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#gotta toss it out somewhere so here I go :)
greenskellyblob · 4 months
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Hello people, I am at work rn and listening to an audiobook and it ENRAGES ME!!!
So I'm here to tell you to go read the Stormlight archives books by Brandon Sanderson and join me in the majesty, rage and delight these books bring.
Honestly, grab any of his books if you haven't already and you might just find yourself enjoying them :3
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evilminji · 27 days
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I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~
Wrong way Au?
It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.
Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!
Childhood.
Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.
And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.
Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.
Where the FUCK are they Clark?
According to the GPS?
Here.
(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)
Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!
Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?
Was... was that THERE a second ago?
Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.
Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.
And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?
Fuck ™.
Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.
They park.
There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.
Grinning.
Everything grinning.
As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.
They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.
Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.
Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.
Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.
Then they are noticed.
"Cousin!"
One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.
"LETS WRASTLE~!!"
He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.
By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.
Dives into the fray.
Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!
It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.
His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.
By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!
Clark... Clark is so tired.
He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!
They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???
So yeah.... no more road trips.
How was YOUR weekend?
@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation
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shotmrmiller · 5 months
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A/N: This was supposed to be a small thing cuz i inhale toxic ex's like air but here we are.
Thinking of a toxic ex!Simon that you broke up with almost a year ago. You wanted more than what he was willing to give you— unbelievable fuck aside— and you were just gonna get hurt in the long run. So you ended it.
What hurt the most was how he didn't even try to put up a fight. He just stood in front of you, as impassive as ever.
"If that's what you want." He shrugged.
And that was that. Ever since then, you've focused on yourself and your job. Meaning no dates, no get-togethers, nothing. Just work and lonely nights with a glass of wine. That he hadn't reached out once in all this time certainly rubbed salt on your wounds.
Now you're here. Out with a group of friends at a bar, after being borderline guilt-tripped into coming. A couple of mango martinis in and you're approached by a handsome fellow. Curly, brown locks and sun-kissed skin.
"Can I buy you another one, lass?"
"Sure. I'll never turn down a free drink."
He chuckles and his smooth laughter sends a shiver up your spine. As he turns away to get the bartender, you flick your eyes at your friends. They're giving you cheeky smiles and thumbs up.
Rolling your eyes with a smile, Mr. Handsome comes back with your drink before saddling up next to you on a bar stool.
"So what's a beautiful bird such as yourself doing all alone here?"
"I've been locked up for too long. Needed a change of scenery. And I gotta say, the view's quite nice."
He grabbed the back of your stool and dragged you a little closer to him, before tilting his head to the side— emerald green eyes half lidded and slightly covered by his curly hair.
"Is that right? I gotta say I also like what I'm seeing." Moving his hand from the padding of your stool to hook onto your hip, he says, "How about we move to a more private setting? Do you live nearby?"
He'd be the first guy since Simon that you've shown any interest in. You weren't ready for a relationship yet, but a distraction wouldn't hurt. And his staggering good looks certainly helped his case.
Nodding, you take out your phone from your purse to text your friends that have somehow disappeared when it vibrates, so you unlock your screen.
Take him home and I'm slitting his throat.
You flinch and look around wildly in a panic. Where is he?
"Hey, are you alright?"
Your phone vibrates again and you swallow hard before opening the text.
If his hand doesn't remove itself from your body, it'll be coming off of his.
You squeak before aggressively removing yourself from the stool, tripping over your heels. You weren't as sober as you'd like to be. The guy tries to stabilize you by grabbing your wrist but you jerk yourself away from his grip.
"I uh, I have somewhere to be." You toss on your jacket over your shoulders before running towards the front door and into the cool, rainy night.
Bzzt. Another text.
Good choice. I'd have hated ruining your nice purple comforter. It's one of my favorites.
You turn your body, doing a 360, eyes aimlessly looking for the ghost of your past life, when your phone rings. You frantically press the answer button.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?"
You hear him tsk. "I'd lower that tone of yours, love. I don't appreciate being spoken to like that," he says condescendingly.
Sighing, "I'm allowing you to continue this delusional 'break' of yours, but my patience runs thin. No one is allowed to touch you but me."
Your heart beats viciously at his audacity and tears start running down your cheeks. In fear, in relief or in anger, you don't know.
"Don't cry, doll. You should've known you'd always be mine. Now go home. I'll keep you safe."
Hanging up, you do as he says, wondering how long he's been keeping tabs on you— haunting you. You make a note to yourself to check your flat for cameras.
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ravengards-rogue · 2 months
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i thought of you so often.
arthur morgan x reader.
✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.
✧ wc : 2.4k (???)
✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.
✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆
You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.
He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.
You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.
On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.
You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.
It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.
It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.
Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.
Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.
Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.
Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.
You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.
(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.
"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)
But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.
You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.
You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.
And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.
A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.
The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.
So you're thinking on it.
The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.
Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.
You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.
"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.
Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.
The first few pages are nothing special.
A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.
You really love this man helplessly.
You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.
It feels like ages ago now.
You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.
There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.
It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.
Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.
You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.
She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.
Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.
You can't tear your eyes away.
Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.
Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.
Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.
You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.
I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.
She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.
One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.
After Arthur had been kidnapped.
I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.
Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.
A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.
The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.
Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.
You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.
You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.
Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.
Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.
My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.
Damn that man.
When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.
Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.
In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.
"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"
You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.
Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.
"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"
You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.
"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"
His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.
"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."
You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.
"Found your journal. The one about me,"
He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.
"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"
You shake your head.
"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"
He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."
You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.
"I love you, Arthur."
"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"
"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"
"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."
"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"
Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆
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filthybeforesunset · 11 days
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STOP FEEDING MY GROWING CRUSH ON LUFFY! I'M TRYNNA GET OVER HIM CUZ I CAN'T KEEP UP W THE SERIES😭😭😭
here, lemme help
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Luffy x Reader
where do you think you're going
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Content Warning: afab!reader, smut, dubious consent, restraints, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, Gear 5th, no escape
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“Hmmm? What’d’ya mean?” He pouted. That damned pout that made you turn to goo. Or to at least squish his face.
Luffy wasn’t supposed to look so good. Shirt open for that scar to tease you. The starlight making black eyes glitter on the upper deck where the helm sat quiet. You never thought you’d fall for the sweet smile type — the laugh until it infected you type. You had always looked at tall, stoic men. They would whisk you away with kisses and sweet words.
Instead, this rough and tumble pirate captain had dragged you into one adventure after another, seducing you with strong hands and wandering teeth tugging for your cries when the mood struck.
That wasn’t a problem in and of itself, of course, but the adventures …
“I can’t keep up,” you whispered. Your head dropped now, flush with embarrassment as his stance shifted into a droop. “I’m not as powerful as you.”
Not even as strong as any of his weakest crewmates.
Hopping along, you had hoped to find your place on his ship, and while you were at home there in his arms and in the other’s friendship, you were no powerhouse, and the adventures were getting so very dangerous. This last time, Luffy had almost died. Though to hear him tell it, you thought he actually had.
And it sent your gut and heart lurching. Had you lost him? Even for a brief moment?
What could you have even done to help him?
He had beaten Kaido, but you had been hiding during the raid. The others could praise you for helping the geisha escape all they liked, but you know you had been saving yourself too.
Luffy’s pout hardened though, his brow creasing. “You don’t gotta be strong.”
“I won’t ever be! I’m just — me.”
“And I like you.”
You blushed.
Of course, you knew that. Hip breaking time alone had told you that much.
“Stay.”
A shock went through your frame. You wanted to, of course, but he wasn’t listening. As usual.
“I … can’t.”
When he frowned, eyes going deep and still, you had to look away. You think it was that intensity that had first caught you, after all. It was just a trap at this point.
“I have to say goodbye.”
Luffy snorted. “I don’t say goodbye.”
Your eyes widened as he grasped your shoulders. For an instant, you flushed with heat, but when Luffy dragged you against him, an inferno scorched you. Luffy pressed you onto the bench, and instinct had you open your legs so he could press between.
Oh, no—
Tongue to tongue, Luffy sucked hard before releasing with a gasp.
“I won’t ever say it.”
Your jaw dropped only for him to pinch your bottom lip, his hand over your wrist to press over your head.His black eyes pulled you back in.
“I won’t let you go.”
You had died. Somehow, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you went still in shock as he grinned.
That damned grin that had you wet with want.
Luffy pulled up your shirt, ducking under to latch onto your breast through your bra. You let out a shocked cry before he pressed his hand over your mouth.
“You can’t say it either.”
Heat pulsed and pooled in your belly. When you tried to close your thighs, he pressed against you instead, his bulge grinding for your core under your skirt. With a whine, you wiggled on his cock, squirming as he yanked your shirt off. He ground harder while he worked at your bra, tossing it over his shoulder. Laying you bare when your panties and skirt joined the rest.
You panted on the bench, naked and sweating when he gathered both wrists in that huge hand.
His tongue laved across your breast, slurping and running lewd circles on every curve.
Yet at your nipple, he bit with a groan that had your hips jolt. You moaned through his hand, melting with wide eyes as Luffy loomed over you.
“Aaah, you’re so cute,” he said. “I don’t wanna let you go. I’ll …”
His eyes lit up, and you shrank back with a hot flush as he whisked off his yellow sash.
Hot with shame as he tied you to the bench, draping you across the cushion, you struggled with his strength — didn’t he see this was why!? — yet the light in his eyes only glowed brighter still.
You squealed when his now free hands twisted your teats. Bucking, you flushed to find your pussy leaving a smear on his jeans where his bulge pressed for you.
“Luffy, please …” You teared up, moaning while he chuckled. As your clit rubbed on denim, your face flared.
He leaned over you, thrusting against your ache as he squeezed your breasts with a groan. “Much better.”
“Luffy, you can’t just—”
“I’m gonna fuck you raw tonight.”
You went still, gaping as he ground harder.
He began a vicious flicking of your nipples, and your squeal had him licking your parted lips. You pressed harder against the promise between your thighs.
Was this his actual goodbye? But he had said he never said that …
You steamed in the heat of him.
Would Luffy really just keep you here with him? You moaned, panting when you heard the zipper.
Hot flesh slapped your pussy.
“Or maybe you’ll fuck me?” He smiled when you shook. His cock slipped to your entrance, and it betrayed you, parting with hot juices for his tip.
Burning in your mortification, you thrust onto his cockhead as he grunted.
“Good girl.” You preened, panting as you stuffed yourself onto his thickness. Your pussy lips spread wide as his cock bulged and pulsed inside. “That’s so cute. You keep trying to shove it all in … I love that.”
His eyes danced as he pulled back, just far enough that you whimpered. In a few little inches, you could — you could get that whole huge thing inside! Just … one more …!
You writhed and arched, straining while he stroked your breasts. Luffy strummed over your teats and licked drooling lips as you sweat to spear more. If this was the last time, you wanted it. Every last bit. His cock and his tongue, that touch of his fingers while he scratched down your curves.
“Luffy,” you whispered, squealing when he pulled back a bit. “Don’t — don’t …! I need it. I wanna cum on your fat cock!”
“Then come and take it,” he murmured, grinning through a sheen of sweat.
As he pinched your clit, your mind cracked in two, split on his cock like your throbbing pussy. You slammed down, gasping when he growled and jerked forward to meet you.
“I love watching you stuff yourself! Too weak? Can’t keep up!?” You gaped at the froth as he pummeled you into the bench. While he bled into white, and dark eyes glowed red. “I don’t care! I want you on me every day! What’s the rest of that matter when I just need you to cum on my cock?”
With a squeal, you tugged on your restraints and arched to his pounding hips when white curls pressed to yours. Your eyes widened as his cock bulged inside. Not like when he came. Not a quick pulse and then he slacked.
