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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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part two to this little thing 'cause i saw these tags on the last part from @stevesjester and actually kicked my feet and giggled about it

After Pretty Boy kissed him, Eddie walked back to the staff break room in a daze.

His slow lumbering gait still managed to scare some folks, though, so that’s a plus.

He opens the door, slowly turns to close it softly, and leans back against it once it is.

“Eddie? You okay?” Comes a voice he’d know anywhere. “Wait, that is you, right? You’re supposed to be Piggy Man tonight?”

Eddie pulls the rubber mask off, making his stomach flip thinking about the last time it was pulled up. You know, ‘cause he’s a sap.

Chrissy takes in his shocked, sweaty face, “Oh my god, you okay? What happened?”

He looks up at his roommate (best friend, sister) in her bloody cheerleader costume, an ironic holdout from their time in high school, and breathes a laugh, “I fell in love.”

“OMG OMG tell me everything right now!!” Chrissy bounces over to him excitedly and pulls him down to the bench of their one (1) break table, a sagging plastic picnic table.

He looks up at her bright happy face and barks out a half hysterical laugh, “I can’t believe you’re this excited about me potentially falling in love with someone I’m literally being paid to scare.”

“Oooh, so they were a runner??”

“Yeah, literally in this case.”

“Start talking, Munson, or I’m going to throw all your guitar picks down the garbage disposal.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ.. Okay, so I did my usual creepy husky voice at him, called him all the usual things,”

“Let me guess, you started with ‘pretty boy’?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s pretty. Duh. Damn was he pretty…”

“Uh huh. And you fell in love with him ‘cause he was pretty?”

“No, no of course not, listen to this:” Eddie sits up straighter in preparation for the story. “I had him backed into a corner, right? The fake gate over in section 2B,”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“Yeah! And when I lunged at him, he caught my arm, and spun me around.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, never. SO he’s got me backed against the fence, and he–I swear to fucking Jesus H. Christ–lifts my mask up and kisses me.”

Chrissy starts to squeal incoherently. “Eeeeee!!! Shutupshutupshutup!! Holy shit there’s no way this happened!!”

“Look, 100% serious right now; he kissed me stupid, and spun around and booked it again.”

“Pretty Boy distracted you with a kiss to escape!?! I cannot believe this, c’mon..” Crissy grabs ahold of his arm again and pulls him out of the breakroom with her insane unchecked leftover cheer squad strength.

“Whoa, what? Where’re we going?? He’s probably gone by now! I was standing over in 2B like an idiot for a while after he left!!”

“Not that, we gotta go see Argyle.”

“Argyle why—ohhh shit. Oh my god, you think they caught it on camera?” Eddie’s actively following her now.

The two burst into the warehouses’ security office, where they’re met with the backs of two ‘zombie’ guards (and the leftover smell of weed).

“Argyle, Jonathan, you need to look at something for us,”

“Is it the footage of Eddie’s makeout sesh in 2B? ‘Cause we’re waaayy ahead of you pompom.”

“Ah!! Holy shit he was telling the truth?!” Chrissy bodies between the two, sending Argyle rolling away on his chair, and Jonathan staggering back a step.

“Dude, that’s so cool of your boyfriend to come to the haunt, keepin’ us in business.” Argyle directs at Eddie, though still spinning slowly in his chair.

“He’s not my–you thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Yeah man, why else would you look at him like that.” Jonathan points down at the screen.

Chrissy re-winds it again and Eddie watches himself charge forward at Pretty Boy (damn, he’s still pretty though this grainy footage too, how the fuck is that possible??), get spun and–oh shit, they’re right.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” he hangs his head into his hands, falling down into Jonathan’s previously abandoned chair.

“Sooo…he’s not your boyfriend..?”

Chrissy re-winds the footage again. Squeals happily.

“Nope. Just met him tonight.”

“Wow dude, that’s like, love at first sight if I ever saw it.”

She re-winds it again, squeals.

“Yeah I know, it’s embarrassing as shit, alright?” Eddie’s still talking into his palms.

Chrissy snorts at that, “Not for you! Well..kinda..but him too, did you not see that pause?”

“...What pause?”

His question goes unanswered as Jon and Argyle move back in over Chrissy’s shoulders and after a few seconds both “Ohh…” in sync.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“Look,” She re-winds the tape once again and points, “Watch after he lifts your mask.”

So he does, and..okay, there was a pause.

“...So?”

“He totally fell in love with you at the same time you did him. Fell with him. With each other?”

“You both fell in love at the same time.” Chrissy says what Jonathan was trying to. “We have GOT to find this guy somehow.”

Chrissy records the footage on the screen with her phone, intending to post it online to find the guy, but Argyle’s positive he’s gonna show back up tonight.

“Give him a chance, pompom, he’s totally in love too, remember?”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t come back today, I’m posting this. Maybe it’ll get us some more business too.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Yep, there it is.

So, he rolls his eyes, puts his mask back on, and finishes out the night like everything is normal and he didn’t just fall head over fuckin’ heels for a random (hot) stranger earlier.

He’s done for the night before Chrissy since she’s got a lot of that fake blood to try and wash off, so he grabs up his stuff and heads out the front, intending to wave bye to Gareth at the front counter before braving the frigid late fall wind to warm up his car (and move it closer to the entrance so Chrissy doesn't have to walk in the cold).

“See ya Ed,” Gareth calls, and he waves over his shoulder at him as he passes, his attention pulled to a blonde with a choppy bob looking in through the glass of the door, partially silhouetted by the bright ass headlights of a shiny Tesla parked behind her.

He can see the shadow of someone in the driver seat too, as he gets closer and opens the door for her, their face only partially lit up through the tinted glass by the glow of a phone screen.

She starts rambling off immediately after the door is open. “Oh my god, I thought we were too late and you were closed and I completely didn’t even realize I’d left something here when we were here earlier an–”

“Nope, no worries, ma’am, just go talk to Gareth at the front counter and he can tell you if someone turned in…whatever it is you left here.”

She says her thanks and scoots past him, and he spins quickly towards the side lot where his old Neon is parked.

He glances back when he hears the bell chime over the door, a bit delayed (probably the wind holding it open), and sees that the Tesla’s stopped beaming their headlights into the front door, that’s nice of them.

He unlocks his car and gets in, turning the engine over and cranking the heat as high as it’ll go. Once the engine stops it’s signature ‘I’m cold as fuck rn, don’t even try to move me’ rattle, he drives to the front door to wait for Chrissy, pulling in next to the burgundy Tesla.

He scrolls down TikTok for a couple minutes before a banner pops up on his screen

Chris C.: oh my holy fucking shit eddie, get your ass back inside!

Panicking, he races back in through the door, not even bothering to shut off his engine (or close his car door for that matter), thinking shiny Telsa duo is like, robbing the place or something, but as soon as he gets back in, he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart’s still beating a mile a minute, but now with nerves.

Because standing infront of the counter are Chrissy (who’s actually vibrating with excitement), choppy blonde, and…

Oh fuck.

No way.

“H–hi, hi. I’m Steve, you’re Eddie right?”

He can’t help the grin that splits across his face. “Hey, pretty boy.”

thanks to @henderdads for rightfully pointing out that modern day rich boy steve would probably have a tesla <3

tagging everyone i saw in the tags of the last post that seemed interested in more/wanted to see the aftermath lmao: @bangarangdarling, @tartarusknight, @kas-eddie-munson, @wormdebut (AMAZING url btw), @vecnuthy, @perseus-notjackson, @homosexual-having-tea, @matchingbatbites, @scarcrossdlvrs, @anzelsilver, @auroraplume, @kkpwnall, @wildwildsoul, @bennys-burgers, @steveharringtonssluttywaist

#steddie #st #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #st ficlet #steddie ficlet #platonic hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #jonathan byers #argyle #gareth emerson #modern au #noelle writes

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months ago

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Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair.

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting.

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain.

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip.

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas.

“Y’okay?”

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started.

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again.

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone.

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?”

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture.

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything?

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened. “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs.

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.”

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!”

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed.

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him.

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?”

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology.

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees.

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants.

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget.

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You��d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around.

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that.

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief.

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away.

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit.

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours.

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out.

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

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luvyeni · 1 year ago

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❛FOR YOUR PLEASURE❜ ( h. jisung )

words. 0.4k

warnings? oral ( f. receiving )

— 𖦹 ( han letting use him after a long days at work ) !

"you had such a stressful day baby." he hovered over your body. "let me help you take the load off."

"s-sungie." your breath way staggered as he pressed hot kisses into your jugular , the stress of your work day melting off , as his hands rubbed all over your body. "hmm." he hummed , his other hand working on the buttons of your blouse — slowly unbuttoning them , revealing your blue lace bra.

you whined , wiggling your hips , hoping he'd get the hint , he pulled away from your neck , his hands creeping up your thighs. "what do you want?" he kissed down the valley of your breast. "i'll give you everything you want , just gotta tell me baby."

his finger found your clothed clit , rubbing it. "sh-shit sung." you sighed. "want you , want your mouth on me — want to use your mouth." he smirked , pulling your panties down.

"want to use me?" he tapped on your clit , you whined nodding. "okay baby , since you asked so nicely." your hands came up to his hair , slightly grabbing it as you pushed his head down , he chuckled. "okay princess i understand."

his came face to face with your mound guiding his mouth to your cunt , he took this as a sign to lick your folds. "fu-fuck." you moaned , his nose pressing against your clit. "fe-feels so good."

the heels of your feet dug into his back as you pushed his face deeper into your cunt , grinding your hips , basically humping his face , and he couldn't be more in heaven , he loved when you used him for your own pleasure.

he sucked on your clit , your mouth dropped open , eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came on his face. "shit!"

you unlocked your legs , letting him come up for air. he was heavy breathing , his face covered in your cum , his lips red and swollen. "you taste so fucking good." he said , his eyes blown. "m-more , want more." you mewled , desperate to cum again.

you didn't give him a chance to speak before you yanked his hair , pushing his head back down against your heat. he didn't even care that he hadn't cum yet , his cock was hard as a rock , he rutted his hips against your bed like a desperate teenager, but he didn't care not once.

he'd spend all night in between your legs , letting you fuck yourself on his face , as long as he got to taste you.

