#he got fired from here years ago but he still comes in all the fucking time to shop???

[nathaslosthershit]

Some Bad, But a Whole Lot of Good (LS2)

Summary: To the fans, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume the week after his replacement had been hell for newly dropped Logan Sargeant, but to the people who knew him, they weren't worried. Warning: James Vowles slander, a lot of it, I made Logan yell at him because I want to yell at him

Getting fired a week before your first child was born wasn't on anyone's bucket list. But here Logan was.

He was mad- no he was furious. Sure, the past few months with the team have been miserable, but this was the worst timing possible.

"Why now? Why not the two weeks we were off on break?" Logan asks yells. He doesn't lose his cool, at least not like this, not by yelling at his boss.

"Logan, you have to understand we are in between a rock and a hard place. I am truly sorry but it's a difficult time for us-" Vowles begins to explain.

"A difficult time for you? I am about to have a fucking baby, James. Next week! What the fuck am I supposed to do?" He got up and ran his hand through his hair. "You just had a baby a year ago, I would have thought you of all people would have thought this through more."

"Believe me, we have Logan, we have discussed this at length for a long time now."

"Oh fuck you! You have been thinking about this for a long time and choose now to do something about it? God, James, why do you hate me so much? I know I haven't met expectations, I know I have fucked up, but I still have given everything to this team and this is how you end it?" he finally met his boss'- ex boss' now, I guess, stare.

As Logan looked at his team principal, he tried to see any remorse or sincerity in his eyes but just as he had suspected, James' apology was bullshit, completely insincere. He knew this wasn't going anywhere, he didn't even know why he was fighting.

Formula 1 had been the dream for a while. Logan had let himself sacrifice everything he could to achieve it. He tried to tell himself that he had made it and that he was happy, but it wasn't true. He couldn't face the reality of the dream he worked so hard for not being everything he had imagined.

After meetings about contract termination and how they were to proceed, a sad little goodbye party filled with people that were probably thrilled to have him go, and an actually heartfelt apology and goodbye from his teammate and those he worked closely with, the American left the factory for the last time.

The most difficult part of this whole affair? Telling his very pregnant wife that he was now unemployed, a week until their first child's due date.

After tears, cursing a certain British boss' bloodline, and dissociative silence, Logan sat next to his wife as she suddenly burst into laughter.

He was stunned, she was practically doubling over, at least as much as she could in her current condition. The sight so ridiculous given the circumstances that he began to laugh too.

Several minutes were spent laughing until their stomachs hurt and then trying to catch their breath before either one of them could say another word.

"This is such terrible timing!" she said, wiping her eyes as she continued to giggle.

"Could not me a worse time" he replied as he started to laugh even harder.

"God, we shouldn't be laughing at this! We have officially lost our minds"

"Perfect timing too! Just like everything else"

It was ironic, this was the absolute worse scenario Logan could come up with but this was also the hardest he had laughed in a long time. When was the last time he actually laughed? The last time he actually felt joy about anything involving his job?

As if she could sense what he was thinking, she took a few deep breaths, finally calming down, as she said, "This is insane of me to say, but maybe this is a good thing?"

He knew where she was going, he thought the same, but he needed to hear her rationalize it before he agreed.

"I mean, honey, you were miserable. And I am sorry because I did love some of the people on your team but most of them were jackasses! It was such a time commitment and you have spent so long giving everything to them just for the team to spit in your face. Plus, with savings and such, we have enough to be fine for a while, even with the baby. You finally can put your family and yourself first"

She was right, it was time he admitted to himself how much he had hated his job in the past few months. How miserable it made him. How he could hardly enjoy anything in his life because he was always thinking of how to improve, how to show he still has potential even with the shitty car he was given.

"Im sorry. I- its not fair that I spent so long chasing a dead end dream that I couldn't actually enjoy what I do have. I mean, I could never race again and I would be 1000 times happier with out little family then I could ever be in F1. I will never not put you both first again." He said as he looked at her, held the bump, and genuinely got to relish in what was to come.

The first race weekend since Logan was replaced, he wasn't stewing in his misery, he was sitting in the hospital next to his wife, holding his first born, and the last thing on his mind was what was happening anywhere else in the world outside of the room his entire life was currently in.

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, jensonbutton, and others

logansargeant New job

user1 hey! so this is insane

user2 unemployment has never looked better

alexalbon This is a crazy way to hard launch fatherhood but good on you, mate!

logansargeant got to keep them guessing

user4 dilf era yes please

oscarpiastri how long is the contract?

logansargeant full time for 18 years, then after there is a bit more leeway, but there is certainly no retirement in my future

user3 replaced right before he had a BABY?! oh that British fuck better watch out

jensonbutton Such a big moment! So happy to see where life takes you, I know it will be great!

A/N: Had to finish this right after the news he is testing for indycar in november dropped!!! U-S-A U-S-A!

[steviescrystals]

somebody has to be playing a prank on me today like this is not real!

[dreamwatch]

Know When To Hold 'em

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #17 - Prompt: This One's For You | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse, alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry. :(

The first time it happened totally out of the blue.

It was their first big show in Indy, their home show, and of course Wayne wanted to be there, as much out of curiosity as anything. He didn’t hear a thing; Steve gave him a set of ear plugs and it was like he’d been handed a pot of gold. “I could have done with these years ago.” But he saw everything and he talked about that show to anyone that would listen, and a few that wouldn’t.

Eddie was over the goddamn moon about it so he told the audience, “My Uncle Wayne’s here tonight, everyone say 'hi Uncle Wayne!'” and five thousand people just— did it. Because Eddie asked them to. Even through the ear plugs Wayne heard it. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen the old man blush before.

So it became a thing completely by accident. If Wayne was there they played The Gambler as the last song of the encore; like the flag at Buckingham Palace telling everyone the Queen was home: Uncle Wayne was in the house. The fans latched onto it straight away, and it was one of only a couple of songs that Eddie would sing. Wayne didn’t see the band play often but it didn’t matter where they were, the moment that song started up the crowd went wild; the roar of “Hi Uncle Wayne!” rolling through the audience before everyone sang along. And Wayne there at the edge of the stage shaking his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Eddie was in Germany when Wayne died. 

‘The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep’, sang The Gambler, and that’s exactly what he did. Wayne would have got a kick out of that.

Breaking the news to Eddie was the most painful thing Steve’s ever had to do.

Tonight is their first night back after a two month hiatus. It feels too soon, but there are contracts, missed shows, obligations, and there’s only so much their manager can do to keep the label, promoters and lawyers away. 

Eddie’s dead eyed and lethargic; he’s started drinking again, Steve discreetly hid his pain medication when he noticed the bottle emptying faster than it should have. He sleeps with a belly full of Ambien and spends his day wrapped in Zoloft. Neither help.

But the show must go on, right? 

Despite everything, the grief, the fog of depression, when he walks out onto the stage he’s a supernova, the brightest of lights in the deepest of darks. He’s fucking dazzling. 

The crowd at the Market Square Arena are on fire, they explode when the band run on stage but Steve doesn’t miss the extra noise when Eddie gets out there. Eddie loosens up as the gig goes on, and by the end, when they take a bow together, he looks like a different man to the shell thats been haunting their home. 

There will be a crash later. Steve is already prepared for it.

The band come off drenched with sweat. Steve can see the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the exertion after all this time lying around like a ghost has taken its toll on a body that has seen better days. But he still smiles at Steve as he hands off the guitar to his tech, his Sweetheart, only brought out for the encores now. 