No, he grew.
Your jaw unhinged, and Luffy pressed your knees up to your ears with a wide grin and eyes. Trapping you under him.
“Shishishishi! Look at that pussy full of cock. That’s a pretty sight. You cumming yet?” He leaned in, laving his tongue across your shocked, parted lips. “Who cares if you can’t catch up … when you love my cock this much?”
Tears in your eyes, you moaned with his tongue thrusting for the back of your throat, gagging as an outpouring of seed filled you, and your pussy sang in surrender.
When his cock popped out, you sagged onto the bench. He chuckled as he turned you over, your arms crossing in the restraint of his sash.
“So where do you think you’re going?”
You melted when he thrust back in from behind.
“Nowhere … nowhere!” With a moan, you slapped your hips back. You speared yourself onto him and choked on a moan from the girth.
“That’s right. You’ll be limping. I’ll have Chopper put you on bed rest.”
You nodded hard, shaking as his cock bulged again.
Except, he only grew, and you bucked with renewed purpose, sweating for the wet kiss of his cockhead against your womb. Your skin flared. Your pussy ached, swallowing him whole as he grabbed your hips and dragged you back.
“Good girl,” he purred, and you whimpered into the cushion of the bench while you could do naught else but twitch to the rush of his seed invading once again.
A steady drip of cum plopped onto the deck.
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oracle-of-dream · 5 months
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The Boy Next Door pt2
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Minors DNI
Summary: It’s been over a week since Jeno met his new neighbor. You’ve decided playing hard is the best way to get Jeno wanting to see you more and more. When you finally let Jeno see you again, you’re sure things will get interesting.
Warnings: Pet names, Dom!Jeno, big dick Jeno, Male reader, hand job, unprotected sex, breeding, mating press, drinking, drunk sex
Wordcount: 2.8k
You fixed your bag over your shoulder as you shut the door and used your keys to lock the door. You didn’t have class until almost 11 am, but there were no good places to park on campus unless you arrived early. Focused on locking the door, you felt a chill run down your spine as you felt like you were being watched from somewhere… Slowly, you looked over your shoulder to see nothing behind you. Just the door of your next-door neighbors closed. With the chill still sitting on your back, you go down the stairs of your apartment to your car. When you get in, you toss your bag into the back seats and check your phone for a few minutes before leaving.
Knock knock
You look over to see Jeno knocking on your window, he is breathing heavily and his black hair is stuck to his forehead. He pointed at the window, motioning you to roll it down.
You rolled the window down enough to hear him.
“Finally, we’re willing to talk to me,” Jeno sighed.
“Is this going to take long? I’ll miss out on my chance to get a spot near my class. I don’t want to walk super far.”
“Let me in, I’ll ride with you.”
You pretended to think about it, your eyes closed and forehead wrinkled.
“Jesus, Y/n! I’m begging, let me ride with you.” Jeno pushed his body against the car while whining.
“Fine, get in then.”
Jeno rushed to the other side of your car and sat himself in the passenger seat.
Once he was settled, you drove towards the campus. Focusing on the road, you didn’t look over as you said, “So, can I help you with something Jeno? Or did you just want an Uber?”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but it feels like you’ve been avoiding me…”
“Am I? Or are you just not trying hard enough to catch me?”
“You’ve been leaving early in the morning, being gone all day, and even when you are home you ignore the door. And I know you’re home. I even tried calling you.”
“Oh gosh, Jeno. It’s like I’m a busy student, I am at school for hours, and when I’m home I want to finally sleep after a long day’s work…”
Jeno got silent for a few minutes before getting the courage to speak again. “I, want to talk about the last time we got to… interact.”
“What about it?”
“What was it supposed to be? Like a one-time thing, or something more?”
“What do you think it was?”
“I can tell you what I want it to be–”
You break-checked Jeno, cutting him out of his sentence. “Sorry, what was that?”
“You came onto me, Y/n.”
“And you came in me, Jeno.”
Jeno fell silent again, trying to think of a proper comeback. Before he got the chance, you ended up getting to campus and finding a parking spot rather quickly. 
“Well, I gotta go now. It was nice chatting, I guess.”
Jeno followed you, just a few steps behind you.
You started to speedwalk, moving through large crowds of people and making sharp turns to lose him. But every time you thought you’d managed to shake him, he’d be there. 
“Oh for the love of– Jeno, what is it!?”
“Y/n, let’s be boyfriends or something! I don’t know, I liked us together…” Jeno’s face and ears were a soft tint of pink. To think this was the muscular, motorcycle-riding, bad boy type that you’d sucked off before. Now reduced to a needy puppy who won’t stop following you.
“Why would we be boyfriends?”
“Because we got something going on here!”
“We’ve only met like twice, and the other of those times was more memorable than the other.” You chuckled as you could see his dick twitch in his sweatpants. 
“You said you’d like for us to see each other again!”
“That doesn’t mean seeing each other, Jen.”
“J-Jen?” He stumbled at the sudden nickname.
“Too much? I thought boyfriends would have cute nicknames for each other.” You pretended to make a pouting expression.
“So, we’re boyfriends!? Just like that?” Jeno’s expression brightened with a big smile.
“Now that you mention it, I don’t want things to be too easy. So, let’s find out if this will work. I’ll see you tonight around 7, at your place. Then we can find out if we can be a thing.”
Jeno frowned. “But you seem fine with being my boyfriend already…”
You shot him a cold glare. “You calling me easy?”
Jeno shook his head. “No! 7 pm, my place! I’ll be waiting!” He took off before he could say anything else to turn your attitude.
Finally able to enjoy some peace and quiet, you go through your morning routine. Grab a soda, find a spot in the library doom scroll on social media until class time. After your classes for the day, you had about two hours before you were supposed to see Jeno. Plenty of time to go home and prepare for the night you predicted would come.
While getting dressed and making yourself presentable, there was a knock at your apartment door. You answered it, opening the door wide. 
Renjun was standing in the doorway, dressed in a cardigan and a collared shirt with black jeans. “Hi y/n! Jeno tells us you’re coming over tonight for game night!”
“Game night?”
“Yeah! Jeno and the other guys in our friend group get together every once in a while to hang out and play some games. Didn’t he tell you?”
You raise an eyebrow and smirk, “No, but sounds fun! I can’t wait. Should I bring anything over?”
“Not at all! Just come over whenever, some of the others are here already. Mark and Haechan ran out to get snacks and drinks, I came over to ask if you wanted anything specific so I could pass it on to them.” Renjun pointed at his phone in his hand.
You shook your head. “No, I’m not too picky, I’ll let y’all choose. And I’ll be over in a second, I’m almost done getting myself together.”
Renjun smiled and waved as he went back over to his apartment. “Just come right in whenever the door will be unlocked.”
You spent a little more time in the bathroom, double-checking yourself in the mirror. Then you walked around the hall and let yourself into Jeno’s apartment. 
It was clean, surprisingly, and orderly. There was a hallway with records on the wall leading into a room with voices coming from it.
“Oh? Someone’s here!” A high-pitched voice called.
“Is it Mark?” A deep voice added.
“No, there’s no way they’re back that fast.” You heard another voice.
You saw a buff man in a sleeveless shirt with dark brown hair and black pants come out of the room.
He looked you up and down with an eyebrow raised. “And who might you be? I think you’ve got lost, but we’ve got space here if you wanna stay.”
You shook your head, trying to not look too hard at his pecs peeking from his shirt. “I was invited. I’m y/n.”
He opened his eyes wide in surprise. “Oh! You’re y/n!” He stepped forward and pulled you in for a hug, which was warm and tight. “I’m Jaemin, I’ll introduce you to the others.”
“Where’s–” 
“He’s still getting ready,” Jaemin turned and winked at you. He told me he was looking forward to meeting you at 7 tonight. He’s my best friend but he won’t even tell me anything about you, so I hope we get close tonight.” Jaemin’s voice was soothing and smooth like he wanted to help slide you off your feet and into his bed. He led you into the living room where three others were waiting. “That’s Chenle, Jisung, and I’m sure you know Renjun.”
You greeted the two new faces.
“I’m Chenle!” Chenle’s voice was loud and high-pitched, which was not expected from his face facial features. He has black and red hair, and wore slacks with a tucked white button-up. 
“You a business major?” You pointed at his outfit.
“Yeah, family business. As in, my family funds the Business major program.”
You raised your eyebrows and turned your attention to the other man.
“I’m Jisung,” Jisung was the opposite of Chenle, he spoke softly but his voice was very deep. He had very kiddush features with a knit black and white hat with cat ears, a New York hoodie, and ripped jeans. “I dance.”
You nod, “that’s cool. Dancing is cool. I dance a little.”
Jisung’s eyes glowed for a moment. “Y-Yea… We should dance together sometime, or whatever.” 
You could tell her didn’t mean, “or whatever,” he wanted to dance with you.
The two of them both seem interested in you but are also pretty close to each other. You knew it would be interesting to learn about what’s going on with them later.
Renjun leaned in, trying to speak softer. “So, what’s the deal with you and Jeno?”
You raised an eyebrow. “The deal?”
The others murmured in agreement. 
“Jeno seems to be making a pretty big deal that you were coming tonight, telling us not to say anything too embarrassing.”
“Does this count as embarrassing?” You asked.
Jaemin shook his head. “It doesn’t count when he’s not here. He can’t be embarrassed by what he doesn’t know is happening.”
“I can hear everything, and it is embarrassing!” Jeno’s voice came from a room around the corner as he came into the living room. You turned to get a tasteful look at his outfit, it looked like he’d taken some serious time to clean up. Jeno neatly brushed his hair into a middle part. He was wearing a sleeveless leather jacket, a black crop top, and dark denim jeans with a black belt. He was wearing his pants low on purpose to show more of his toned stomach, small waist, and the waistband of his underwear.
He approached you, “I’m so glad you could make it.”
You dryly chuckled, “Well, I said I’d be here, right?”
He nodded happily. Instinctively he reached for your hand as he moved into the living room. You let him take your hand and walk you to one of the couches so you could sit next to him. He sat first and scooted as you sat down so you landed on his lap.
You turn to him, “Really?”
He had a silly smile plastered on his face, as he felt all his friends examining him and his guest.
Renjun cut in, “Well, Mark and Haechan will be here soon. Let’s chill and we can hang when they get here.”
Eventually, the last two guys show up, Mark and Haechan are attached at the hip. Probably a couple, and if not then it was only a matter of time. After getting settled, everyone started to enjoy the night of eating, gaming, and drinking together. Before you realize it, you end up getting into a drinking game with Jaemin and losing badly. Renjun had to call the competition as it was getting late and people were beginning to pass out. Jisung and Chenle cuddled together on the couch. Jaemin started cleaning up the mess. Mark moved Haechan to sleep in his room before helping clean up. Renjun was the only one who didn’t drink since he didn’t like the taste of alcohol, so he was taking care of everyone. 
You could still understand everything going on, but you were drunk. 
Jeno was only focused on you. “Do you need anything, water or something?”
You shook your head. “Nah, I think I’ll just head home.”
Jeno grabbed your hand gently. “You could also… stay in my room. We never really had that talk, remember?”
You smiled at Jeno. “You want me that badly, that you’d even take advantage of me being drunk?”
Jeno shook his head furiously. “I’d never do that!”
You chuckled as you threw yourself into his arms. “Okay, I’ll stay in your room then. But you’ll have to carry me.”
Jeno picked you up bridal style without a second thought. “I’m going to go put him to bed now.”
Renjun winked at Jeno, “Just make sure to not make too much noise.”