💬 nia's notes : this scenario has been on my mind for 2 days and i just had to let it out.

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #han jisung headcanons #han jisung smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung hard hours

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

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sunshine-daisies-library · 3 months ago

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Speak Now | Steve Harrington x Fem!Ex!Reader

Summary: You were called in as a last ditch effort by Dustin to convince Steve to back out of an arranged marriage with Kimberly Astor, the heiress of a multi-million dollar company. Only issue is that you were uninvited to the affair, but the kids you used to babysit have another plan.

Warnings: Mentions of infidelity, drug abuse, exes to lovers

Based on Taylor Swift's song, Speak Now <3

You shouldn’t be here. You’re being serious, you really shouldn’t be here. But when Dustin called you and pleaded for you to drive over two hours from Chicago to your hometown, you knew this wasn’t a call to ignore. You weren’t the type of girl to barge in on a wedding.

But then again, you knew Steve wasn’t the type of boy to marry the wrong girl.

“Thank God you came,” Dustin runs over to throw his arms around you. He lets out a sigh of relief as he tosses his entire weight onto you. You stagger back as you try to keep him standing, but it had been far too long since you had seen the boy, he had grown faster than you expected. Three years was enough for him to shoot up and tower over you. No longer was he the short curly haired boy you watched over on weekdays to get some pocket money to go on dates with Steve. Now, he’s nearly an adult, packing his things for college and using his free time to call his favorite people: you and Steve. Separately, of course, because you two were no longer a thing.

“You called,” you respond, pulling away. “Besides, it gives me a reason to see you munchkins again.”

“I think we hardly classify as munchkins now,” you hear a voice from behind you. In comes the gang of kids you used to spend nearly every waking day with, all visibly older and dressed fancily for the occasion. Mike, the voice you recognized, leads the group and comes to hug you first.

You can barely reach up to hug him. “Mike!” you exclaim. “Jesus, you’ve gotten so big.”

Max steps forward and gives you a small smile, never the one for physical contact after everything that happened. Her glasses frame her face beautifully, and her matured features cause your eyes to water. “Enough of the waterworks,” she tells you firmly. Max cocks her head at the bride’s family, all dressed in tacky pastels. The mom swats at her youngest son’s hand as she pushes his blond hair back. “We have more shit to deal with now.”

“Is she that bad?” you ask your friends.

Will grimaces along with Lucas and his far from little sister. Erica was never one for hiding her emotions on her face, and that habit seemed to have stuck as she aged. “She was just yelling at some bridesmaid,” Will replies with a sigh. “Pretty sure it was Steve’s cousin, too.”

“She looks like a pastry,” Eleven deadpans, causing Max to elbow her.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh at Eleven’s directness. Things never change, you suppose. “Where is he?”

Everyone knew who he was. It was the very reason why you drove all this way.

“No clue,” Dustin answers, hands shoved in his pockets. “Kimberly has been bothering him about everything needing to be perfect,” Dustin’s voice went high-pitched and unbearable to imitate the rich heiress Steve called his fiance.

You never knew why Steve got himself into this. Pleasing his parents was the last thing he ever wanted to do while you were dating. What happened in the three years of leaving Hawkins that made him switch up? This wasn’t the Steve you knew, and you knew from the moment Dustin called that you had to stop Steve from ruining his life.

Music starts to play, ringing through the halls of the gothic church you were standing in the middle of. The wedding was starting soon. The bells and gonging sound eerily similar to the sounds of the grandfather clock Max vividly described when she was in the hospital after Vecna’s attack. It sends shivers down your spine but you quickly regain your composure.

“We gotta go,” Max informs you. “Steve made sure to get us seats in the front. You’ll be okay from here?”

“Yeah,” you reassure them. “I’ll be fine, promise.” Parting ways, you spend the last few minutes looking around for that familiar mop of brown hair. In the distance, you see him and he instantly takes your breath away.

He’s wearing a pressed suit that shows no sign of wrinkles or age. It’s definitely new and tailored for him, no doubt thanks to his mother. In his suit pocket is a neatly folded white pocket square, and beside it was a freshly picked rose pinned to his breast. He looks like a daydream, but deep down, you knew he was living his worst nightmare.

This was all wrong. He hates stiff suits and having his hair slicked back. He never wanted a fancy and lavish affair for a wedding; he always wanted it to be intimate and surrounded by his loved ones and definitely not his snotty relatives. And Steve hated roses. It reminded him too much of his parents’ materialistic relationship. The one where his mom thought it was perfectly suitable to drink her problems away with wine and the occasional scotch. It was also the one where his dad would just shower his mom with designer purses and roses whenever she found out he was sleeping with yet another unreasonably young secretary.

A pained expression rests on Steve’s face as he trails behind the minister. You call out to him through the sea of people. After the third call, he finally perks his ears at your voice and turns to face your direction. A look of surprise replaces his sullen expression. It’s been three years since he’s last seen you. Three years since you broke things off to move to Chicago. How did you end up back in Hawkins?

‘What are you doing here?’ he mouths to you.

You’re weaving through the crowd, trying to get to him. ‘Saving you,’ you mouth back.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but before he can do anything about it, he’s nudged forward by a groomsman. Reluctantly, Steve moves forward and walks down the aisle.

You don’t lose sight of Steve, hiding expertly behind the curtains as the procession continues. He walks down the aisle to the organ’s music that reminds you of a death march. You closely watch the rest of the members of the family follow behind Steve. You were so concentrated on the procession that you didn’t realize Will’s older brother standing behind you.

“L/N what are you doing here?” Jonathan whispers.

You jump in shock, gripping the dusty white curtain close to your chest. “Jonathan!” you whisper-shouted. “Nearly scared the shit out of me. I’m here to stop a wedding.”

“Where do you need me?” Jonathan instantly asks. You cock an eyebrow at his eagerness. “Listen, I’ve met Kimberly. Steve and I were never best buds, but I’m not going to let him toss his life away for a nasty person like her. Especially not when you’ve loved him all this time.”

You open your mouth to correct him but Jonathan is quick to cut you off. “Cut the bull, N/N, we both know the truth. You never stopped loving Harrington, but what I can’t wrap my head around is why you left him?”

“I wasn’t going to string Steve along for a hopeless long distance relationship,” you shoot back. “I had to move to Chicago for my job. I knew Steve would come with me no matter what I said, so I cut things off.”

Jonathan presses his lips together in a thin line but doesn’t say anything else about the topic. “Why are you hiding, anyway?”

You roll your eyes, peering over the curtains to see the flower girls tossing petals along the pathway. “Seems like I was uninvited by his lovely bride-to-be.”

The music instantly changes as Kimberly walks out in her enormous dress. Her face exudes class and elegance as she takes calculated steps down the aisle. “Fucking pageant queen,” Jonathan mutters under his breath.

“She looks beautiful,” you compliment shortly. That’s all you’re willing to say about her. From a distance Steve is looking through his bride, eyes only on you. He wishes the one walking down this aisle was you.

The rest of the ceremony is a blur to you. Words go in your ear and out the other, and you almost didn’t realize the most important part of the wedding has started.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony,” the minister read aloud from his book. “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Taking a deep breath, you emerge from the curtains and raise your hand.

Horrified looks from everyone in the room but you only look at Steve. Relief floods his face and his shoulders finally relax.

“You don’t want this,” you speak directly to him. “I know you, Steve. You don’t want any of this.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Kimberly cuts in, facing the minister. “Steven wants this. Right, Steven?”

“For the last time, my name is Steve,” Steve huffs at his now-ex-fiance. “And I don’t want this. I just want you.” His chocolate brown eyes peer over at you, and a small smile reaches his lips. “I’ll meet you out the back door.”

Following his instructions, you run out of the church, dodging angry relatives and their shouts. Keys in hand, you hop into your car and start the engine. Pulling out of your spot, you drive down to the back door where Steve is. You quickly unlock the door as Steve practically jumps in, avoiding the yells of the bridesmaids and dodging the bouquets tossed at his head.

Steve lets out an exhausted huff as he loosens his tie. A giddy smile is on his face as he looks back at you. You can’t help but share a similar expression as you step on the gas.

“Thanks for saving my neck out there,” Steve tells you gratefully.

“Anything for you,” you respond, glancing over at him. He still looks the same as ever, if not more handsome. Your heart honestly never stopped beating for him. “If I didn’t make it clear earlier,” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m still in love with you, Harrington.”

Silence follows and you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Soon enough, your worries are calmed when Steve takes one of your hands off the wheel and covers it with his.

“I got that, dummy,” he chuckles softly.

You sigh in relief, laughing quietly along, too. “So, where to?”

You couldn’t get the glint in his eye off your mind when he smiles at you.

