, he’s never has a criminal (or anyone for that matter) speak to him in such a way. (Samuel has issues) He can’t help but think about the idea that you love him so much (platonically of course, not that he cares) that you would do whatever it takes to keep him with you.

But now he has a moral dilemma, should he turn you in or hide the truth and blame Anna’s death on someone else? Unfortunately his morals dictate that he just call the police, so he backs away and says he’ll be right back. He tries to ignore the puppy dog eyes you give him when he leaves you in the basement. He manages to find his phone (which wasn’t hard, he just misplaced it) and begins to call the police. Then you interrupt him, your voice so innocent and your gaze so confused. (“What are you doing, Samuel?  I thought we were friends.”) His morals waver and his mind is distracted by your disappointment.

He tries to speak, explain himself and then you start shaking your head. You sigh, expressing your disappointment with his behavior. (“I thought I could trust you, I suppose I was wrong.”) Then it’s like your mood has switched, you’re not mad, but you aren’t happy. You approach him and he swears that you radiate danger. He decides to just call the police, but it’s too late. You stop him and even crush his phone, he can’t help but wince when the glass digs into your skin, and yet you seem unbothered by the pain.

Yan investigator who tries to escape you, tries to fight back, and even tries to manipulate you into setting him free. 

“You don’t have to do this [Y/N], just let me go and I swear I won’t tell anyone!” He cries as he tries to escape from your grasp, you have him pinned down, his arms restrained and he felt an abundant of mixed emotions. “I’m not an idiot, Sammy, I know you’re lying.” Ah, it seems you’re actually smart and your dumb, forgetful behavior was just an act.

Yan investigator who eventually stops fighting and just hopes you’ll be merciful. Although, he’s confused when you don’t kill him and instead drag him down to your basement. (It’s very creepy down there) You tie him up to a surprisingly comfortable chair. 

He’s baffled, shouldn’t he be dead by now? Was this part of your murderous process? But no, you just don’t feel the need to kill him and you want to keep the cops off your back. So, you’re going to keep him captive for a few weeks, until the heat dies down and he’s officially brain washed. Then you’ll let him go and he’ll never tell anyone about you, hopefully, you don’t want to kill another friend.

During the first few weeks of captivity Samuel would constantly struggle against his binds and was always trying to convince you to free him. However, it was like you couldn’t hear him, you ignored his cries for help and barely reacted when he snapped at you. Eventually he found fighting futile and decided to take a momentary break from struggling, so he behaves and gives into your desires. 

Surprisingly, you take great care of him during his imprisonment. You feed him well and when he starts to behave you give him the right to roam the house. You indulge whatever habits he has and will give him whatever he requests, as long as he doesn’t try to escape. At some point, a few people come looking for him, but you manage to distract them with your faux stupidity and your confusing speech patterns. 

Samuel learned not to try and get anyone’s attention after you punished him, by mauling the one who attempted to rescue him. By the time you release the poor being, they were far too mortified to remember anything about you or your place. So, he doesn’t try that again and can only wait until you’ve decides to let him go.

Yan investigator who gets far too comfortable with you, who begins to fall into a strange sense of normalcy. He begins to imagine a domestic life with you and it occurs to him that he might not have a very strong mentality. 

Yan investigator who begins to treat you as a spouse, which makes you rather uncomfortable, and seems almost reluctant when the topic of leaving comes up.

Yan investigator who begs to stay with you when you try to free him, he promises to be obedient and he swears to be faithful.

Yan investigator who feels so empty when you do get him to leave, he doesn’t know how you managed it, but he wishes you hadn’t.

Yan investigator who undergoes a psych evaluation due to concerned relatives and then is mandated (by his mother) to see a therapist. (Despite how often he claims to be sane, he believes his behavior is perfectly normal.)

Yan investigator who is reluctant to appear in court when your trial comes, but his family persuaded him too, and despite his strange remarks about the situation you are charged with multiple counts of murder and kidnapping.

He feels so disappointed and angry when you get sent away, he expresses this to his therapist and, regardless of the advice they give him, Samuel decides to visit you in prison. He makes it a habit, he visits you basically every week, no matter how much you try to shoo him off. However, with each visit to his therapist he finds that maybe his friends and family were right, maybe you are a bad person.

He express this to his therapist, who commends him for realizing this, and then to you. You tell him that he’s right, that you’re a terrible person (at least you recognize your faults) and you tell him to stop visiting. 

(“[Y/N], you’re a terrible person.” He states with a stern tone, you smile and nod your head. “You’re right I am, which means you shouldn’t visit me! You should talk to someone better than me, someone that didn’t kidnap you.” He observes your expression, analyzes your response and then sighs.”)

Yan investigator who pities you and can’t help but visit you, I mean, it’s not like anyone else is visiting you. But now he has a chance to get better and he’ll do just that. Hey, maybe he could get you fixed too? 

(Well, that’s the end, hope you enjoyed it and if you like this, let me know.)

(if you’re wondering what happened to Anna, well the police found evidence that you killed her and also charged you for that crime. As for Samuel, well he retired from the private eye business and decided to open up a small woodworking shop.)

[yevmarie]

Light My Fire | Chapter 5

Masterlist

< Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 >

Plot: having lost everything you are drowned in depression, which had happened to you a year ago. Now you need to struggle with the apocalypse as well with no sparkle in your heart. But there is one man who can light your fire to live.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Pronouns: you, she/her

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, swearing, smoking, vomitting, Shane gaslighting, soft Merle (in his own way), hurt and comfort, fluffy Daryl, differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).

If I miss something, please let me know. I hope you enjoy :).

Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie

The sourness gathered in your jaws, and cold sweat soaked your tank top. You realized you were almost throwing up because of the anxiety overwhelming you. Barely hearing a familiar voice calling your name, as it was ringing in your ears, you ran several feet, stopping near one of the trees and vomiting. Daryl came up to you, seeing your pathetic state.

“Are ya okay?” the archer’s voice sounded concerned. You breathed heavily, shaking your head.

“What’s goin' on with ya?” the man couldn’t stop but continued asking, hoping he could help you somehow.

“Nothing,” you replied, not wishing him to be immersed in your problems. He’s a great buddy but not a friend to spill everything on.

“Merle’s on a run tomorrow. Should he bring a pregnancy test?” Daryl shifted from one leg to another and started to chew his fingers. Every body movement showed how he was nervous and regretting what he’d just said. He understood it wasn’t his business, and this probably would make you push him away.

“Who taught you manners, Dixon?” you spat the remaining bitterness out of your mouth.

“Ya’ve been looking like shit for a fortnight,” the man bit his lower lip. “Being pale, crying, now throwing up. Thought ya…”

“I’m not pregnant, Daryl. Just a rebound effect and anxiety,” you straightened up, wiping your mouth with your forearm, and went past the embarrassed archer, getting back to the place you had been sitting the whole day.

“Wanna talk 'bout it?” he stood behind your back, keeping his distance, ready to leave you alone.

“Dunno,” you closed your face with your palms. “Just not sure you want to hear complaints from a stranger,” you sobbed as your own words hit your weak point: your fear of loneliness you’d been through this time.

“I’m not good at labels, but ya’re not a stranger to me, Y/N,” Daryl stood for a while, then decided to walk away before he heard your “okay.” He slowly came back to you to sit beside you silently, as if you were an animal he was hunting for, and any noise could scare you.

“So, if ya don’ need a test, then could he find medicines for ya?” Daryl turned his face to you, hoping to see yours.

“Thanks, ain’t no need,” you faced him with a sad smile. “I’m afraid it’ll do worse. I just need time, and this will go away. At least I hope so.”

You both looked into each other's eyes, sitting silent for a moment.

“Who hurt ya?” Daryl’s low, raspy voice sounded soothing, and his blue eyes still pierced yours.

“A lot of things and people,” you gasped, looking somewhere away. “I lost my parents a year ago, which led to depression. My boyfriend couldn’t bear it anymore and broke up with me half a year later,” your tears spilled, recalling Shane and Lori in the forest, then thought about Rick who would be there, and nothing similar would have happened. “I lost my best friend, almost my brother, right before the outbreak. I…” your voice cracked, “I’m so fucking tired, Daryl,” his heart flipped seeing your face grimace because of the pain you were suffering from. To his own surprise, he hugged you, gripping you by your shoulder and stroking it a bit clumsily but gently. You laid your head on his chest, which made Daryl tense his muscles for a moment, but he overcame the tension and relaxed. “I will not make it. I can’t. I’m fed up with everything. I did have hope I could overcome, but… I’ve seen something today I shouldn’t have to,” you silenced for a moment, not sure if you want to continue talking about it.

“I’ll hold any secret of yours if this is an issue,” Daryl’s voice became almost a whisper, while he didn’t stop comforting you, which he himself found so natural though still strange.

“I found my ex fucking with my best friend’s wife… Widow.” your lower lip quivered in pain, and your eyes stung with the new wave of tears.

Daryl frowned as he figured out who you were talking about. “Shane? Your ex?”

The man felt your nod and the warmth of the tears dropping on his shirt.

“He’s a dickhead and doesn’t deserve your tears,” Daryl’s hand gently squeezed your bicep, slightly gripping you closer to him. The archer was shocked by his own words and body movements as if he was not in control of himself. Everything wasn’t typical for him though he instinctively wanted to make you feel, if not fine, then a bit relaxed. You reminded him of a small kitten curled up in his big palms, shivering and crying. Such a small and fragile creature that needed protection.

“Thank you,” your whisper completely melted Daryl’s heart.

You were sitting silently for several minutes which seemed like an eternity. There was only him, and you were caged in his warm hug, sitting on the ground and hearing cricket sounds. This was enough for you to finally calm down. His body warmth and his natural scent mixed with tobacco and hand strokes were so soothing that it made you feel safe. You closed your eyes, relaxing into his hug.

“Talking about Merle. Could I ask him to find me a tent then?” you asked in a sleepy voice.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm. I’ll ask. And ya can sleep in mine today if ya want. I’ll be at Merle’s,” the archer’s low voice vibrating in his chest where your head was leaning made you feel dizzy.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you raised your head, aligning too closely with the man’s face, as his brain didn’t work out to lose the hug quickly. You met his crystal blue eyes, and his hot breath near your lips. Daryl, feeling butterflies in his stomach, forced his arm to loosen the hug so the awkwardly small distance became longer.

“Ya need ta eat and sleep, Y/N,” Daryl stood up on his feet and offered you his hand. You laid your arm in his and stood up clumsily, almost losing your balance. Daryl held you by your bicep. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow, want just to sleep,” Daryl nodded, and you both walked towards the camp.

“Daryl,” you gently grabbed his hand, making him look at you.

“Wha’?”

“Can we get around the camp?” you looked up at him sheepishly, leaving his arm. “I don't wanna see either Shane or Lori now,” Daryl nodded in response, and you walked in another direction.

When you approached the archer’s tent, Daryl kneeled and unzipped it to take a blanket and make sure it would be cozy enough for you to sleep.

“Here it is,” the archer stood for a moment looking at you, waiting for you to get inside the tent.

“Thank you,” you replied in a sheepish voice.

“Stop it, please, ‘s nothin’,” Daryl felt uncomfortable as you were too thankful for such simple things, as he thought. In reality, he hadn’t just gotten used to it as no one had ever said these words to him.

“Good night,” Daryl whispered gently.

“Good night, Daryl,” you smiled at him and got inside the tent.

—

You woke up quite early when the sunlight was only showing on the horizon. The morning was quite cold because of the forest and water nearby. The air was so humid that it was hard to breathe in.

You covered yourself with a blanket and headed to Lori and Carl’s tent to grab your bag where your essentials were. You made it successfully without much noise and headed back. You put your bag on the ground and went nearby to find some wood and stones to set a small fire.

After the preparations, you took the jezve out of the bag with a coffee package and a bottle of water left from the previous brewing. Should be enough for two. You put some coffee in a jezve, poured some water, and put it on the fire.

When the coffee was brewing, you had a look at the camp which was still sleepy. You heard the sound of footsteps on the dry leaves and turned around to see Daryl walking out of the forest. You met his gaze, which made you smile gently. He was coming up to you, biting his lower lip and holding a flower in his right hand.

“Good morning, Daryl,” you said silently and put out two small cups to pour the coffee.

“Morning,” he sat in front of you with a grumpy face as he was too nervous and gave you the flower. “Sorry for being an asshole, Y/N.”

You chuckled and took the flower, tucking it behind your ear and giving him a cup in turn. “That’s okay, Daryl,” you replied, blushing, as he was so freaking cute, and it made you smile wider.

Daryl held the cup and wasn’t quite brave enough to look up at you. “Didn’t know I deserved this,” his gaze still somewhere on the ground.

“You are always welcome here until supplies stop,” Daryl finally looked at you, seeing you smiling. He blushed a bit and chuckled in response. You both felt so calm and relaxed.

“Morning little birdies,” Merle’s voice hit you both. You saw him going out of the tent, stretching his muscles after the night's sleep.

“Morning. Coffee?” you replied calmly, smiling while noticing how Daryl’s expression changed, the reason of which you didn’t get.

“Nah, thanks,” Merle replied to you and grinned at his brother, messing up his hair. Daryl jerked at the touch. “Got some business today. Looking for a tent for some stunning lady. But it can be unnecessary till she lets me know she could stay in mine before I go,” the man winked at you before you choked on the coffee.

“Merle,” Daryl almost growled at his brother.

“Wha’? If yer a pussy who cannot stay with a hottie in a tent, god knows I won’t miss the chance.”

“Merle,” the archer’s voice started having furious tones.

“Jus’ kiddin’ lil brother, keep calm,” Merle patted Daryl’s shoulder. “But if you change your mind…” the man paid attention to you still coughing. 

“Almost died,” you cleared your throat, wiping the tears. “You’d better invite me for a date first,” you exhaled, hoping the spasms relieved. Merle sighed and walked up to you.

“If the younger wastes time, I promise, ‘ll do this,” the man took your hand and pecked it, looking into your eyes. “Have a good one, princess.”

You were watching Merle go away and then looked at Daryl, who was looking on the ground, already holding a cigarette and fidgeting his fingers.

“Daryl, are you okay?” you asked the man whose mood changed drastically compared to what he had before. The archer simply nodded and stood up.

“I’ll be tomorrow, want ta check another perimeter further from ‘ere. Maybe I‘ll find somethin’,” he mumbled, taking his crossbow.

“Take care, Daryl,” he looked at you, admiring you sitting in his blanket with the flower tucked behind the ear. Your eyes pierced his with an exhausted look. The archer nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, and walked away.

—

You were helping Carol in the kitchen. The woman couldn’t hide her happiness seeing you around, telling how nervous she was. You were just shyly chuckling in response, also feeling awkward as Shane and Lori were passing by you time after time. Sometimes Carl was trying to talk to you, showing you the pictures he drew with Sofia, and you were happy to talk to him, but Lori always called him, finding a new reason every time.