Jeno blushed. “It’s not like that!” He carried you off into his room before Renjun could tease him anymore. He carried you with one hand, as you wrapped your arms around his neck so he could open his bedroom door. Gently, Jeno laid you onto his bed on your back. You looked up at him as he hovered over you.
“Do you wanna kiss?” You asked softly.
Jeno locked eyes with you. “Like so badly. But you aren’t in a good state of mind, we shouldn’t do anything that could lead to that…”
You sighed. “Jeno, you wanna be my boyfriend?”
Jeno nodded.
“Then fine, we’re boyfriends.”
Jeno hugged you tightly, putting his body weight onto you. You felt every part of him as his crop top slid up his torso while he hugged you. 
“Now that we’re boyfriends, we can kiss and whatever.” 
Jeno pulled away, “are you sure that’s what you want?”
You pulled Jeno into the bed and rolled on top of him. His face was initially shocked but moved into awe while he stared at you slip your shirt off. You pick up his hands and place them on your hips, and he takes the signal to let his hands run across your body. You slowly swing your hips, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. 
“It hurts…” Jeno moaned.
You stopped. “I’m hurting you?” 
“No! No, please don’t stop!” Jeno squeezed your hips and moved you the way he wanted. "Mo-more please." He pleaded.
You let your hand slip under his waistband and into his boxers, making direct contact with his cock while you kiss him. You started moving your hand up and down his cock, his hips fucking into your hand. Your body starts to stick as you get faster. 
Jeno throws his shirt aside before coming back to kiss you across your chest, stopping to focus on your nipples. 
You slide down his body, his legs hanging off the bed as you start to unzip his pants and take his belt off.
“Let’s not get too carried away with a head this time?” Jeno laughed.
“You couldn’t handle head and this ass.” 
“I totally could–”
You kiss him again as you slide his underwear and pants off, he does the same to you.
“Hold on, I’ll get rubber.” Jeno lifted you, but you didn’t let him put you down.
“You can skip if you want.”
Jeno looked you in your eyes. “Sex and it’s raw? You’re crazy… and now you’re all mine too.” He slips his finger into your ass which slips in with no resistance. “You came ready for me?”
“Of course I did.”
“So you always meant to be with me?”
“Well duh.”
Jeno laid you on the bed with your legs in his hands as he held your ankles. He climbed on top of you and slipped in his fat cock. He slammed his body into yours with power and sleep, he smirked as he watched your face change from pain to pleasure. Each mean stroke was deep and hard, making you some at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin-on-skin slapping were so loud, Jeno’s grunts mixed with your moans. 
“Am I too big for you baby? You were so confident I wasn’t the one who could handle you. Jeno kisses you again while still fucking you, your body was overloaded with sensation. Your toes scrunched, your legs shook, and you even started drooling uncontrollably. “Cum for me, do it now!” 
Your whole body reacts to his command as you cum so hard you shoot onto your face. You’re body tenses, mostly your ass, making Jeno fuck you through your orgasm feel even better. 
Jeno flipped the two of you over so that he was on the bottom and lifted you up and down onto him, fucking you like a fleshlight. Your hands were holding his pecs for balance, nails scratching him. 
“Please, baby, cum soon. I can’t take much more…” you begged.
That was all that Jeno needed to have one of the strongest orgasms he’d ever felt. He held you down as he pushed himself as deep as possible, shooting into you. Your brain was blank, your body was acting on instinct; hole clenching repeatedly to milk Jeno, your head was thrown back, and your eyes were sealed shut.
Jeno gently helped you lay down on the mattress. “You going to be okay?”
You mumbled back, “I don’t know if I can get up…”
“I can carry you to the bathroom.”
“Don’t bother… Just keep it in me, I’ll deal with it later.”
Jeno moved, pulling out slightly, and it made you almost scream like crazy.
“I told you–”
“I know, I’m sorry baby. I couldn’t help myself. I won’t leave.” Jeno moved back into you, leaving his warm cum and his cock inside of you as you fell asleep. “Goodnight, baby…”
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dimicul · 29 days
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jealous smug ex bf ghost 🫡
this is not edited and i wrote this at 4am 😭
thinking about the silent smouldering confidence radiating off of ghost when he knows he’s better in every way compared to your new boyfriend.
he doesn’t understand you the same way. sure, maybe your relationship with him wasn’t the most perfect, but it’s gotta be better than this arsewipe you picked up from the streets. he just doesn’t get you; your little tics, what makes you smile, laugh, cry, snort — cum.
you see it in every subtle jerk of Ghost’s body, every glance he passes you. pure smugness when your new boy toy drops the weighted gun several times, snaps at you when you try to help him; you can’t even point it out or go berserk if Ghost breathes in your direction, because nobody else sees it - just you. he reckons that’s why you’re perfect for him. nah, he knows it.
you suppose it’s a curse of some sort - it’s not like your boyfriend is a complete dickhead, but he messes up once and you find yourself wondering if Ghost would have done the same. if he’d allow it all.
“You’re pointin’ south.”
Ghost rolls his shoulders back, head cocked to the side as he watches your boyfriend turn in LT’s direction, lips pressed in a thin line. You keep reminding him it’s the other fucking way, that he had to practice the day before, because he knew how important this was to you—
“Yeah, got it L.T.” He says through clenched teeth. Ghost says nothing, but the mask shifts a little and you want nothing more than to wipe the smirk off of his face.
It doesn’t help when he releases the trigger and misses.
“Just keep trying.” You urge your boyfriend through clenched teeth, offering a smile. Ghost watches it all, how quickly your mood plummeted, how you’re sparing him worried glances. he’s not gonna pity your sod of a boyfriend, but since you’re so worried, he’d consider it. well, he tries to, when that boyfriend of yours moves harshly out of your way and readjusts his pose. It’s humiliating and it doesn’t go by unnoticed.
“There you go,” Your boyfriend simmers to himself when the bullet pierces straight into the makeshift dummy opposite him.
“Good job.” You sigh out, weights rolling off of your shoulders.
“Didn’t need a compass either.” Ghost remarks, void of any emotion as he turns to saunter off.
Despite your mental efforts, you can’t deny the sex is… awful.
You feel terrible as you roll onto your side, a layer of sweat on your skin, looking all tossed up. You should feel… good, right? Yet it doesn’t. It wasn’t the same; no familiar ache between your legs, the immediate sleep after, the same large hands that knew every inch of your body.
“Fuck sake,” You shove your face into the small cushion next to you, voice muffled. Here you were, laying beside your boyfriend, thinking about how much you’d rather be sleeping on the cheap issue of Ghost’s mattress.
You were royally fucked up.
Everyone notices your bad mood the day after; you’re slamming doors, sighing irritably, cricking your neck to the side, knees jittery. Ghost drinks it in, God he fucking revels it. Poor girl.
“Needed this, didn’t ya?” He’s rasping in your ear later that night, your head buried into the pillow deep somewhere in the barracks, ass up in the air for him. Ghost hisses, hips snapping against you. He can tell you needed this — course that pretty boy’s not been takin’ care of you, he doesn’t know you. Doesn’t care to.
“Fussy thing,” Ghost grunts, large hand moving to fist your hair, earning a whimper in response. You’re clawing at the sheets beneath you, breathless, unable to conjure up some lame jab because he’s so deep in you you swear you’re seeing stars.
“Greedy too. Yeah, you fuckin’ like that,” Thrust after thrust, you clench around him, taking him so well, because after all; you’re his. His girl. You moan into the pillow, earning a chuckle from the man as he stills, gloved hands on your hips. God, you know he’s making you late to training but you can’t seem to care.
“Doesn’t fuck you right, does he, love?”
“Si —” You’re panting, lolling against the pillow, jaw slack when large hands spread your legs wider, tattooed skin against soft flesh.
“You got a fussy little pussy,” He groans, base of his cock stilling again, right at that spot you love. “Need’a be fucked proper.”
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eddiesghxst · 10 months
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cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping
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alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!
based on this idea I had 80 years ago
————
part one | part two | part three | part four
————
18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader
summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend
contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3
word count: 5.8k
-masterlist-
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Eddie hates waking up early. 
He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.
Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.
“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”
Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before. 
“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”
Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.
Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere. 
He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.
By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.
When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”
A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”
“Great idea.” 
Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song. 
Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.
For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you. 
It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.
However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.
If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin. 
This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.
————
Eddie looks the same.
Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further. 
He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.
Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.
Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.
There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?
With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.
Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.
As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.
————
Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.
The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.
“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”
The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.
Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.
As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair. 
“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”
Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”
Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.” 
His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. “I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”
And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!” 
You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.
Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference—  you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.
You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.
Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”
And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.
————
Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city. 
Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since. 
You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure. 
Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.
You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice. 
Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”
You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.
“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.
Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”
“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”
Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.” 
You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress. 
“I don't believe that.” 
You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.” 
It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.
You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”
You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.” 
Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”
You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.
“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”
And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.
You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.
You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.
Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.
From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.
However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”
Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.
You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.
Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.
“I intend to, sweetheart.” 
You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”
Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?” 
You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”
You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”
You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?” 
You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.
Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”
You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.
“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”
Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.
When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 
The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.” 
He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”
Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found. 
“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him. 
He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist
He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”
Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.
You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.
Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”
You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.
“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.
You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”
He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”
You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out. 
You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends. 
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”
You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.” 
Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.
Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record. 
You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.
————
a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3
————
teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups
930 notes · View notes
pray4byron · 2 months
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heyyy since you said your ask box was empty I would love to request something. I was thinking Vox x (fem or gn) reader and taking care of him when he gets hurt and breaks his screen, you can choose whatever reason. it may sound ooc but I hc he has a pretty low pain tolerance and is actually pretty sensitive, so maybe he tries to act like it doesn’t hurt but eventually gives in and lets reader comfort him 🫶🏻
honestly i actually agree w/ that hc!! hope you enjoy!!
Warnings: Mentions of Injury, Mentions of Abuse, Swearing, Mentions of Sex (No smut), Anything in bold throughout this fic is either Vox buffering or glitching — not stuttering! (just wanted to clarify)
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“Put Me Back Together”
Vox x Reader
You hung out in Vox’s bedroom, waiting for him to get back from work, yeah, maybe not your smartest move, considering your guys relationship was sorta on the down-low, but still, you couldn’t wait to snuggle up with him for the night.
As if almost in cue, Vox, your sort-of-boyfriend, came stumbling in. “F-fff-uhh-ckk-zz!” He swore, buffering and glitching as he began to scramble through drawers.
“Vox!” You exclaim, rushing to his aid, “What happened?” You said, going to put your arm around him, but retracting, you know how he can get in his more vulnerable states.
“It’s-sz!- Who happened to me, and the answer, is fff-ucking Valentino.” He said, putting his hand up to his screen, before wincing in pain and taking it off.
He doesn’t look at you while he asks, “Would you be a d-d-d-dear and get me one of my szz!-screens, their somewhere in here, I gotta go clean up this fucking mess in the bathroom.”
You nod immediately, searching through his drawers, one had a bunch of sex toys, others had his suits, finally you had his drawer of spare screens. You were careful with it, not wishing to crack it, knocking on the door of the bathroom.
“Can I come in, babe?” You ask softly, your head pressed against the door, “Y-y-y-yeah..”
You opened the door, shutting in behind you, Vox sat up against the floor, tears trickling down his face, as his broken screen was in his hands. “Vox…” You cooed, plopping down infront of him.
“S-Sorry.” He started. “My screen is-sszz!- really s-s-s-sensitive.” He said, choking out a sob, “Let’s get you fixed up, you can explain later, I won’t judge.”
From that moment on, his mouth was shut, which was a change, you popped off his old screen, it was weird to only see his wires, before putting the new one back on softly, despite Vox only being a once-in-awhile-person-to-fuck, you truly did love him, you tossed the old screen out in the garbage.