“Where’s the nearest chapel?”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington fic recs #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff

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palant1r · 3 months ago

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i love the vibe of not being able to bring companions to the dlcs because it really cements the image of the courier being everyone's friend that drops off the radar for weeks at a time and comes back nonchalantly mentioning the most bugfuck insane shit. like arcade loses track of the courier for a bit but figures its fine, mailmen gotta go deliver mail, then the bitch staggers back in with a new spine (????) like "hey man did you know a human can survive without a brain." the courier leaves veronica on read for weeks and then comes back and says "btw i met ur girlfriend at a fucked up casino heist and locked ur mentor in a box. heres a pretty dress. do u know how to get toxic cloud stains out of armor. also i had to learn how to use a spear, it was hard." boone and the courier get into an argument and courier hits them with the "you're making me wish i'd nuked the NCR when i had the chance." cass is minding her business when the courier sits down next to her straight outta zion, pours them both a drink, and says "hey man i think whoever wrote this game is racist"

#fallout new vegas

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chelseeebe · 5 months ago

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mercy on me

18+. no smut but minors are not welcome on my blog. themes of fighting and violence. eddie munson x fem!reader. no use of y/n!

a/n: hey all!! i don’t think i really like this on reflection but it has been a couple weeks since i last posted so wanted to squeeze something out before my life gets crazy<3 shoutout to the person on tiktok that made an edit of eddie to strangers by ethel cain bc that’s what spurred this entire thing

eddie’s addicted to the pain, the sting of the punches, the utter thrill of it all. but maybe it’s time for him to realise that that wasn’t the only thing worthwhile to him.

eddie tries to live a good, clean cut life, he’s got a nice job that pays pretty well for hawkins, basically has full reign of the trailer now that wayne has a girlfriend, and shit, he’s even got friends. but something, some terrible voice in his head, keeps him coming back to this.

stood circling the burly man, wondering when, not if, he’ll end up on the floor.

it comes quicker than expected, a fist to the stomach knocks the air from his lungs, doubling over in pain.

eddie doesn’t let him knock him down without a fight completely, throwing a jab at his opponents chin.

only to be quickly forgotten by the man’s fists connecting with his jaw and the searing pain rushing through his face.

the floor is cold, the ceiling just as eddie remembers it.

the kids carry him back to the trailer park, holding his weight on their spindly little bodies.

erica pounds her tiny fist on the door, a routine he’s done a thousand times over, waiting for the disgruntled, yet completely gentle face to appear on the other side.

you do, as expected, groan when your eyes lay on the bloody mess that was his face, ushering them inside and rushing to find your abused supplies.

eddie staggers in, heading straight for the sink to spit the metallic liquid that had gathered in his mouth. clutching onto his ribcage as the kids stand watching. he finally collapses onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a guttural groan.

“jesus christ,” you remark, trundling him over to the sofa, “what’s wrong with you?” dabbing the cold fabric on his eye, a stern frown on your face.

“you should see the other guy,” he chuckles, quickly interrupted by a sharp hissing sound, your usually timid fingers brush over his wounds, harshly this time.

you knee his legs apart, sliding in between to get closer to his face. eddie loves it, no one had ever been so tender and careful with him before. using your time to care for him. it was perhaps the most intimate he’d ever been with anyone.

“i don’t wanna see you in here again,” running your thumb over his split lip, “you gotta stop doing this.”

“what? you don’t like me visiting?” looking up at you with your damn chest in his face, smirking only slightly so you wouldn’t see and scold him further.

“i’d rather you came to visit me without any blood on your face.”

your hand trails down to his neck, rubbing the tiny lilac marking on his collarbone that really could be either or.

“who’s the lucky lady?” you remark, full of sarcasm and what eddie hopes is a hint of jealousy.

his hand travels up, resting above your fingers still lingering on the mark, “you, if you want,” brazen in his flirting, ignoring the two kids still stood in your living room.

your eyes roll back, snatching your hand away to continue cleaning his lip. though he thinks he sees a hint of a smile, buried deep somewhere beneath your disgust and annoyance.

“alright,” you sigh, throwing the last bloodied cloth onto the pile on the table, “all done,” stepping from between his legs to tidy the mess he’d inadvertently made.

“thank you,” he says, with all sincerity, “no one else is gonna look after my good looks like you do,” quirking his lips to the side in a brazen smirk.

you scoff, throwing the bloodied cloths into the trash, “you’d be more good looking if you stopped getting your ass beat.”

and maybe one day he will, all this fighting has to pay off somehow. eddie’s just waiting for the day he remembers to also block punches, not just give them.

eddie’s just about to venture over when he sees you rushing out of the door, slinging your bag hastily over your shoulder as the door bangs shut.

“where are you going in such a rush?” he calls, sauntering over without a care in the world.

“school, i’m late,” speed walking past him to the bus stop that sat just outside the entrance.

“wait, i can drive!” producing his keys to jangle about in the air.

you stop, turning on your heel before nodding, “yeah, you can actually,” bounding over to his beat up van.

eddie slides into the drivers seat, knowing he’ll probably be late to work for this, but he doesn’t mind.

you drop your bag on the floor, sitting impatiently in the passenger seat, “i’m really late,” looking at the watch on your wrist, “so if you could drive as fast as you can, that’d be great.”

“yes ma’am,” he laughs, not like he didn’t owe you much more in compensation anyway.

you turn his music down which normally eddie would hate, but it’s you and there’s not a chance he’d ever cross the one person still kind enough to look after his dumb ass.

his tires screech, pulling up outside the tiny community college that sat just outside hawkins. once upon a time, eddie had planned to go there, learn something useful for once. but high school hadn’t been easily done, being held back from graduating once or twice had squashed any dreams of ever going to college.

“what time d’you finish?” he asks as you collect your things, not wanting to hold you any longer.

“my last class is at five,” you rush, hopping out of the van.

“i’ll come get you,” reaching over to open the door for you, “five,” echoing your words.

you pause, looking back at him before nodding, “alright.. see you later,” slamming the door shut with your hip before you scurry off into the building.

eddie sits, watching you disappear before the sudden realisation that he was now also really fucking late dawns on him.

sure enough, he’s parked outside at five on the dot. talking his way out of staying any later to make sure he was here when you got out.

you look exhausted walking through the crowd, slightly shocked to see him waiting though it quickly extends to a smile. grateful to not have to squeeze onto the rusting bus alongside everyone else.

he reaches over, opening the door before you get the chance, dumping your bag on the floor and releasing the most exhausted sigh he’s ever heard.

“good day?” eddie asks wearily, unsure of whether to even go there or not.

you hum, “not really.”

“wanna talk about it?”

“nope.”

turning to flash him a tight-lipped smile, elaborating no further.

eddie doesn’t dare push it, “alright.. y’hungry?”

your eyes narrow, turning his radio down once again, “only if you’re paying.”

he nods, cackling as he starts the engine.

a free meal was the least of what he owed you.

it takes everything in him not to just sit across from you and stare. you usually crossed paths in extenuating circumstances but now he has the chance to actually get to know you. noting the tiny cross necklace that sat on your chest, the pins on your bag and the way your name is scrawled over the front of all your books.

it’s endearing in a way. he’d put you on some kind of pedestal, this holy being that cured all his ails only to find that really you were just like him. with messy handwriting and tattered clothes.

eddie had lived at the park for years before you ever moved in, turning up one day a few years back with nothing but a small suitcase and the clothes on your back.

your grandmother owned the trailer you now lived in, the sweetest old woman that always seemed to have candy to spare, or a cigarette if things were really bad for him.

you’d taken it over when she died, with really nowhere else to go and a blossoming nursing career, you’d had no other choice.

he admired you, from afar at first, too in awe to say anything until you were practically forced into tending to his wounds.

as much as you grumbled, he could tell you didn’t really mind all that much. caring was just in your nature, which couldn’t be said about many people in hawkins.

“where’s wayne nowadays? i don’t see him much anymore,” unashamedly reaching over to steal his fries.

“he’s got this fancy new girlfriend up in loch nora,” pushing his plate towards you, “spends most of his time there,” shrugging it off, eddie preferred the quiet if he was honest.

“oh. well, must be nice on your own.. can do whatever you want,” raising your brows.

he knows what you’re hinting at but he doesn’t really know why. surely it was not only obvious to you but also to everybody else in the room that he’d jump at the opportunity to be with you.

“hm.. i guess,” leaning over to talk directly to you, complete tunnel vision, “there’s this one girl though,” clicking his tongue, “she keeps ignorin’ me and like.. i drive her to school.. take her out for dinner.. still nothin’,” hoping maybe now you’ll have got the hint.

“oh yeah?” quirking your brow, “she sounds nice, you’ll have to introduce us,” sitting back against the booth.

“i think you’d like her, i know i do.”

you don’t honour him with a response, rolling your eyes like you always did when he’d pushed his luck too far.

instead, you take his hand into yours, pulling it closer to inspect his bruised but healing knuckles, “they look better.. you’re not fighting again are you?”

eddie shakes his head, “not this week.”

you drop his hand though your fingers still linger around his, “i know you don’t care but i really hate that you do this..” swallowing harshly as your eyes meet, “you’re so much better than that,” with full sincerity, “if you ever want me to take you seriously, you have to stop that shit.”

he blinks, a harsh truth that perhaps he needed to hear. the club had been something he’d fallen into as a juvenile teen, a way to express his rage at the world without ending up in jail. it had escalated from there to what it is now, a humiliation ritual that occasionally lead to an extra couple hundred dollars in his pocket.

“yeah,” eddie gulps, “yeah. it’s enough, i get it,” shrinking in defeat. he wanted that more than anything, for you to look at him without that dismaying gleam just once.

he was getting older, bruises didn’t heal as fast as they once did, his bones ached and his head pounded for days. on top of all that, he wanted you to see him as something other than the dope that stumbled to your door.

if giving up fighting was all he had to do to get that, then he’d do it.

your lips curl, smiling gently over the empty plates, “plus, you’re so much better looking without a black eye,” dropping his hand to lean back in your chair all smug.

now he doesn’t want to get too cocky, but knowing, hearing, that you were even remotely interested in him was enough to boost his ego higher than any petty fight ever could have.

“you comin’ tonight?” tommy laughs, lighting his cigarette. they stand in the courtyard of the garage, sun beaming down on eddie’s tired shoulders, he just wants to get home so that he can contemplate maybe sneaking over to your trailer later.

“ah.. no,” shaking his head, rubbing his oily hands on his jeans instead of the rag in his back pocket. your words echoing in his otherwise empty head, he deserved better, he was better than this.