“Was it okay?” Eddie asks him, towelling the sweat from his face.

“You were amazing,” is all Steve can manage right there, but he’s buzzing inside and there’s more he wants to say. But that’s for later, when it’s just them.

The band are handing off instruments, roadies scurrying around, breakdown already underway. There’s a lot happening, and you know, Steve’s hearing isn’t that great these days but there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight. He sees the little commotion over Eddie’s shoulder, the way people halt, ears pricking up like labradors. Jeff turns to Steve with wide eyes and Matt has stopped in his tracks. And then he sees the exact moment Eddie picks up on it, the furrowed brow, the soft tilt of the head.

The crowd are singing Wayne’s song.

Everyone stops. Roadies stand there like marionettes with their strings cut.

And Eddie…

He looks devastated, his hand flying up to his mouth like he’s trying to bury a sob, stopping the grief from breaking containment.

Steve can see the band over Eddie’s shoulder, heads nodding before they’re grabbing guitars back from their techs. He knows what they’re going to do, but there’s no way Eddie is up to it, they have to know that. Jeff slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, pulls him in, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. And then Matty does it, Matty who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but Gareth is long gone, already running back onto the stage, crowd cheering at the sight of him, before Matty and Jeff follow him out. And they pick up where the crowd are and they play. Eddie usually sings it, but Jeff takes it tonight. 

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Eddie toward the side of the stage.

Steve loved Wayne, so fucking much. And maybe with all the help and care Eddie needed afterward, still needs, maybe Steve didn’t get a chance to grieve properly. He feels the ache in his chest, before he notices the calloused fingers wiping his tears away.

“He loved you, Steve.” He can’t reply, just nods, and Eddie holds him like he should be holding Eddie. And then he’s gone, out on to the stage, back with his band. No guitar, just sharing a mic with Jeff and joining as much as the tears will allow. And then the music cuts, Matty and Gareth joining them at the mic, and it’s just voices, nineteen thousand and four. Corroded Coffin, arms slung across shoulders, singing Wayne’s song. 

Singing to Wayne.

Yeah... I went there.

So, I had this idea months ago and parked it because I didn't know what to do with it. And then this prompt came along and BOOM!

[avonne-writes]

Happiness, you’re a cat

A HS AU one-shot inspired by @alienoresimagines 's post

I'll probably post this on AO3 tomorrow. Edit: posted on AO3

1.

Bucky hates hospitals. The sterile smell, all the sick and dying people, back-breaking waiting room chairs. Thankfully, he has never had to stay in one overnight, but he did hit his head in a goal post once when he was ten, and his mom spent hours in the ER with him to get his concussion looked at. It was just after his dad left. What a miserable fucking time.

Unsurprisingly, he isn't keen to go back there anytime soon.

He feels like he might have to though, because at the rate things are going, they’re gonna have to amputate his right arm. A few months ago, Brady showed him a gory Reddit thread about a guy who, apparently, fell asleep in the lotus pose and his legs got so fucking wrecked that they had to cut them off. The pose restricted his blood flow or something and they couldn't restore it. He can’t remember how long the man was contorted like that. What's the point of no return?

His elementary school teacher used to tell his mom that Bucky would do crazy things for the people he liked. Well, she must have been right because Bucky's going to risk his arm just to let Gale sleep for an hour longer.

Gale. Gale, Gale, Gale.

Bucky's heart skips a beat every time he lets himself stop for a moment and think about things. Happiness floods his chest and makes his limbs thrum with excited energy. Three of them. His right arm is currently fighting for its life, crushed under Gale’s curled up body. But he puts the pins and needles out of his mind and concentrates on the positives.

Gale has been his boyfriend for a whole month now. A month! Bucky's longest relationship so far lasted three. He doesn’t let himself think about the fact that this means that they may be past one third of their time together. He can’t think about that or he’ll get anxious. Who knows, perhaps they'll stay together forever. It was their one-month anniversary today - Gale said it was stupid to call it anniversary because the word literally comes from "year" in Latin, but he did accept Bucky's invitation to watch a movie with him in Bucky's room.

Since Gale is a total movie nerd, Bucky was looking forward to showing him Moneyball, but Gale pillowed his head on Bucky’s chest and fell asleep ten minutes in. The movie is at two thirds now, and Bucky's arm is on fire from being pinned so long.

He doesn’t care.

He turns his head to look at Gale the best he can, and he knows that all the pain is worth it a thousand times over. So close that his eyes can’t focus, he sees the slope of Gale's nose, his long, pale eyelashes and the soft, parted lips he spent an hour kissing yesterday. Bucky has never had anyone sleep on him before. It’s the most amazing, comforting feeling he has ever experienced. They breathe together. Gale's body is warm against his, and his arm draped across Bucky's torso fills Bucky's stomach with butterflies. God, he wants to reach out and stroke it. There are small moles sprinkled on it. There’s one on the heel of Gale's palm, and he’s aching to pull it to his mouth and kiss it.

Ah, why is he such a loser? Gale is right here in his arms, in his bed, and he’s still in pain because he wants more and he knows it's too much and his crush is so bad, so... ugh, it's fucking embarrassing. Bucky flushes hot and cold, then hot again. Happy in his misery.

He'd feel it if his arm was beyond saving, wouldn’t he? Or, technically, he wouldn’t feel it. That would be the sign, he thinks. Prickling pain is good.

Gale told him he had trouble sleeping lately. What's a better anniversary present than letting him rest as long as he needs it?

It's a bigger problem that Bucky can’t pay attention to the movie anymore. His senses are entirely consumed by Gale. The weight of him. His blond hair. His smell. Bucky takes a deeper breath, trying to memorize it. If it clings to his clothes, he’s gonna hide them from his mom and sleep with them tonight. Gale is like an angel in his sleep, and he just wants to - to squeeze him tight and never let him go. Man, he needs help...

Unable to resist any longer, he raises his - still alive - left hand and brushes Gale's right with a fingertip. When Gale’s breathing doesn’t change, Bucky smiles to himself and starts tracing the lines of Gale's bones with his index finger, then the divots of his wrist. He draws a J over the back of Gale's hand, then a heart. He’s just about to start a G when the skin shifts under his touch, and Gale’s inhale hitches.

The moment Gale's consciousness returns, he shoots up into a sitting position, lifting all the weight that has been crushing Bucky's arm at once. Bucky whines and sobs dramatically in pain, so much so, that after a moment, Gale starts snickering.

"What are you doing?"

"Pins and needles." Bucky gasps and sits up too, shaking his arm desperately.

Gale rubs his forehead like some middle-aged dad looking at his dumbass kid. Bucky grins in return. He doesn’t know why but he enjoys this. The sight of his smile makes Gale laugh again. His chin-length hair is flat on the side that rested on Bucky’s chest, and there's a blush creeping up his neck.

"Sorry for falling asleep." He says. Bucky can’t look away from the blue of his eyes. He’s hypnotized.

"You can always sleep here."

Gale casts his gaze down, then glances back up, a little shy. "Thanks, Bucky."

"I would've let them amputate it for you." Bucky tells him, holding out his arm.

Gale gives him a look of pained amusement. "Do I even want to know what you're talking about?"