You pecked the corner of his lips. “All better.” You smiled, squeezing his hand softly, “Wanna head to bed?”
“Yeah..” He said, a small sob escaping his lips, his tears beginning to subside.
You both traveled to his room, both of your changing into your pajamas, you looked in the mirror one last time before Vox wrapped his arms around your waist, his screen resting on your shoulder.
“Thank you, my love.” He mumbles.
Your head whips around to face him, rapidly, “Love?”
“You heard me.” He asked, as your body turned to fully face him, “I love you.”
200 notes · View notes
dantakeyoman · 9 months
Text
𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 | 𝐣. 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞
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♡ 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
♡ *𝒐𝒉, (𝒚/𝒏)? 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕, 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓. …𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. *
♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.
♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒑𝒐𝒗: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 *
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𝐎𝐍𝐄
"Watch it, Steve!" You exclaimed, giving the boy a quick kick to the ankle as you rolled out from under the car you were working on.
He let out a dramatic howl, jumping and clutching his foot like a cartoon.
"Keep goofin' around like that and this car's gon' take my head clean off."
"Ow, (y/n/n)! Watchu got stones in your shoe or somethin'?" Steve smiled, a flicker of pain in his eye.
"Now, c'mon, you two, let's finish this up. I don't know about y'all but I'm tryna get home tonight," Sodapop sighed, rolling out from his side with a tired look.
You, Steve, and Soda all worked at the DX together, and were working on your last car of the day, before Steve started up his usual shenanigans.
"Home? All the things to do on a Friday night and y'all wanna go home? S'enough to make a grown man cry..." Steve gasped dramatically, wiping away some fake tears.
"Not me. I got somewhere I gotta be. So if you would kindly shut your trap, maybe we could get this done," you glared, giving him another kick to the foot before rolling back to your spot.
Steve let out another loud whine, and Soda rolled his eyes, going back to his spot as well.
"You keep that up and you'll cripple 'im," he chuckled.
"Yeah, and maybe then he'll finally sit himself down."
"You said you got somewhere to be..." Steve smirked, his pain seemingly gone as he sat down next to you.
"Got a hot date?"
You scoffed, "Yeah, right. I'm meetin' Johnny at the Dingo."
At the mere mention of Johnny, the two boys let out loud coos, Steve making obnoxious kissing noises.
"Will you two cut it out?!" You exclaimed, embarrassed as you rolled out from your spot again, the flush on your cheeks clear as day, just like the grease on them, too.
"Johnnycake, you can stay at my house if you like. Johnnycake, could you walk me home?" Steve impersonated in your voice, tossing a rag on his head to make his hair look like yours.
"Johnnycake, it's freezing! Lemme get you a jacket," Soda chimed with a smile, throwing on your voice as well.
"I don't know what y'all are talkin' about," you rolled your eyes, standing up and grabbing the rag off Steve's head, using it to clean off your hands.
"You should. Poor Johnnycake's the only person in the world you're nice to," Steve gave you a playful poke in the side as you wiped your face.
"I'm nice to plenty. Pony, Darry, the man at the drugstore-." "Then why ain't you nice to me?" Steve gasped, offended.
"'Cause you don't deserve my kindness," you smirked, dropping the dirty rag bag on his head, which earned you his childish pout.
Soda rolled out with a groan, stretching his arms, "(y/n/n), we're pretty much finished here so you can head out after we close up."
"S'all right if I go on ahead? I really don't wanna be late," you asked, clasping your hands together and giving him your best pleading eyes.
"I don't know..." he shook his head, "I don't wantchu walkin' out there by yourself. You know the Socs have been real wild lately..."
"Relax, Soda," Steve smiled, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "(y/n/n)'s meaner than a wildcat, and can hold 'er own just fine."
Sodapop groaned, wiping his face before looking back to you, "You got your switchblade on ya?"
You nodded, whipping it out your pocket and flicking it open, "Never leave home without it."
Steve smiled, "See?"
"...I guess it wouldn't hurt none. So long as you're careful," Soda caved.
"YES!" You cheered, running over to grab your jacket off the hook.
"Your brother's gonna skin me when he finds out..." he sighed, shaking his head.
"Oh, now that's a hood. Guy's so grease he glides when he walks," Steve chuckled.
Your brother was a little bit older than Darry but they used to buddy around in school all the time.
Your parents were never in the picture much so he took up the mantle of breadwinner in junior high, and works the same job as Darry, and a couple others here and there.
"If he finds out," you grinned, turning to walk out, "I'll see y'all tomorrow. You two have a goodnight, ya hear."
"Yeah, yeah, just go on an' git," Soda rolled his eyes with a smile, waving you off.
"Do 'er one lil' favor and all a sudden she's all smiles," Steve scoffed, also smiling.
"That girl's a head case."
𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆
'Damn idiots. Don't know what the hell they talkin' 'bout.'
You'd started your trek to the Dingo about 20 minutes ago, and despite leaving the DX early, you were horribly late.
You sighed, roughly rubbing your hands in your pockets to try and gather some warmth in the cold, September air.
Although you were nearly there, the temperatures were beginning to get to you.
'Shoulda known not to take this flimsy jacket. Damn thing's thinner than Dally's patience.'
Letting out a shivering breath, your mind flashed to the image of Johnny, sitting in the drive-in all by his lonesome.
His sad, pleading baby browns staring up at the screen, open and empty seat next to him, collecting dust while waiting for your arrival.
'Dammit!'
Deciding your brisk walking pace wasn't enough, you kicked it into a jog, which slowly, but surely, turned into a full on sprint.
And with the Dingo's sign in sight, you smiled, speeding up even more.
That is, until you were suddenly grabbed by a set of hands.
A ringed set of hands.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where you goin' in a hurry, grease?" The Soc boy known as Bob sneered, holding you tightly against his sweatered-chest.
"Away from your slimy paws, that's where," you spat, slamming your foot down on his, making him let go of you with a yowl of pain.
But sadly, Socs never travel alone.
In an instead, you were grabbed up by about three other Socs, two grabbing your arms and one taking your switchblade out your pocket.
"You gimme that back or I swear I'll knock in your teeth!" You shouted, your tone venomous and probably flammable if such a thing was possible.
You sharply threw your head to the side, knocking into the nose of the boy holding your right arm.
"Goddammit! The bitch broke my nose!" He shrieked, the boy that took your blade taking his place as the other nursed his poor, bloody sniffer. "This on got a mouth on 'er, don't she? Well, I'm sure we can fix that..." Bob gave you a lidded smirk, his words slurring in a way that made it clear as day that the boy was drunk.
Cracking up his knuckles and winding for a punch, you hardened your look, already prepped and braced for the oncoming beating.
'If this guy don't beat me to death, then (b/n/n) sure will...or even Soda.'
"DON'T YOU TOUCH 'ER!" A familiar voice shouted, that greasy mop of hair you liked so much sprinting out the Dingo and towards you.
"Johnnycake..." you sighed with a smile, relieved.
"Y'all Socs want a fight?! You got one!" Two-Bit added, donning his favorite Mickey Mouse shirt as he ran up right behind Johnny, breaking a beer bottle on the fence next to him.
But suddenly, you were hit with a full force, four ringed punch straight to the mouth, the metal on his hands nearly knocking your jaw off its hinges.
The two holding you let you fall to the floor before they sprinted away from the oncoming crazed dog that was a mad Two-Bit.
And with his running start, Johnny landed his own punch on Bob, with about three times the kick, and sent the Soc tumbling to the ground.
Though the catch was Bob got him as well.
A small gash on his left cheek.
Quickly, Bob scrambled up and scurried away, hopping into the safety of his Mustang and driving away.
With your vision getting clear, you could clearly see Johnny and Two-Bit fussing over you like mothers to an injured baby.
And it didn't help none when you coughed up a bit of blood you swallowed.
"Aw, shit! It looks like it slashed 'er lip real bad! We gotta get 'er to Darry's, quick!" Two exclaimed, throwing one of your arms over his shoulder
"Right," Johnny quickly agreed, grabbing your other arm.
"Don't you worry, (y/n/n). We're gonna get you fixed up just right. Just you hang in there."
Seemed like he was saying that more for his sake than yours.
"Broke one a their noses, y'know," you smirked, looking up at the boys with a bloody grin as hey started running down the street.
You let out a hardy laugh, "Damn thing looks like a bendy straw."
Johnny smiled, giving a quiet chuckle.
Two scoffed, letting a smile crack out the side of his mouth.
"You still got your sense a humor. Glad to see the Socs ain't knock you loopy."
𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆
"Darry! Soda! It's (y/n/n)! She's hurt bad!" Johnny exclaimed as he and Two-Bit burst into the Curtis house.
A crowd of eyes snapped over to you, and you cursed under your breath as you realized nearly the entire gang was there.
"The hell happened to you, Nails?!" Dallas asked as he caught sight of your face, eyebrows furrowed with concern as he slammed his beer bottle down on the table.
He always called you Nails because you were just like a bag of 'em when you were young.
Still are.
"Same ol', same ol'," you shrugged with a smirk, your head resting on Johnny's shoulder.
"Jesus, get 'er on the couch, quick!" Darry quickly ordered, jumping up from his recliner.
"Soda, go get the medical kit from under the sink!"
"Right!" Soda nodded, hopping off the couch and jogging into the kitchen.
Darry started keeping an emergency kit in the house after a rumble went bad and Steve wouldn't stop bleeding out his arm.
Steve and Dally got up and sat down on the table to give you some room, and Johnny and Two-Bit placed you down on the couch.
"The Socs caught 'er on the way to the Dingo. 'Bout four of 'em," Two panted, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
"The guy with all the rings socked 'er good, cut up her lip real bad."
"Ooo, right in the kisser," Steve winced, Darry giving him a rough elbow.
"I got the kit," Soda announced, moving quickly back into the living room and opening it up.
"I told you to wait for me an' Steve to drop you off. But you ain't wanna listen to me. I though you had your blade witchu?" he scolded, his face trying to be angry
But Soda was never an angry guy, and was truly blaming himself for this happening.
"They all grabbed me an' took it, the bastards," you groaned, sleepily plopping your head down on Johnny's lap.
"I can take on a Soc or two, but four was just too many. I'm not Wonder Woman. Though I did break one of their noses, an' Johnnycake knocked Bob silly after he hit me."
You looked up at the boy above you with a thankful nod, Johnny turning away with a shy smile, "It was nothin'."
"Here," Darry handed Johnny a clean rag from the bathroom, "Use that to get up the blood."
The boy nodded, carefully dabbing the cloth on your face as if you were a porcelain doll, subject to crack with even the slightest hint of force.
"I shoulda never let you go by yourself," Soda sighed, raking a guilty hand through his hair.
"Socs think they're so tough jumpin' one of ours with four in their corner. I say we teach 'em a lesson now before they start gettin' too comfortable," Dally firmly stated, standing up as if he was ready to hunt them down right that second.
"I'm with Dally! We're lucky it was just 'er lip. What happens when it's 'er eye? Or 'er arm? Or there are more of 'em? We gotta nip this in the bud!" Steve agreed, standing up as well and crossing his arms.
"I'm sure 'er brother would join us. (b/n/n) would pound 'em into ground beef," Two chimed, his breath now caught and standing upright.
"No way," you shut down, sitting up. "Don't none of y'all dare bring him into this. He's already got enough on his plate with his jobs."
The whole room got quiet at your tone, even Dally tensing slightly.