“thousand dollars on the line tonight man.. be a shame if you missed it,” tommy pushes, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

shit.

a thousand fucking dollars.

he could take you somewhere real nice with that, god knows you deserved it. maybe he could help with your school bills, books or something.

“shit..” eddie inhales, your words suddenly seeming pretty inconsequential now, “against who?” slotting his own cigarette between his lips.

“new guy, billy something,” tommy shrugs, “i think you’ve got a pretty good chance you know?” goading him further, really leaving him no other option but to accept.

eddie puckers his lips, contemplating whether it’d be worth it to piss you off again. at least when he stumbled in, he’d have a thousand dollars to soften the blow.

fuck it.

best case scenario, he’d be grovelling for your forgiveness with a thousand bucks in hand. worst case scenario? well. probably best not think about that.

“alright, shit.. i’ll be there,” already willing to bet that he’ll be eating his words later, too far gone to really care anyway.

eddie more than eats his words. damn near swallowing his teeth by the time he’s helped up from the floor.

billy, as he had learned, was not one to be messed with. on reflection, eddie hadn’t ever really stood a chance against him and maybe if he’d thought for a little longer than two seconds, he wouldn’t now be dropping in and out of consciousness.

erica does her usual pounding of fists on your door, though this time her worry is palpable, making even eddie fear for how his face must look.

you open the door, looking exhausted, too tired to deal with his shit after a long day at school.

“what’d you do?” taking his weight from the two kids holding him up, “what the fuck? you told me-,”. cutting yourself off, not allowing yourself to get too angry in front of the petrified looking children.

you sit him down on the couch, moving faster than he’d ever seen you before.

dabbing the cotton on his face with a quiet, disappointed sigh. you look more hurt than anything else, like all your well meaning words had meant nothing to him.

“oh god eddie, this is really.. this is bad,” pressing the cold cloth to his bloodied cheek bone. you look back towards the ragtag kids that had dragged him here for the hundredth time, “you two get going.. it’s late and i don’t want your mom at my door again,” still patting the sore area. they didn’t need to see you patch him up yet again.

lucas and erica nod along in synchronicity, shuffling towards the door with the heads hung back towards eddie, “is he gonna be okay?” wary to leave him in such a state.

you nod, smiling softly at the two, “he’ll be okay.. promise,” shooing them off, “i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

they nod, hesitant to leave though they do eventually trail out of the door, leaving you and him alone.

rather quickly, your smile becomes a scowl, tilting his chin up towards you without so much as a word. you were pissed, eddie could sense that much.

“hey..” squeezing his eyes shut as the sharp sting of the cloth prods his eye, “i’m sorry,” his words small and defunct now. not sure how else he can truly convey his feelings, apologies running on deaf ears.

you don’t reply, purposefully not meeting his eye despite his desperate attempt to just get you to look at him.

“yesterday i told you that i couldn’t take you seriously until you stopped this and now..” exhaling angrily, “were you even listening to me?”

“yes,” eddie nods, “i was,” hissing through his teeth at the sharp sting in his cheekbone, he’d be lucky if nothing was broken. your words had resonated so much so that they rang through his ears as he lay on the cold floor.

you sigh again, the same sigh wayne used to give him when he’d arrive home in the back of a cop car. making clear your thorough disappointment in him.

he doesn’t speak again, allowing you to sort the mess that was his face out before he ruined whatever slim chance he still had. he would t blame you if you turfed him out this instant, never to speak to him again.

silently going about your routine, a pitiful glint in your eye that he hopes he’ll never see again. if it wasn’t obvious before, it was crystal now.

“i’m trying to be good.. i am,” looking at you through hooded eyes. fuck, he hurt. not just his broken skin, but his chest ached. repeating the image of your hurt eyes again and again.

“i know,” you breathe, breath catching in your throat, “you are good, i know you are..” sighing softly, “you’re also stupid,” tracing your careful fingers over his cheek.

eddie wanted to do right by you more than anything, feeling like maybe that was actually possible now.

“i know it probably doesn’t help now..” he groans, gazing into your glassy eyes, “but i wanted to take you out with the winnings.. nice dinner or somethin’.”

you frown only grows further, “eddie.. i don’t want your money,” finally meeting his gaze just to glare angrily back at him.

his pathetic shoulders shrug, skin running cold as your fingers leave his face. the couch dips as you sit next to him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“i won’t do this again,” a serious, unsettling tone, “if you want to fight then you can, but you can’t come crawling back here every time..” reaching over to trace the cut in his lip, “i’m not gonna sit back and watch you almost die every week- not anymore.”

eddie nods, understanding now more than ever that this had to end. if not for his health, then for you. it’s not as if he liked narrowly avoiding death week in week out, it was the adrenaline. the only time in his life that felt worthwhile, drawing a crowd, people that wanted to see him, albeit to see him end up on the floor.

“i’m sorry,” meaning it, genuinely. “i know that you think i’m not serious about this but i am- really, i think you might just be the only person in the world who’s opinion i care about,” you were at least the first person to get through his thick skull.

“then start acting like it,” putting your hand over his bruised and bloodied knuckles, leaning over to touch his cheek again, tender movements that make him shiver.

eddie’s eyes break from yours for the first time this evening, descending to your lips almost on their own, “i really wanna kiss you,” mumbling into the abyss.

your thumb traces over his bottom lip, narrowly avoiding the still throbbing cut, “you can.. if you promise me that you’ll stop ruinin’ your pretty face for me.”

he nods, allowing you no time to back out before he leans in, clutching at your waist as your lips connect, eagerly pulling you closer with every last bit of energy he could muster.

the black wife beater is torn around the collar, exposing the purple tint to his chest, the dried blood that had wept down his neck. it doesn’t mean much now but eddie feels terrible that this is how he looked for your first kiss.

he was really in no position to be doing this, adrenaline pumping through his veins, mostly keeping him upright.

his body wants more, disappointed in himself for not being able to do this properly. after months of off-handed flirting and this was all he had to show for himself?

you’re doing all of the heavy lifting, fingers knotted into his loose, knotted bun, sighing softly as your lips lock. his chest instinctively knocking into yours, as you lean further back on the couch.

any other time and he’d have been clambering atop, doing everything he’d ever dreamed of. an unfortunate lead up of events that had left him too exhausted to treat you as you deserved.

if that weren’t enough incentive to get his shit together, he’s not sure what else ever would be.

you pull back, eyes drawn to the corner of the room, “grandma’s watching us.. i can’t,” falling into a fit of giggles as you nudge him back upright, eyes flitting to the portrait of your grandmother that hung on the wall.

his eyes follow, giving a strained laugh, clutching his ribcage as he does so, “ow fuck.”

“alright,” you stand, nodding down the corridor, “you can have my bed.. i’ll take the couch so i can keep an eye on you tonight,” stern but still confusingly comforting.

eddie stands, not without a chorus of complaints, shuffling after you to grab onto your fingers, “stay with me,” spinning you around gently.

you nod silently, bundling him up the corridor to your room. your trailer was a hell of a lot tidier than his, now that wayne was more of a passing guest than a resident, he’d really let the place go to shit.

he stops in the doorway, turning to face you with your fingers still interlocked, “thank you.. again,” running his thumb over the back of your hand, “i mean it.”

you nod, reluctant but still somewhat sincere, “please don’t prove me wrong about this,” your eyes a glaring warning, one he’d never forget.

there are no words in the english language to truly convey to you how badly he wanted, or needed, to prove you right.

so eddie just grips your fingers a little tighter, as much as his bruised knuckles allowed, leading you back into your room in silence, vowing to treat you as you deserved.

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot

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macfrog · 6 months ago

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birds of a feather | joel & ellie

y'all listen to the new billie eilish album? there's a song that reminded me of a couple of someones.

pairing: joel miller & ellie williams summary: joel surprises ellie on her sixteenth birthday. warnings: nada. just me loving hard on this pair. word count: 1.5k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Oh, my god, it is a dinosaur.

She didn’t actually believe it would be. I mean, it was her first guess – but where the fuck is he going to find a dinosaur way the hell out here? She was kidding.

Wasn’t a convertible, wasn’t a puppy, wasn’t even a lotta kittens. A litter. Whatever. It wasn’t a new pair of sneakers, nor a comic book collection. She’d almost run out of ideas, when she spotted the tail through the bushes.

Is that–? Is he seeing this, too?

It’s, like, three times the size of her. No, wait – five times the size of her. Ten? She’s gotta ask Joel.

Two thick, stocky legs planted firm into the earth. Draped in ivy and spattered with moss – the thing actually looks prehistoric. Head lifted to the canopy; teeth bared in a silent roar. His little arms – alright, they’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute – frozen, reaching for something.

It’s right fucking there. Right in front of her. A motherfucking dinosaur.

Her hands fly to her head.

“Joel!” Ellie cries, and she can hardly feel her legs with giddiness.

Joel lingers a few steps behind her. He kicks a heel through the mucky grass, just watching. Smiling like an idiot, letting the ripples from the kid’s glee wash over him. It’s like the zoo all over again, or that time he found a Savage Starlight poster while out on patrol.

Ellie’s laughter is ticklish, vibrating through his veins. She pumps her fists and sizes up the monster. She says holy shit, Joel three times before she takes a step closer.

The sun trickles through the leaves, haloing over the Rex. It’s warm, but not too warm – and the swim on the way helped cool them down. It’s a bit of a hike to get here. He’s just glad it’s a nice day.

He was, truthfully, a little nervous about it. About bringing her here. He’s never had a sixteen-year-old to plan shit for. What if she didn’t like it? Hell, what if she thought it was fucking lame?

But Ellie wades waist-deep into the moat instantly. She pulls herself through the murky water straight to the plaque, and whips out her journal.

And Joel knows he’s fucking nailed it.

“King of the tyrant lizards,” she announces, making sure she gets the spelling right. Her tongue pokes from the corner of her mouth as she sketches.