“Is it me or she doesn’t want you to communicate?” Carol asked silently, standing beside you to cut a few vegetables.

“You’re right,” you replied, glancing at the woman who was sitting near Carl, who was reading out loud.

Your attention was caught by a new sports car that arrived at the camp, making so much noise. Shane already ran up to the car, seeing it was Glenn, happy like a kid finding a new toy.

Then a van arrived at the camp. People around seemed cautious until they saw your group going out. You smiled with relief.

“Carol, I’ll be later. Maybe my new tent has arrived,” the woman nodded to you, and you went to the van almost running. Reaching out to the side of the driver's seat, you saw Merle was missing.

“Where’s Merle?” your voice got an anxious tone, your eyes roaming between people to find the answer when suddenly you saw another man wearing a sheriff's uniform going out of the car. “No way,” the air was caught in your throat as if you forgot how to breathe. “Rick!” you whispered.

“Y/N,” the man’s hoarse voice hit you, causing tears of happiness. You jumped into his embrace, caging him in your arms. Here he is, safe and alive as if nothing had happened before.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” your voice is trembling because of the tears washing your face. The man tugged you closer, his hand on the back of your head.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered and turned his head to see if there are Lori and Carl when you felt his heart started almost jumping out of his body. You relieved the hug and saw Rick going towards Carl, already running to him. Shane standing near the sports car turned pale.

“Where’s Merle?” you repeated the question, seeing T-Dog and Andrea hesitating to answer.

“There was a problem in Atlanta. We needed to cuff him. He was behaving dangerously,” T-Dog mumbled, wiping the sweat appearing on his forehead.

“What?” you silenced. “How could you..?” You couldn’t find any words, feeling the emotions boiling in your chest.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Andrea’s voice caught your attention.

“What the hell does it even mean?”

Your blurred vision started to be clear when you saw yourself already screaming at Glenn, asking him to give you keys.

“Y/N,” Rick was coming up to you, “What’s the problem?”

“You cuffed a person in the city full of walkers, are you serious?” you were quickly cut off by Shane chuckling.

“Rick, don’t pay attention. She’s just hanging out with him and his brother.”

“Mind your own business, Shane,” you barked in response.

“Rick, should we cuff her as well? She absolutely went nuts without her pills,” you made several running steps toward Shane when felt Rick’s hands gripping you tightly.

“What did you just say?” you yelled at the man, trying to free yourself from Rick.

“One fool makes many. Ah, no, two fools.”

“Hey, hollyrolly, which part of 'Mind your own business' didn’t you get?” you barked in response to Shane, whose facial expression turned furious.

“Shut up, you both!” Rick shouted, “Y/N, let me explain,” the sheriff cupped your face so that you could see him and listen.

< Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 >

[ghouljams]

Hang on. May I ask what Hush’s pronouns are ? Because I used she/her in my last ask (I’m still giggling like a school girl because of your answer it was so cute), but in another one I saw your refer to the demon as a « big brother figure », so I’m a bit confused and afraid I made a mistake… ?

To make this ask a little more worthwhile, I somehow imagined demon Price scolding the other demons the same way Captain Price would scold his team when they mess up something or do nonsense ? You know, I’m picturing the frown, the crossed arms, the military stance and the gruff voice. And the team looking at their demons and snickering when seeing how their Captain and his demon are so similar to each other sometimes.

Hush prefers he/him but all the demons will respond to any pronouns, and I will answer asks regardless of pronouns for them. So, no mistakes! I haven't had pronouns specified for anyone but Threat, and Hush hasn't had much written for him!

As for Price(the demon) scolding the rest of the demons, I agree, I think it happens more often than anyone would like to admit. But they also end up scolding the rest of the 141 with Capt. Price since the demons are technically their handler's responsibility. I think in the field it sounds a lot like 2 different comms channels talking through each other lol

"How's the perimeter?" Soap asks, checking out from behind cover.

"Holding," You hum, "Hey do you know what Price is yelling about?" Soap makes a face.

"Which one?" Soap pushes off the wall to sweep the room. You listen for a moment to the demonic yelling, muffling Soap's steps as you do.

"Both of them," You conclude. It sounds like both of them. Your commanding officers both markedly upset over something that you don't really have the patience to parse. You're busy making sure your charge stays alive long enough to make it to the demo point.

"Dunno," Soap says after a moment, you snap your silence around Soap's gun as he fires, no reason to give up position over one unlucky soldier, "Maybe someone did somethin'."

"That doesn't narrow it down. Someone's always done something," You tell him.

"Could be marital problems," Soap jokes. Now that's an idea. One you're happy to jump on.

"Mom and Dad are fighting," You laugh, shaking sound from the shadows to get a feel for who's nearby. Clear for the moment, and your silence is holding strong. Price is still yelling at you of the little connection you've established between yourself and your demonic companions. The human Price sounds like he's reflecting her annoyance over Soap's comms. Two halves of the same conversation neither of you are paying attention to.

"Alright I've got another one," Soap keeps his gun high as he slinks through the empty corridor.

"Hit me." You like this game, Soap's jokes aren't exactly high comedy but they're certainly entertaining.

"What do you call kids in the military?" He sweeps around a corner, and starts down a flight of stairs.

"No clue."

"Infantry-" You snort "-Got that one from Ghost," Soap smiles stopping at the tunnel entrance. Allegedly blowing this point should send the rest of it speeding towards collapse. Something about structural integrity that you weren't listening to. Soap knows what he's doing, you trust him.

He shoulders his bag off and sets it on the ground, quick to start pulling out wires and switches. You're passed a pair of wire strippers as Soap's movements start getting more purposeful. His brow furrows, he stops, leans back to look at what he's already pulled, then goes back to the bag.

"Fuck me," Soap groans digging through his bag, "we forgot the C4." You stare down at the open bag, the yelling from your COs suddenly making a lot more sense.

"Huh." You eloquently sum up. Soap sits back on his heels. He makes a face, looking down the tunnel as he thinks. You're not sure what to do to help, this isn't exactly your area of expertise. Soap drums his fingers against the canvas.

"Where's-" He starts, rethinks, and looks at you, "Where's the sound go when you do your magic stuff?"

"It doesn't go anywhere?" You raise a brow, it's not some crazy magic, more scientific than anything else. Soap stares at you, waiting for an explanation. You sigh. "I stop the sound waves from happening or compress them down enough they're barely audible. It's the same with people, I either compress the parts that move or their air supply, but I'm not physically stealing sound." You explain, "That would be crazy."

"Right that'd be way more mental than what you just said," Soap gives you a sarcastic sort of nod. He looks back at the dead detonators and switches and grabs a handful of wires. "New plan," He tells you, "I'm going to make a noise, you're going to make it bigger."

"Not really how I work," You frown, crouching next to him. He takes the wire strippers from you, already building his noise maker.

"What do you mean? You compress sound one way, I'd bet you can bump it up the other. Just need the waves big enough to cause some damage." Soap frowns twisting two wires together. You don't know, you don't think he's wrong but you've never made sound louder. No one's ever wanted things louder.

You don't have time to run a trial run, but you suppose the pressure of an active combat zone is as good a time as any to experiment. You've done stupider things. You can't think of any right now but you're sure there must be something stupider you've done.

Soap glances at you, for being the king of quiet you don't usually go this long without talking. That's one of the reasons you get along so well, the banter just keeps going. He looks back at his work, if you're quiet he's sure it's for a good reason. Now, he doesn't know for sure that his science is sound, but the fact that you're giving it any consideration is enough for him. It at least buys Soap a little time to try and come up with something else. Maybe he should radio Price, see if his demon can send over some black powder.

"Ok," you tell him just as he gets the sound grenade hooked up, "Let's try it. Sub-sonic, super-sonic, it's all sound right?"

"Close enough," Soap grins. He tosses you a spare switch and watches you click it a few times. The sound stutters, raising and plummeting just as quickly. You wince, click it a few more times with similar results. "If it doesn't work we tell Price and take the lecture," He assures you. If it doesn't work you'll both be fighting your way out with a lot of explaining to do.

"Ready?" He asks, setting the timer on the only idea either of you have come up with. You nod and hold your hands out.

"You might wanna get behind me in case this goes south fast." Soap nods, and tosses the makeshift noise machine into the tunnel. He tries not to think too much about how badly this could all shake out if this doesn't work as he takes cover.

It takes a moment the soft beep of the count down timer fluctuating as you grit your teeth and try to do whatever it is you're doing. You understand this stuff better than Soap, or he fucking hopes you do. Because if you don't you're both fucked. One of the beeps pitches low, but it shakes the dirt. Your eyes widen, your lips moving with silent calculations.

"Hey, uh, might want to plug your ears Mactavish," You suggest over your shoulder. Soap is quick to snap his hands over his ears as the rolling wave of beeps gets bone quaking. The tone bouncing low and growing ever louder, reminding him of the shitty bass in that one tech song Gaz likes.

Everything goes quiet. Then the noise rushes in, explodes from the little beeper like a proper bomb. Buffeting the tunnel in a way that almost looks like the Jerry-rigged switch broke the sound barrier. Soap's never heard anything like it, and honestly he hopes he never has to again. It does the job though, shaking loose anything that could've been called a tunnel until it collapses in on itself. Even with the buffer of his hands there's a ringing in Soap's ears that doesn't bode well. You turn to grin at him, and when you speak it sounds like you're underwater.

But who cares when you grab his face and kiss him. A quick excited thing before you're shaking him by his shoulders. Were you always that warm? Were the callouses on your hands always that soft? Did you always smile so wide?

Your eyes dart towards the stairs and you tug at him to get his gun up. "We have to go!" You yell, near enough to his ear that he can mostly parse it.

"I think you shattered my eardrums," He yells, picking off the first soldier to come down the stairs to investigate. Later, he'll ask about the kiss later. For now you both have a job to do.

[random-thot-generator]

Dirty Little Secret + Pt. 4

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH x FEM READER

-

Summary: You think the worst is over until you go on your morning walk and realize your troubles have just begun.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, angst, explicit language, light dub con- Soap steals a kiss, reader is feelin' it, but she's pissed about it, Johnny's a cheeky git, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Sprinkled just a wee, teensy tiny bit of spice in this one, but nothing to clutch your pearls over. Aunt Rue's just settling in to enjoy the show now.)

Word Count: 1.5K

-

You were shaking with barely contained rage as you let yourself in the bakery the following morning. Aunt Rue called out to you, as usual, then came out of the back when you didn't answer right away. You couldn't. You were choking on your own fury.

"What's the matter, love?" she asked, eyeing your flustered state.

"I ran into bloody Johnny this morning, that's what!" you snapped, marching back to the office.

Rue trailed after you, watching as you stripped off your jacket with angry, jerky movements and threw it at the coat tree. "He didn't leave, then?" she asked, tone mild.

"Apparently not," you gritted out, stomping past her and back out to the front.

After that little scene with Johnny the day before, you had finally come clean with your aunt about him, so now she knew all the sordid details, but to your surprise and dismay, her only advice had been, "Talk to him, lass. 'S the only way you'll find peace."

You thought, at the time, that her advice was useless. You thought Johnny would go back to Hereford after confronting him about his other bird. You thought wrong.

Still fuming, you started prepping behind the counter, banging and slamming things around, muttering under your breath as your aunt watched on in amusement.

"The lad's certainly got you riled up this morning," she commented, which did nothing to improve your current disposition.

"He's bloody infuriating," you snarled, banging the lid back on the water urn. "The fucking cheek of him!"

Rue pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. She waited until your back was turned before asking, "Well, what did he do to get you so, um... worked up?"

Your shoulders tensed, hands stilling as you felt heat creeping up from your chest. "Nothing," you eventually muttered, then stomped off to hide in the stock room, away from your aunt's keen eyes.

-

In truth, you were incensed the moment you spotted Johnny jogging along the boardwalk that morning. Almost twisting your ankle on the loose pebbles of the beach, you'd stomped your way up the stairs, scattering a small group of seagulls pecking around a trash bin. Your voice sounded similar to their high-pitched squawks when you confronted him.

"Why are you still here?"

Johnny stood panting in front of you, sweat trickling down his brow and cheeks, his tee damp and clinging to his thick chest and arms. He huffed at you, pulling up the tail of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing his firm abs, happy trail on full display.

"An' good mornin' to ye, too, bonnie," he replied, looking you up and down with a crooked grin. "Yer lookin' good t'day."

"Don't start with me, Johnny. Why are you still here?" you demanded.

He sauntered over to the railing and braced his hands against it, extending a leg out behind him as he started doing his post-run stretches. Muscles bulged and flexed beneath a layer of fine, dark hair, distracting you despite how angry you were.

Damn him.

He peered at you over his shoulder, grinning. "Place is sorta growin' on me. Quiet little village, ocean views, good people. Beats the hell outta Hereford, tha's fer sure."

You leaned a hip against the railing while he continued with his stretches, crossing your arms over your chest. "Shouldn't you be gettin' back to your lass? I'm sure she's missing you by now," you snarked, tone bitter.

He huffed again, shaking his head. "Christ. Dunno wha' ye thought ye saw, hen, but I've no' been wi' anyone else. Not since you," he added, the look in his eye heated. Hungry.

"Bullshit!" you hissed at him.

There was a momentary flash of anger in his blue eyes, but then he smirked. "Think yer the one bullshittin', hen."

"Fuck you and your bullshit! I saw her with you!" you snapped, jabbing a finger at him.

He was on you in the blink of an eye, caging you against the railing, hands gripping the rail on either side of your hips as he leaned into you. "Describe her to me, then," he purred. "Tell me 'bout this new bird o' mine."

"Fine," you gritted between your clenched teeth. "She's taller than me, slender, long, curly dark hair… pretty. You took her to the coffee shop near that Thai place."

He gave you a quizzical look, then recognition dawned in his eyes and a smirk curled up his lips. He reached for the small pack at his waist and took out his phone. Tapping at the screen a few times, he turned it around for you to look at a pic he'd saved. "This the bird yer talkin' 'bout?"

You stared at the image of the same young woman you'd seen him with him all those months ago. You'd never forget her face; it had been seared into your brain like a brand.

"Yeah, that's her," you mumbled, looking away.

He turned the phone to look at her pretty face himself and sniffed in amusement. "Aye, Sorcha's a bonnie lass. Looks jus' like our mam."

'Our mam'???

Wait...

You snatched the phone out of his hand to scrutinize the image up close, a sick feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Her hair was a shade lighter than Johnny's with auburn highlights, but the eyes… the same shape, the same Prussian blue shade. The longer you studied her pic, the easier it was to see the family resemblance. Looked like that devilish little smirk was hereditary, too.