"We're not wagin' war on the Socs just 'cause I got a lil' split lip," you turned to the Curtis boys, "If y'all an' my brother get caught in the middle of a rumble, him an' Darry are goin' to jail, an' me, Soda, an' Pony are gettin' put in a home."
The quiet turned to silence as the boys realized the weight your words held.
If the three of you got put in a home, there would be no guarantee that you'd stay together, or that you'd ever see the gang again.
"So, just play it cool. No jazz unless they start it, understand?" You cocked a brow.
A couple of grumbles and sucked teeth echoed around the room, but you figured that was about as much as you were gonna get.
"If that's what (y/n/n) wants, then we respect it. No jazz," Darry crossed his arms, further pushing them.
"Whatever," Dally scoffed, roughly tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.
"Fine," Steve sighed, stuffing a fistful of chocolate cake into his mouth as he sat back down on the table.
You turned to Johnny, about to check on him since he'd been so quiet, only to notice the small gash on his cheek.
"Oh, Johnny, you got cut real bad! I'm sorry I didn't notice," you apologized, placing a hand on his cheek and carefully gliding your thumb over the wound.
"It's fine. ...It don't hurt none, honest," he managed to putter out, red as a beet.
But you didn't seem to notice.
"Nonsense. Lemme getchu a rag," you got up, going straight for the bathroom, not noticing the looks that the boys were giving you and Johnny.
"They're in my room, (y/n/n)," Darry smirked, nodding over to the hallway.
"Thanks," you nodded back, going into the hallway and out of earshot.
And once you were, the teasing ensued.
Quiet whoops and coos slipped from the boys as each one gave Johnny their own little nudge.
"You see 'er? She jumped at the chance to take care of poor, ol' Johnnycake," Steve grinned, chocolate all over his teeth.
"Got 'er hook, line, and sinker, man," Dally took a swig of his beer, giving the boy a rough pat on the back.
"Y'all, cut it out, would ya? Don't know what you're talkin' about," Johnny rolled his eyes, pushing their hands off him with a sigh.
"She's crazy about you, kid. You see how she was all caressing' your face? Was like we weren't even here," Two chuckled, gliding his hand over Johnny's cheek just like you did, though Johnny tore his cheek away with a wince.
"Hush up, I think she's comin' back," Darry whispered, the whole group staging themselves as if they were going about business as usual.
"Hey, Johnnycake, come over to the bathroom! I found the rag," you called from the bathroom.
"Comin'!" Johnny called back, standing up to more coos and kissing noises.
"Go get 'em, tiger," Soda smirked.
"Use protection," Dally loudly whispered, turning around on the couch.
Johnny shot them a sharp side eye, turning the corner to be met with your beautiful smile, which immediately washed away everything else.
"Here," you started, wetting the rag as you motioned for him to sit at the edge of the bath tub. "Imma clean out the cut."
He complied, quietly sitting down and turning to leave his cheek open.
As you started tending his wound, pangs of guilt began to bang in your chest at the sight of it.
A part of you felt responsible. If you had just paid more attention like Darry, or had been more capable like Dally, he would've never gotten roped up in your mess.
Him getting hurt was your fault.
"I'm real sorry, Johnnycake," you admitted, a sullen look replacing the smile he loved so much.
"For what? You ain't do nothin' to me," he asked, turning to you.
"I was late, I got jumped, and I gotchu hurt. I ruined our night," you listed, hanging your head.
"None of them things was your fault. Four Socs is a lot for anyone to take on all alone," he assured, placing a comforting hand on yours and giving you his signature doe eyed look, nearly making you melt right there.
"This cut looks a lot worse than it feels, trust me. I'm just glad you're all right."
You smiled up at him through your beautiful lashes, making him flush as you two locked eyes for a quick moment.
"It was funny seein' you pounce on Bob like that," you grinned, folding up the rag and placing it back on the sink.
"Funny?" He scrunched his nose.
"Yeah! The way you jumped you looked like an angry tabby cat, claws an' all," you snickered.
He smiled, looking down at the bathroom floor with that familiar warm feeling buzzing in his chest, "Yeah, I guess I did."
Little did you two know, there was a crowd of boys right outside the door, a glass to the door as they tried to listen in on your conversation.
"Don't understand why he won't just tell 'er how he feels. They've been like this since grade school," Soda sighed, shaking his head
"A packs of cigs says they break before the year's over," Two smirked.
"I'll take that action," Dally smirked back.
"Two says that (y/n/n) breaks first," Soda chimed.
"With their pace they'll break in the next 30 years," Steve scoffed.
"Alright, to bed all of you. Let's give 'em some privacy," Darry smiled, pushing the boys away from the door.
"I think we've had enough excitement for one night."
𝒋 𝒐 𝒉 𝒏 𝒏 𝒚 𝒄 𝒂 𝒌 𝒆
576 notes · View notes
princessbrunette · 3 months
Note
thinking about jj or john b with a kook reader who DOES have full access to her parents money already, but they’re not regular kooks. Maybe they’re from out of town, maybe they used to be pogues, maybe they’re psychologists or something, but they don’t even mind their daughter spending a ton of money renovating the chateau or buying jj a truck. thinking abt them being around reader’s house so on edge but her parents are so nice and welcoming it’d be like a sanctuary for them
-♎️
this is truly the dream idk i would love to give them a good life !!
˙✧˖° 🫧 ˙✧˖
having humanitarian parents who make a lot of money and really don’t give a shit for the whole obx kooks versus pogues politics. “its classist, and outdated.” — their words, not yours. they’re right though, and you’re grateful when they have no problem with you making friends with a bunch of fun loving and otherwise mischievous pogues.
want a home cooked dinner? somewhere warm to sleep for the night? some money for groceries? its hand out central at your house. as much as he hates asking for help, jj is over there the most. at first, it was this whole ‘gotta love taking advantage of stuck up kooks’ thing that had him guilt free, strolling in through your iron gates and onto your doorstep— but he quickly realised how removed your family was from everything, helping him out of the kindness of their hearts. you became his second family, which is how your relationship ended up blossoming.
he’s still shocked when he comes outside one day to see you infront of the truck he was eyeing up by the beach, swinging a pair of keys round your finger.
“i don’t have my license, you do. figured we needed a new way of getting around that wasn’t your bike, my parents don’t need any more heart attacks. catch.” you toss him the keys and he’s lost for words, watching you skip over to the passenger side. “are you waiting for a formal invitation? get over here jayj, it’s yours.”
he’s cried a few times over your generosity, he won’t lie.
in your eyes, his presence is payback enough — and yet he’s always swearing to your father over the dinner table that when he finally hits the jackpot with the gold the pogues are after, going full kook— everyone will get their payback and more.
you really don’t mind though, the payback you accept from him is that good dick, and you don’t really want anything else.
˙✧˖° 🫧 ˙✧˖
180 notes · View notes
alycremie · 5 months
Text
borrowers core brainrot
imagining a girl moving into a new apartment,, its in a low-income neighbourhood, she's been warned of the apparent pest problem. apparently rats or something, and traps don't seem to work on them. but what other choice does she have? and little does she know the "rats" are tiny "tenants" living inside the walls
she moves in all her stuff. its not much - cheap thrifted stuff, handcrafted clothes, furniture she's picked up off the side of the street. But it'll do. It's cozy - it's home. She likes it.
But her food keeps disappearing. It's not much. Maybe some fruit here or there, some crackers vanishing from the box. Her leftover burger and fries vanishing and being replaced with crumbs.
She tries to find the source of the rats. Clearly they're somewhere, and she doesn't want to hurt them. She looks and looks but the walls - although cheap - are solid. maybe hollow? she's not sure, and isn't going to go spend a bunch of money to drill into the walls or anything. it's not *dirty* in the flat, so she just stops leaving her easily accessible food out.
When an entire can of food is mysteriously emptied, she gets curious. Obviously rats can't use can openers, so what happened? Was the top already loose? She looks around in the cabinet. Nothing.
She realizes the back of her cupboard that she's kept her cheap canned food in has a hollow space behind it. It doesn't line up with the side board. It's about 4 inches too short, it looks like. She presses her ear towards it, thinking she heard some mouse squeaks, but it's all silence.
that's when she notices a little hole. It's about the size of a large screw, and looks like it was drilled by hand. Maybe that's how the rats are getting in, she thinks. But she doesn't mind. She just puts her canned goods somewhere else. what's she gonna do, anyway? she doesn't know how to repair cabinets and she certainly can't afford to hire someone to.
and when she wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of a plastic ramen container falling on the floor, she tosses off her hand-stitched blanket and cute plushies and stumbles into the kitchen in her pyjamas.
She turns on the light and sees what looks like a tiny toy sitting on the countertop. She staggers sleepily over - she must be dreaming, but nope.
A young woman, seemingly about her age maybe an inch, inch and a half? two inches - she was never that good at measuring sizes - is sitting on the countertop attempting an elaborate heist of a ramen package.
The tiny girl's eyes go WIDE. like they're about to pop out of her head. She trembles in fear, attempting to explain herself but sputtering a bunch of nonsense consonants.
and she kneels down, picking up the package of chili flavour maruchan noodles.
"you...wanted this?" she asks, hardly able to believe the situation in front of her but too sleepy to question it. it certainly feels real.
"i-i'm so sorry, i-i was just... we're hungry, is all, and... we like grinding up the noodle brick... they're chips, y-y'know, they last-"
"sorry, you eat it raw?"
"w-we don't have a stove," the tiny girl trembles, trying to regain her composure in the face of someone 40 times her size.
"i can...cook it for you. i-i don't mind, or anything. i don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. it's my day off," she smiles reassuringly, grabbing a pot out of the lower cupboard to fill with hot water.
"can i watch?" the tiny girl asks, brushing a strand of curly hair out of her face. the tear streaks down her face have run dry. the giant is friendly.
"sure!" she smiles, reading her hand out. the tiny girl slowly climbs on top of of it. "you're not scared of heights, are you?"
"you're not scared of, um,"
"what?"
"...i was worried that, you'd uh,"
"Ah... i see. I mean, one packet of ramen would last you, like, three months, huh? I don't mind making one little bowl for you. you can just...ask. You don't have to take stuff." She smiles. "You only gotta take stuff when no one will give it to you, and I got you,"
The tiny girl blushes as she sits on the counter, watching intently as the kind-hearted giant puts a swimming pool's worth of water into a pot the size of a building, which she seems to hold effortlessly. and she turns on the stove, rings the size of a sequoia's trunk glowing as the water heats to a boil. It was mesmerizing, to watch the power and dexterity of giants, she thought.
"Always make sure to boil the water first, otherwise you'll destroy the texture of the ramen," she gently instructs, as if the tiny girl even has access to a stove.
"You know how to cook...?"
"Well, of course." She smiles. "I take it you haven't been eating well, huh? insects and moss?"
The tiny girl huffs. "We've actually been eating the nonperishables of the previous tenant... they left and closed up the cupboard so we'd be safe."
"well...you won't have to do that anymore, okay? um...i don't know how you'll get it into that little cupboard, but I'll get a bowl for myself and for-wait, we? What do you mean we?"