Joel wanders over to her side, hand combing through the tangles of leaves drooping from the dinosaur’s belly. He swats fluttering flies away from his face.

The water sloshes around her feet as she rounds the tail. It’s slippery with slime. She crawls over threads and vines, soles scuffing up the spine.

“What are you doin’?” he asks, a chuckle patching over cracks of sudden fear.

“I’m climbing a dinosaur!” Ellie yells. She hesitates on the snout – though only for half a second, because fuck it, how many times am I going to jump off a motherfuckin’ dinosaur? – and then she’s plummeting.

Joel’s stomach flips. He staggers into the water, breath clamped in his throat until she resurfaces again.

She’s still wearing that dumb as shit smirk. It probably didn’t flinch, the entire fall. “Did you see that?” she gasps.

Jesus. Yeah, he saw it. He pulls a hand down his face.

It’s been a year, little less than. They’re used to it by now – the slow turn of life in Jackson. Breaking bread in the dinner hall, calling the woodland creatures by whichever ridiculous names Ellie christens them with.

It took a few weeks, but eventually, their heartrates settled. Their fists loosened. They relaxed into the quiet, found respite in the negative space.

Tommy joked for the first little while that Joel had a shadow he couldn’t shake. She’s five-three, red hair, and she carries a switchblade everywhere she goes. Following him close enough that she felt more like a phantom at his heels.

Joel never minded, and he still doesn’t. He’s long forgotten the feeling of being alone – as quickly as he acquired it, it seems. These days, he waits at his kitchen table for the kick of the backdoor, the slump of a still half-asleep teenager opposite him.

He wonders how he ever got by so long without it.

He leads Ellie into the museum.

Everything looks exactly how he left it. A jungle of a building; shattered glass and overgrown grass, a muggy smell lingering in every dim corner. The stuff he deliberately left for her to stumble upon when she got here: a Giants of the Past brochure, the stupid hat he knew she’d force him to wear.

A marshland wasteland, and she still sees the magic in every square inch.

She throws fact after fact at him. Fruit flies and moon landings, gunpowder and Yuri Gagarin. She knows a shit ton, if the stacks of books on her desk are anything to go by. And when Joel tells her how smart she is, Ellie smiles smugly to herself and thinks up ten more facts, just for him.

He thinks of her books and their awkwardly long titles, the faded pictures on all the covers. Astronauts and nebulas and faraway suns. He offers the one thing he remembers from school back at her: My very educated mother just served us nice pizzas.

She’s never even heard of it.

But she’s impressed, and she repeats it to herself as she explores some more. Turning back at every new artifact she finds, beckoning Joel over with a flapping hand.

He wanders after her, thinking up questions he’s sure he already knows the answers to – just so she can tell him again. Just to see her face light, to hear her ramble as she explains.

And nine times out of ten, she corrects him, anyway.

The space shuttle is spotlit under a dome roof, more ivy spilling over the top. A little heap of machinery, succumbed to the nature around it. They crank the door open together, and a springtime heat floods from the cockpit.

Joel stops Ellie from climbing in. “You’re goin’ into space,” he says, leaning on the warm metal. “You’re gonna need a helmet.”

Her eyebrows lift. “Oh, right. What was I thinking?”

They’re too big for her – all three helmets. They’re clunky and clumsy, the visors a little grubby and distorted. But she pulls one over her head and jogs back to Joel, hoisting herself into the shuttle.

It’s cramped inside; stifling even with the door wide open. Joel feels his back twinge as he settles into the seats. But he doesn’t mind, and neither does Ellie.

She flicks button after button, her elbow knocking against his. Explosion sounds rumbling from her lips. Her breath clouds the inside of her helmet.

He could lie here all day beside her. In this quiet corner of the world, where time stands still. Guarded by the Tyrannosaurus Rex out front. Just him and his kid, listening to her mimic engine noises and pretend to lift them both into space.

But he’s hellbent on timing it perfectly. So just as she sounds the roar of a seamless takeoff, he slips the tape from his chest pocket.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Ellie blinks at the cassette. “What is this?”

“This…” Joel says, pinching it in two fingers, “…is a thing that took a mighty effort to find.”

His handwriting is carved into the label. It’s the first gift – real gift, birthday gift – she’s ever been given. Thought out and made up, addressed to her and placed in her hands for keeps. All hers.

She clicks it into her player and hooks her headphones in, thumping her helmet back over her head. She jams a thumb into the play button, and –

He did remember to rewind the tape, right? It’ll play from the start, won’t it?

Joel’s heart begins to thud. He shifts uncomfortably.

Shit, what if it spoils the surprise? What if she hits play, and the first thing she hears is –

Ellie’s head lifts. Her eyes are wide. She grins, and so does he.

He fucking nailed it.

She closes her eyes, the staticky babble of mission control in her ear. His voice tickles, pulling a wide grin across her face. 10, 9, 8, 7…

The shuttle shudders as it shoots into space. She’s holding her breath, holding until he announces liftoff on Apollo 11. The naked sun stretches over her visor, red under her closed eyelids. It disappears somewhere in the distance.

Ellie lands slowly, carefully, back in Wyoming. She blinks her eyes open.

Joel’s still right beside her, hands clasped on his chest. He waits for her to turn, waits to check her expression. He asks it softly, earnestly.

“I do okay?”

Her cheeks ache with smiling. She clutches the tape player tighter, replies through a giggle.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

There might be nothing outside of this shuttle. Perhaps there was nothing to begin with. They might’ve shot straight past the earth’s atmosphere, might actually be among the stars. And it might not even matter, if they are.

Everything is right here. The sun and the moon – the entire universe between them.

Joel breathes a relieved laugh. His chest loosens, his heart settles back into place behind his ribcage.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.”

#in my genfic era #bye again #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller #ellie williams #joel x ellie #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #joel miller fic #ellie williams fic

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slvttyplum · 10 months ago

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𓏲𝄢 stay | choso kamo

synopsis: choso isn’t showing up to class so you handle it.

contents: lowercase spelling, weed smoking, high sex, smut.

your fist balled as you banged on the brown door in front, getting impatient after already knocking politely four times.

there’s silence, then a creak as the door opens. choso stands there with nothing but pajama pants on.

“where the hell were you? professor brooks seems to think i’m responsible for you.” pushing past him, entering the room, the lights down low, nothing but an overcast of blue light.

the smell of weed lingering through the air, making your nose scrunch, so this is what he was doing.

choso closed the door and locked it, put his hand in his pants, and walked towards the bean bag, flopping on it.

“don’t wanna be responsible for me now?” his hand sliding over the desk above him, grabbing the black ashtray and setting it in his lap.

“i don’t, no.” your deadpan response made him laugh, his soft hands putting the crud in the wrapping paper.

your eyes trace his body as you sigh. this boy had so much potential; professors loved him; girls lusted over him, so why?

“why what?” he responds looking at you with low eyes, licking the paper slowly, the saliva tracing the light tan paper.

shit did you say that out loud?

“nothing… just start going to class.” you say pouting, looking out the window, leaves swaying and falling.

“i do. i just have other shit to do; i can’t afford to go to class.” his voice low and his eyes flickering back to the ashtray, grabbing the lighter.

a hearty laugh erupting—what a funny sentence. his hand, bringing the blunt to his lips, and taking a small puff.

“alright… well try to go this week. i gotta bounce.” your body is moving towards the door, about to leave, but choso stands up.

“don’t leave; i haven’t seen you in a while.” his voice deep, sending tingles down your spine, and you find yourself stopping in your tracks.

“and who’s fault is that?” you reply back, not missing a beat. his body directly behind you, the smoke whithering in your bubble.

“i take accountability for that; let me make it up to you.” he whispers, leaning down, placing his hand on your hip, and leaning towards your ear.

“how?” you whisper, his lower half digging into you. the smoke no longer made you scrunch your nose, but you embraced it since it was coming from him.

his hand slowly shaking to the hem of your sweatpants but already gliding into them from the size being too big.

a kiss being placed on your ear, then your cheek, his body slowly grinding into you, his hand finding your core.

his middle finger sliding over your clothed slit repeatedly, a little moan escaping past his lips.

“i’ll do whatever you want me to do.” he says in a hushed tone, the blunt reaching his lips again, taking a hit.

the smoke makes your eyes sting a little but brings a sense of comfort because you know it’s him and no one else touching you.

“… then make me feel good.” your assertion made him harder, sliding his hand out of your pants and putting it back on your hips.

backing up and pushing you against him, going in the same direction. slowly putting the blunt out and turning you around.

leaning down and placing a kiss on your soft lips, taking him in whole as he slides his other hand on your hip.

wasting no time putting his tongue inside your mouth, both of your tongues sliding around each other.

he didn’t taste bitter or nasty, but rather sweet. how could he taste so good? his hand sliding around your back, rubbing circles.

both your breathing getting heavier, your bodies ready and aching for each other, yours more ready.

maybe it was the smoke floating around in the small space, breathing in the smoke, but you felt so good.

your eyes are fluttering to stay open as you stagger backwards towards the bed, his mouth still digging into you.

legs getting weak, trying to stay up, a giggle pushing into the kiss, choso leaning back with a spit string hanging on his lip, smiling.

“you feel that good?” he asks, leaning in again, placing a kiss on your cheek and following it up with multiples on your chest.

the tank top exposing your bare flesh, making him hungry for more, your hands slightly pushing him back as you giggle.

“stop, stop it tickles!” you exclaim, his eyes digging into you like he’s trying to find something, a grin still on his face.

his hands travel down to your hips as he tugs down your sweatpants, startling you. the warm wind sends comfort throughout your body.

only making you more hungry for him, his body bent down as he slipped out of your shoes and lifted your leg up, taking off your sweats.

“you look good from this view," smushing down a laugh as you bite the inside of your cheek, his eyes flickering up at you.