Ah, bloody hell…

You couldn't meet his eyes, embarrassment making your whole body flush hot. You handed his phone back, all that righteous anger pumping you up now deflating like a balloon. Slanting a sulky look at him, you gave in with begrudging acceptance. "How would I know that you had a sister?" you muttered, averting your eyes again.

Johnny sighed, putting his phone away. "Ya could no' have kenned it 'cause I never tol' ye," he admitted, his tone contrite, not gloating, like you expected. "There's a lot I should'a tol' ye, bonnie. A lot I should'a asked, too."

He tipped your chin up to look into your eyes, and you knew he was about to kiss you; you had seen that same look on his face a thousand times. You turned your head, hands pushing at his chest. "No. Don't," you whispered, voice wavering.

"Sweetheart, dinnae be mad," he cooed, cupping your cheek. "Now that ye ken the truth, we can—"

"We can what, Johnny? Go back to how things were?" There was a distinct warble to your voice now, tears already pricking at your eyes. You huffed out an exasperated breath, shaking your head. "No. I can't go back to that. I won't."

You pushed past him and started walking at a clipped pace, steps hurried. You needed to get away from him, get your head clear.

"Bonnie, wait!" he called, jogging after you. "C'mon, hen," he pleaded, taking you by the arm. "We can work this out. Jus' give us a chance."

You yanked your arm out of his light grip and glared at him. "I gave you two years of my life, Johnny. I can't do this anymore," you sobbed out, breath hitching.

He drew his hand away, a pained expression on his face. "Bonnie…"

"It's too little, too late, Johnny. Just… go home."

You again tried to walk away from him, but then his hands were at your waist, spinning you 'round and tugging you against him. You pushed at him, tears now slipping down your cheeks. "What are you doing?"

"Testin' a theory," he murmured, then his hand was cupping the back of your head, and he crashed his lips to yours.

Say what you want about Johnny MacTavish, but the bastard knew how to kiss. He had you melting against him in an instant, overwhelmed and clinging to him, no longer pushing him away. His tongue licked into your mouth, and he groaned, arms tightening to mold your body to his.

When he finally broke the kiss, he peered down at you, eyes hooded with desire. He took in your dazed expression and smirked, looking smug as hell. He then let you go and stepped back, wiping the spit from his bottom lip with his thumb, the look in his eye pure sin.

"Best get on t'work, bonnie. Yer goin' t'be late."

You blinked, head still a little hazy, brain slow to process what he had just done. Oh, but when it finally sunk in, you were spitting mad.

"Ooh! You— You bloody arsehole!" you seethed. Growling, you spun on your heel and stalked away, a string of profanities left in your wake.

Johnny laughed, elated after that telling kiss. "Be seein' ye soon, bonnie!" he called after you.

You threw an angry glance over your shoulder, only to see him blow you a kiss and give a cheeky wink before turning and jogging back the way he came.

Fuck!

You'd never get rid of him now, you thought, as you hurried towards the bakery, trying your best to ignore the dull ache in your core and the damp patch in your knickers.

-

part 3 part 5

[mrprettywhenhecries]

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

six. | i was made for lovin' you

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)

⇾ w.c. 4.9k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, underage drinking, smut, blowjobs (m!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, cream pies

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

By the end of the week, if anyone had missed the memo that Win was officially dating Billy Hargrove, they had to be blind.  Between their casual PDA in between classes, their not so clandestine lunch period makeout sessions, and the fact that he was now driving her to and from school, it had become painfully obvious.

“What’re you doing tonight?” Billy asked, leaning against the locker next to Win’s as she approached to stow her books from last period.

“Hmm, I dunno, probably finish some homework before going to bed early,” she teased, flashing him a cheeky grin.

“Very cute,” he snorted, not buying it, and Win laughed, shutting her locker door and stepping closer, lifting her chin to steal a kiss.

“Heather Holloway’s having a bonfire tonight.  Wanna make an appearance?” she suggested with a half shrug and Billy slung his arm around her shoulders as he fell into step with her.  “If it’s lame, we can bounce.  My dad works nights, so we’d have the place to ourselves,” she offered.

“Sounds like a plan,” Billy replied, nodding to Tommy as they passed.

“Ugh, why do you hang around with him?” Win muttered only for Billy to shoot her a wry look.

“Cause he does what I say,” he shrugged and Win let out a disgusted groan, rolling her eyes.  

“At least you’re honest.”

“Max better not be late, if she knows what’s good for her,” Billy said as they approached the Camaro.  “She knows I hate waiting.”

“At least you’ll have good company,” Win teased, dropping her bag in the passenger seat.  As she straightened, she happened to lock eyes with Tina as she passed, Vicki and Carol in tow.  The three practically turned their noses up at her, Vicki glaring daggers.  Win forced herself to hold their gaze, not wanting to appear weak, but it stung–not Vicki or Carol’s animosity–she really didn’t give a fuck about what they thought, but Tina, Tina stung.  Of course Win knew she was a bit of a stuck up bitch, but she’d been the first person in Hawkins to talk to her.

Billy’s gruff voice pulled her from her thoughts as Max skated up, hopping off her skateboard and flipping it smoothly up into her hand.

“Took ya long enough.  C’mon, we got shit to do.”

Max made a face at him as she pulled the back door open, jumping in before Billy could make another impatient remark.

“Don’t listen to him, we haven’t been waiting long,” Win assured her, climbing in as well.  

“I don’t know how you put up with him,” Max huffed, rolling her eyes as she turned to look out the window.

Billy glared at her through the rear view mirror before peeling out, kicking up stones as his tires spun.

“There’s a few things inside I wanna grab before we go,” Billy said, throwing the car in park in front of a modest little place on Cherry and kicking his door open.  Win followed him and Max, climbing the steps to the enclosed front porch.

“Mom, we’re home!” Max called flatly, instantly taking off toward her room as soon as they were inside and a woman stepped out of the kitchen to greet them.  She had the same fiery hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but that’s wear the similarities ended, and she offered Win a hesitant smile as her gaze fell on her.

“You must be Win,” she said, hastily wiping her hands on the kitchen towel before reaching out to take Win’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Win answered, glancing at Billy who quickly averted his eyes, a faint pink hue dusting his cheeks.  It seemed Max hadn’t been lying when she said he’d talked about her.

“Win, this is Susan,” Billy introduced, careful not to refer to her as his mother.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Win said, returning Susan’s smile.

“Susan, can you tell my dad I can’t watch Max tonight?  We’ve got plans,” Billy said, keeping his expression carefully neutral, but Mrs. Hargrove was quick to assure him that it was alright, that they’d be staying in tonight and that he and Win should have fun.

“Great, thanks,” Billy said brusquely, grabbing Win’s wrist to pull her down the hall.

“Nice room,” she mused, stepping just inside as Billy strode to his closet with purpose.

“Thanks,” Billy muttered, shrugging off his jean jacket and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Win’s brows rose as she watched him, itching to smooth her hands across his muscular back and feel his warm tan skin.  Clearing her throat, she quickly tore her eyes away as he pulled a dark maroon shirt from its hanger and slung it on, buttoning the bottom few buttons and leaving the top half open.

As he finished getting ready, Win ambled around his room, taking in his sparse decor, letting her fingers run over the records stacked neatly by his stereo, and picking up the dog eared paperback on the table by his bed.

“You hungry?” Billy’s voice cut through her thoughts and Win looked up to find him adjusting the collar of his worn leather jacket.

“Yeah, I could eat,” she murmured, setting the book back down where she’d found it. 

“Cool, let’s grab a bite before the party.”

––

By the time Win and Billy arrived at Heather’s, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and the party was already in full swing.  Heather had a decent sized fire blazing in her backyard and several of their classmates lingered around it, beers in hand as they talked and laughed, their voices melting into the music playing from a boombox on the nearby deck table.

“Hargrove, you came!” Tommy called, raising his beer can as he caught sight of Billy.  Carol stood at his side, arms crossed over her chest, against the chill in the autumn air.  When she noticed Win, she rolled her eyes.  

“Lewis, lookin’ good,” Tommy added with a grin and Win fought the urge to grimace in disgust.

“I want a drink,” she said, peeling away from Billy’s side to head toward the table, finding a couple large coolers stocked with ice cold beer.  She grabbed two cans before ambling back toward where Billy stood with Tommy.  Luckily, Tina and Vicki were nowhere to be seen.

“Thanks babe,” Billy murmured, accepting the beer before pulling her close to his side and cracking the can open one handed, his other hand slipping around her waist.

Win watched him take a long draw from the can, his adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow,  before she too brought her can to her lips.

“Hey Win!  Good to see you!” Heather exclaimed, joining them by the fire, the flickering light of the flames casting eerie shadows against her face.  

“Hey, you too,” Win replied.  She’d never really spoken much to Heather Holloway, they tended to run in different circles, but maybe that’s what she needed now—a different circle.

“Let’s play a party game, something to spice things up,” Tommy exclaimed loudly, crumpling the empty can in his hand and tossing it into the bonfire.

“Yeah, like Never Have I Ever,” Carol suggested, a wicked smirk gracing her pinched features.

“Oooh yeah, sounds like fun!” Heather exclaimed.  “Think we need something stronger for this though,” she laughed, running over to grab the bottle of vodka on the table.

Win downed the rest of her beer before accepting the plastic cup of booze.  

“Win, why don’t you go first?” Heather asked and Win grimaced.  

“Uh, alright,” she murmured, watching the fire for a moment as she thought.  “Never have I ever… gone cow tipping,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the most cliched country activity she could think of, wondering if anyone actually did that.

Billy let out a snort when Tommy chuckled, bringing his cup to his lips.

“Guess it’s my turn,” Tommy said, a grin spreading across his face.

“Never have I ever moved to a different state,” he said, raising his eyebrows at both Win and Billy.

“Very funny,” Win muttered, rolling her eyes, but taking a drink along with Billy.

“Hmm, never have I ever broken a law,” Heather said and once more both Win and Billy took a shot, Tommy joining them as well.

“You got that right, Hargrove!” he exclaimed, raising his hand for Billy to high five.

“My turn?” Carol asked and Win didn’t like the way she smirked as she deliberated.  “Never have I ever stolen my friend’s date,” she said finally, her eyes flicking purposefully to Win’s.

Setting her jaw, Win didn’t move, and everyone’s heads swung toward her.

“Well?” Carol prompted expectantly, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Can’t say I have,” Win replied with a shrug.  “She’d have had to been my friend for that to be true.”

For a moment Win thought Carol was gunna come at her, the tension nearly suffocating, when suddenly Billy hefted her up, throwing her over his shoulder.  “This party’s a major snorefest,” he announced loudly, tossing back the rest of the booze in his cup before striding toward the front yard.

Win could barely believe it, gaping back at the others as they retreated into the distance, bouncing against Billy’s shoulder with each step he took.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” she said as they were back in the Camaro and on their way down Win’s quiet street.

“Do what?  That party was lame,” Billy insisted, glancing over at her.  

“I can take care of myself.”  Her muttered words sounded petulant and Win wished she could take them back.

“I know that,” Billy huffed, carefully not looking at her, his hands flexing on the wheel.  “Besides, I wanted to get you alone.  You’re way better company than those assholes,” he muttered.

Win smiled down at her hands, hoping he couldn’t see her expression in the dark as he pulled into her empty driveway.

“You hungry?” she asked,  pulling her house key from her pocket.

“Fucking starved,” Billy replied, following her to the front door.

“I don’t know what all we have in the fridge, but I’m sure there’s something,” Win said, pushing the door open and gesturing him in, flicking on the light switch.

Billy ambled after her, letting his gaze roam the room almost curiously, a stark contrast to the bored way he usually took in his surroundings.

“Uhh, there’s not a lot in here that’s easy to make,” Win mused, shutting the fridge door with a frown.  “I could probably make us some mac and cheese…”

At her words, Billy joined her in the kitchen, opening the fridge himself to have a look before checking the freezer.  “There’s some frozen ground beef, I can make us some burgers to go with it,” he offered.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not hard,” Billy snorted, raising an eyebrow at her as he pulled the package from the freezer.  “Something tells me you’re not exactly at home in the kitchen,” he ventured, shrugging his leather jacket off, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, I’m a heinous cook, bite me,” Win replied, sticking her tongue out at him as she flipped on the radio on the counter before pulling out a skillet and a pot.

Billy chuckled, shaking his head ruefully, opening several cupboards in search of a microwave safe plate to defrost the meat on.  “You should probably work on that, unless you plan on living off frozen dinners the rest of your life,” he teased.

“Maybe I’m planning on marrying a guy that can cook, how about that?” Win countered, planting her hands on her hips jauntily and Billy couldn’t help but laugh.  

“Was that a proposal, Lewis?” he teased and Win felt her face flush, quickly turning away to turn the radio up when the song changed, the opening to Call Me by Blondie playing through the speakers.

“Oh, I love this song,” she exclaimed, moving her hips to the music, for a moment forgetting that Billy was standing there.  

“Please don’t tell me you listen to this shit,” he snorted, only for Win to gasp at him.

“Take that back!” she exclaimed, giving his arm a playful smack.  “Debbie Harry is my icon!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Billy scoffed, transferring the defrosted hamburger to the skillet.  “Here I thought you had better taste than that,” he said, fighting back a grin as he held his hands up, preparing for another attack.

Win’s mouth fell open.  “I like you, don’t I?” she countered, pinching his side.  Billy laughed, squirming away from her fingers, and Win’s expression turned mischievous.

“Ticklish, are we?” she asked, doubling down and attacking his sides without remorse until Billy managed to grasp her wrists, spinning her and pinning her back against the counter as he caught his breath.

“You little brat!” Billy exclaimed, leaning in imposingly, but Win raised her chin in defiance, her lips parting expectantly.

“What’re you gunna do about it, Hargrove?”  Before she could barely get the words out, Billy’s mouth was on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth.

Win’s breath caught in her throat and she moaned, melting into him.

The loud sizzling from the stove broke the mood and Billy swore under his breath, reluctantly pulling away.  “To be continued,” he drawled, winking at her before turning back to the skillet, seasoning the burgers before flipping them and adjusting the heat.

“You wanna fill this up with water?” he asked, handing Win the empty pot before grabbing the milk and butter from the fridge.

Win obeyed, setting the water on the stove and turning on the burner.  “So, uhm, how’d you learn to do all this?” she asked, leaning against the counter to watch him, the music playing softly in the background.

“This ain’t nothing,” Billy snorted.  “This is pretty simple shit.”

“I guess,” Win said, rolling her eyes.  “But you know what I mean.  How’d you learn how to cook?”

Billy let out a soft huff, keeping his eyes on the stove.  “I kinda hadta learn how to take care of myself from a young age.”

“I’m sorry…” Win breathed.

You don’t have to apologize,” Billy said, cutting her off, finally looking up at her, a vulnerability in his blue eyes that she’d only caught a glimpse of once before.