204 notes · View notes
silverflqmes · 4 months
Text
໒⦂ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒.
notes. reposted and edited from wp! happy holidays and merry christmas to those who celebrate!
genre. fluff + crack
ft. tooru oikawa, tetsuro kuroo, rintaro suna, shoyo hinata, kenji futakuchi, hajime iwaizumi, osamu miya
gender neutral! reader
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➫ 𝓞𝗜𝗞𝗔𝗪𝗔 𝓣𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ HOT COCO HOT COCO HOT COCO
⌗ he loves to sit near the fire place with either you seated on his lap or just plopped up above him on the couch or beneath if you're more my style AHAHAHAHA
⌗ LOVES HALLMARK MOVIES i mean look at him, he would so watch them.. but he wouldn’t mind the classics like elf, christmas story ( my fav fr ), the home alone duology or national lampoon’s christmas vacation🫶
⌗ "I LOVE YOU I LOVE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUUUU Y/N-CHAAAAANNNN!!" — after watching elf and doing last minute christmas shopping going up the escalator ( he’s silly )
⌗ would totally play old jazzy christmas songs and pull you close to him, swaying gently in the kitchen or by the fireplace to the melody with the smell of balsam in the air❤️
⌗ you already know he would have lured you under the mistletoe too somehow🧎
⌗ "oh wow! i wonder how this got here!!🙀"
➫ 𝓚𝗨𝗥𝗢𝗢 𝓣𝗘𝗧𝗦𝗨𝗥𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ y'all woke up LATE on christmas day istg, but tetsuro hooked you up real nice with presents ykyk he made that bank af and worked those extra hours just for you<3
⌗ THE DECORATIONS ARE SO PRETTY ISTG WHO LET HIM HAVE THIS MUCH TASTE, WHO ALLOWED HIM TO SLAY THAT HARD
⌗ unlike kawa, kuroo took you for dinner and made a day out of it? he took you ice skating, out to see the lights and decorations, tossed a few snowballs at you to piss you off🧎
⌗ "come onnn, i promise i won't let you fall~"
⌗ it ends up snowing a bit later into the night on your way back home, so he gave you his scarf, long coat AND mittens.. hooked you up fr
⌗ except.. nothing fits aside from the scarf, but are you complaining? no🙄 although you did yell at him for it cuz he could get sick</3
⌗ he had an entire argument prepared as to why he wouldn't get sick and you could have sworn that he mentioned the periodic table somewhere🧍‍♂️spoiler alert- he gets sick the next day
➫ 𝓢𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝓡𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ ngl at first you were SO confused as to why suna didn't have a christmas tree in his living room, but one in his bedroom until christmas day..
⌗ Y'ALL DID NOT MOVE THE ENTIRE DAY
⌗ "rin, we gotta open the presents y'know.. and i kinna want breakfast.. we gotta get up at some point."
⌗ "the presents are under our tree over there by the dresser, just peek under and you'll see them. as for breakfast, kita-san’s coming over with everyone later. problem solved."
⌗ tbfh the laziest christmas you could ever imagine, but like you can’t complain, it was nice to just unwind a bit
⌗ he did keep the spirit of the holidays with a good bit of christmas movies, for sure the grinch who stole christmas ( it’s his favorite )
⌗ later on, true to his words, kita showed up around 7:30 with the rest of the team and y'all had sum good ass food and hot coco after reluctantly dragging suna out of bed to get ready🤲
➫ 𝓗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗔 𝓢𝗛𝗢𝗬𝗢 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ boy are you in for it🧎
⌗ shoyo woke you up at four in the morning with natsu in tow, dragging your ass to the living room where the tree was filled with a wide arrangement of presents
⌗ you were still half asleep and since you were staying at shoyo's for the holidays — you uh.. weren't allowed to start opening gifts till seven LMAOO so you guys started guessing the presents instead; yk getting a feel of them
⌗ "WOAH THIS ONE'S SUPER BIG, I-IT COULD BE ANYTHING!"
⌗ "sho, the only thing it's gonna end up being is a wake up call to your mom and then you'll never know what it is."
⌗ tobio comes over later and y'all have a snowball fight together🥺
⌗ you and natsu won LMAOOOO poor lil birb was upset, but your kisses made things better for him❤️
➫ 𝓕𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗜 𝓚𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗜 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ ugh yes dateko's baddest bitch😩 another grinch enjoyer tbh
⌗ this man woke you up with a snowball to your face before shouting out merry christmas
⌗ although it was a cheap shot, getting you while VULNERABLE, you couldn't stay mad at him, as you loved this piece of shit so dearly😪
⌗ HOWEVER. that didn't mean you didn't get his ass back the minute he dropped his guard when you went outside to turn your christmas lights off for the day
⌗ "huh, so you think you can be a cheeky little shit with me on such a loving day? and get away with it?"
⌗ "and what? you don't hear me complaining, now do you kenji?”
⌗ in spite of being complete little shits to each other, you laughed it off after awhile and just spent your evening curled up together on your couch with a plate of sugar cookies that you both had baked the night before ( ofc you can guess there was a war of flour and baking tools then too )
➫ 𝓘𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗭𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝓗𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ y'all have the coziest christmas honestly
⌗ you and hajime don't wake up too early or too late; it's just the right time and you're both completely prepared for all that's to come for the day
⌗ the two of you start off with unwrapping presents, then iwaizumi makes you the BEST breakfast ever istg, TELL ME HE DOESN'T COOK RN IF YOU WANNA GET TUSSLED
⌗ ngl tooru taught him some good shit when it came to making hot coco and you swore you were just about ready to tap into heaven at that immaculate taste
⌗ "oh my gosh, haji, what did you put in this, it's so.. it's better than amazing!"
⌗ "while i want tell you, i'm ‘sworn to secrecy’, his words not mine, by that fool oikawa with his secret recipe bullshit." he can’t lie though, whatever tf tooru invented was otherworldly..
⌗ not even an hour later you found it on starbucks' secret menu app and you showed it to your boyfriend who flipped his shit before sprinting over to his friend’: house with two snowballs in hand ( with hard snow.. praying for my man to dodge more than ever ); the outcome.. wasn't the prettiest😔
➫ 𝓜𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝓞𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗
⌗ FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD did i say food? yes, food.
⌗ all you two did that whole entire day was EAT?? NOT EVEN THAT BUT YOU HAD A WHOLE CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER TOO THE NIGHT BEFORE HXJSKSKS OSAMU DOES NOT PLAY GAMES WHEN IT COMES TO CHRISTMAS
⌗ atsumu invites himself over as usual and there's chaos in the kitchen of course..
⌗ "OUTTA THE WAY 'SAMU, I WANNA DECORATE COOKIES TOO!!"
⌗ "if you don't quit whinin' right now 'tsumu, i'm gonna beat yer ass and toss ya out in the snow."
⌗  bantering aside, the cookies were super pretty?? they tasted heavenly too, cookies from scratch go hard and whatever recipe those two were taught.. yum
⌗ osamu had nonalcoholic eggnog prepared for you and him to have after atsumu went home and the two of you exchanged the presents you had for one another before cuddling near the tree and fireplace for the night<3
notes. forgot to repost this before with the other reposts but it was kinda out of season.. so i waited for the holidays to blow in to fixed them up a bit and post them on here. furthermore, super sorry for the lack of activity, been working on my og wip as of late and my longer fics on wp :’) hope you understand</3
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writingoddess1125 · 6 months
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The Canary
Me and stupid shit again
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Support on Ko-Fi, I'm poor
"Ah, 50k in debt for a linguistic degree you didnt get while working at a grocery store- Can't get any better then that!"
You had said that morning- Your sarcasm rolling off your tongue like a goddammit curse as you headed off to work.
And yet here you are now...
Your ass tied up on the floor of the grocery store while men armed to the teeth walked around talking- you felt oddly fortunate however, these guys were clearly grunts at the bottom of the food chain in terms of 'bad guys' hell they were speaking a language you had studied so you could pick up what they were saying as well.
You had been in the meat section when the explosion went off- The cow statue having saved your ass from being turned into a tube of ground beef, but now you were a hostage..
Greaattt.
"Hamil told us we needed the hostages, 6 of them exactly for this while they set up the explosives down the block.. we just gotta wait for the signal" The man said in the different language. You taking mental note of this-
You spot a little girl and her mother among your fellow hostages, your heart breaking at rhe sight as you saw the man approach her. Her mother clearly trying to undo her child's rope and get her to slip away down the aisle. However pausing when one of the men approached her and the girl.
"Hamil said Makarov gave us the clear so we could do as we pleased as we wait right?" The man said, one of his peers rolling his eyes in disgust and calling him dirty.
"Whatever we got some time to kill" He grumbled, beginning to undo his belt as he grabbed the screaming mother who was trying to shield her daughter away from the possible assault. You sitting up fully at this point and your brain going on autopilot.
"Woah Woah Woah Man! Got that weak of game you have to rape some Mom now?!" You yelled, the man pausing his actions. Tossing the sobbing women away from him and marching to you angrily fixing his belt-
"What did you say?" He hissed angrily flashing his gun at you. "I'll fuck your mother how about that-"
He said angrily, You took note of all the men now staring at you and not at the other hostages- Keeping them distracted... maybe enough for the little girl to slip away?
"I've already fucked your mom asshole- I have her saved as slip and slide on my phone" You say with a crooked grin- A few of the men snickering at your joke, Oh Fuck Yeah!
"What did you say!? Do you not see the situation you're in now?" He growled.
"Aww can't take a joke big guy? Come one gotta lighten it up somehow-" You see in your peripherals the girl slipping away as you chattered.
"Got a big mouth huh? Why don't we put it to use?" He chimed, you really wanting to turn this guy away from molesting you or anyone else.
"Listen it would be a waste of space- like if you throw a hotdog in a cave" You chimed, smiling as he looked ready to rip you apart but instead punched you across the face. OWWW!!
"Is it BDSM tuesday?.. Eh not doing it for me though big guy maybe rub your nipples and give me a wink?" You say, His friend who had called his dirty giving a hearty laugh at this.
The man glared down at you and spit in your face, clearly wanting to kill you in some way but needed you and the others for their plan. You pretended to taste it like a fine wine, Looking him in the eye.
"Oh?~ Cock flavored spit?- New Age?" You chimed making the man face red as a tomato in rage as his mate to the left laughed.
"Was this a little self yoga or did Unicorn overthrew give a hand?"
He smacked you with his pistol making you cry out-
Fuck that hurt!!
You defiently had a cracked bone somewhere in your face and the fresh taste of blood in your mouth didn't exactly help those feelings.
"Say something smart now!" He yelled angrily.
"A pistol whip!? What is this 1995? Give your balls a tug you tit fucker! Or are they so shriveled up you can't grab them?" You say with a smile, the man grabbing your collar and pressing the gun to your temple.
"I no longer care what Hamil wants! I'm killing this little bastard!" He screamed, you wincing at his breath.
"You can't! I don't want Makarov on my ass!" His peer yelled ready to pry him off you.
"Just put a sock in their mouth or something if they are bitching that much!"
"Well if you're gonna kill me so close a breath mint would be nice? You do realize Tiktacs aren't just a penis size right?" You chuckle nervously, you eyes catching a shadow moving behind the men now all staring at you. Their backs turned to the shadows.
"You know what- I'll shut up after one last joke? Eh?" You say nervously, The man yous been tormenting cocking his gun- you see a man silently stalk out, a skull mask covering his face as 4 others moved in perfect formation behind him.
"No more fucking jokes!" He yells, rage in his eyes.
"Okay- But I tried" You say cheerfully before closing your eyes. In seconds gunfire went off around you and quick screams surrounded you.
"Clear!" You hear sounded as you crack open your eye to take a peak.
"Holy fuck-" You sigh out and give a nervous laugh. Looking at the dead men now littering the ground as the soilders file into the area quickly-
The guy in the skullmask- The one who you spotted getting into position behind the guys comes to you and undoes the rope around your wrist in record time as the other men do the same to your fellow hostages.
"A medic will be here soon to check over your injuries" He said in a surprisingly deep voice- accident not lost on your either. He reached a hand down to either help you up or pick you up to extract you from the area.
You grab the man's vest quickly to stop him before he could, He stares at you hard in confusion.