“yeah? i should probably stay down here then.” his face leaning into your core, his hands rubbing up your leg and thighs.

your heart is beating fast as you look at him; he’s so fucking fine, especially with those low-hanging eyes.

his hands rubbing over your thighs a couple of times before coming up to your hips and sliding down your panties slowly.

a wet string from your slit to your panties connecting, so beautiful he thought to himself, he couldn’t wait to dig in.

your panties now on your knees. choso wastes no time licking your slit, causing a tingle to swarm inside your belly.

a sly smirk on his lips when he sees your body jerk, his hands smoothing over your thighs, going to the back of them for stability.

fingertips digging into your flesh as his tongue slides between your folds, his tongue rubbing over your clit and down to your inner folds.

his tongue running back up to your clit again, flicking his tongue, the motion making you jerk, knees getting weak from his touch.

one hand on his bed, gripping the sheets; your ass presses against the edge of the bed; and your other hand slides to his hair.

his soft hair slipping between your fingers as you grip it, your grip tightening when he puckers his lips and sucks on your clit.

the warm, congested air sliding into your lungs so easily that it’s making it hard to breathe, the moans forming in the back of your throat.

the pleasure heightens as he sucks at a faster speed, his red eyes looking up at you, enjoying the view and your taste.

your mouth hanging open with pleasure, but nothing coming out made him hard, blood rushing to his dick.

the warm air flowing through your body and resting on your skin enhanced his touches; the way he sucked you in was different.

your legs were shaking trying to stay stable, and the way he looked at you made you only want to cum right there on the spot.

knees buckling as you let out a deep breath, eyes squinting, walls tightening as you release, the feeling leaving warm kisses down your thigh.

your hand sliding out his hair as you try to catch your breath, choso sliding your panties off all the way, then standing up.

“you never leave me dissatisfied.” he whispers into your ear, his rough hands turning you around as he pulls down his sweats and briefs.

his head fuzzy and his cock practically oozing in his hand as he lines himself with your entrance.

your back arched as your hands gripped the sheets, a bright smile on your face and little giggles escaping.

pushing closer to you as he holds his dick out, rubbing his tip past your wet folds, the teasing making you moan.

his hand on your waist as he slowly slides in, a low moan falling out of his mouth, pushing all the way into you.

the warm feeling of you molding onto his cock made him feel lightheaded, with a smile on his face when he pushed deeper.

your face pushing into the mattress and the pleasure within you bubbling, he was hitting a place you didn’t even know was there.

choso’s hand came up and down, giving a smack to your ass, and a cold shiver ran down your spine.

“not that hard!” you whimper out, moving your arm to the back of you, trying to move his hand, but he grips your wrist, sliding out and then back in forcefully.

“just… take it.” he grunts out, pushing into you deeper, your leg moving up from the intense pleasure.

it was so overwhelming.

“no… go softer.” you whine out, the pleasure in your deep stomach filling you whole, and your other hand grips the sheet so tight that your knuckles are starting to ache.

choso’s other hand trailed a finger down your spine to the hill of your ass, his eyes hanging low, squinting, just staring at the spot.

it was so attractive to him that your body reacted to his every touch, like you were made for him.

his dick got harder from that thought, sliding back out and into you even deeper now, his dick touching your sweet spot.

“wait! wait!” you whine out, choso sliding his hand up your back to your face, covering your mouth. all that’s heard is muffled moans.

“shhh… don’t wanna alarm anyone.” he says softly, releasing your wrist and gripping your ass.

the warm sensation traveling through his body was about to double, his dick twitching from how you were tightening around him.

pushing your head back into him, your back now on his chest as he pounds into you, smacking flesh.

your eyes were watering from the intensity; it was too much, and the tingles in your stomach were multiplying by ten.

his other arm wrapped around your waist as he got faster, your back arching with every thrust, hitting every spot inside you.

muffled moans in his hand as you lose yourself; it felt so good, like you were floating in the air.

the tingles in your stomach releasing as your walls clamp around his dick, his dick twitching, pulling out quickly.

a warm sensation on your lower back and ass being felt, your body falling hunched over the bed as choso releases you.

heavy breathing as he hunches over you, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“tell professor brooks i’ll be in class.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #choso #jujutsu choso #choso x you #choso smut #choso x y/n #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso

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wreckedandpolemic · 30 days ago

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screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain - matty healy

(mdni) in which your jealousy gets the better of you. part of the regret me universe and promptober75 2024. 3725 words.

warnings: mean dom reader, pegging, sub!matty, mommy kink, slight feminisation, orgasm denial, idk they're real mean to each other

“I cannot fucking believe you, Healy,” you scowl, the thudding pulse of the club fading into the background as you storm after him.

Matty doesn’t turn, but you can still hear his smirk. “For a girl who’s so insistent she doesn’t give a shit whether I live or die, you’re really fucking worried about who I spend my time with.”

You clench a fist, twitching like you’re itching to punch him in the face. “I wish you’d fucking die. It’d save me a fuckload of headaches.” At that, he does turn, thunder rumbling ominously in the same moment.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich. D’you know how much easier my life would be if I’d never fucking met you?” he snaps. You don’t want to examine why you suddenly feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. “Could be getting off with any one of those girls right now, ‘cept I’ve got this jealous little cockblock following me around ‘cause she knows she has to cling to me to stay relevant.”

You stagger backwards like you’ve been shot, all your bravado crumpled at the confirmation of your fears. Fat droplets of rain splatter against the pavement, and you all but scream. “So go back in there, then! Find some desperate whore who’s dumb enough to fuck you for her fifteen minutes of fame, right? Really stroke that fucking ego of yours.” The rain is coming thick and fast, the tears prickling in your eyes concealed by water pouring down your face. “But we both know you’re gonna be thinking of me when you cum.”

You’ve barely noticed Matty edging closer as you yell until he’s grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you in. “You’re poison. You’re fucking— I don’t know what’s wrong with me to need you like this. I can’t—” You cut him off, crashing your lips together as the rain pounds around you.

“Just fucking shut up,” you breathe, half-laughing. “You’re so fucking— mmm— insufferable.”

Chest heaving, Matty scowls down at you. “You can’t just fucking snog me ‘cause you don’t like what I have to say. If you’d shut your fucking trap for two seconds and—”

You cut him off again. “Watch me. You’re right, I don’t give a fuck what you have to say, or how you rationalise whatever this is to yourself.” You gesture vaguely to the space between you. “I’m not interested in your mouth at all unless it’s between my legs, actually.” You’re soaked to the bone, lying through your teeth and holding back a shiver.

“Why’s it so hard for you to admit you want me?” Matty needles. “Could’ve left well enough alone in there, but you had to stake some kind of claim on me, right? Followed me all the way out just to tell me you don’t care. Nah. I think you do. I think you need me like I need you. I think you don’t know who you are without me, and you hate it.”

His ability to peel back your skin, lean in, pluck your thoughts straight from your mind is unsettling, a shiver that’s nothing to do with the cold running through you. “You’re so full of shit. Can’t fathom a world where everyone on the planet isn’t obsessed with you. Gotta make yourself feel important, ‘cause you’re so empty inside, right? Can’t deal with the fact I only fuck around with you ‘cause you’re easy and you can find the clit.” Your breathing is ragged, your heart a lead weight in your chest. Matty clearly doesn’t believe a fucking word of it, either; you’re fighting a losing battle, but the flames of arousal sparking between you are starting to drown out the rest of the world.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he breathes against your lips, cupping your jaw almost tenderly. “Lucky for you, I think you’re pretty when you lie to me.”

You scoff. “You think I’m pretty all the time.”

“I do.” Your confidence falters again, and you break eye contact. “What the fuck are we doing here?” Matty laughs. “Screamin’ at each other in the street in the pissing rain. We both know how this ends. Why don’t we just skip to the part where we’re fucking each other’s brains out, yeah?”

At that, you laugh openly. “You’re fucking in for it, Healy. Come on.” You stumble through the rain-soaked streets, slipping on wet cobblestone and tumbling into Matty’s arms. You hate how safe you feel there. His flat is as familiar as your own when he lets you in, smelling of cigarettes and weed and the obnoxiously sweet-scented candles he lights to cover up the weed smell.

Matty practically throws you onto the bed, barely out of your sopping wet clothes as he collapses on top of you and grinds down through your underwear. “M’still fucked off at you,” you mutter between desperate kisses.

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Y’still in my bed, though,” Matty smirks down at you, and you scowl, raising your hand threateningly. He only tilts his head, almost an invitation, so you follow through. The crack of your palm meeting his cheek is oh-so satisfying, the sound spilling over you as his cheek reddens. “You can do better than that,” he scoffs.

“I could,” you say. “But if I get the knife out, I’ll probably cut your dick off. And that’s no fun for either of us. S’all you’re good for,” you say, shrugging as best you can pinned as you are to the mattress.

Matty tilts your head up, presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’d probably let you,” he admits.

You grin. “Oh, he’s learning. You ready to be a good boy for me?” He doesn’t want to surrender, you can tell. But he wants fucked, and he knows that’s the only way to get what he wants. “Just gotta say sorry, baby. Then you can have as much cock as you can take, yeah?”

Matty just glowers down at you. “Could just fuck myself,” he mutters petulantly. “Don’t need you.”

Smiling sweetly, you ease yourself out from under him. “Go on, then. Fuck yourself and pretend it’s even half as good as me. Some entertainment for the neighbours,” you say, swallowing a grimace as you struggle into your still-soaked clothes. “Have the night you deserve, Matthew.”