Opening her mouth to say more, Billy once more interrupted her, clearing his throat.  “The water’s boiling, we should finish up the macaroni.”

––

It wasn’t long before the food was ready and Win plopped down on the couch with Billy to eat, turning the tv on for a distraction.

“You still sure this is more fun than getting wasted at the bonfire?” Win asked, still finding it hard to believe he’d really rather be there with her.

Billy set his empty plate on the coffee table before taking hers from her hands and setting it aside.  “I’m very sure,” he drawled, easing her to her back, his mouth finding hers as his hand slipped beneath her shirt, drawing a soft moan from her lips.

“Here,” she breathed, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor.

Billy smirked down at the sight of her, his hand reaching around behind her to unhook her bra.  “That’s better,” he murmured, enveloping her breast with his hand, his fingers pinching and rolling, coaxing her nipple to stiffen while his mouth descended on her exposed neck.

“You look so fuckin’ cute on your back,” he growled against her skin, nipping at her collarbone as he pressed his knee between her thighs.

Win’s sharp gasp at the sudden pressure against her throbbing cunt brought a husky chuckle to Billy’s throat, his cock stirring in response, pressing almost painfully against the confines of his tight jeans.

“You should stay, with me, tonight,” Win gasped between Billy’s hungry kisses, her back arching into his touch.  “It gets so lonely, and I have a hard time falling asleep in an empty house,” she murmured.

Billy pushed back to look down at her, blue eyes flashing in the darkness.  “I don’t sleep a lot either these days,” he admitted, caressing her cheek, his thumb catching her bottom lip.  “You know, I can think of some ways to wear you out,” he drawled.

“Oh really?” Win breathed, letting out a surprised yelp as he suddenly lifted her, one arm wrapping around her back while the other fit under her bent knees, carrying her easily to her bedroom.

“Really,” he answered, smirking as he dropped her atop her bed, kicking the door shut behind him.

Win gasped as she landed, bouncing slightly.  Before she could formulate a response, Billy was already unbuttoning his shirt and toeing his boots off.

“Enjoying the view, Princess?” he chuckled when he caught her staring and Win quickly ducked her head as her face flared hotter, focusing on working her jeans down while she peered at him through her dyed blonde bangs.  

“Didn’t think you flustered that easy,” Billy teased, dropping his jeans and hooking a finger under her chin, tilting her face up.

“I’m not flustered!” Win countered, her heart pounding in her ears as he eased his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, the weight of it making her mouth water.  “ –I’ve just not gotten a good look at your dick yet,” she murmured, wetting her lips distractedly.

A proud grin tugged at Billy’s mouth and he stepped closer to the edge of the bed.  “Well, what do you think?” he drawled.

Win crawled closer, taking a deep breath in through his nose as she wrapped her hand loosely around his length, her cunt aching as she caressed him.  Billy’s breath hitched, catching in his throat as she touched him and his cock twitched eagerly in her hand.

“So sensitive,” she breathed, grinning at his reaction.  Though he liked to play it cool, it was reassuring that deep down he might be as flustered as she was.  “You have such a pretty cock,” Win murmured, leaning in to lap up the glistening bead of precum gathered at his tip.  Slowly taking him into her mouth, her tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his length as her eyes flicked up to his, looking incredibly sinful on all fours like that with his cock disappearing into her mouth.

“Oh fuck–” Billy grunted, bucking forward involuntarily, unable to stop himself.  “Fuck, that feels good.  Your mouth’s like heaven,” he growled as his tip hit the back of her throat and she gagged, his pubes tickling her nose.

Win merely moaned in response, gripping the base of his cock with one hand to hold him steady so he couldn’t take her by surprise again.

“Shit Win,” he gasped, tangling his fingers in her chin length hair, blunt fingernails scraping her scalp as she hollowed her cheeks to suck as she pulled back, her velvety tongue curling around him, caressing him with each bob of her head.

“If you keep that up–” Billy’s words cut off and he hastily pulled free of her mouth, his fist in her hair holding her still.  “As much as I would love to cum down your throat, sweetheart, I wanna make you scream,” he growled, releasing her hair to wipe the drool from her chin with his thumb, the tenderness of his actions at odds with the harsh way the words left his mouth.

A thrill ran through Win and she scooted backwards atop the bed, giving him room to join her.

“Get those panties off, or I’m gunna have to rip ‘em off you,” he said, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“That actually sounds kinda hot,” Win laughed, laying back against her pillows, her arms resting behind her head, her posture just daring him to do it.

Billy’s eyes flashed at the challenge and he grabbed her by the ankles, yanking her back toward him.  Win let out a shriek of laughter, but didn’t struggle, biting her lips as he clutched her underwear, his gaze boring into hers.

“You sure about that?” he drawled, hesitating, and Win nodded.  Billy’s grin turned predatory and he gave a sharp tug, easily ripping the thin cotton from her body.  

“Oh fuck–” Win breathed, heat rolling through her at the display.

“There, that’s better,” he purred, discarding the ruined garment and pulling her legs apart.  “I wanna look at this pretty pussy.”

Win’s breath hitched as he slid a finger between her folds.  “Sucking me off made you this wet?” he marveled, slipping a second finger in, stretching her around him.

“I told you you had a gorgeous cock,” Win teased, huffing a breathless laugh as his thick digits curled inside her, dragging against her spongy g-spot.

“Billy, stop teasing me,” she pouted, rolling her hips impatiently against the heel of his hand.

“You keep pouting like that and I’ll make you wait longer,” he taunted, pulling his fingers free with a wet squelch and taking a moment to study the silvery translucent strands that stretched between them.

“If you won’t get me off, I have other ways–” Win began, huffing indignantly until Billy pushed her back, crawling between her legs and grabbing her wrist as she reached toward her sex.

“Ah ah ah, you don’t get to touch yourself right now, that’s my job,” he growled, releasing her wrist and giving his cock a few strokes before teasing his swollen head between her folds.  “You ready, baby?” he asked, taking her aback that he’d asked.

“I’m ready,” Win breathed, moaning as he pushed into her.  He kept his head down, watching the spot where their bodies connected, her cunt sucking him in greedily, inch by slow inch, creaming rings around the base of his cock with each slow thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Billy groaned, dropping his forehead against her shoulder, his necklace hovering over her chest, grazing her sternum lightly as it swung in time with his measured movements.

Each time his hips met hers with a soft smack of skin on skin, Win let out a soft moan, her hands sliding up his back, feeling every dip and swell of taut muscle stretched beneath his fevered skin.  “Oh fuck,” she gasped, whining sharply, her fingers biting into his shoulders as he hit her cervix, bottoming out.

“You make such pretty sounds for me.  Your daddy’s not home, you know.  So, you don’t have to hold back,” Billy growled, thrusting into her harder, enough to make the bed frame squeak, her tiny frame rocking beneath him.  “I meant it when I said I wanted to make you scream.”

Win’s lips twitched and she let her eyes flutter shut.  “Kiss me,” she breathed, the warmth pooling low in her gut spreading outward, driving her to the precipice.  Needing to feel all of him pressed against her, she tightened her hold on him and Billy obliged, a deep groan catching in his chest as his lips collided with hers, kissing her breathless as he pumped into her faster, a desperation in his movements that grew with each moment.

Something had changed–this wasn’t like the time they’d fucked in the back of his car, this felt different, and Win’s head swam as her pleasure crested, threatening to carry her away.

“Billy–!” she gasped, teetering on the edge.  “Want–want you to cum inside,” she managed to get out, rolling her hips to meet his, angling him deeper.

Billy nodded, breathing heavily, his thrusts growing jerky, sloppy.  “Fuck, I’m–” he cut off with a guttural growl, his cock swelling and spasming as he came, unable to hold back any longer, and it was only moments later that Win followed, crying out his name as he rode her through it, pumping her full.

When they finally stilled, Billy collapsed atop her, his chest heaving against hers and Win pressed her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and the lingering spicy smell of his cologne.

With a soft grunt, Billy rolled to his back, pulling out of her and Win whined at the loss, feeling his seed slowly rolling down her inner thigh.  

“You were right, you knew exactly what I needed to wear me out,” she sighed contentedly, turning toward him to rest her cheek against his shoulder, draping her arm over him.

Billy chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.  “I know how to take care of you,” he murmured proudly, reaching for Win’s pack of cigarettes on the nightstand nearby.

“Open the window and share that with me,” she said, scooting closer to his side and Billy did as she asked, lighting the cigarette pinched between his teeth and blowing the smoke toward the window above her headboard.

Taking another pull, he offered it to her, wrapping his other arm around her back to hold her against him, though he knew he should be doing the opposite–disentangling himself and getting dressed.  It was late, way past his curfew, but the feel of her warm body pressed against him was sweeter than the threat of his father’s wrath and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed.

“What was California like?” Win asked, her abrupt question taking him by surprise, and when Billy glanced down at her, he found her watching him.

“Warm,” he said, fighting a lump in his throat.  “The sun was almost always shining.  I used to spend a lot of time at the beach,” he continued, glancing away.  “Then… things changed, and–” Billy hesitated, plucking the cigarette from her fingers to bring to his lips.  “Well, let’s just say there was always plenty of shit to do to keep me outta the house,” he muttered, still feeling Win’s large doll-like eyes on him. 

He could sense she was gearing up to ask a follow up question and he quickly changed the subject, not really wanting to dredge up shit from the past.

“How late does your dad work?  He’s not gunna come home soon and catch me in bed with you, is he?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as he remembered the look on her father’s face the first time they’d met.  If he found them like this, he’d probably really freak.

“Nah, he works nights, so he won't be back til about six or seven,” Win answered.

Billy chanced a peek at her while he ashed the cigarette in the glass ashtray on her bedside table.  “You don’t see him much,” he observed, a spike of jealousy pricking his stomach.

Win shook her head, reaching across him to steal the last few hits off the cigarette. 

“Ever since my mum died, it’s been like this.  Like he doesn’t wanna process shit, and he’d rather just throw himself into work or something, I dunno,” she muttered.

“I wish my dad was like that,” Billy murmured and Win’s brows drew down.

“Don’t say that.”

Billy huffed a humourless laugh, finally looking her in the eye.  “I mean it,” he insisted.  “If you knew my dad, you’d understand.  If he disappeared tomorrow and I never saw him again, I wouldn’t shed a fuckin’ tear.”

Win nodded, finally understanding. With everything he’d said about his home life, things were beginning to make a lot of sense.

“Shit,” she suddenly hissed, catching sight of the time.  “It’s way later than I thought–”

Billy cut her off, knowing she was about to ask if he needed to leave, and while he knew he probably should, he’d already made up his mind.

“It’s fine,” he said, a decisiveness to his voice that discouraged any argument.  “Besides, your bed’s way more comfortable and there’s a smokin’ hot naked girl in it,” he added, his lips twitching as he ducked his head to steal a kiss.

“Charmer,” Win murmured, once more melting, deciding not to press the issue.  It wasn’t like she wanted him to leave anyway.

Billy put out the spent cigarette and waved the smoke away before getting under the blankets and pulling Win closer, letting her meld against him, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

“Night Princess,” he murmured, but she was already drifting off.  

––

The sound of her dad’s car pulling into the gravel drive woke Win and she blinked blearily, vaguely noticing the weak sunlight streaming through her window, which was still cracked open from the night before, the November morning air chilling her room.

Whining softly at the chill, she pulled the comforter up higher and rolled over, seeking Billy’s warmth.  When her hand slid across the cold empty space next to her however, she bolted awake.  Billy was nowhere to be found, his blankets thrown back as if he’d gotten up.

Crawling to the edge of the bed, she found the spot on the floor he’d left his boots empty as well and her fear of her father catching him there shifted to empty disappointment, her heart sinking, though she knew she was being irrational.

Laying back down with a huff, she stared at the ceiling, not bothering to shut her window.  It almost felt like she’d only imagined falling asleep in Billy’s warm embrace, sleeping more soundly than she had since she’d moved to Hawkins.  Turning her head to glance at her clock, a slip of paper on her bedside table caught her eye and she sat up to get a better look.

Billy’s hasty scrawl covered the scrap paper and Win couldn’t help but smile, hearing his voice in her head as she read his words.

Morning beautiful,  Sorry I’m not there when you wake up.  Thought it would be safer to leave before your dad gets home.  Last night was fun.  Slept better than I have in a while.   I’ll call you later. —Billy P.S. you’re pretty cute when you’re sleeping, you actually look kind of innocent.

Suddenly feeling much lighter, Win flopped back into bed, holding Billy’s note to her chest as she fell back asleep, hoping his dad hadn’t noticed he’d been out all night.

⇾ taglist. @b1tchywheeler @wherethewitchersare @super-unpredictable98 @santacarlahorrorshow @oliver-sykes @elliethesuperfruitlover

[thecursedanon]

Rainy Day

Characters: Lee!Yuji, Ler!Nanami, Sukuna(only in Yuji's head), Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki (because I love this little dork, okay? lol) Genre: Comfort <3 Word Count: 3166 Summary: Yuji Is super down today, that and he's not been sleeping well due to the nightmares he's been having. His friends, concerned about him go to Nanami with their concerns, and the stoic teacher takes it upon himself to cheer Itadori up. A/N: Hey, Curse here! This was originally intended to be part of the Amusement Park Aftermath fic, but I couldn't organically fit it in so I split them up... so that's why there are similarities in the setting. Enjoy!

Though the mood had been upbeat and calm in the days before, today it seemed as though a rain cloud loomed over Jujutsu Tech-- both figuratively and literally. Everyone seemed a bit more somber today.

Even Yuji wasn’t immune to the effects as he gazed out his window at the bleak gray sky, winds whipping the trees around and causing the leaves to drift around with reckless abandon.

He sighed softly, leaning over and resting his face on his palms as he watched the gloominess outside from the edge of his bed.

He heard his door open, but didn’t turn around or acknowledge it. Nobara and Megumi had been peeking in on him periodically to make sure he was still alive, clearly unused to the pink haired teen being a recluse.

“He’s still moping.” Megumi sighed.

“Should we go get Gojo sensei?” Nobara asked.

“We want to cheer him up, not make him worse.”

“I dunno, he seems pretty good at this kind of thing...”

Inumaki poked his head into the room with them, signing as he spoke. “Bonito flakes…” Megumi is right… “Mustard Leaf.” Gojo would just overwhelm him more.

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

Inumaki paused, the blonde tapped his chin as he became deep in thought. Nobara shot Megumi a look that screamed; ‘this is who we’re taking ideas from?’ as she gestured to the other teen.

“Tuna mayo?” Maybe Nanami can help?

“If Gojo can’t help, what makes you think Nanami sensei can?”

“He’s right.” Megumi nodded in agreement with Toge’s idea. “Nanami is our best bet. If something serious is going on, Yuji might be more comfortable talking to Nanami about it.”