"Listen, Those guys said that there were bombs down the block and were waiting for a signal. They have others- I can understand them and thwy said they followed someone name Hamil who talks to Makarov... I-Im a linguists and um.. can understand them" You say quickly, The masked man narrows his eyes at this and speaks into a radio on his side.
"We have info that more bombs are down the block- Scout the area and evacuate further" he said as he went back to helping you up. A quick thanks leaving your lips as you pulled off your work hoodie and passed it to the mother to cover her up.
The men escorting you out of the grocery store.
"Got to say, never seen a Canary get the best of those guys-" The Mohawk guy said with a smirk on his face, supporting a old man who clearly had a broken foot.
"Gotta use my gifts somehow- and Canary?" You shot back,
"Always fuckin' churpin" He said with a smile. A laugh now coming from you as you nod. Once outside the medics quickly swarmed all of you and prepared to take you all to the hospital.
You spot the masked guy again- Giving him a head nod. "Thank you Mr. Spooky!" You call out rather loudly- earning a amused glare from the man who rolled his eyes.
"....Your quips- Were... quite amusing.." He said calmly, You looking at the hardened man with a smile on your busted face- The others in his little boy band also cracking some smirks as they walked off finishing their jobs- which you assumed was down the block.
You give a bow of your head in a mildly dramatic flare. Wanting a shot and a nap at this point as the
"Glad my show went well"
Bonus!
- The little girl got out and went to the police that were waiting outside- explaining what you were doing and immediately getting checked over by medica
- TK141 had actually gotten to your location a little earlier then when you saw. However Soap had to stop everyone since he almost fell out at the cock flavored spit take.
- The whole team had been laughing on the inside or holding back laughter the whole time they heard you chirping at the men holding you hostage.
- The Nickname 'Mr. Spooky' will follow poor Ghost for the next few months-
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babygirl-riley · 6 months
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I’m Sorry Alternative Version
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A mission that was suppose to be easy turns sideways as you lay bleeding out, watching Simon panicking trying to save you.
A/N: @batmanunicorns523 hope this is what you had in mind 👀
“Haven’t I given enough? Given enough? Always the fool with the slowest heart.”
Warnings: angst, childhood trauma, trauma, blood, violance, near death, swearing
simon x reader guide
simon x reader fluff/angst
Blood. Crimson. Gasping. Crying. Everything that Simon never wanted to see you do. It wasn’t suppose to go the way it did, just him and you in the mission. Scope out and confirm the target, however the patrol was never spotted as they came from behind the both of you. Everything was fine, took the squad out done. Until more came.
Both you and Ghost retreated or tried to until the group caught up. The bullets lodging into your leg, shoulder, and chest. You fought until the last solider dropped, you didn’t notice or feel anything until Ghost looked at you. An emotion written all over his face. Something you never seen. Fear.
You looked down to see the blood seeping through your winter gear. The white slowly staining into a red. You looked up at him before feeling weak and started to crumble. He looked over your body before saying something. The words left his mouth but you couldn’t catch them. All you heard was ringing in your ears. You became terrified, you could feel your body weakening, feeling nauseous, tired. So when he picked you up and carried you through the snowy mountains, you didn’t feel anything by that time.
You watched as the trees sprinkled the snow to the ground. It would have been beautiful, you always love the trees when they were covered in snow. You blinked slowly trying to look at Simon. Not Ghost. Simon. Ghost seemed calm yet Simon, his eyes told you different. Panic written on them as he searched the area around them, making sure no one followed. He sprinted up the stairs of deck on the safe house, running through the door. You groaned feeling the pain even more. He set you down quickly and softly, hushing you while watched your color fading.
Simon tossed his gear to the side and his gun next to you just in case they did follow. He ran around the house grabbing alcohol, tissues, any sort of fucking clothing. He had to stop the bleeding. That was the first thought that ran through him, no matter what happens your blood needed to stay.
You stared up at the ceiling feeling the nausea come through once again. You couldn’t die not like this. Not with him here. Watching you die. You knew of his past and you didn’t want him to add another haunting to his memory. You saw a blur and you try to focus your eyes to him. His eyes wild, his chest covered in crimson. Panic went through you as you reached for him, he pushed you hand aside. Is that his or is that…Oh.
Simon knelt next to you as he searched which wound to tend; he saw the blood seeping through to the couch. Simon has seen blood many of times, many different ways, how many pints been taken out; this was no different. However, Simon wanted to throw up, watching the love of his life bleed away from life. Watching the color drain. Watching her soul being yanked by death himself.
He got to work quickly working on the one on your thigh. Grabbing a towel to tie above it to stop the bleeding. You moaned as you looked away, feeling your eyes start to shut. “Nuh uh y/n eyes on me!” He yelled sternly. You tried to sob as you tried to. “I know love I know just keep lookin’ at me yeah?”
Simon’s gloves became heavy as the blood was staining them. He took his gloves off throwing them somewhere as he kept working. There was so much and not one being controlled. He couldn’t loose you, you ware his rock, his world. You kept him grounded. If you leave him…
“Fucking hell,” He mumbled putting pressure on your chest. “I gotta take it off,” Your eyes moved to him it seemed like you were there. He nodded as he pulled a knife and ripped through your jacket and other items of clothing beneath. When he saw it, it was nasty, it wasn’t just one hole there was two. He took a deep breath and kept going. The more he worked the more blood came. “Fuck! Fuck! Come on!”
His frustration was clear, which made it clear for you. You were not making it out of this. You frowned. “It’s okay baby.” You whispered your voice raspy, wheezing.
“No, no stop baby I gotta get this,” He shook his head he placed a hand on your cheek, you felt the red warm stickiness stain your face. Tears welling up. “I’m so s’rry baby, it’s okay it’s fuck-I don’t know what to do! There is just so much fuckin’.” His yelling continued as he worked on you.
“It’s okay,” You kept repeating feeling like death was right there grabbing you taking you. You watched as his eyes was full of panic, you knew that look. The look of ‘there is nothing we can do.’ You had to tell him, you thought that it was an asshole move. But he needed to know. “I love you Simon…Riley. I..I lo…” You couldn’t finish as your eyes started to become heavier. Watching Simon yell, as his eyes widened.
Simon starts to panic, pure fucking panic. Simon started to shake you a bit, then again harder. Thinking how he did the same with his mom, memories flashing back and forth. He let out a growl before yelling out your name. Rocking back and forth before inhaling, petting the sides your face begging for your beautiful eyes to open. “Sweethear’ just stay with me! Please! I can’t loose you too! Fuck come on!” His hands froze for a moment then went back to work on the wounds, while the rest of his body froze inside.
Simon thought that this was it, you were out of his grasp. Once your eyes shut his mind will go with. His heart will go down as well. No one will be able to break down the barriers again. He wouldn’t let it happen. His mind went to the happiest moments with you to become more plagued of never going to see this again. Until the bleeding stopped, slowly letting him help you.
It was hours before he got your bleeding to stop, hours of tears, sweat, blood. Simon placed his fingers around your wrist where the pulse would be, weak. Very weak. He leaned back on his heels as he overlooked you. He watched your chest to slowly see it rise and fall. You were breathing barely but you were alive. He sat there for a moment before sitting down all the way taking a large inhale.
Simon felt his body shake as he watched you. You could have been dead right now, no life, paler, no chest movements. He thought about everything that both of you could have been doing that wasn’t here. Simon would have taken you to a beautiful resort, somewhere where no one would bug him or you. Smiling and laughing at nonsense together. Hell he even thought about how you would be in a wedding dress. Walking down to him. Holding you. Kissing you.
Simon felt his lip tremble as he went into a more darker place in his mind. Seeing faces of his dead loved ones, that could have been you as well. Laying with them. All pale and gone. He couldn’t lose you, couldn’t add you to the pile. Simon gulped before pushing himself up, you laid still as he placed with a small sheet on you to keep you warm.
His mind ticked as he stared more thinking and memorizing all your features. This sheet could cover you completely, hiding the fact you were there. Dead. His finger twitch before he snapped his body away. “Fuck,” He whispered, pacing. His heart was thundering against his chest. Chewing his lip. “Fuck!” He threw the med kit across the room as it smashed against the floor. Simon realized that he still had the damn thing glued to his hand.
Simon couldn’t control all the emotions that ran through him. The rage. The sadness. The sorrow. The spite. The relief. Everything, it felt like his blood stream was yelling for help try to cool the home that was burning everything. Simon stood breathing in and out before the radio went off.
“Bravo 7 come in,” Simon stood still the ringing of his ears coming down to listen to the surroundings. “Bravo 7 how copy?”
Johnny. Simon thought he reached up to the button of the walkie. “Bravo 7 copy.”
“Thank Mary herself,” Johnny sighed. “Where ya at LT, tryin to get ahold of y/c/n.” Simon looked over at you, then looked at your radio, which your radio was broken. Bullet got caught inside of it, which he thanked whatever was out there. Maybe that one wound would have taken you. “Ghost?”
Simon blinked a couple of times. “She’s in critical, when can we get extraction?”
There wasn’t an answer for a moment before Price’s voice came through. “How critical?”
Simon bit the inside of his cheek. “She los’ lots of blood, she will need a blood transfusion. I was able to stop the bleed barley. Is there an ETA?”
Price sighed. “The storm is fuckin’ with our sensors,” He mumbled. Simon’s heart started to drop. “We don’t know until the storm subsides.”
Simon looked out the window, he didn’t even noticed the wind that was yelling outside. The snow fighting around each other, covering any sort of distance from the house to outside. Simon looked at you as nothing changed, watching your chest move up and down.
Simon shook his head. “She doesn’ have that time Price.”
“She will have to Ghost.” He replied quickly.
Simon started to chew his bottom lip now. What if he can’t keep you stable? One wrong move and you could be gone. Just like he did with Tommy. Like his mom. Like his neph… “Simon,” His attention was brought back to his radio. “We will keep in touch, just hang on.”
It was a couple hours before you started to stir yourself awake. The nightmares of continuously running and dying, jolted you awake. Your eyes snapped open as you tried to jolt up but felt heavy. You yelled loudly, as the pain flashed through your veins. That’s when panic came in, looking around with your eyes. Where’s Simon?
Simon rushed over as he shut the door watching your body trying to get up. “Love,” He yelled as you still kept getting up. When he reached your shoulders and soft pushed you back down. “Stay still.”
Tears brimmed your eyes as you stared up at him. You winced as the pain worsened and you held back a scream. Simon’s heart sank as he placed his hand on your forehead. Soothing you as he let out soft hushes. Simon pulled out a stim shot, you winced as you bit your cheek. “It’s ‘ight love ‘m right here.”
Your lip trembled as your body started to calm down a bit. “I-.” Your sentence dropped as you coughed.
Simon got up quickly to find a canteen in his pack and to come back and help it to your lips. You drank carefully as you gripped his wrist. You leaned back down panting becoming more leveled breathing. It was silent for a moment as he rubbed circles on your hand. “How long has it been?” You mumbled your voice hoarse.
“8 hours minimum.” His eyes haven’t met yours since waking up. Looking to the side or down.
You nodded as you tried to grab his attention to you. “Whats…hm the damages?”
His eyes looked at your body, his shoulders going stiff. Simon thought about the possibility of you being dead hours ago. That he wouldn’t be hearing the scratched honey of your voice instead just dust and echos. His imagination. His memories. Simon shook himself mentally before clearing his throat. “Ya have 4 bullet wounds, couple of bruises, and loss of blood. Lots of it. Probably need some blood transfusion when we get back.”
You nodded, reality hitting that would mean that you almost died. You flipped your hand around and grabbed his. Gripping it. “Okay,” You whispered. “That’s good.”