"Brady showed me this thread -" Bucky launches into the story, happy to be able to talk to Gale again after more than an hour of silence. Gale listens to him attentively, and when he slips his hand into Bucky's, Bucky's suddenly aware that none of the nerves died in his palm. They're very much alive and pump giddiness into his veins. Moneyball draws to a climax in the background, forgotten.

~~~

2.

It's 4 p.m., and the bright-hot light of the sun blasts Bucky's face through the window of their apartment. He’s lying on his back in their bed, and Gale is asleep in his embrace, his head resting on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky's arm tingles with pinprickles of pain. Volume so low it's almost muted, a movie drones on in their TV.

It's Moneyball again.

The irony isn’t lost on Bucky. Every single time he tried to watch this thing with Gale in the six years they’ve been together, Gale fell asleep. Every. Single. Time. He’s starting to think it’s some sort of message he's supposed to understand. John, stop making me watch baseball films and footage. Or, John, I have a Pavlovian reflex to nod off as soon as I hear the word baseball. He can hear these things in Gale's voice, although Gale would never say them, only Bucky would if he did an impression of Gale. It would make Gale laugh, so Bucky grins up at the ceiling just imagining it.

Fuck, his arm hurts like a bitch. And the sun feels like fingers made of light trying to pry his eyes open. His t-shirt is growing damp with sweat at the collar. Over his head, with some effort, he manages to grab Gale's actual pillow, the one Gale discarded in favour of Bucky's chest. Bucky puts it on his own face to block out the light and tries to fall asleep too.

This exam period has been a real clusterfuck. He was on coffee 24/7, would have walked around with an IV drip of the stuff if he could, just to push through. Gale simply reverted to his antisocial insomniac persona, and they decided by mutual silent agreement not to even try to touch each other until it was over.

It's done and dealt with now. Grades added in their college accounts, pat on the head received gracefully by Gale for being the only one who passed Applied Nuclear Physics on the first try. Obligatory Let's get wasted! party attended two days ago, call with Mom suffered through hungover yesterday. Now, there's nothing else on Bucky’s agenda but sleep for 48 hours straight. And making Gale watch Moneyball.

He's gonna make him do it before they get married, he swears.

Gale is so tired that he’s sleeping with his mouth open. Bucky can tell. It doesn’t take a genius, given the suspicious damp spot he feels on his shirt. He doesn’t mind a bit of drool. Or a lot. He’s gonna let Gale sleep as long as he needs.

But by God, his arm feels like it’s gonna skip the whole amputation step and just fall right off. He yawns against the pillow on his face and tries to take his mind off it.

He can smell Gale's scent on the fabric, he notes happily. Gale's left leg is tangled with his own, Gale's once icy foot tucked against his calf, now warmed by Bucky's heat. You have the coldest feet in the whole fucking galaxy, he informed Gale a few weeks ago, sitting on the couch with Gale's legs on his lap. Gale just pressed one of those feet to the tender skin of Bucky’s inner thigh, half inside his shorts, and told Bucky to guess the size of the Milky Way or lose a piece of clothing.

There's a reason why Bucky isn't the one planning to be an Astrophysicist...

He wonders what it’s going to be like once they graduate. His heart skips a beat. Does Gale hope for the same things he does? They've talked about marriage in the abstract, playing around with the fantasy of it for a bit, but it's not a fantasy anymore. It’s within reach, Bucky can feel it. And that suddenly makes his hopes so much harder to share - he’s scared of losing them all on a mistake.

But now that their exams are done, it can occupy all his thoughts again.

It's time. Anticipation thrums through his bones. He has been aching for it long enough. He’s got the ring. All he needs to do is ask.

Drifting between daydreams and reality, he reaches for Gale’s hand on his abdomen. He traces his knuckles with his thumb and lingers on his bare ring finger, lost in thought.

When Gale pulls in a sharper breath, he shifts his touch to Gale's wrist.

Gale groans and lifts his head away from the wet spot on Bucky’s shirt. Blood flows rapidly back to Bucky's arm and makes him grunt in pain. He tries to shake the pins and needles out of his limb, while Gale just climbs over him like some lazy cat and collapses on his other side. He takes up the same pose he had before, just mirrored, but upon noticing the pillow on Bucky’s head, he nuzzles his way closer until both of their faces are covered by it. They're pressed so close together that the tip of Bucky's nose brushes Gale's cheek.

"We've blinds." He mumbles.

Gale hums and falls back asleep. Bucky’s arm lies squished under him. Moneyball stays on until the end credits roll down.

[chelseeebe]

promise.

eddie knows about covering bruises and pretending to be fine all too well. but can he save the one woman he thinks he’s ever loved?

a/n: ok i’ve been a bit shit the last few weeks and this is genuinely the only thing i could conjure up but forewarning, it is sad and it does mention some pretty heavy topics that i know aren’t for everyone so i completely understand if u don’t want to read! my adhd riddled brain has already started a part two which does have a happy ending

title based on promise - ben howard i just thought it was a really lovely song and fits well with part two

read part two here.

18+. mdni! mentions of domestic violence, not explicitly described but the injuries are there and it is referred to multiple times throughout (eddie is not the perpetrator). smut. v much hurt/no comfort but not for long.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

eddie is positively wrecked.

who would have ever guessed working in a shoddy, run-down bar would be so fucking tiring?

graham had said that if he picked up a few shifts at the hideout a week, then corroded coffin could play once a month. a guaranteed slot and he got paid? this was like heaven to him.

he just hadn’t expected the little bar to be so exhausting. he supposes that his lack of work experience and the fact he was used to doing sweet fuck all most of the time was to blame. that’s not his fault. not really. after finally graduating high school a year or so ago, he just hadn’t found any work in the tiny town.

on one particularly boring mid-week shift, eddie’s sat behind the bar doodling on the back of an old receipt, tapping his foot along to the kiss tune playing on the stereo. wouldn’t be his first choice but he’s not complaining.

‘you coming for a smoke?’ you exclaim suddenly, causing his head to jolt up, running the biro over his shitty drawing, ruining it completely.

‘uh.. then who would be on the bar?’ he utters, quickly hiding the doodle before you could judge it. not that he thinks you would, but just in case.

‘eddie, it’s dead,’ you say flatly, looking around at the empty tables.

truth be told, he hadn’t seen another soul bar from you and graham since he’d arrived which was odd for a thursday. assuming that the usual bums that lined the dusty old stools were otherwise engaged today. that or they just hadn’t been paid yet.

‘oh.. yeah, okay,’ he nods, hopping down from the stool and grabbing his jacket. you’re already gone, bounding off down the hall to the fire exit you all used for smoke breaks.

eddie’s still fairly new and very rarely got invited on the group breaks. which was fine, he just wished that you’d all take it in turns so that he could smoke too. he gets it though, like he talks enough but yet not enough to really make friends with any of you.

you’re leaning back against the brick wall, cigarette hanging from your lips, ‘you got a lighter?’

it’s not like he’d been staring or thought about it that much, but he’d noticed how breathtakingly beautiful you were on his second shift. okay, maybe that’s a lie. he’d thought about it a lot. but anyway, he’d been utterly in awe at the way you handled the drunks, brushed off their creepy comments and stood your ground no matter how angry or persistent they were being. he admired that and just wished that he had even a smidgen of the confidence you had.

he fumbles in his pocket for the lighter, clumsily handing it over before getting his own pack out. it feels wrong to look you in the eye, god that sounded pathetic. you were older, far cooler than he was and positively stunning. if he remembers correctly, you must’ve been a couple grades above him at school but had left long before he graduated.

‘thanks,’ passing the lighter back to him, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his. it’s like electricity sparks through his veins.