Inumaki nodded his head, looking quite pleased with himself as Nobara sighed. “Fine, let’s go find him…” With that, the trio headed to Nanami’s classroom and explained the worrying situation to him.

“That explains why he hasn’t been blowing my phone up this morning…” He sighed softly. Yuji had a bad habit of spamming his phone with an overabundance of positive texts, or any and all memes he found that he thought were funny… most of the time they weren’t.

“I’ll go talk to him,” He nodded, standing up from his desk. “Thank you for coming to me.”

Back In Yuji’s room, he had actually started to doze off watching the rain fall down his window when there was a knock at his door. He sighed, trying to ignore their efforts.

There was another knock, this one softer and a bit more hesitant than the first. 

“Guys, I’m not dead in here. you can stop checking on me.” He called out, half asleep.

“Itadori?”

Yuji perked up at the sound of the voice. “Nanamin?”

“Is it alright if I come in?”

The pinkette nodded, but realized he couldn’t see him. “Yeah, you can come in.” he responded, turning around to look at the door.

Nanami walked in and closed the door behind him, assessing Yuji carefully for any signs of distress. “I haven’t heard from you In a while… I wanted to check in on you.” He said, his voice softer than usual.

Itadori smiled a little, and when he did, Nanami could see just how exhausted the teen looked. “Yeah, sorry… I haven’t been on my phone.”

That in and of itself was alarming.

The blonde teacher approached him cautiously. “Yuji, you look like you haven’t been sleeping.” He observed out loud. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Itadori brushed off his concern, trying to shake off the fatigue. “Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Watching too many Jennifer Lawrence movies, again?” There was a note of teasing on his words as he spoke to the pink haired boy. (Okay, more than a note.)

Yuji felt his face heat up. “Noooo…” He subtly nudged his chair to conceal a stack of Jennifer Lawrence movies he had in fact been watching the night before. 

Nanami, of course, saw this. He let out a small chuckle as he idly picked up one of Itadori’s blankets from the floor, folding it as he spoke. “Yuji, if something is bothering you… you know you can talk to me, right?” He asked, glancing up at the teen as he neatly set it down on the bed. “Even if you think it’s something minor…”

Yuji bit his lip and looked back out the window. “Yeah… I know that…It’s just my thoughts are so scrambled right now… I don’t even know how to start talking about what’s bothering me...”

Nanami frowned, picking up another blanket and approaching the pinkette with it. He carefully draped it around him and sat down next to him. “I understand…”

A memory flickered to the forefront of his mind, he recalled saying something similar to his best friend when he was Yuji’s age. Haibara had responded by looking for the fluffiest, most comforting blanket he could find in their dorm room and damn near smothered Kento with it as he wrapped him up in it and hugged him tightly.  

It was times like this that he wished Yu had still been alive, he’d be much better at this sort of thing than he was… “I’m sorry.” Kento said softly, his hands firmly grasping his students shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Yuji looked at the window, the rain and wind had kicked up even more outside. “Can I… have a hug?”

Nanami nodded, not hesitating to engulf him in a big protective hug at his request. “Of course you can.”

Yuji smiled, the warmth from the blanket and the warmth radiating from the tight hug was soothing to him. He wrapped his arms around Nanami in response, resting his head on his shoulder. 

As he sat there with him, the room silent save for the rain falling outside and the soft breathing, he felt his racing thoughts slowing down a bit… making more sense rather than being incoherent whispers speaking over each other.

But that soon became a problem too, as the reason for his anguish presented itself.

He was sad.

He was really fucking sad… He missed his grandpa. He was exhausted from trying to put on a brave front all the time, when the truth of the matter was; he was still just a scared, sad kid who missed the only family he had ever truly had...

As Nanami sat there holding the student, he felt him begin to tremble in his arms. “Itadori?” He asked softly, holding the teen tighter to try to silently reassure him he was okay.

“I’m… sorry…” Came the small, whimper of a reply. Small sobs escaped his shaking form as he buried his face in the blonde’s chest, his tears soaking into the blue fabric.

“Hey… don’t be sorry.” Kento responded, keeping his tone low and gentle in an attempt to soothe the boy. “It’s okay… shh… you’re okay.” He began rubbing circles into the pinkette’s back as he spoke. “I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere…”

If Yuji hadn’t have already been crying, he would have been now. He clung onto his mentor like a scared child as he sobbed harder.

It became clear to Nanami just how much pain the boy was in, his muffled cries sounding anguished and terrified. It absolutely broke his heart, he wasn’t sure how to take the pain away from the usually bright light hearted teen, and he desperately wanted to.

“I’m so tired of being scared, Nanami!” he cried into his chest.

“Yuji… It’s going to be okay, you have nothing to be afraid of here. I’ll protect you.” The usually stoic teacher whispered in response.

“But who will protect you?” Itadori whimpered, burrowing further into his protective hold. “I can’t lose you too!!”

“Yuji…” Nanami felt his heart twist at the student’s outburst, he wished more than anything he could say that he wouldn’t lose him, and that everything would be okay in the end… but he knew from his own experience that wasn’t the case. He knew how cruel this line of work was… it didn’t discriminate with the lives it claimed.

“I can’t lose you…!” The boy sobbed, his frame shaking like a leaf in the blonde teacher’s strong arms. “P-Please…!”

“Shhh… hey, listen to me okay? I have no intentions of going anywhere.” Kento whispered, gently rocking Itadori in his arms. “Why are you so worried about me? I haven’t died yet.”

“I…” Yuji pulled back, looking up at Nanami with tears falling down his face. That also broke his heart. “I-I’ve been having these nightmares… Where y-you… you…”

“Shhh…” Nanami reached forward and gently pulled the crying pinkette back into his warm embrace, stroking his hair gently as he guided his head to rest against his chest. “Yuji, they’re just bad dreams… do you hear that? My heart is still beating. I’m still here. You’re okay… I’ve got you.”

This seemed to soothe some of anguish the boy was feeling, his sobs becoming small whimpers as he began to calm down at the sound of Nanami’s heartbeat in his ear.

They sat there In silence together for a while, the only other sound in the room was the rain hitting Yuji’s window and his sniffles and whimpers.

But soon those would silence too, and Itadori would slowly pull away from Nanami again. His eyes were puffy from all the crying he’d done, and his face was tear stained. “N-Nanamin?”

“Yes?”

“Th-Thank you…”

The blonde smiled softly at him, gently wiping away some of the remaining tears from his face. “Of course…” 

Yuji giggled a bit as Kento grazed against his neck when wiping his tears away, causing the blonde to pause and give him a confused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Itadori said quickly, smiling nervously as his mentor stared at him.

Oh?

Nanami smirked, ghosting his fingers along Itadori’s neck, causing him to squeak and recoil with a giggle. “Nothing? Are you sure about that?”

“Nanami…”

“Itadori… you wouldn’t happen to be… ticklish, would you?”

“W-Well would you look at the time? I’m gonna be late for my training session with Gojo and-- ACK!”

“Oh no you don’t.” Kento grabbed onto the pinkette before he could escape, pulling him back into his arms and pinning him against him. “Even if you did have training with Gojo right now, which you don’t because he’s out of town… I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

“Wh-What did I do?”

“I told you I’d protect you… that includes from yourself and your sadness.”

“But Nanamin… I’m not sad any--eeeeehehehehehe!” Yuji’s protests were interrupted by a squeal followed by adorably bubbly giggles as Nanami began to tickle him.

“Oh please, don’t insult my intelligence… I know you’re still sad, you’re just not crying anymore.” Nanami rolled his eyes fondly at the boy, squeezing at his side teasingly.

“Nahahahahanami! Ihihihit tickles!” Itadori whined, but despite his complaints he made no attempts to get away.

Nanami chuckled at his reactions, sneaking his hand underneath Yuji’s shirt to lightly tickle his bare side. “Does it now~? How unfortunate for you… because I have no intentions of stopping until you feel better~”

Yuji giggled harder as he leaned into Nanami’s hold. “Ihihihihi’m not sahahahahad anymore!”

“Itadori, It’s okay to be sad…” Nanami said soothingly, skittering his fingers up and down his ribs as he spoke. “It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you suffer through it alone.”

The most adorable thing about this whole thing? Yuji wasn’t resisting, he was actually angling himself in ways that would give Nanami more access to his ticklish spots… which he found utterly adorable.

“Itadori, you know… you could at least pretend to want to get away~” Kento chuckled in amusement at his student.

“I dohohoho want to get ahahaway!” Yuji lied… because If he really wanted to get away, he totally could.

“Oh, you do, hm? Is that why you’re rolling around like a puppy trying to get me to scratch its belly?” Nanami couldn’t help but tease the boy, his fingers drifting to Yuji’s stomach. “Is this what you were looking for~?”

Itadori squealed as he felt Nanami’s fingers lightly dance across his toned stomach, practically melting in his mentor's hold as he laughed harder. “EHEHEHEHEEK!”

It’s now coming to Itadori’s attention that he may… and I repeat; may be… enjoying this. (He is.) 

Sure, every once In a while he’ll get the occasional poke here and there, or Gojo will be… well, Gojo… and tickle the absolute snot out of him but… Nanami’s tickles are much more gentle and affectionate. It’s almost relaxing in a sense… plus he never knew his parents, and his grandfather wasn’t exactly the most physically affectionate so it’s kind of healing to his inner child right now to be tickled by someone he views as a father figure.

Also, he just really loves playing around with him like this… this isn’t a side anyone sees of Nanami.

Did I mention Yuji is an adorable ball of sunshine yet? because he totally is.

“Ah, that was definitely what you wanted…” Nanami teased, his fingers tracing teasingly along his stomach, producing the most adorable giggles he’s heard in a very long time.

“Nahahahahanamin! Nohohohoho! Nahahat the behehehelly!” Yuji squealed, covering his face as his half hearted protests fell on deaf ears.

“Not the belly? why not? It seems like as good a spot as any…” Nanami hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Hmm… Nope, sorry. I think I’m going to stay right here for a bit longer, you’re a tough kid, you can take it.”

Yuji squealed again as his stomach was tickled with more vigor.

‘Seriously, brat? He’s not kidding… You really are like a dog who wants his stomach rubbed. The only thing you’re missing is the damn leg kick.’ Sukuna taunted Yuji internally.  

‘Suhuhuhukuna shuhuhuhut up!’ Poor Yuji couldn’t even escape the teasing in his mind.

‘You know you could easily get this to stop, don’t you? Just allow me control and--’

‘Absolutely nahahahat!’

‘Why not? Don’t tell me… you actually ENJOY this, do you?’

‘Ihihihim not gonna lehehehet you hurt him!’

‘How pathetic… you truly are an annoying brat.’

“Nahahahanamihihihi plehehehease!”

The blond relented his attack, allowing the pinkette to catch his breath. “Are you feeling any better yet?” He asked gently, keeping his unofficial son trapped in his grasp as he calmed down.

Yuji nodded, giggling a bit still. “Y-Yeah.. thanks dad.”

Oh fuck.

He didn’t just…

Nanami froze as he heard those words come out of Itadori’s mouth.

Itadori panicked inwardly, his distress making Sukuna chuckle in amusement in the back of his mind. “I-I mean… yeah, thanks dad.” He said much more sarcastically this time, hoping that Nanami would go for it.

He did not. 

“Yuji… did you just… call me dad?”

Yuji felt himself tear up, fearful that he just ruined the relationship he had with Nanami. “Y-Yeah, but I meant it in a joking way.”

Kento frowned, he knew by the way the boy’s voice quivered that he was lying. “Yuji…”

“I-I’m sorry.” Yuji shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to contain his emotions. “I-I didn’t mean to… I-It… It jus-- EEK!”

Yuji shrieked as Nanami resumed his ticklish attack, now holding the teen’s arms above his head and tickling under his arms.

“NAHAHAHAHANAMI?? AHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHYHYHYHYHY ARE YOU TICKLING MEHEHEHE??”

“Because you’re sad again.” Nanami answered simply.

“AHAHAHAHAREN’T YOU MAHAHAHAD AT MEHEHE??”

Nanami leaned down a bit so he could speak directly into Yuji’s ear. “Why would I be mad?” His voice was low and calm, as if he wasn’t completely annihilating Yuji with tickles right now.

“BEHEHEHECAUSE IHIHIHI CALLED YOU-- EeEeEeEeEEEEK!” Yuji shrieked as Nanami blew a raspberry against his neck, cutting him off. “NAHAHAHAHA!!”

“I seem to have missed the part where you did something to make me mad…” Nanami smiled a bit, his fingers not slowing their pace against Itadori’s ticklish armpit whatsoever.

“BUHUHUHUT IHIHI… IHIHI CALLED YOUHUHU DAHAHAD-- AIEEE!”

Itadori was interrupted by another raspberry against his neck. “And?”

“IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRYEEEEHEHEHEHE!” Yuji shrieked again as he dealt another massive raspberry against his neck. Before he could form semi coherent sentences again, Nanami laid him down on his back on his bed and pinned his arms down above his head.

“Yuji Itadori… If you apologize to me again, you’re going to regret it.” Nanami said sternly, though his green eyes sparkled as his gaze remained gentle on the teen. “My cursed technique isn’t just useful for inflicting pain…It can also be used to make ticklish troublemakers even more ticklish…”

Yuji took a moment to catch his breath, and tried to collect his thoughts before responding. “N-Nanamin… Why aren’t you mad at me…?”

“I told you, you haven’t said anything to upset me.”

“But… I called you… D-Dad… That doesn’t upset you?”

Nanami smiled. “No… It doesn’t.” He let go of Itadori’s arms, and just let him lay there instead.

Yuji frowned, tears quickly flooding his eyes as he looked away. “You can’t possibly mean that… you’re just trying to reassure me-EEEE--” the pinkette squealed and began cackling again as Nanami blew a raspberry on his stomach.

“New rule, every time you apologize for no reason or overthink, I’m going to tickle you.” Kento smirked, watching as the boy composed himself again.

“B-But…”

“Yuji… I’m not just trying to reassure you. I meant that.” Nanami’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “If calling me Dad makes you happy then… you can call me that any time you want.”

Itadori sat up slowly, his eyes still sparkly with tears. “Y-You… really don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Kento reached forward and wiped Yuji’s tears. “I happen to care about you.”

Welp. That did it… again.

Yuji started sobbing again, leaning forward and burying his face in Nanami’s chest as he ugly cried

Kento pulled him into a comforting hug, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Shh… It’s okay now… You’re safe.”

‘You truly are a pathetic creature, you know that?’

‘That may be… but at least I’M loved sooo… suck it.’

After a few more minutes Yuji began to calm down, and he pulled back from Nanami. “Thank you… I needed that.” He smiled, wiping his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me for comforting you, you know…” Nanami mused. “I really don’t mind.”