His eyes are wide, almost forlorn, as you turn to leave, but you don’t even make it halfway to the kitchen before he’s scrambling after you. He knows you’re not bluffing; this is a trick you’ve pulled before, and the first couple of times he was stubborn enough to let you leave. But last time, you hooked up with another guy after you left, sent him a picture of your cum-covered chest and sort-of lied about how hard you came. Matty grabs you by the arm, spins you around to face him, panting slightly. “Fuck, darling, please don’t go. M’sorry, okay?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re not very convincing. C’mon, where’s the theatrics? You love those,” you scoff, digging red, pointed nails into his jaw hard enough to leave marks. “Get on your knees and beg for my dick. Tell me how much you need me. Convince me that you deserve it.”

Matty thuds to his knees without question, desire pooling between your hips at the sight. “Shit, c’mon, darling. I’m sorry.” He grips your thighs needily, fingers shaking as he slides them up to your zipper. “I need you, need you to fuck me, only one who can. I’ll be good, promise. Just need you to fuck me dumb, please,” he whines, and you thumb softly across his cheek.

He’s so pretty when he pleads like this, desperate and so needy he’s straining against his boxers. “What are you sorry for, Matty?” you murmur, sliding your thumb into his mouth and stroking his tongue.

You trail your thumb down his neck, still wet with his spit as he starts to tug your jeans down your legs. “Was bein’ a little bitch,” he sighs. “I need you, darling. Y’the only one who can fuck me how I need it.” It’s not exactly penance, but it’s probably the best you’re going to get.

“There’s my good boy,” you grin. “On your knees beggin’ for me like a little whore, s’cute,” you add, kicking out at his cock where it drools into his boxers. You jerk your head towards the bedroom, and Matty catches the hint, stumbling in his haste to obey. Wandering after him, just slow enough to make him sweat a little, you lean against the doorframe to watch him slick up his fingers.

Your cunt throbs as he circles his hole, legs spread wide and chest already heaving. “Please…” he whines, thin and reedy, his cock drooling against his stomach.

You sit on the end of the bed, leaning back on your hands in just your bra and panties. “Please, what, princess? I’m watching the show,” you tease, slowly rubbing over your clit through your underwear. Matty whimpers, adds another finger, gasps your name in a shaky, breathy voice that almost makes your resolve crumble.

And then, he murmurs two words that get him whatever he fucking wants. “Please, Mommy.” The title is still new, rare enough that just hearing it drip from his spit-slick lips makes your cunt throb, sets your rational brain spinning dizzily away from your consciousness.

“Fuck, y’killing me, princess,” you moan, crawling up Matty’s body as his legs tremble and he whines loudly from brushing that perfect little spot inside him. “Mommy’s here, baby, tell me what you need,” you coo, trailing your fingers down his cheek adoringly; all your anger is practically forgotten in favour of wanting — no, needing — to reduce him to a whimpering mess of pleasure, crying and begging for his Mommy.

His face contorts in pleasure, muscles tensing and flexing as he fingers himself. Your entire body goes hot just looking at him, and you tilt his head up to press a kiss against his lips. “Please fuck me,” he begs. “Please. I’ll be so good for you, Mommy.”

Your gaze is hard, impassive even as you trail your fingers down his chest to trace over his tattoo. “I want you to remember this,” you say, soft but cool; there’s no way he could mistake your calm for tenderness. “Remember lying on your back, remember begging for your Mommy to fuck you drooling, and next time you want to pretend I’m nothing to you, that I’m just another one of the girls who throw themselves at you for attention, I want you to think about this moment.”

Matty looks gorgeous, plush lower lip sucked between his teeth and eyes brimming with desperate tears, and your emotions are spinning out of control faster than you can even think. You want to rip him apart, dig your nails into his ribcage, claw out his heart and feel it beating in your hands. Don’t you see me? you’d beg, holding it against your lips. Don’t you know I’d ruin myself for you? Can’t you see what’s right fucking infront of you? You realise your hand is pressing against Matty’s throat, his eyes rolled back in pleasure as he gasps for air.

He whimpers your name, and please, and Mommy, arching his back as the wet, glossy sounds of his fingers fill the room. “Y’right,” he gasps as soon as you lift your hand from his neck. “I need you. I can’t— can’t live without you, baby. I just— please,” he begs, low and broken, desperation layered so thick in his voice that you can almost taste it.

“Needy fucking boy,” you coo, climbing off him to fix a harness to your hips. Matty’s eyes fall greedily to the silicone hanging between your legs, his hand speeding as a low moan spills from his lips. “You like it? S’new,” you grin, coating your fingers in lube and slicking up the toy. “Bit bigger than you’re used to, princess. You think you can still take it?”

“I’ll take whatever you tell me to,” he breathes, his free hand tracing reverently down your neck to play with your nipple through your bra.

You gasp, reaching down to pump his drooling cock in reward. “M’serious, baby. Are you sure you can take it? I don’t wanna hurt you.” Matty snorts. “Fine, I don’t wanna hurt you like this.”

Matty grins against your mouth, slipping his hand into your hair and kissing you sloppily, pent-up desire flooding between your mouths. “I can take it. Need you to fuck me, Mommy, please,” he whines.

“Such a little slut,” you mutter, disgust colouring the edges of your words. “You think any of those fucking girls from the club could give it to you like this?” you snap, cunt clenching with every tremble of his lip and hitch in his breath. Shaking his head, Matty claws at your hips, tries to guide you into his hole. “Not so fast. Hands and knees, yeah? Sick of looking at you,” you snap. It’s half-true. You hate the way he looks at you on nights like these, with dazed half-moon eyes and pure adoration; it’s nauseating to know you’ll only ever see it behind a locked door.

Obediently, Matty goes to his knees, his hole slick and dripping and fluttering obscenely. You tease him with just the tip, trailing your fingers over the curve of his ass. You push into him slowly, his begging little moan sliding sweetly over your brain. “F-fuck, yes!” he gasps, back arching and chest heaving. “Shit, harder, please,” he whines.

You slap the side of his ass. “Oh, you’re giving orders now?” you scoff, snapping your hips hard against Matty’s. “I don’t fucking think so. Shut up and take it like a good boy, okay?” you order. Still, you oblige him, fucking into him quick and deep, moaning like you can really feel him tight around you.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good, Mommy,” Matty groans, collapsing onto his elbows and dripping moans into the sheets.

You reach down to stroke Matty’s drooling cock as you fuck him in rhythmic strokes. “Such a little cockwhore, shit,” you mutter, scraping your nail over the faintly raised scar in the shape of a heart on his asscheek. The reminder of your physical mark on him is grounding, lucidity cutting through stupor. “Say it,” you add, tugging sharply on his hair as he lets out a sound that’s half-gasp, half-moan.

“M’your little cockwhore, Mommy,” Matty whines. “Thank you,” he adds dazedly, his entire body flushed red. “Shit, there, right there, fuck, yes!” he almost wails, entire body convulsing under your attentions. You slam into him over and over, his every whine as you hit his g-spot fucking delicious.

“God, got you so dumb. You love this, don’t you? Taking Mommy’s dick like a good little girl?” The moan he lets out is pure, unfiltered lust, shame painting his cheeks red as arousal drips from his cock. “You’re so wet,” you breathe, reaching around him and letting him drool precum against your fingers. Never mind that your own panties are fucking soaked through. Lifting your fingers to Matty’s lips, you don’t even have to instruct him before he’s cleaning them off obediently, moaning softly at his own taste.

Matty rocks his hips back against yours, trying to force you deeper. You slap his ass when you pull back, the message clear: behave yourself. “M’close,” he warns, spit leaking from the corners of his mouth and his entire body twitching from it.

His whine when you pull out is obscene, and you click your tongue. “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you cum after the shit you pulled today, did you?” you sigh, deliberately condescending. “If you wanted to cum that bad, you should have gone and fucked one of those girls who was gagging for you at the club.” You discard the harness, flip him over as his chest heaves. “But you didn’t, did you? You wanted me. So you’re gonna take what I give you and be fucking grateful, okay?” Matty nods weakly. “Say it. Say I’m sorry, Mommy. Thank you for not letting me cum.”

You’re being cruel, now. But you can’t deny how good it feels to be in power for a change; Matty holds all the cards between you, and he fucking well knows it. You’ll never hear the words you really want, the confession you lie awake torturing yourself imagining, that haunts your dreams of him. So you settle for torturing him, and, in turn, yourself. “M’sorry, Mommy,” Matty moans into the air between you. “Thank you for not letting me cum,” he repeats dutifully, and you break into a callous little grin.

“There you are,” you coo, and he looks so beautiful, so desperate and broken with longing, that it’s a fight not to relent, to give him whatever he fucking wants. “Good boys get rewarded, yeah? You can make me cum however you like, okay, princess?”

You take his hand, slip it into your panties, rough fingers sliding through the wetness pooled there and finding your clit on instinct. “Fuck,” he whines. “Wanna fuck you. Please. On your— on your back,” he pleads. Rolling over, you spread your legs so Matty can kneel between them, kissing the inside of your knee as he pulls your panties off. He kisses your clit, licks a broad, flat stripe across your cunt like he can’t resist, and moans at your taste. A bolt of pleasure leaps up your spine; you hadn’t realised how neglected your cunt was while you fucked him.

Matty takes hold of your ankles, lifts your legs and practically bends you in half. The aching stretch feels so good, and you’d be worried about your control slipping in this position if it weren’t for the needy, desperate-to-please look in his eye. He doesn’t bother teasing, doesn’t waste time playing with you, stretching you out; just slides into you and buries his head in your tits with a moan. Sliding your hand into Matty’s hair, you drag his head until he wraps his lips around your nipple. “Good boy,” you murmur, pleasure seeping into every muscle in your body. “You love ‘em, don’t you? You wanna suck Mommy’s tits, make me feel good?”

Hips jerking, Matty moans around your boob, sucking softly and circling your clit in the same moment. You sigh out his name, content to let him set a slow, indulgent pace as pleasure throbs heavily everywhere his skin meets yours. His teeth graze your nipple, and you whine, your cunt clenching needily. The noise seems to spur him on, and he bites down harder, tongue flicking soothingly over the sensitive skin as you cry out in pain and press your body up against his. Matty’s fingers are frantic at your clit, pressure already mounting between your thighs and threatening to spin out of control.