he really needs to get a grip.

‘you enjoyin’ it here?’ you ask, eyes intimidating as they bore into his.

‘it’s okay.. tiring though,’ he shrugs, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact despite his inability to look pretty girls in the eye.

‘yeah.. you’ll get used to it,’ you chuckle, the smoke flowing out of your lips perfectly. he’s so pathetically down bad for you and you have literally no idea.

‘how long have you worked here?’ longing to keep the conversation flowing.

‘shit.. too long,’ chuckling as you take another drag. eddie could listen to that sound all day. ‘i think i was eighteen when i started so..’ pretending to count on your fingers, ‘six years?’

eddie blows the air out of cheeks, he’s probably be in a similar position if he’d have just graduated when he was supposed to so he can’t exactly pass judgement.

‘i think we went to school together, i mean, you were a couple grades above me but i remember you,’ hoping that that didn’t sound as creepy out loud like it did in his head.

‘oh shit, really?’ your eyes narrow, trying to place him though it’s obviously not going to happen, ‘i don’t remember you.. i’m so sorry,’ playfully hitting his arm.

the connection is enough to keep his delusions going for at least another month.

‘it’s fine, didn’t think you would,’ not many people did to be honest. he tosses his cigarette into the overflowing makeshift ashtray, waiting for you to lead the way back inside.

‘hey, it was a long time ago, i’m old now!’ you joke, walking back through the dim hall back to the bar. he tries his hardest not to let his gaze slip to you ass but he swears it’s only for a second.

the bar’s still dead, the stereo now blaring out some madonna tune he hated.

‘ugh.. turn this one off,’ he mutters, mostly to himself as he repositions himself back on his perch.

‘what?’

‘i hate this song.’

your jaw drops in faux-offence, ‘i made this mixtape you asshole,’ going to shove him off of the stool, ‘i can’t believe you can’t drop the cool guy act for one second to appreciate some madonna,’ laughing as you start collecting glasses.

his frown turns into an immediate grin, begging for your forgiveness as he starts to bop his head along to the beat. it’s not like anyone would see him and hell, even if they did, he didn’t care. not if it made you smile.

-

‘holy fuck, you been fightin’ with the door again?’ james remarks, pulling eddie’s eyes from his paper to spot you rushing into the bar.

your head is ducked, flashing the older man your middle finger, disappearing into the back before eddie can properly get a glimpse of your face.

but he knows.

there’d been a handful of times that you’d come in wearing a massive sweater instead of your usual low-cut tops and when you reached for something high up, the sleeve would reveal just enough for him to see the dark blue marks on your wrist.

he’d never been sure, not until now. but his stomach drops the second his brain puts two and two together.

ditching the paper and that asshole james behind the bar to slink off into the back, approaching the tiny staff room with the upmost caution. it’d never be wise to start throwing accusations around but he’s not stupid. eddie had watching his mom go through the exact same shit for years. knew all the tricks in the book to cover up bruises, cried his heart out every time his mom went back to his asshole dad.

only god knows how many times he’d planned out his fathers death. anger brimming in his tiny body the second he heard raised voices.

he knocks gently on the door, watching as you hurriedly wipe the makeup onto your eye. it’s not doing much, in fact, it’s not doing anything at all. the purple shining through undeniably.

‘you okay?’ practically whispering as he enters the room, knocking the door shut behind him. james’ comment had meant that this obviously wasn’t the first time you’d come into work with such horrid markings.

you sigh, giving up on attempting to cover it, slamming the metallic compact back into your locker. ‘i’m okay.. i’m fine,’ refusing to turn and face him.

you’re obviously not okay and it hurts eddie to know that there’s absolutely nothing he can do to help. instead, he takes a seat on the communal bench, if nothing else, he’d lend his ear for whatever story you wanted to tell him.

‘what happened?’ he dares to ask, not expecting to know the truth but it felt better than silence.

you sniff, closing your locker and finally facing him head on. there’s pain and guilt wracked all over your face, ‘i’m just.. clumsy,’ shoulders slumping, ‘i tripped..’

‘clumsy?’

you were anything but. eddie had watched you balance trays full of glasses without spilling a single drop. maybe other people bought your story but he didn’t. he couldn’t.

there’s a short silence and eddie shuffles, patting the empty space beside him, ‘you don’t have to lie to me.’ he swallows his anger, lets it rest in his stomach for a later date. there’s no doubt that if he got the opportunity, he’d kill the asshole that did this to you.

you swallow, reluctantly perching on the bench, ‘why are you even asking when you already know?’ not quite meeting his eyes, staring off somewhere into the distance.

‘i don’t know.. didn’t wanna pressure you..’ he’s familiar with the whole routine. the denial from his mother had broken his heart at such a young age even though he wasn’t stupid.

you blink, meeting his eyes for the first time, ‘he didn’t mean to.. was my fault,’ wiping the back of your hand against your sodden cheeks.

even hearing the words makes him inexplicably frustrated. not with you of course, but with the fact that you can’t see how much you don’t deserve that.

‘i don’t think you could do anything to deserve that,’ motioning towards your blackened eye. he’s not going to push it but he needs you to know that he’s here and would quite happily wrap his hands around that bastards neck.

‘you know.. my dad used to hit my mom,’ swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, but finds enough strength to continue, ‘she was the nicest lady in the world.. she didn’t deserve that and neither do you,’ licking his suddenly parched lips. it wasn’t an easy topic then and it certainly isn’t now.

he’s not particularly ever open about what happened to his mom but if it convinced you even a tiny bit to leave him, it’d be worth it.

there’s a beat, followed by a muffled sniff but you’re nodding, staring down at the grimy tiles rather than his face. eddie reckons that he’d be overstepping his mark if he did what he wanted and leant over to hug you. so he doesn’t. putting a sympathetic hand on your shoulder instead.

‘you’re an angel, you know that?’ the hints of a smile creeping onto your lips.

‘yeah i know,’ he scoffs, bashing his shoulder into yours, only gently.

‘shut up,’ knocking him straight back.

you get up from the bench, puffing your cheeks out as you take one last look into the mirror.

it’s a gut-wrenching, awful sight and god forbid eddie has to ever see you like that again.

-

perhaps rather naively, eddie assumes everything is fine for the next few weeks.

understandably, you’re a bit subdued for a few days but you do revert back to your usual bubbly self come friday evening. no more bruises, no more groaning when you change the keg and absolutely zero mention of your wretched boyfriend.

so when he pulls into his gravel driveway one gloomy saturday night, he’s aghast to see you perched on his trailer steps. blinking through his headlights, soaked through from the rain with a busted lip and a torn shirt to match.

he near enough launches himself from his van, rushing over to your hunched over frame. damn near falling over his feet to get to you.

‘what the hell happened?’

you stand, clinging onto your poorly packed rucksack, ‘i.. i didn’t know where else to go,’ utterly defeated, any traces of life drained from your face.

he doesn’t say another word, bundling you into the trailer, slamming the lights on to get a proper look of you. his hands firmly on your drenched shoulders as he examines your injuries. your lip is cracked, the blood had wept from the cut and dried on your chin.

it’s awful. knocks him sick just to see you like this. your cheeks are stained with a mixture of rain and he presumes tears, hair hanging limp around your beautiful face.

‘what happened?’ he says softly, studying your face. he notices the small gash on your forehead, using everything within himself not to storm out of that door in a murderous rage.

your mouth opens but no words come out. it’s not as if he can’t put two and two together, he just doesn’t understand how it got to this point after last week.

‘it’s okay.. c’mon let’s get you out of these clothes,’ he blinks, collecting himself before taking your sopping wet bag. the clothes had all suffered in the downpour, damp and unwearable.

so he leads you into his cramped room, hastily rummaging through his drawers for something you can wear.