“Heh… Yeah I guess you’re right… sorry-- EEHEHEHE!” Yuji shrieked as Nanami reached forward and tickled his stomach, after using ratio to make him even more ticklish, of course.

“You never learn, do you?” Nanami sighed, though his words may have come out as disappointed, the playful glimmer in his eyes betrayed him.

It seemed It was going to take some time for Yuji to learn not to be so apologetic and overthink so much, and Nanami was content to keep tickling him until he got that message through his skull… Yuji was also content to let it happen.

[meetmyothersouls]

tricks and kinks, please please please 👻👻👻👻

👻😈 I’ve been waiting for this one!

Best Halloween Yet

Storm, power outage, sex game, smutty smut, not proof read

It was a tradition for you and Timothee to spend Halloween night together. When you were kids, you went trick or treating together. As teenagers you went to costume parties that got progressively skankier as the years went on. And as young adults, feeling too old to attend parties but too young to not celebrate at all, you’d begun a new annual tradition of ordering pizza, eating ungodly amounts of candy and watching horror movies until you passed out. This was no different, as Timothee walked into your apartment carrying a value sized back of candy that should be for trick or treaters. 

“Fuck, it is pouring down rain out there.” He shook his body like a dog, flinging water from his soaked hair. “Think we can eat the whole bag in one night this year?” He asked, tossing it onto your futon. 

“Not if you eat an entire pizza first,” you teased. 

“Listen, you didn’t think I could do it and I had to prove you wrong.” 

“Doesn’t count when you throw up the entire pizza 30 minutes later.” 

Timothee rolled his eyes as he pulled his backpack off of his shoulders. He pulled out a stack of DVDs. 

“Okay, so we’ve got The Exorcist, The Blair Witch Project, and my personal favorite Amityville Horror.” 

Just you opened your mouth to make a choice, a loud booming crack of thunder shook your apartment. An immediate flash of thunder illuminated your living room before shutting off the lights all together. 

“Fuck, it’s dark,” Timothee’s voice shook. 

“Aw, you scared?” You teased him, though it was dark. You lifted your hand in front of your face, not one finger was visible. You pulled your phone out and turned on your flashlight. You jumped as Timothee’s body came into light directly in front of your face. 

“There you are,” he breathed out, relieved. “Candles?” 

The two of you spent the next 20 minutes gathering every candle that you owned, and when you finished lighting them all, the room filled with a warm, yellow glow. 

“What now?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “This hasn’t happened in the -what..18-Halloween’s we’ve spent together.” Timothee paused as he contemplated what to do next. “Got any boardgames?”

“Hall closet,” you said, pointing as you moved a few candles around. 

“You got some good ones in here,” Timothee called from the hallway. “How come we never played games before?” 

“Well, you’re usually too busy hiding under the covers.” 

“What’s this one?” Timothee brought out a small pink box. It looked similar to Yahtzee and you immediately remembered what it was. 

“No!” You jumped up, lunging for the game. “Not that one!” 

He held the game up in the air, too high for you to reach. You jumped, attempting to grab the game from him. 

“Naughty but Dice? Oh my god, Y/n, really?! You own a dirty game!?”

“It’s not mine!” 

“Weeeelll, it was in your closet!”

“It was Randall’s!”

“The douche bag ex?”

“Yes, Timothee, the douche bag ex.”

Timothee shook the box a few times before a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Wanna play it?”

You looked at him, wide eyed. You’d always been attracted to Timothee, in fact when you were kids, you were caught kissing on multiple occasions, but that was years and years ago. You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would feel like to be touched by him again or kissed by him as an adult.

“Just for shits and giggles. Nothing serious.”

You relaxed a little at that. “Okay. Fine.”

Timothee sat on the floor in the middle of the ring of candles the two of you created not long ago. He crossed his legs and dumped the contents of the box out: a stack of cards, 2 dice and a folded piece of paper containing the rules.

“Okay,” he said, unfolding the rules. “So, the way the game works is: player 1 rolls the dice. Whatever the dice says you have to do either to yourself or to player 2.”

“What are the cards for?” You asked.

“You don’t remember from your sexventures with Randall.”

“Ugh shut up and tell me what the cards are for, asshole.”

Timothee laughed, already having way too much fun. “Oh, it says the cards are for drawing along with each dice roll. Like an action to do along with what your dice say, or you can draw card if you choose not to do what the dice command, but if you choose a card you have to do what it says.”

You blew out a shaky breath. “Okay, okay let’s just do it.”

“Ladies first,” Timothee said, bowing his head to you.

“So chivalrous.”

You wanted to puke.

You picked the dice up, shaking them in your hand and hoping you didn’t get something you’d regret. You opened your hands, letting the dice fall onto the carpet. The two of you leaned down, reading the words.

“Hug,” the two of you read one of the dice simultaneously.

“Body?” You asked, looking at the picture on the other dice.

You looked up, Timothee already holding his arms out. “A hugs not so bad?”

You shrugged, walking on your knees across the floor to Timothee. He pulled into his arms and to be honest, it was one of the best hugs received in a long time. He held you tightly, his biceps pushing against your sides.

“We forgot to draw a card.”

You felt one of his arms shift as he moved forward to the stack of cards.

“Run hands down players back underneath their shirt.”

Your head spun. You could do that?

You moved your arms from around his neck, and slid them under the back of his shirt. Timothee tensed slightly under your touch. You felt as tiny goosebumps peppered the smooth, soft skin of his back.

“Your hands are cold,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” you said, removing them from his shirt back backing up to your spot on the carpet. “Okay. Your turn.”

Timothee nodded, biting his lower lip as he scooped the dice up off the floor. He shook them hard in his hands before letting them fall.

“Kiss,” Timothee read.

Your heart dropped.

“Neck.”

You swallowed hard. And you think he heard it.

“Is that too much? I won’t do it if it is.”

“No, no. Do it. Kiss my neck.” You attempted to sound confident. It didn’t work. 

Timothee crawled on his knees to you, the action itself doing something to you. When he was close enough for you to feel his breath on you, he said, “let me know if it’s too much, I can stop.” 

It was already too much. But you sure as hell wouldn’t stop him. You nodded. Warm breath and soft lips caressed the skin of your neck. He kissed it once. It was quick, but you breathed deeply in response to it. Then he kissed it again, opening his mouth and wetting your skin as he did. Your hand somehow found its way to the back of his head. You wanted to keep him there. When he disconnected you kept your eyes closed. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Your turn.”

“You didn’t draw a card,” you reminded him. 

He smirked, picking up a card. “Remove your shirt,” he read aloud. He stood, unbuttoning each button of his flannel before letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes followed his movement and he lowered himself back into a sitting position on your carpet. 

“Your turn now.” 

You rolled the dice. 

“Lick,” you read. “Lips.” 

Timothee snorted. 

“You don’t think I’ll do it?” 

“It’s silly. I wanna see you try.”

You crawled back over to him until you were sitting in his lap, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence after his neck kiss. Your eyes bounced back and forth from his and to his lips. You licked yours first and let out a shaky breath. Slowly, you brought your mouth close to his, but you couldn’t -

“Y/n,” Timothee whispered.

“What?”

“Just fucking kiss me.”

He grabbed the back do your head, smashing your lips into his.

Hungry was the only word to describe the kiss. There was nothing gentle or delicate about. Lips were bit, teeth clanked together as your lips tried to harmonize with his. He laid back, pulling you down with him. His mouth tasted like the chocolate he ate before the power went out and it only made you want him more.

He rolled you onto your back, his palms flat on the carpet on either side of your head.

“Do you want to draw a card?” He asked as he hovering over you.

You ran your hands up his bare chest then back down, stopping at his belt.

“Hand me one.”

He reached a long arm over to the stack of cards, drawing one for you.

“Fuck.”

“What does it say.”

You turned it to him.

“It says ‘Fuck’.”

Clothes were discarded, thrown across your living room in a hurried frenzy. Your lips only disconnecting when your shirt came off.

“Don’t have a condom,” you mumbled.

“I’ll pull out,” Timothee said as you let your legs fall open for him.

He pushed himself inside of you, groaning as you took each inch of him. It was kind of romantically spooky, you thought, having sex with Timothee around at least 20 lit candles during a Halloween thunder storm.

He kissed down your neck as he slid almost all the way out. The rain picked up, tapping rhythmically on the windows. He sucked in one of your nipples as he pushed back in. You hissed in pleasure, squeezing the ‘fuck’ card you still held in your hand.

“You feel,” he said, popping off of your nipple. “So. Fucking. Good. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

He picked up speed and you could tell by the way he rolled and snapped his hips into you that he was already close.

“Think you’ll cum with me if I do this?”

He licked his thumb and attached it to your clit, rubbing soft, slow circles onto the sensitive bud as he continued railing you. You moaned loudly, drawing up your legs and arching your back off the carpet .

“That’s my girl. God your gonna make me cum, baby.”

You shook under his body, convulsing on the floor as you came. He pulled out of you immediately, as if the sight of you cumming drove him over the edge. He stroked his cock until he came on your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed out collapsing on the floor next to you. “I think this was our best Halloween yet.”

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @gatoenlaciudad @patronsaintofthetwinks

[miiv12]

OTP questions: SolarxRuin

What is each member’s love language? Solar: Acts of service Ruin: Physical touch & Words of affrimation

What would they describe as their perfect date? Just a chill day/night to watch something or play games and just talk.

Who made the first move? Ruin is more open with affection and such so they did

Who is more sentimental? Ruin

Which member calls the other in to kill the spiders? Ruin does, though Solar moves the spiders instead of killing them

Who falls asleep first? Solar does, most of the time he's out like a light the second he lays down

Who wakes up first? Solar, he has a lot of stuff to do throughout the day

Who is more more relaxed/carefree? Solar is calmer and better when it comes to sudden changes and planning around them,but he has a hard time actually relaxing. Ruin is more anxious but also knows when it's time to step back and take a break.

What’s one way their personalities compliment one another? (Is it opposites attract or are they pretty similar?) Previous answer.

Who is always cold? Don't understand the question?

Which member is always trying to bring home stray animals and which member always has to say no? Ruin would try to,and maybe Solar ends up saying okay to one or two pets.

Who worries more? Ruin does

What are some non-sexual activities they do together? Watch movies/shows/musicals, play games, cuddles, sometimes they build stuff together.

Who would be able to talk their way out of a speeding ticket? I feel like Ruin would confuse both the cop and Solar

Who is the better cook? Solar, though he doesn't do it very often

What are some things they don’t agree on? They have different tastes in music

Which member is more physically affectionate? Ruin

Which member is more verbally affectionate? Ruin again

How does each member feel about PDA? Ruin absolutely loves it,both giving and receiving. Solar is a more subdued and it's one of the ways to actually get him blushing, but he's okay with it as long as it doesn't go too far and not in front of strangers.

Who’s the safer driver? Solar, Ruin is a good driver in a sense but once he gets going there's no stopping the guy.

What’s each member flirting style? Dunno

Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing? Ruin mostly, though Solar does also do it now and then

Who is the cuddle initiator? Most often it's Ruin

Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in? 99% of the time they stay in, the last 1% is either spent with friends/family or just them in a secluded place

Who is the big/little spoon? Solar is big spoon, Ruin has tried too but it wasn't as comfortable

Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason? Ruin is definietly more impulsive, but Solar usually let's things happen unless someone can actually get hurt

Who’s more likely to laugh at their own jokes? Ruin does

Who takes longer showers? Solar, but only because he's dirtier after work

Who is “more loved” by the in-laws? Question doesn't really work here..

Who is more likely to get jealous? Ruin actually

What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating? Dunno yet(might edit later)

Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed? Solar will never fully stop with his overworking tendencies no matter how many times Ruin has to drag him to bed to charge

Who’s messier? Solar, Ruin has similar habits as Sun when it comes to cleanliness

Which member is more likely to accidentally spend $300 at Target? Solar is the type to calculate the cost before hand, while Ruin throws extra things into the cart

Who wanted/would want kids first? Ruin, i imagine Solar would be a lot more unsure about the idea

Who gives piggy back rides to the other? omg Ruin saw Solar doing it for Lunar and he just had to get a ride too!

Who fell in love first? Probably Ruin OG Post: https://www.tumblr.com/lavenderotpprompts/658745255432241152/assorted-otp-questions?source=share

[send-me-a-puffalope]

I. listened to a video called: "Overthinking Micheal Afton 's Monologue".

And fuck, he's also kicked dog. But it just made me think of Vanessa even more.

Like, ouugghhh. If you have time and want to listen to it, go ahead!! I just. Wanted to say that n other stuff

_________

(I took some screenshots of the video),

These all. I think they could all work for Vanessa so well in the movie.

She's known about the kids, but she has a closer attachment to them. So I don't think it would be that "uncaring", but she is certainly used to it all. She doesn't question, and she's basically casual with the information. She's used to knowing what her Father has done.

That also,, kinda leads me to another thing.

She still calls him "daddy", like a young child would. A child looking for love, care, approval, and just tender domestic family life. But she just can't get that.

Micheal calls William; "Father", as a proper way to address someone. Or it can show his hatred. I think it's both

But it's all connected by the fact, that they are his puppets.

This one, was pointed out as if the music is like. Micheal remembering, and having it be painful for him to remember.

If they were to ever have Vanessa say Micheal's monologue, in the movie. They better add some more emotions to some words. But still keep the whole "creepy tired" voice, that they had for Micheal in the games(I kinda just wanna point out again, much more of a fun fact bout the video: they guy in the video says that Will is more "up to no good" in terms of voice, while Micheal is broken. I can get how they get mistaken for each other, but that's just by looks and slightly their voice. It's the way they are that is different). "Tired" in a sense that she's, like. She's really tired emotionally/etc. and "creepy" because she's just a rotting corpse with like. Stitches to her, that she caused herself (your scooped!Vanessa idea is running all over my head)

But I think the one that she would be sent to free is, the Golden Freddy kid or.. maybe oddly enough the two young Schmidt kids(Garrett & Abby). I dunno tho. I just, like to think that it would work with the themes of Vanessa trying to be kind and a kid again. But, who knows, who she'll be "putting back together" (I'll get back to this one too. It just points so much to many aspects of FNAF I swear to fucking God)

KICKED DOG. SOSO MANY KICKED DOGS IN THIS FUCKING FAMILY—

But yeah. The "I ..." And "asked me to...", just. Ough. Because she was asked, was told, to follow his rules. To clean up "her" mess, and help fix what "she" caused.