“Good?” Simon chuckled. “No not good.”
You gave him a confused look. “I’m ali…”
“You could have died y/n,” He mumbled, his hand shaking a bit before he snapped it out of yours. “Because I didn’ know what to fuckin’ do. You just kept bleedin’ and there was nothing I could do and-and-I panicked, I never…” His voice cracked, making your heart stop. Did you die? Did you have to be brought back?
“Simon.” You whispered reaching for his face to guide him to your eyes.
His eyes were glossy from tears brimming them. You started to tear up. “I’m sor’y,” He whispered. “You almost were gone an’ I don’t know what I would have done.”
You smiled weakly. “Yet here I am Si,” He leaned into your forehead laying it there. “I’m right here.”
Simon sighed and rubbed his hand through your hair. “You’re right here.”
Simon didn’t move from this spot until the radios went off to inform them that they would be an hour out. Simon will never let this happen again, until the day he fucking got taken from the grim reaper himself.
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mistystepmoonbeam · 18 days
Text
Reborn into BG3: Chapter 7
You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.
Chapter 7: To the goblin camp!
Word count: 2.1K
The next morning you’re exhausted and nauseated.  You aren’t sure how much blood Astarion took but it was enough to get Tav flitting around you, his mother duck feathers ruffled.  
It’s hard not to look at Astarion as you try to gauge the vampire’s attitude—does he want to tell the others?  After feeding on Tav the others just seemed to know in the morning once you start talking to him, so you’re at a loss for words stuck between wanting to tell the truth, and wanting to earn Astarion’s trust.
“Looks like you and Astarion had a late night last night,” Karlach interjects with a wide grin.  “Saw him slinking out of your tent in the wee morning hours.  Gotta say I’m a little jealous—of both of you I mean.  Getting to touch another person like that…”
Gale chokes on his water, sputtering and coughing behind you. 
“I don’t think that’s what they were doing, Karlach,” Shadowheart says.  “Unless it was before he took a bite.”
Karlach laughs.  “Isn’t biting part of the fun?”
“Biting?” Tav questions.
You lift your arm, expecting to see dried blood and two little holes in your wrist but it’s completely normal.  Even whatever blood hadn’t made it into Astarion’s mouth was nowhere to be seen.
Shadowheart reveals, “I healed the wound and cleaned up the blood.  Astarion didn’t want to be blamed for you bleeding out in the middle of the night.  Nor did I.”
“Thanks,” you respond, eyes still on your wrist.  If you didn’t feel like throwing up it’s like it never even happened.
Gale appears at your side.  “To each their own, I always say, but if it leads to such dire circumstances perhaps you should find yourself a more suitable partner.”
“For the love of—“ Astarion cries out.  “We didn’t have sex!  I fed—I’m a…I’m a vampire.”
That little admission didn’t sound intentional, but you’re glad to have the attention on him. 
He must have told Shadowheart because she’s the only one that isn’t displaying shock, confusion, curiosity, or disgust.  
“But you’re in the sun.”  Karlach is first to break the quiet.
There’s a discussion about what the parasite is capable of, resulting in Karlach complaining, “So you can walk in the sun but I still can’t touch anyone?  Seems unfair.”
Tav grabs you into a one-armed hug, nearly slamming you against his chest as he points his other hand at Astarion.  “You feed off me next time!  I have more blood, I can afford it.”
“Isn’t it better if he feeds on me?” you ask into the tieflings chest.  “Since I’m not going out and fighting off goblins and spiders?”
Your dream comes back to you—talking around the fire, learning magic with Gale…but you can’t decipher which is memory and which is the dream.  You focus on it, knowing that Tav had found the amethyst and was tossing it around like a toy only to be scolded by Gale.  But no book.  Maybe that was why you hadn’t felt anything from it in the dream—there was no memory to pull from.  You find yourself a little disappointed by the fact that Gale hadn’t offered to test your magic but quickly push away the feeling.
You push Tav away, too.  “Besides, I’m fine.  I’m not that important here anyway so if Astarion needs to feed on me now and again he’s welcome to.”
“Thank you, darling,” Astarion says, “but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”
After that the group forces you to consume as much fruit as possible in a single sitting.  Soon enough your nausea isn’t from blood loss but overeating, and you’re shooing away the worriers—Tav, Gale, and Karlach. 
“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?  Halsin is still out there.”  There’s a pang in your chest knowing he’s in the goblin camp.
“That’s true.”  Tav sighs.  “You should come with us.”
You pause, wondering if you looked healthier than you felt.  “…why?”
“It’ll be fun?  And when you lose blood it’s better to be out and about.”
“That doesn’t sound remotely right,” you reply.  Tav is kneeling beside you, eyes large and watery as they look into your own.  Can tieflings be half puppy?  You have to stop yourself from agreeing to his request on the spot.  “I don’t want to slow you guys down.  Or get one of you killed.  Or die.”
“We aren’t going to be fighting, they’re going to let us in.”
There’s too many variables and you’re forced to repeat, “Why?”
“We went back and got Sazza, the goblin you saved,” Tav explains.
“She was grateful enough to offer us an introduction to her tribe and leaders,” Gale says.  “I’m sure your presence will grease the wheels, so to speak.” 
You conceded, if only after Tav gave you another small health potion.
You set out with more party members than you thought you would—Tav, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion.  You hope Wyll would be enough of a buffer for Shadowheart and Lae’zel as they search the upper roads for signs of the githyanki.  It’s strange to see the camp split up, but it makes more sense than leaving people to sit around all day. Granted, you’d love to be sitting right now as you approach the bridge leading into the goblin camp.  It’s not just the fatigue, or the anxiety of being surrounded by goblins, but knowing what will happen when they cross the bridge.  When you cross the bridge.  And what it means if nothing happens. You hadn’t actually seen the device Shadowheart held and she wasn’t even here right now…
“It will be okay,” Gale says quietly.  You’d lagged back far enough for him to notice, and stay near you.  “You’ve seen just how charming our fearless leader is.”
You force your lips into a shaky smile and nod.  With Gale at your side you catch up to the others as they’re about to cross the bridge into the ruined shrine.  The spiky barricades aren’t nearly as threatening as what’s about to come. 
Tav sets one foot on the bridge, then Karlach, Astarion, Gale…you.  Your leader is halfway across when you briefly think you might be in the clear, until he falls to his knees.  He grunts in pain, holding his head as the others follow suit, all of them going down at the same time beneath the pressure of the Absolute.  
You flinch back and…nothing.  You’re fine.  You hear no voice, feel no pain in your body, other than what you had before, and watch while the others shiver and groan, listening to the Absolute's message about the chosen three.  You grip your staff as you watch with wide eyes, heart clenching, unable to help them or understand why you aren’t included.  But the tadpole in your head doesn’t stir, not even when the relic shoots out of Tav’s bag and saves them from the Absolute’s control.  It glows orange as it floats above Tav until he can grab it, releasing the group.
“What in the bloody Hells was that?” Astarion shouts.
They’re each breathing heavy as they stand, shaking their heads in hopes of clearing their minds.  
“I think that was the Absolute,” Gale suggests, “and her chosen.”
“Whatever it was, that thing protected us.”  Karlach’s eyes are in the Githyanki device in Tav’s hands.  He shifts it between his fingers but it doesn’t react, so he puts it back into the bag at his waist.
And nobody questions you.  Being the last one behind, they seem to assume you’d heard the voice and seen the vision, too.  You’ve never been so grateful to be an unimportant extra.
You try not to let your exhaustion show in front of the goblins.  Your body and mind both feel like there’s a heavy weight on them, pushing you towards the ground until your knees want to buckle.  You’re using the staff to help keep you upright, and blame everything on blood loss and anxiety.  
Thankfully Gale was right about Tav’s charisma and you get inside the temple with little trouble.  The trouble being dragging Tav away from chicken chasing.  They have a chicken, not an owlbear, and the only other human there is Volo so you’re not sure what route was taken yesterday.  Nobody had mentioned an owlbear, meaning they had skipped past the cave…or perhaps didn’t want to tell you about killing the cub.
Regardless, apparently chicken chasing is as fun for Tav as it is for the goblins, and you’re only able to get him away and into the temple by promising you’ll give it a try when you’re feeling better. 
Once inside and past the guards, you see Priestess Gut.  Her presence is more imposing than her stature suggests and there’s a crackling fear that runs through your body when her eyes fall on you.  Tav takes the lead, denying the branding after a quick meeting of the worms, and the Priestess invites him elsewhere. 
“Not that one, though,” she says, looking at you.  “That one’s not a True Soul, been abandoned by the Absolute.  They’ll stay locked up until we’re done.”
“Huh?”  It’s all you can think to say as two goblins with pikes and shields approach you.  They don’t get close enough to touch you before the others step to your aid, which puts the rest of the surrounding goblins on alert, drawing their own weapons.
“Not gonna happen,” Karlach announces.
“Put your weapons down while I’m bein’ nice,” Priestess Gut orders.  “I could just have you all killed on the spot but I’m feeling generous–you’ll all walk out of here fine but that one stays in the cage until we’re done.”
Tensions rise when she spits out the words “that one”, like you’re some gnat needing to be squished.  Your companions don’t lower their weapons, and neither do the goblins.  You know how this fight goes, you know it can be won when turns are taken but right now there are no turns.  No waiting.
“I’ll go!” you shout.  You hold your staff out to Gale, cursing the slight tremble in your hands and voice.  “It’s just for a bit.  I’ll wait for you guys in…prison.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Gale whispers.  He only takes your staff when you shake your head.
Karlach and Tav seem about to argue, fight even, before the goblins can react, but you shake your head at them as well.  I’ll be fine, you think.  You wish you understood how to use the tadpoles to send messages, but maybe it went through anyway because they all holster their weapons.  Even Astarion, whom you’d hadn’t realised was willing to fight on your behalf as well, returns his daggers to their holsters.
“Just uh, don’t be too long, okay?”  You try not to think about the people the goblins are cooking outside, or that the butcher is in the same place you’re about to go.  You don’t look back at anyone as you’re taken away, hoping you didn’t just sentence yourself to death.
And it did feel like a death sentence walking past all the goblins.  But it was a little exciting, too.  The heavy beat of your heart couldn’t decide if it was from dread or a morbid interest in the creatures that barely came to your waist.  While still in sight of your companions nobody said a word to you.  You think the entire journey is going to be silent when a goblin shouts, “Hold up, eh?”
You and the guards halt, turning to the source of the voice.  Sazza.  She eyes you, but she isn’t what you’re wary of right now.  Beside her floats the scrying eye.
When the game says looking at it is like falling into an inky black pool, it’s not wrong.  You waver a moment as the hairs on the back of your neck raise, the feeling of being watched coming over you.  But it’s a different kind of watch than the goblins, more predatory.  If that was possible.
“What d’ya want?” one escort says.
“This thing flew right over when it saw this one,” Sazza explains with a wave at you.  “Guess it likes ya.  I should probably say thanks by the way, for takin’ the arrow.”
She doesn’t actually thank you.  
The scrying eye spins around you, floating up and down as if taking stock of you, kind of like when Gale first came out of the portal.  Was it interested in your coat, too?  Soon enough it stays in front of your face, examining your features.  You don’t have an option menu before you, and with a waver in your voice you say, “Uh, hello?”
The eye vibrates, or shakes, or maybe it shivers.  
“S’weird,” Sazza says, watching the eye.  Nobody can disagree with that.
“C’mon,” your other escort says.  “Don’t care if that things watchin’, gotta get the prisoner downstairs.”
They begin to lead you towards the worg pens and the eye follows you.  The only reason it leaves your side it when the door to the pens slams shut before it can get inside.
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