After what feels like an achingly, deliciously long time, Matty moves his mouth, sucks and bites at the soft flesh of your tit until you can feel a bruise forming. His hips and hand never falter from their pace, dragging you ever closer to a peak you can already tell will be explosive, bone-shattering, mind-erasing. “Y’feel so good, Mommy,” he gasps, laving his tongue against your other nipple and fucking into you faster and faster.

“Talk to me, princess,” you say. Matty pulls off you and looks up with dazed, lust-blown eyes. “Aw, baby. I know it’s hard when you’re all dumb like this, but I want you to tell me exactly what feels good, how close you are, everything going on in that pretty, stupid head of yours,” you breathe, broken up by desperate moans and needy whines.

Matty’s trembling, muscles tense with the effort of holding back his orgasm. “Cunt feels so good,” he murmurs, carefully enunciating every word as they trace down your skin. “You look so pretty, Mommy, so fucking beautiful. Thank you for— for lettin’ me— fuck, I can’t— I need you s’bad, always know what I need, please,” he babbles, helplessly desperate as his head falls to kiss at your collarbones. “Need to make you cum, Mommy, please, I wanna feel it. M’so fuckin’ close,” he pants, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

“Hold it,” you order, gasping as Matty pinches your clit harshly. Pleasure-pain spirals in your chest, shattering at the base of your skull and sending you flying. You scream his name, clenching tight around him as your hands fist in the sheets. Sheer ecstasy pools in your veins, burns you up from the inside out, Matty stilling on top of you as he watches pleasure paint itself across your face.

You can feel his cock twitching desperately, every second he’s inside you torturous. “Can I cum? Please let me cum, I— God, fuck! Mommy, please. It hurts,” he whines, desperate and pathetic and pleading.

His begging is desperately, disgustingly hot, every word tracing over your skin like a caress. It isn’t going to work, though. “I told you I wasn’t going to let you cum. Don’t be greedy,” you scoff, rolling your eyes when he whines. “Let me get you cleaned up, and if you’re good, I’ll think about it in the morning, okay?” You suddenly realise you don’t know if you can stay; it’s always been implicit when you land in each others’ beds, but as much as you hate to admit it, things are different for him now.

Silence hangs in the air between you, seconds stretching agonisingly long before Matty sighs, stretches, pouts down at you and lets you unfold your legs. “Why are you so mean?” he complains, still buried inside you.

“You love it,” you say, but you lift your legs to cross your ankles behind his back. “We can stay like this for a bit, if you want,” you relent, Matty’s body slumping against yours the second you say the words. Lifting your hand, you pet his hair soothingly, letting him bury his head into your neck and kiss the tender skin there. “That’s my good boy. You know I’ll take care of you.” The rain is still beating down against the windows, but in here, with Matty cradled in your arms and as close as you could possibly be, you don’t even remember the cold.

#these fucking emotionally unavailable assholes i hate them #i dont i love them dearly i fear #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #writing #smut #regret me #promptober75

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suzukiblu · 19 days ago

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Thank-you sentences for a dragon melon; the one where Clark is trans and Kon is not. tw: internalized not-technically-transphobia-but-it-kinda-reads-that-way and unintentional misgendering of a (sort-of) closeted character. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Just come on!” she says in frustration, and lunges forward to grab Kara’s arm even as a wave of dizziness nearly knocks her off her ass. Kon staggers, because she’s fucking useless, and Kara grabs her biceps and keeps her upright, and she feels like shit about herself again. Because of course she does. Like always, like usual, like she’s gonna feel fucking forever until she dies and gets buried as Superboy and no one ever gives a shit that she was anything–anything else she might’ve–might’ve wanted to be.

Might’ve just been.

Kon hates Kara so, so much. She was here first. She was created years before Kara even made it to Earth at all, much less learned how to live on it. She should be–

“Are you hurt?” Kara says, looking alarmed, and Kon hates herself more.

“M’fine,” she lies. It’s always a lie. She’s never fine, and it’s always a lie, and it’s so much worse after Match asked her–asked her–“Just–I’m fine. We just gotta go.”

Match asked her. Match, who doesn’t even care about her enough to hate her fucking guts. Who doesn’t want anything to do with her and doesn’t even care she’s alive at all.

Not anybody . . . not anybody else.

Kara stares searchingly at her, and Kon feels stupid and useless and stupid and like an awful fucking person and a fucking liar and–and–

She swallows, trying to keep her face from twisting, and Kara tightens her grip on her arms.

“Alright,” Kara says. “Okay. Let’s go.”

So they go.

She doesn’t think about what Match said to her.

She doesn’t think about what Match asked her.

She just–doesn’t.

Kon hates Supergirl.

Kon hates not being Supergirl.

But she couldn’t be, even if Kara had never made it to Earth at all.

#kon el #conner kent #kara zor-el #superboy #supergirl #superfamily #unintentional misgendering #wip: trans clark and cis kon #a dragon melon

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graceyappsalot · 8 months ago

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“Everybody deserves flowers.”

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Okay so my last post did pretty good I think! So I’m gonna be posting this early because I’ll be busy this weekend but I still wanna post something!

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Percy Jackson x !!afab!! reader

Cussing, slight angst, heart break, unrequited love at first. Fluff at the end!!

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It was a typical morning at camp. The sun was brightly shining. Beating down on everybody, making it a more warm than typical. Percy walked past you. Like he normally does looking for annabeth, you guess.

“Oh shit sorry Y/N.” Percy said nervously as he had bumped into you, not taking in his surroundings. “ i didn’t see you there, almost like you were invisible.” He joked

“Oh.” You laughed it off even though those words had hurt worse than any other. “Guess I’m a ghost!”

“Hey have you seen annabeth?” He look around anxiously. Holding something in his hand. It looked like a letter, maybe.

“No I haven’t sorry, is everything okay?” You prodded at the situation, now getting nosy.

“Yeah I just, you know what I gotta tell someone, come here.” He grabbed your hand, and led you into the woods.

Oh. My. God. He’s holding my hand! I can’t believe it. The boy I’ve liked ever since he first showed up at camp. The way he talks and walk and just everything about him is just perfect! I follow him into the woods, feeling like I’m floating.

You two reach a rock, and he pulls you to sit next to him.

“I like annabeth. Actually I might love her.”

Oh… that’s not what you wanted to hear. You take your hands away from his. Your heart dropped. It feels like the entire word is ending. How could you have been so stupid. Of course he likes annabeth, everybody does. Tears well in your eyes but you do your best to hide them.

“That’s great Percy! I’m sure she feels the same way!” You try your best to support him, because no matter what, you will always care for him.

“Maybe, try giving her a gift, I mean everybody deserves flowers?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea! I need to give her this letter. I just can’t find her.” He gets up. “Y’know, you’re a really good friend.” Percy gleams at you and walks off.

You let go. Of all the hurt, all the pain, why does it hurt so bad.

After about an hour you finally get up and make your way back to camp

You see Percy and giving the letter to annabeth. She shakes her head no at him and walks away. Percy looks like a kicked puppy

The words he told you over play in your head. Over and over again.

So……

You walk past him and into your cabin. Because the world didn’t end when the boy you liked for months ended up liking some one else.

Day go by and you get better. You find out that annabeth rejected Percy. Which sucks but it’ll all be okay. Percy has tried talking to you numerous times, but you don’t let up easy.

Today you were sitting in a flower field. Just reading a book. Until your peaceful quietness was interrupted. By a certain someone

“Hey.” Percy staggered out. He sat beside you underneath a big oak tree.

“Hey..” you try your best to avoid eye contact.

“Why have you been avoiding me like I’m the plague?” He jokes

“Percy. I have to tell you something. I don’t wanna keep hiding it from you, because you’re an important person to me.” This sudden urge to let go of all your feelings struck you

“Tell me. You can tell me anything.” He gets closer

“Okay, well. Percy I’ve liked you ever since you first showed up at camp with your stupid smile, and stupid clothes.” You start to get a little emotional “I hate you. I hate you so much.” You stand up and start pacing

“What’s going on, why do you hate me? You just said you liked me?” Percy is obviously confused.

“That’s the thing! I hate you because I still like you. It’s like you do no wrong to me. You could stab me a million times and I’d still love you.” Percy stands up and spins your around to face him

“I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Part of me has always liked you too. When you started ignoring me, well.. it was the worst time of my life.” He pauses for a minute “I never realized but I’ve always looked for you, everywhere I go. And when you get sent on quest I make sure I’m there with you. I get protective I guess. I just thought it was because you were a good friend to me.”

“But..?” You say wanting to know more

“You’re so much more than that. You always check up on me. You always make sure I’m laughing when I’m with you. Annabeth didn’t do that. I mean sure she’s a good friend but…I can only see my self with you now.”

“Are you saying…that you like me too.”

“Duh you idiot.” He looks like he gets an idea which is normally not a good thing. He wonders off for second, somewhere you can’t quite see him.

“What the heck?” You mumble. He comes rushing back with….

“Here. It’s like you said everybody deserves flowers.” He hands them off to you “but you especially deserve them.”

“Oh Percy Jackson, I never knew you could be such a sap.”

“Oh don’t let it get to your head.”

This time you and Percy walk back into camp. But with your hands intertwined and huge smiles covering the both of your faces.

You were Percy’s and he was yours.

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Okay so a little surprise because I won’t be able to post this weekend 🫶🏻 this is pretty bad but I tried to make it cute 😭 I’ll try to write for other fandoms soon I’m just obsessed with Percy right now and it all people want!!

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#Spotify #percy jackson #fanfic #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase #percy jackson x yn #walker scobell #walker scobell x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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