"I put her back together." — Abby is connected to Elizabeth due to the Ella suit, and how she generally acts(Sassy, etc. Elizabeth is somewhat characterized in many AUs/Canons, to be sassy). But Vanessa is also connected to Elizabeth as a fact, that she's the daughter of William Afton, one to fall to his lies, get emotionally manipulated (I don't think that most of his kids were normal in a sense that they did things their own way. Circus Baby being made for Elizabeth? Manipulation. Fredbear plush telling CC almost everything, and maybe the one who is talking thru Fredbear is William? Manipulation. Micheal going to SL? Manipulation). Garrett also being connected to Elizabeth due to him needing to be found - being the Puppet(who in some AUs/Canons, is very clown/jester/mime themed. Even Security Puppet is mime like!) - clothing colors(pink and red are similar. Blue pants/skirts) - generally being the reason why some guy named "Mike" is doing Security jobs(maybe even stretching to Vanessa being a police officer)

"I put her back together." — the whole "together", and your idea of Scooped Vanessa, stitching herself back together. → “i.... I put myself together... Just like you would wanted me to do... (small sob/needle pulling + small whimper) ...”

Color symbolism, Blue: serenity, stability, inspiration, or wisdom. / open spaces, freedom, intuition, imagination, inspiration, and sensitivity. / Honesty & Loyalty (personality symbol of blue)

Just wanted to share the color symbolism. Which is kinda funny- to me. Because, well.

Vanessa is not anything but wisdom and a trained dog. She has wisdom, but will say fully if ever told to do so. That could be stability, but it is not serenity.

She is connected to open spaces, but they all feel so so closed and cluttered. Not open to her. Freedom? As if she has freedom(Vanessa became a Police officer, and it's highly hinted that she did not choose that for herself. Or maybe she did, and William decided to use that in his ways).

She is honest. She is loyal(but very kicked dog loyal)

I also kinda wanna point the "They thought I was you (sigh/etc" that Micheal did. And add that to Vanessa.

Maybe the whole "they thought I was you", could be when the kids saw how Vanessa shot William. If she can shot, what can she do to them? Even if they are robots, their souls are that of her friends, of kids. And anyone can turn out to be bad(e.i: William is seemingly a kind normal guy, but then he's revealed to be a child-murderer). Vanessa is related to William, the Yellow Rabbit. So what can she do, if she can shoot?

And if the Cassidy Afton theory is true in the movie verse. Then, what can happen? His Father killed him, so what can his sister do? She shot their Father. She let their Father kill him.

So, "they thought I was you" could just be how the kids rumored how Vanessa would act towards them. Might just be their fear, but Golden Freddy has reasons to fear her. He might be big, might be a predator that finally killed his killer, his own Father. But - his sister is still here.

He cares, he hates, he fears Vanessa.

“They thought I would act like you... (scoff/sob) ..."

Reason why I added the "(scoff/sob)" is because, it just fits. Her own brother fears her, hates her. Her friends fear her. She lets out more of a cry, but she scoffs because why would she ever act like Him?

Getting this one, because I just like it. But it also fits. Vanessa is also supposed to be dead, but she's not. And that's wrong.

It hurts her to remember about her brother, or like. Her closest confidant. So she goes ahead to talk about herself. How she seemingly survived what was supposed to be her last time breathing.

And it is her last time breathing, but she's still here.

And that's just ... Wrong. It's impossible, scientifically impossible, and just wrong. But she's still here and she's proving it wrong

Your brainrot of her is highly infecting me. It's crazy man

(now I'm thinking of how she and the Schmidt family acted like in the past, <- very heavy on Schmidts = Emily's theory)

Me jumping up and down excitedly reading through this cause I have. So Much. to say about my Vanessa and Elizabeth AU fic but I also don’t wanna spoil anything 👁️👁️ But the Michael SL monologue (Vanessa version) has me in a CHOKEHOLD OH MY LORD. I want them to do Sister Location so bad but idk if the movies are gonna go in that direction (i mean SL is pretty dang important to the FNAF lore unless they end at like ~FNAF 4 ig??? or just skip all the weird/suspension of disbelief parts of SL)

I love love love the idea of “I…I put her back together… just like you wanted me to” changing to “I…I put myself back together…just like you would’ve wanted me to”. IT JUST HITS ALL THE ANGST SPOTS. I’m obsessed with my own scooped!Vanessa idea with her sewing patches of fabric into her own skin but I flip flop between why she does it. It’s between injuries/rot from Ennard that won’t heal because yknow. She’s dead. Or her living after a FNAF 6-esque fire that leaves her with burn scars and she sews patches to cover up the worst of the burn scars. I just. The idea of Vanessa, newly unEnnarded, sobbing alone while sewing herself shut again and talking to her dead dad for comfort because he was all she ever knew…. wondering why she was still alive…………..

(the irony that the one willing/wanting to die being the one to survive despite the fact that she very much Shouldn’t Be Alive)

and the spirits in SL being afraid of Vanessa because she’s an Afton??? Me when I Break Down 😭😭😭💥💥💥💥 Cause Vanessa’s biggest fear is becoming her father and not being able to escape her bloodline/destiny for tragedy.

I do think it’s interesting to consider that if they do SL, Vanessa thinks that William is dead so lines like ‘I’m going to come find you…” doesn’t make sense. I do hope they still give her a variation of the monologue tho cause I think the SL Michael monologue, the Bite of 83, and the FNAF 6 Henry monologue are THE most iconic parts of FNAF.

The main hitting point of SL is the fact that Michael finds his sister down there. If the FNAF movies have Vanessa going down there… well it simply wouldn’t hit as hard if she didn’t have some form of a dead sibling down in that bunker right??? Though ig it would be kind of weird to have Abby almost get Ella dolled in a Baby parallel/reference and then also have an Elizabeth in Baby. Who knows (<- desperately wants to know)

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Just for the Weekend 7/10

Summary: Jason and yourself have a quiet morning to get ready.

Reader x Jason Todd

W/C: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+, Fluff, tension, pining, brothers who only call to cause trouble, swearing, Jason is so touch starved.

Part 6

You wake up feeling like a baby swaddled in a cozy blanket. Is this the Malibu air? You reach to try and stretch only to find that you can't move your arms or legs. Blinking your eyes for just a second you wince at the morning sun before wiggling again.

"Stop moving," a deep voice behind you grumbles, arms tighten around you, holding you close to his chest.

"Jason," your voice still hoarse from sleep, "I gotta pee, let me up,"

"2 more minutes," his lips connect with your neck and you feel a shiver all over your body, "stop squirming,"

"But I gotta pee!" You say louder, shit you need to get away before you fall under whatever sleepy dream spell has him in its clutches.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he says, finally waking up and letting you go, "I didn't mean to. I didn't-"

"Thank God," you bolt up making a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind you. Your heart rings in your ears, heat all over your body, fucking hell. You didn't want to get up, but 2 more seconds in that bed and you'd never want to leave.

Outside the bathroom Jason is having a similar feeling. He'd woken up long before you, much more used to long nights and existing on minimal sleep. It was a welcome change not to go to bed at sunrise. He’d awoken to you kicking down the pillow wall, soft little snores falling from your lips and your cute ass snuggling into him. He knew he should wake you or at the very least push you away, but he just wanted to enjoy the cuddle. It has been so long since he's had anyone who even wanted to cuddle him, well aside from Roy, but that was always after a mission, followed by the very casual sex they sometimes enjoyed and Roy was always the big spoon. But to just cuddle, with no expectation of more, to have someone so much smaller than him wrapped safely under his arms. To have you here, after such a wonderful day yesterday, he feels like he's won the jackpot and now he worries he might have blown it.

Rolling over he peers at his phone : 1 new message

Dick- if Jonathon tries anything, kill him.

Jason- She hit him in the face.

Dick- what? Wow must've been bad. Where were you? Aren't you supposed to be her date? Is she ok?

Jason- Bathroom, I was gone a minute. She’s fine, just got a sore hand from his head. It’s probably full of rocks. I was impressed at how fast he fell.

Dick- convenient. If she doesn't come home in one piece I'm sending Dami after you.

Jason- why is she wearing my shirt to bed?

Dick- ummm…. She likes it?

Jason- did you steal my shirt?

Dick- are you mad about it? Want to talk through your feelings?

Jason- no.

Dick- you're welcome 😘

"Fucking asshole," he says slamming his phone on side table.

"Talking to Dick?" You ask sitting back against the headboard and checking the time on your phone, making sure you've still got a few hours before you need to start getting ready.

"How could you tell?"

"He brings out that reaction in everyone who loves him,"

"True. Would you like to get some breakfast? Maybe eat outside?"

"Yeah that sounds nice."

XxX

Jason carries the tray of food out onto the balcony, the pair of you sitting much closer than you need to as you share the platter of breakfast goodies.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it," you say as you take a sip of your coffee.

"You don't want to tell me what happened with Jonathon, but can you tell me why he's like? I dunno… So mean to you."

You think it over, not really sure where to begin.

"You don't have to, it's just… he really seemed to have it out for you,"

"It's ok. It's just a long story. But the short of it is, I dumped him and he didn't like that."

"And the long story?"

The long story. Should you tell Jason about the worst time of your life? You’ve done all the therapy and managed to move past most of it, cutting out your toxic ass family really did the most help. But does Jason really want to know? Is he going to think you’re just another spoiled little rich girl who threw away every opportunity that her privilege offered? Dick didn’t. The voice in your head reminds you, and something tells you that maybe Jason just wants to get to know you better, understand you just a little more. And when he asks you like that? With a blueberry muffin half shoved in his mouth and crumbs on his chest, how are you supposed to deny him anything?

"You know who my father is right?" you start, putting your coffee down, knowing how animated you can get when you tell this story.

"Some big bank guy?"

"Yeah, so my dad basically set me up with him when I was at MetU,"

"You went to college in Metropolis?"

"Yeah, anyway. So my dad set us up. We were going to be the next big power couple. I wasn’t really sold on the idea, but Jonathan was really nice at the start. Attentive even. But then after a while he started to get more possessive, controlling. Tried telling me that my English degree would be great when I was his little wife," the thought makes you cringe and to your surprise Jason takes your hand, his thumb rubbing gentle reassuring circles on the inside of your palm, "I knew I needed to leave but the ramifications of that… I might lose my dad's money. I’d never supported myself before, I had no idea how I was going to pay for college on my own. How was I going to do anything? So I applied for every scholarship I could get my hands on. Meanwhile Jonathan was getting worse, like he could see I was trying to find a way out. He started spreading rumors, lying to try and trap me with him. So I ran," as the tears begin to fall from your face, Jason surprises you again, moving from his seat, lifting you up and sitting you on his lap.

"Is this better?" his voice is gentle as he wipes some of the tears from your cheek. He knows how hard talking about these kinds of things can be. If it wasn't for the very aggressive hugs that Bruce and Dick used to force on him, he doesn't think he'd ever have had the courage to talk about things with anyone.

"Yeah," you lean back into him, not quite sure what compelled him to do so. But his huge arms cuddle around, you feel yourself relax a little. This is the past and you're safe now, his touch reminds you. Safe with him. Your heart thumps and you try to squash the thought away, but he’s still looking at you like that, his hand still lingering on your face.

"You can stop if you like,"

"No, it's ok.” you take a sip of coffee to try and distract yourself, “Where was I?”

“Jonathan was being a possessive, condescending asshole,”

“Oh yeah. So I realized that the longer I stayed the more trapped I was going to be. So, I ran. Ran to the one place I knew that he wouldn't look for me. Bludhaven, and instead of hiding I was found.” you recall the dingy hotel you had hidden in that would let you stay for a week while you got a plan in order, it was dirty and small, but it was safe. “He showed up in a suit and tie, with a bag of clothes to tell me that I have received the Wayne foundation scholarship for Gotham university."

"Dick,"

"No actually, it was Alfred. He helped me get back on my feet and when I went to the party to celebrate the scholarship winner and that's where I met Dick." you smile at the thought, it was the end of the worst part of your life.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry you went through that," he says, brushing the tears from your eyes, his hand resting in your hair.

You feel your heart flutter at his words, it sounds like he is actually sorry, like if he could he would fix it for you. You're not sure if it's the sun, the delicious breakfast or maybe just that you want to. Tilting your head down your breath starts to mingle, you whisper, "can I kiss you?" your nose brushes his, your lips only seconds away.

"No, Love. Not like this." he holds your face, keeping the trace of distance between you. He hopes you don’t see in his eyes how much he wants to say yes, how the very thought of kissing you is overwhelming him. He’s hardly thought of anything else since he had his lips on your neck this morning. But and it was a big but, he didn’t want your first kiss to be shared after you just spent half an hour crying and telling him about your ex. You deserve more than that and so does he.

"Oh." You move back trying to squirm away to hide your embarrassment. What are you thinking? It was a heat of the moment thing and now he’s going to think you’re an idiot.

"You just told me something very traumatic happened to you. Why don't we just sit here a bit and enjoy the sun?"

"Hmm," you lean back into him. Jason's hand resting on your thigh, yours around his neck as you bask in the light of the morning sun and that gnawing rejection lingers in the back of your head. Fuck, you want to run and hide, but he’s so warm and his arms are so tight around you. You can stomach a bit of embarrassment if this was the consolation prize.

Xx

The morning is easy, you both take turns showering, while the other hides out on the balcony and tries their best not to sneak a peek at the other goods. The looming rejection lingers at the back of your mind. Fuck, you're an idiot. Why would he want to kiss you? You just told him how fucking wrecked you are. Idiot.

"You look beautiful," Jason says when you walk out onto the balcony towards him. The long flowy material of your scarlet dress trailing behind you.

"You scrub up alright yourself." You wink,his hair is as perfect as ever, the curls framing his face like he’s in a painting, the light silver lock falling right over the scar on his brow. You love the light weight, short sleeve red button down clings to his biceps, a slutty amount of buttons undone, giving you a full view of his brilliant chest and a tiny scar you can almost see. A pair of dark grey trousers stretch around his thick thighs and you're sure that if he turned they would be molded around his pretty ass. "Can you help me with this though my hand is still a bit sore," you lie, your hand hasn't hurt since you woke up. But you want to feel his hands on you again, want to get a whiff of the cologne you could smell idling in the bathroom when you went in after him.

"Where's the?" He asks looking at the backless part of your dress, "surely there isn't a zip that's completely invisible"

"Here," you point to your hip, "goes up," you direct him to your bare skin on your side, subtly trying to inhale that fresh forest scent.

You peer up at Jason and he looks like he's about to have an aneurysm, "right, because why not put it there." His fingers graze up your side and you try your best to hide the sparks that light up inside you and the shiver that runs straight into your pussy, "There ya go Love, now give me a twirl," he winks and you oblige him.

You spin, your hair thankfully staying in place as you spin, smiling at how far your skirt fans out. You're knocked from your reverie when a hand grabs your waist, pulling you close to him and his lips connect with yours. He’s like fire and hunger and the blazing sunshine on your face as you kiss. His hand stays firmly on your waist as yours wraps around the opening of his shirt. The world keeps spinning but in the moment it feels like it's turning just around you.