it’s a little self-indulgent and completely the wrong time but his heart flutters when you reappear out of the bathroom sporting his tee and a pair of old gym shorts. now showered and without the blood stains on your face, it’s a welcome sight.

‘better?’ he offers, though he knows a shower could never really help.

you nod, pulling the sleeves down over your hands. it’s so adorable and eddie seriously has to fight his compulsion to just pull you into his arms. he knows there’s no way he can protect you from everything but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

‘you want a drink? beer?’

your eyes light up, a minuscule smirk appearing on your battered lips. he’s sure wayne would understand why he came home to a non-existent six pack. the berating would be worth it to see you smile again.

he collapses onto the couch next to you, beer in hand as he watches you slowly relax. delighted that he could offer a safe space for you, even if it did come with some very complicated feelings.

that night, admittedly very creepily, he watches as you sleep. terrified to fall asleep in his makeshift bed on the floor in case you needed him.

-

at some point in the last two weeks, eddie had gone from sleeping on the floor to sleeping in his bed next to you. you’d told him it was far too cold for him on the floor and he should just get in. which he did, with great pleasure. there was nothing to it of course, but a few times he’d woken up to your leg entangled with his or your face pressed against his back.

everything had just got a whole lot more comfortable. rides to work, cooking for one another and some shared looks that he’d been unable to put his finger on. not wanting to believe they had any deeper meaning but at the same time, he knew that that wasn’t how friends looked at each other.

it’s a rare night you both have off, sat in the trailer watching halloween, neither of you really interested in what’s going on on the screen. there’s an inexplicable tension in the air tonight, you’re quieter than usual which eddie doesn’t like.

‘you okay?’ he dares to ask. he’d felt a little overbearing those first few days, constantly checking on you to make sure you were okay.

‘hmm? oh, i’m okay,’ setting your bottle of beer on the table, ending up much closer to him when you sit back.

‘you sure? you’re quiet,’ keen not to let on that he was absolutely buzzing about your close proximity.

‘just thinking.’

‘about?’

you let out a soft breath, twisting around to look at him fully. the only times he’d been this close to you were in bed where he laid and listened to your soft snores and when you’d been covered in injuries. neither one were exceptionally great circumstances.

‘you,’ you blink up at him, smiling just enough to make his heart skip a beat.

‘me?’ he can’t decipher whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘mhm.’

‘what about me?’

you don’t respond for what feels like an eternity but your gaze lowers, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. if he weren’t staring directly into your bright eyes, he’d have missed it.

‘i really want to kiss you,’ you say, so brazenly that eddie’s not quite sure if he’s heard you correctly, almost sputtering on his breath as the words process.

‘you.. you wanna kiss me?’ trying hard not to sound so astounded. pretty girls didn’t want to kiss eddie, not like this.

you nod, ‘can i?’

there are stars in his eyes, blood pumping around his limbs at an alarming rate. his head is fuzzy and if he weren’t sitting, he’d probably have fainted.

‘please,’ he chokes, desperately forcing the word out before it becomes impossible.

your palms are soft as they caress his cheek, wishing that he’d shaved before this had unfolded. his heartbeat stutters, bubbling with anticipation as you lean in, gentle lips locking onto his as his eyes flutter shut.

this is it. he’d dreamt of kissing you for weeks, practiced on his hand an embarrassing amount of times and yet still nothing could’ve prepared him for how earth shattering this felt. his heart is practically jumping out of his chest and he’s sure you can feel it thumping against yours.

it’s as if fate had bought the two of you together, moving against each other in perfect harmony. if he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

your hand creeps down onto his chest, holding yourself upright as you shift onto your knees. do you want to have sex with him? is this actually happening? his fingertips vibrate as they connect with your waist, like you weren’t even real and just a figment of his overactive imagination.

the second your lips part from his, he wants to cry, pull you back in and never let go. the absence of contact makes him whine, opening his eyes to see yours gazing back, they look different. different to how you’ve ever looked at him before, full of something unspeakable.

‘do you want to?’ you ask quietly into the minimal space between you.

eddie wants to so bad, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. nodding hurriedly to let you know just how eager he is. there’s not a chance in hell he’d let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

your lips twitch into a smile at his permission, fingers curling around the hem of his shirt.

but before you get any further, the trailer door clicks open and wayne is stood in the doorway, pizza box in hand accompanying his unimpressed scowl. ‘okay well, i think that’s enough of that,’ he grumbles, shuffling into the trailer as you climb off eddie’s lap, back into your own spot.

‘sorry wayne.. i didn’t know you were back so early,’ his cheeks burning, bashful as ever. it wasn’t enough for wayne to walk in on that but he was always now straining against his jeans, trying desperately to hide the tent while you reshuffle, pulling your shorts back down to a more appropriate length.

‘yeah yeah whatever,’ his uncle shakes his head, trundling over to the couch and tossing the box onto the cluttered coffee table, ‘move over boy, i wanna watch my programme,’ collapsing into the empty seat beside his nephew with a deep, guttural sigh.

the two of you share a sly smirk, tuning in to whatever shit wayne had put on without saying another word. stifling your laughter with a piece of pizza as eddie tries and fails to discretely pull a pillow onto his lap.

it’s hours later when you both crawl into bed and eddie has checked five times that wayne’s actually asleep before he gets to kiss you again.

bundled up under the covers when you pull him on top of you, your face gloriously basked in the bright moonlight shining in. it’s breathtaking.

‘you want to?’ you ask again, as if his answer had changed in those few hours.

he nods, his curls brushing fall down and brush against your cheek, ‘have you.. before?’ you ask cautiously. he’s not offended, even if he should be.

he has had sex before. only twice. when ellen had first joined hellfire, they had sorta had a year long fling which had ended after they had sex and ellen realised that maybe she didn’t actually like men. that was a super boost to his confidence. and then at senior prom when tina took great pity on him and somehow they ended up having sex in the back of his van.

he nods anyway, granted he’s not the most experienced but he’ll sure as hell try.

‘good,’ you smile, warm thighs wrapping around his torso as you reconnect your lips. it’s soft, gentle even. world’s apart from his previous encounters. this felt real, like you weren’t just kissing because you had to but because you wanted to.

it’s too cold in the trailer to care about removing your clothes, though he’s sure that’ll change in a minute. focussing on getting his tongue inside of your mouth, rutting against your pajama shorts. the friction causing his already semi-hard dick to rise, unable to contain the moan from escaping.

a smirk flashes across his face as his hand drags your shorts down your legs, savouring every moment of being able to touch your bare, supple skin. his hand makes its way back up your legs, repositioning the one he could grasp back around his lower back.

he has trouble getting his boxers down, too excited to focus on being smooth about it. appreciating the feel of your hand tugging the fabric down. you’re barely kissing at this point, your lips connecting with the corner of his mouth, all messy as the anticipation takes over.

‘you sure?’ he asks, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. he could just about remember what to do. sending a quick prayer upstairs to not let him be utterly useless.

‘i’m sure,’ you breathe, the feel of your fingers tangled into the hair that covered the back of his neck.

‘okay..’ he nods, mostly to himself as he wraps a head around his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. taking a brief moment to just capture this moment in preparation of it never happening again.