"Jason," you breathe when you finally come up for air. His forehead leans into yours, you kiss him again, not wanting to ever stop. You want to ask him why? How? What? But all you can do is stare into those bright blue eyes and ask for more.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, his hand still holding your face close to his, he kisses you again. Fuck, you taste better than he imagined, he doesn't want to stop. But he can see the questions in his eyes and he’s not sure if he’s ready to answer them yet. "the wedding,"

"Shit, right. We better go," his hand releases you but you're only 3 steps out of the apartment before he grabs your arm and pulls you back for another, "my makeup, Jason."

"Looks perfect,"

"No I mean," you reach up rubbing your lipstick from his lips,

"Leave it. Let's go get these kids married so I can get you alone again."

Part 8

Taglist:

@goblinhobo @bubbles-incorrect-yb @hungry-hungarian @megumisbabymomma @ilikw @gone-batty-fics

[prettyboypistol]

Across Enemy Lines || TF2 Sniper/Spy 18+

[BDSM] [D/S relationship] [Powerbottom Spy/Needy Top Sniper] [Cigarette Play] [Pain Play] [brief knife play]

Sniper’s hands shook as he reached towards the door handle. He knew it was unlocked. Spy said it would be, as long as he was quiet in the late hours of the night. Mick swallowed a building of nerves as he finally opened the door.

“I assume you were interested then?” Spy murmured from his chair, whiskey in one hand and a fancy cigarette worth more than Sniper’s camper in the other. Sniper felt his teeth grit inside his mouth as he tried to step inside the smoking room and not trip over himself when he heard Spy’s voice.

Sniper nodded as he felt the sweat bead at his brow.

“If I may ask, why? Of course, as the only other homosexual-adjacent man in this damn warzone, I assume there is a level of desperation.” Spy questioned, his expression seemed far more out of smug curiosity- as if he already knew the answer. “I know you’re allowed out of the base fairly often for jobs, so why risk something so close?”

“I need you.”

The quick answer caught Spy off guard, but the poise was quickly recovered. “Oh? Why me? Mundy, I have stabbed you multiple times. Are you some sort of sick masochist?” Spy knew the sly usage of Sniper’s last name was a mild threat against the man, but he had to gauge the reaction of his potential hatefuck of the night. Sniper bit the inside of his cheek and refused to answer, which told Spy more than what he needed to know.

When Sniper cleared his throat and shifted his weight, Spy stood up and approached his daytime enemy. He thanked whatever god above that Sniper had the decency to shower before he came over and he did not have to turn away such an opportunity due to grime and grit. It even smelled as if he put on some sort of cologne, even if the price was evident in the scent.

“At least you put in effort.” Spy shrugged as he looked Sniper up and down. Still in his uniform, there were points docked for that. Although, Spy had to admit that, if he had the chance to dress the scraggly man up, he would heavily consider a shade similar to that red. “Did you prepare yourself?”

“Uh- yeah. Yeah . I did.” Sniper managed to say as a blush creeped up his neck and blossomed over his cheeks. “Did everything you asked me to.”

Spy paused for a moment, then rolled his eyes and handed his cigarette to Sniper. “Jesus, this is a hookup, not an interrogation.” He assured as he walked back to his plush seat, with a vague gestured hand to the other chair to the opposite of the intable, Spy spoke up again. “Sit down! Relax a bit. I’m not going to stab you tonight.”

The shuffle to the other seat was downright pathetic, but not pathetic enough for Spy to shove Sniper out the door where he came from. Spy had to admit, it was rather cute to see such a stoic and quiet guy as nervous as that! An unheard mumble caught Spy’s attention.

“Oui? Qu'est-ce que tu as dit?” //Yes? What did you say?//

A moment of silence passed, then Sniper spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“J-J'ai dit que je le souhaitais… S'il te plaît?” //I said I wanted it… please?//

The response in mis-pronounced but textbook correct French was a surprise to Spy, but a welcome one.

“Now, where did you learn that from, hmm?” The tone Spy held was painfully amused and a tad too smug for Sniper’s liking.

Sniper coughed and looked the other way as he took a drag of the cigarette.

“Uh, picked it up here and there for odd jobs. ‘M not fluent or anything… I’d call myself academically passable, but I dunno a word you usually say.”

“So you don’t know colloquial French?”

“Nope.”

Spy stood up and took his cigarette from Sniper to take a hit, he noted how Sniper’s eyes followed his every move as he breathed, the cigarette delicately between his lips.

“Tragically for you, I’m not interested in knifeplay tonight, you ruffian. Even if it’s on you.”

“That’s fine, yeah.”

“Any other kinks I should know about, bushman?”

Sniper fell silent. In the quiet, he bit his lower lip and stared at the pristine carpeted floor.

“If you’re not going to talk then-”

“I like bein’ submissive.”

“That’s more like it.” Spy smiled, a foxly mischief in his expression. “Now mon beau, I’m sure you like more than just that. If you don’t tell me, I can just order you to.”

Sniper felt this chest flutter, much like a violin string. Tight and taut, Spy’s voice was the bow that made his core vibrate in the most jittering of ways. He was excited. He was flighty. He needed more.

“You’re a spy, why don’t’cha read me like a book?” Sniper sassed, his usual personality back in full force. The denial was enough to irk Spy into knocking the hat off Sniper’s head and to grab Sniper by the hair.

“You listen here you son of a bitch, you will give me respect in this room. I invite you out of the goodwill of my heart and you will not take that for granted, is that clear?”

The speed at which Sniper’s pupils blew wide churned deep in Spy’s chest. The Aussie tried to nod, but whimpered at the pain of Spy’s tight grip in the roots of his hair.

“Yea- Yes sir.” Sniper quickly corrected himself as his eyes frantically tried to drink in all of Spy. The indignant look of disgust, the perfect fabric that hugged Spy in a way that only good money could buy, the way Spy breathed that cigarette that cost more than Sniper’s life as if it were second nature. The huffs of his breath were ragged, low, and gently vibrating in Sniper’s throat.

“Now, I believe I asked you a question, boy.”

“I like bein’ tied up sir.”

“What else?”

“Bein’ talked down to. Pushed around. A bit of bullying, sir.”

“And a masochist too? Really, no wonder you came to me. At least you learn quickly.” Spy halfheartedly praised as he seemed unimpressed.

Spy released Sniper and laid down calmly on the bed. “If you can manage to keep yourself from wetting your pants from excitement, strip.”

The way Sniper stumbled and frantically tried to pop off his shoes and undo all the buttons of his shirt. His breath fluttered like a tight vibrato; light, quick, and dizzying. The scars piqued Spy’s interest briefly but his eyes quickly swam away to watch the smoke patterns as he exhaled. Although, the calm stillness of Spy and the sloshing rapid of Sniper was quite the duality.

“I didn’t say to keep the undergarments.”

“Sorry- uh, sir.”

Spy seemed pleased with how Sniper obeyed so quick. Yes, a bit of brat taming was fun, but not tonight. The swirling of arousal mixed itself in Spy’s body as Sniper stood in front of Spy, already well over half-mast.

“Sir, can I?” Sniper asked, his tone a beg as he looked at Spy like a starving man. “Please?”

“Come along now, bring the condom too.”

Sniper approached the bed as if he was a sinner on holy ground. Reverently, he moved to sit upon the side of the bed and awaited further instruction.

“Take off my shoes and undo my pants, if you can resist the temptation.” Spy ordered flippantly as he took another breath from his cigarette.The dripping of building lust was far from intoxicating to Spy, but as he watched his favorite daytime enemy delicately undo the laced shoes with more grace than he had ever seen Sniper portray, Spy couldn’t help but allow himself to feel whirls of pride and egotism.

“What do you want, mon beau?”

“Whatever you want to give me.”

“Tell me.”

“Hurt me. Please.”

A slap rang out when Spy struck Sniper’s cheek, leather hit soft skin. The gasping shudder that Sniper breathed out as the pain bubbled up from the initial hit rippled through his body as Spy repeated the gesture on the opposite cheek.

Spy leaned closer to Sniper and bit into his shoulder, once, twice-! Sniper let out a small whimper of pain as Spy sucked a hickey into him.

“Say ‘June’ if I go too far.” Spy mumbled into Sniper’s ear, clearly and honestly.

“Right, gotcha.” Sniper responded, his needy air dissipated momentarily to assure to Spy that he was in a right state of mind.

As Spy pulled back, he adjusted the aviators on Sniper’s face, an unamused expression fell to him. “Ah, did you forget these?”

“Sorry sir, lemme-”

“No no, keep them.”

The seconds of slow movements felt like hours to the flutteringly impatient Sniper. His heart raced a million miles an hour, his breath was desperate to give his body enough oxygen to function. The thrumming need of ecstasy of merely being treated in such a way played Sniper, and with Spy behind the bow, Sniper knew Spy would play him like a violin too.

“What?” Spy hummed after he barely caught what Sniper said. “Really now, we need to work on that mumbling problem of yours.” He said before he struck Sniper’s face again. “Speak properly.”

“Please hurt me more, sir.”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Isn’t this enough, you masochist? Getting your face beaten, naked in front of your enemy?”

Sniper shivered in pleasure.

“God, you like being talked down to, I forgot. I could ignore you right now and you could get off, couldn’t you?” Spy cooed, no trace of affection in his eyes. Sniper bit his lower lip, with every word Sniper’s erection seemed more and more interested. “Fucking pathetic.”

“Sir please-”

“You are in no position to be asking anything of me, needy whore.”

Spy grabbed his butterfly knife from the nightstand and pressed the blade against Sniper’s neck, the pressure agonizingly not enough. “Would you get off to this too, bushman? Who am I kidding, you would stain my suit if I pressed any harder.”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry sir.” Sniper whimpered. Spy retracted the knife with his usual flair before the knife was placed back on the nightstand.

“Put the condom on, I already did the preparation. I don’t know where your hands have been.” Spy ordered, to which Sniper hurriedly obeyed.

Sniper opened up the condom swiftly, eager to please. God, that smug smile on Spy’s face made Sniper’s blood boil usually. Tonight though, the smile was a promise, a whispering of sadistic pleasure that Sniper could find nowhere else. Sniper’s cock ached, begging in its own right to have any sort of friction. Upon Spy’s denial, Sniper frowned as he was forced to wait slowly.

“Oh, another thing. If you get soft or cum, I’ll kick you out immediately.” Spy threatened as he sucked the smoke into his lungs from his cigarette. A moment passed, where Sniper’s eyes met Spy’s.

Then Spy exhaled. Right in Sniper’s face.

Sniper bit his lip and whimpered. The smoke even smelled fancy, goddamnit. Sniper breathed the smoke in, his pupils were blown in maddening lust.

“Oh god, how’d you know?”

“You seemed the type. Now go on, try your best.”

Sniper took no haste to push into Spy in one held breath, he breathed out a low, long “fuuuuck.” as he felt the warm tightness around him. It took everything within Spy not to react. Sniper wanted to be humiliated, so he had to play the part, cock shoved in him be damned.

“You know, you can put more than the tip in. You might be a patient man, but I’m not.” Spy spat as he feigned more interest in his smoke than Sniper.

“It’s… It’s all the way in.” Sniper whispered.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Spy could absolutely tell. Sniper was a decent size and certainly abused the fact that he prepared himself liberally with how tight Spy was stretched. With a twitch that nearly made him gasp as he berated Sniper, Spy rolled his eyes as he tried his hardest to ignore the swirling pleasure that sang like a siren to indulge in like an irresistible wine.

A shaky breath passed before Sniper started to move. God, Spy was tight. Little movements of Sniper, his hips flush against Spy’s thighs nearly broke the already delicate facade Spy held. Nevertheless, the mask stayed on, cold and disinterested as Sniper started to move, biting his lip to muffle the noises of embarrassment. The thrusts soon turned erratic, chasing the high of lust as Sniper groaned and growled as his dick was more than lavished in spoiled pleasure.

“Spy- I-”

A harsh slap to Sniper’s cheek reminded him of Spy’s position over the desperate man.

“Sir, please- I-”

“What could you possibly want, whore?”

Sniper bit his lower lip and screwed his eyes shut, nodding in agreement. A silent beg.

“Cheap, pathetic slut.” Spy purred as he puffed on his cigarette, the ash flaking onto the mattress in specks as Sniper’s thrusts jostled Spy. “How much of a whore do you have to be to come crawling to the enemy team, hmm? Did nobody want to fuck the piss-stained bushman over in RED?”

“Oh god. ”

“What other disgusting kinks do you hide behind that bullshit professionalism? Go on.” Spy demanded, his voice quivering slightly as Sniper brushed against his prostate just right. “Just know that if you say piss I will stab you.”

“No- don’t gotta piss kink-” Sniper stumbled out. “I’ve got a thing for- for suits, sir. I like smellin’ things too.”

Sniper was unceremoniously shoved into Spy’s shoulder, the order was clear enough as Sniper breathed the smell of too-expensive cologne and whiskey. The cigarette smell was a given, but the hints of quality mixed in with the tobacco made Sniper whimper as he used the new position to thrust deeper into Spy.

“Needy whore, I should put you on display, show everyone just how unfit you are to be a mercenary. You already are messy and dirty, imagine how fast you’ll be exposed for fraternizing with the enemy, begging him to demean you no less. Filthy fucking pervert.”

“Sir- I’m not gonna-” Sniper begged as he let his hips shake in uncontrollable desire. “Can I? I wanna ask something.”

“Oh? And what do you want?”

“C-can you put your cig out on the base? God, I’m not gonna last long- please? Please sir, I know it’s fucked up but I wanna be burned by you.”

Spy hummed, thinking tentatively as Sniper haphazardly pumped his cock in and out of Spy, only to pull out, presenting himself to Spy with a breathy wheeze as he jacked himself off, one hand on the headboard above Spy’s head, the other working himself to the teetering edge.

“Please sir, please put your cig out on me.” Sniper whispered.

Who was Spy to not oblige?

The white hot feeling of pubic hair burning, skin screaming in pain, and nerves firing danger signals sent Sniper over the edge with a low growl. The cum that spilled over Spy’s suit stood out horribly well, the off-white glistening against the deep blue. Shaky breaths echoed around Spy’s room for moments that lasted far too long for the rogue’s liking.

“You got your pleasure, now get out of my room. I’m sure you don’t want security to find a RED in such a secure location.” Spy ordered as he hurriedly dabbed the semen stains with his handkerchief.

Sniper nodded with a quick and casual thanks, legs shaking more than they ever should for a grown man as he gathered his clothes to quickly dress and depart.

As soon as the door shut, Spy bit the inner side of his cheek and used the same cloth to jack himself off- god, he deserved an acting award for keeping himself together during that fuck! Sniper was brutal and needy- Spy had never felt more desired! Rocking his hips to the same erratic beats, Spy gasped as his semen mixed with Sniper’s.

Spy was definitely paying Sniper a visit later that week. He wanted to make that stupidly cramped van shake.