the pleasure overcomes his body as he slides in, already almost losing himself as he fills you up. a soft moan escapes your lips, gripping onto his neck. he is acutely aware that his uncle is asleep on the other side of the old trailer so he muffles his face into your neck, lips connecting with your jaw bone, kissing any and every bit of skin exposed to him.

sex had never felt like this before. at best, it had felt slightly better than when he jerked off, but this was something else. eddie knows it’s cliche and is definitely only because you feel so fucking good around him, but it’s as if you were made for each other.

hands pressed into the pillow so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were a permanent dent either side of your head. using everything within himself not to start hollering, eyes fluttering shut against your neck. he moves in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. the small room filling with the sounds of your soaking wet cunt. its undeniable to anyone with ears and he just hopes to god that wayne is still asleep.

his own low groans vibrating against your cheek, mouth hanging open as his thrusts grow faster. you’re panting softly directly into his ear, spurring him on. despite the feel of your perfect cunt around him, the best feeling is knowing that he’s making you feel good.

‘h-holy shit,’ he mumbles nonsensically into the crook of your neck, not allowing himself to come for air because he know that the second he looks at your face, he’ll cum.

your one hand is splayed out on his upper back, the other holding onto his sweaty neck beneath his mop of hair. whining his name into his ear, driving him into a frenzy with the sound of your breathy voice, desire rippling through your moans. he should tell you to be quiet but that’d be cruel and he’d rather take the shame of wayne knowing than not hearing you.

your legs shift higher the position allowing him to reach the golden spot, nudging the soft, spongy spot over and over. eddie figures you’re far more experienced than he is. with no offence meant to you but you obviously know what works. this is new territory for him, a closeness that he’d never known possible.

you’re engulfing him completely, every single one of his senses encompassed by you. you’re all he can see even with his eyes screwed shut, all he can hear, taste and smell. god knows you’re all he can feel, calves squeezing around his back and your perfect pussy tightening around him.

he groans, feeling his stomach begin to twist in that all too familiar feeling. orgasms had never felt so good, it’s like everything was dialled up to level ten. ‘i’m gonna.. shit- i’m gonna come,’ he babbles far too loudly.

every noise tumbling out of your mouth was pulling him closer, no record could ever come close to the sweet mewls that were slipping between your lips. his arms begin to tremble under his own weight. feeling your legs quivering around his waist as your orgasm begins to overtake your body, sinful noises echoing around the otherwise quiet trailer.

‘ohh fuck,’ he growls, feeling your walls clenching around him, it was like he’d been pushed over the edge. the only way he can begin to describe it was otherworldly, flashes of white light illuminate his eyelids.

images of your face accompany your honeyed whimpers and he has to pull out before he explodes. spurts of his release cover his hand and admittedly the back of your thigh. if he had any semblance of control, he’d have been embarrassed but he’s not exactly sure that he’s still on planet earth.

he dares to open his eyes, watching as your chest heaves below him clinging onto his forearm with desperate fingertips. you’re looking up at him as if he’s the only person you’d ever seen. mouth slack as you regain your breath.

‘jesus christ,’ he whispers, hand resting on your angled knee as he floats back down to your planet.

eddie clambers off of the bed with a grunt, wiping a hand over his sweaty face. reaching down to grab his previously discarded towel. it wasn’t the epitome of romance but he darent to leave his room, petrified that wayne had just heard that entire encounter.

he’s a gentleman, of course, running the towel over your thigh to clean his mess. offering you a tiny shrug as if to say sorry. rather suddenly he feels rather conscious of himself, refusing to look at you as his cheeks flame.

it’s ridiculous. he’d just been buried between your legs and yet now couldn’t even look you in the fucking eyes.

before he gets up again, your hand reaches out, curling around his t-shirt. ‘stop,’ using his shirt as leverage for you to sit up.

in one quick movement, you’re placing a tiny onto his lips. a reassurance he really shouldn’t have needed but he appreciates nonetheless.

‘don’t do that,’ you hush, millimetres from his face, the shadow of his broken blinds shine upon your cheek. it hurts him to know that someone would dare look at you and want to hurt you.

if it were possible, he’d take all of your pain and carry it with him instead.

‘okay..’ he nods, resisting the urge to apologise once again.

you giggle and it sounds like the heavens have opened, pulling his body on top of yours as his bed makes an almighty squeak. if wayne wasn’t already awake, he certainly would be now.

-

eddie doesn’t know where the fuck you are.

you hadn’t come back to the trailer after work last night and now you’re nowhere to be found. you were supposed to start half an hour ago but hadn’t turned up and now his heart is pounding, mind racing at the horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened.

at first, he’d thought maybe he said something wrong? he’d just thrown out the suggestion of going to get the rest of your things and moving them in here while you got back on your feet. he hadn’t meant to push you out, god no, that was the last thing he wanted.

maybe stupidly he had presumed you wanted your own space. whatever the hell was going on between you two was so fresh, he didn’t want to even chance fucking it up.

the guilt wracks his brain, tempted to drop everything to drive around this tiny town looking for you. he’s so stupid. should’ve just kept his mouth shut and enjoyed it while you were there.

he’s just about to tell james that he’s leaving when the door to the bar opens and a rough looking man comes through with you held tightly underneath his arm. your eyes avoiding his direction, staring at the floor as the mystery man ushers you towards the back, making himself comfortable at the bar.

eddie’s heart shatters into a million pieces, watching open mouthed as you disappear into the back.

judging by the look on james’ face, he recognises him, reluctantly pouring his beer as they engage in useless small talk.

‘thought i’d better sit in for her shift.. wouldn’t want her running off again,’ the man announces, beady eyes glaring right into his soul.

eddie knows who he is. he’d never seen him before but he could tell. they all had that sinister aura about them, like they could flip at any given moment. his dad was the same, walking on egg shells around him just in case he said the wrong thing or looked at him the wrong way.

you emerge from the staff room, still vehemently avoiding eye contact, a shell of the you he saw just yesterday. ‘hey.. you okay?’ eddie asks, but it falls flat as you walk off without so much as a look back towards him.

he can’t believe it, how you could be so different so quickly. as if the past few weeks you’d spent together had meant nothing. he can’t blame you. not really. it’s a cycle and he knows better than anyone that it takes a thousand attempts to actually break out of it.

his shoulders slump as he rushes out the back, refusing to look at that assholes face any longer. willing himself to get a grip and not jump over that bar to strangle the piece of shit right now.

a hand clamps down on his shoulder and for a brief moment he thinks he might be you until james clears his throat, shuffling on his feet behind him, ‘you can’t save her man,’ squeezing his shoulder firmly, ‘you think we haven’t tried?’

eddie sniffs, shrugging him off. he didn’t appreciate the patronising tone in which james was speaking to him.

because god knows, if he couldn’t save his mom, there’s no fucking chance he’s not saving you.

[bloatedandalone04]

The Lucky Ones - Part 2

➪the one where you and rick reunite after the events at the prison.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of digging around in the undead, guns, takes place in season 5

Word Count: 3k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Judith was crying again, and no matter what Tyreese did, she didn’t seem to want to stop. “C’mon, baby girl,” he huffed, bouncing her in his arms. 

You look over from your spot on a fallen tree, your fingers tangled in Lizzie’s messy hair. It was clear that Tyreese was having a hard time calming the baby down, and while it was a bit amusing, being quiet right now was a priority. “Hey,” you call out to him. “Want me to take her?” 

“Please,”

You laugh quietly and get up, squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder before making your way over to Tyreese. “Come here, sweet girl,” you coo when you take Judith from him. “Shh, you’re okay. You’re alright.”

Tyreese huffed again as he moved to sit next to the small fire you had started, confused at how you managed to get Judith to stop crying within just a few seconds. “I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, poking the fire with a stick. “You had kids before all this?” 

“No,” you answer, brushing Judith’s hair away from her forehead before taking the bottle from Mika. “I was a nurse. Spent a year looking after my mom before everything went to hell. She was like a kid in a way. I used to rely on her, then suddenly she relied on me. I had to feed her, bathe her, and dress her. Never thought that would’ve prepared me for something like this.”

Tyreese grunted, setting the stick aside and looking over at you. “You’re a natural,”

You smile at that, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You’d been one of the many people that have been taking care of Judith since she was born, but being one of the three to do it now was something else entirely. 

When the Governor tried taking control of the prison and caused what could only be described as a riot, you were left behind with Tyreese, Mika and Lizzie. The older sister actually ended up saving both you and Tyreese when you were backed into a corner, and when you tried to convince them to go find Rick, you were outvoted. You were outvoted by a couple of fucking kids. 

So you fled with them into the trees and had been walking through the forests ever since. You would give anything to be able to be with him right now, but instead you were left looking after his kid. You didn’t mind, but you just wished you knew whether he was okay and alive or not. 

Carol took your spot on the tree and began braiding Lizzie’s hair as you hummed softly to Judith. She was beginning to fall asleep in your arms, and soon enough, Carol, Lizzie and Mika were all sleeping while Tyreese took the first watch. “You want me to take her? So you can get some sleep?” 

“No, I got her,” you mumble and move to sit next to him. 

You sit in silence for a while, with Tyreese adding sticks to the fire every so often and you gently rocking Judith. Your mind drifted back to Rick and Carl and Maggie and Glenn. Were they okay? Were they alive?

The last thing you saw was Rick getting shot in the leg then everything went to shit. Guns went off and fires were started, and you lost sight of pretty much everyone besides Tyreese. You wanted to run out to Rick, to help him, but there were just too many people and too many walkers. You didn’t stand a chance. With everything in you, you were praying to anyone who might be listening that he is still alive, and that he’s looking for you.

Like how you’re looking for him. 

You stare at the fire as you trace random shapes onto Judith’s arm with your thumb, lost in your own head. “Everything happened so fast,” you murmur, catching Tyreese’s attention. “Just a few days ago we were all safe and together. Now we don’t even know if everyone’s still alive.”

“We just have to keep looking,” he said, and you knew he was trying to comfort you, but you felt hopeless right now. 

“I wanted to go back for him,” you confess. “When we were leaving. I was going to go back, but I couldn’t get to him. I couldn’t find him.”

Tyreese looked over at you in surprise. “None of us could get to him,” he assured you. “Rick is strong. He’s stronger than any of us. I know he made it out, him and Carl both.”

There was no way to be sure of that, but you appreciated his words nonetheless. “I remember when I first saw him at that store back in Atlanta. Glenn can tell you that I was in love with him the second I laid eyes on him. It felt like nothing else mattered, then he found his wife and son and I was sure nothing would happen between us.”

Tyreese let out a quiet laugh, leaning back on the log and taking off his hat. “Look at you now,” he teased. “That man is head over heels for you.”

That was true. 

Not long after you broke things off with Shane, Rick and Lori began having some issues. They split up long before she found out she was pregnant with Judith, and around her three month mark was when Rick finally allowed himself to begin something with you.

That something turned into an official relationship, and you’d been almost inseparable ever since. 

He told you to stay with Daryl and Carl when the Governor and his posse showed up, but then you got separated from both of them and wound up defending Tyreese in a different part of the prison yard. 

You smile at the memory of the first kiss you shared with Rick. Then your heart twisted a bit. You missed him so much. You missed everyone. 

“Feels like forever ago,” you whisper. “I hope they’re okay. I hope he’s okay.”

Tyreese gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’ll find each other. Right now you just need to focus on looking after his little girl and worry about the rest later,”

You knew he was right, so you gave him a tight smile and nod. 

-

“What do you think Y/n is doing right now?” Carl asked as he sat on the couch next to Rick. He dug through the stale cereal bag and gathered some in his palm, tossing them into his mouth afterwards. 

“I don’t know,” Rick answered, leaning forward on his knees as he tried to think of where to go from here. The couch was pressed against the door, a safety measure he deemed necessary since the lock had been broken off it. 

His face was sore and still a bit bruised, and the days he’s spent on this couch felt like a bit of a waste when he could be out there looking for his group. Looking for you. 

“Do you think she’s by herself?” Carl continued to ask him questions about you that Rick had no idea the answers to. He was losing hope as the days went on, though a very small part of him believed that you were out there somewhere, and that maybe you or someone else had managed to grab Judith on the way out of the prison yard. 

“I don’t know,” he answered his son’s question with a stern voice, trying to tell him to be quiet without actually saying the words. 

“Do you think she made it out?”

“I don’t know, Carl,” Rick nearly yelled, causing Carl to jump slightly. Rick lowered his voice and looked back at the floor once he saw the way Carl reacted to his outburst. “I don’t know what she’s doing, I don’t know who she’s with and I don’t know if she made it out. Just stop asking me questions that I don’t know the answers to, please.” 

Honestly, Rick couldn’t stand the thought of you not having made it out of the prison. He left you with Daryl and Carl, and now he was with Carl with no sign of you or Daryl, and he felt lost. 

Carl had told him that he and Daryl got separated, and how he saw you with Tyreese last, but that was all the information he had. He didn’t know where you went after that, and he didn’t know if you had managed to get out of the area you had been backed into. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Carl mumbled, setting the bag aside and leaning back against the couch. “I’m sure we’ll see her again, we just need to start looking.” 

“Yeah,” Rick agreed, spinning his wedding band around on his finger. He had no idea why he is still wearing it, him and Lori are very much done and over with and had been for a long time now, so why was he still wearing his ring? 

He looked down at the gold band, then without a second thought, he slid it off his finger and put it in his pocket, and thankfully Carl didn’t notice him doing that. He was still mourning his mom, and still getting used to you and Rick, the last thing needed was to see his dad move on completely from her. 

“Yeah,” Rick said again. “We’ll start looking for her. We’ll start looking for all of them.” 

He couldn’t lose you. He already lost so many people, and he was still recovering from watching the nicest man he had ever met get almost decapitated. He couldn’t lose you too. 

-

When Carol gestured for you to dig around inside the walker she just put down, you didn’t hesitate like you normally would. You didn’t get grossed out or feel nauseous. How could you?

Rick might be alive. 

Michonne and Carl were definitely alive, since you heard the piece of shit Terminus guy say he was going to kill them.

They’re alive. 

You blended right in, and when Carol blew up one of the tanks littered around Terminus, you and her were able to slip in amongst the walkers. Gunfire was heard all around as the large number of walkers made their way through the poorly protected walls of Terminus, and when you found yourself in a storage room, a feeling of rage took over you. 

There were countless things in there; teddy bears, weapons, jewelry, clothes, blankets, and anything else you could imagine a defenseless person would have. Carol found Daryl’s crossbow among the weapons, and you found Rick’s watch among the jewelry. These people were sick, taking things from people who were just trying to survive with what they have. 

You were livid as you and Carol slashed and shot your way through the crowds of walkers and Terminus people, and before long you were granted the one thing you’d be wishing for ever since you and Tyreese made it out of the prison. 

Rick, Daryl, Bob and Glenn let Maggie, Michonne, Carl, Sasha and three other people you had never seen before out of a train cart, then they were fleeing to the forest. 

You were frozen in shock, tears gathered along your water lines before Carol was pulling you with her as she took off after them. You were so relieved to see that mostly everyone had made it out, and that Rick, though he was a bit bloody, is okay. 

You stumbled alongside Carol as she followed the group, and when they stopped a good distance away, you could hear Rick’s deep voice as he declared that they were going back to finish the job. 

Stopping behind some bushes, you watched the group argue for a bit before Carol stepped away from the greenery and revealed herself. Almost instantly she was wrapped up in Daryl’s arms, and you watched the reunion with burning eyes as you revealed yourself as well.

Rick opened his mouth to say something to Carol, then his gaze flickered over to you and any words he was going to say died on his tongue. Your eyes glazed over again and you froze in your spot, and the last thing you heard was the relieved sigh Daryl let out as he took both you and Carol in, then you were wrapped up in Rick’s arms. 

His grip on you was the tightest it’s ever been, and you couldn’t breathe in the best way. You squeeze your eyes shut as you cling onto any part of him you can, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care that the group, as well as the three new people, were witnessing you sobbing against Rick’s chest. 

You spent days with Tyreese, Carol and the girls, and after what happened with Lizzie and Mika, you were beginning to lose the little amount of hope you had left. You were terrified that the people you called your family were dead or lost somewhere. 

But here they are. Beth was missing, and though you were scared to know what happened to her, you couldn’t deny just how happy and grateful you are that you were reunited with most of them. 

“Y/n,” Rick mumbled and you held onto him tighter. “I thought you were gone.”

It sounded like those words physically pained him to say, and you shake your head before burying your face against the side of his neck. “I’m here,” you cry, reaching up to grip his shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Rick pulled back and gently gripped your jaw, his eyes taking in your features as if he still couldn’t believe you were right there in front of him. “You got out,” he rasped, his thumb stroking your cheek with a barely-there pressure. 

You nod, tangling your hands in his damp hair. “With Tyreese, we found Carol a few days later,” you tell him then quickly add, “Well, she found us.”

Rick smiled at your words and it was the prettiest thing you’ve seen in weeks. “You got out,” he murmured, so quiet you barely heard it. 

You just nod again and push yourself upwards. Rick meets you halfway and kisses you multiple times, making you laugh against his mouth. “I got out,” you whisper and press a few kisses to his cheek and jaw, then you are wrapped up in his arms again.

Carl makes his way over to you just as Rick reluctantly lets you go and hugs Carol, and you smile down at your boyfriend’s son, who just wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you tight. “Hey, buddy,” you greet quietly, draping your arms over his shoulders as you glance back at Rick. 

“Hey,” Carl said back, looking up at you with relieved eyes and a look you’d never seen from him. “Missed you.”

Your lips part in a silent gasp, not used to hearing those kinds of words from him. You were sure he was still a bit upset that you were with his dad instead of his mom now, but were pleasantly proven wrong as he squeezed you one last time before stepping away. “I missed you,” you’re finally able to say as Rick comes back over and pulls you into his side. “And you.”

He grinned down at you and kissed the top of your head just as the red haired man speaks up, “You guys are the luckiest sons of bitches I’ve ever met,” 

You furrow your brows as Glenn laughs, wrapping his arm around Maggie’s waist. “We’re not lucky very often,”

“Yeah, well, both you and Rick here found your better halves,” the man said and adjusted the strap on his gun. “I’d say that’s pretty lucky. It’s a miracle we got out of that damn train, too.”

“That wasn’t luck,” Daryl grunted as he looked between you and Carol, and it was then when Rick clued in.

He tightened his hold on you as he asked, “That was you two, wasn’t it?”

You shrug while Carol lets out a rare, short lived laugh. “I couldn’t lose you again,” you mumble. “Not when I hadn’t even gotten you back yet.”

Rick falls silent at that, and he locks his jaw in the way that told you he’s holding back his emotions right now. He pulls you into his arms again and kisses the top of your head, muttering, “Thank you,” once he pulls away. 

“There’s something else,” Carol says, making everyone look over at her. “But I think we should show you rather than tell you.” 

And that was how you found yourself wrapped up in Glenn’s arms once Rick finally let you go after he saw that Judith was alive and being held by Tyreese. You return your best friend’s hug as you watch Rick cry quietly, taking Judith from the man who protected her with his life for as long as you’ve been separated. 

Maggie comes over to you and hugs you as well as Carl runs over to hug his sister, and the whole thing was like something straight out of a movie as you felt a warmth take over you.

You were back with your family. They were all alive. They were okay. 

The two men share a look as Rick realizes that he had Tyreese to thank for keeping Judith safe, then Sasha is hugging her brother with tears in her eyes. You pull away from Maggie as Rick hands Judith to Carl, then you are engulfed in his embrace. “Thank you,” his voice was raspy and his breathing was uneven, and you could tell he was on the verge of tears again as he held you tight. “I thought she was gone. I thought Judith was gone.”

You hugged him back, sniffling quietly. “We had to grab her quickly, we just took what we could before getting out of there,” 

Rick pulled away and kissed you, his hands reaching up to grip either side of your face. “I love you,” he mumbled, tangling his fingers in your hair as he kissed your forehead. “I love you so much. Thank you for keeping her safe, all of you.” He glances back at Carol and Tyreese, who just nod at him, then he is focused back on you. 

“I love you,” came your hushed reply, and you leaned in to rest your head against his shoulder, finally feeling safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

[elusivewildflower]

Never Leaving You Again | Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Summary: After getting into a car accident and being unconscious for several days, Reader wakes up to find their ex-boyfriend Colt in their hospital room. They haven't spoken since his own accident over a year ago and Reader isn't exactly thrilled to see him.

Warnings: Hospitals, mention of injuries, very angsty as reader was ghosted by Colt a year ago and now he's shown back up. Ends happily, though!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: As always, thanks to the Goose Groupies for the help with ideas and encouragement!! This is loosely based off of this idea that @hederasgarden reblogged the other day! I've still got another Colt fic that is nearly finished, as this idea was a nice surprise to take over my muse! I hope you all enjoy! Please like and reblog!

As you regain consciousness, the first thing you notice is the sound of rhythmic beeping. Your eyelids feel heavy and your mouth is drier than the Sahara Desert. It takes a few attempts of opening your eyes before you’re finally successful. When you do, you’re greeted by the sight of a tiled ceiling. A few moments later and you begin to become aware of the rest of your body. Your head is pounding, you have a sharp pain in your ribs every time you breathe, and you’re pretty certain one of your legs is broken. There’s other aches and pains radiating throughout your body, but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly where quite yet. 

You’ve deduced that you’re in the hospital. The sound of machines beeping, the familiar weight of an I.V. needle in your arm, and the harsh lighting made that easy to figure out. Now, you just needed to remember how you had gotten here. As you push yourself up into a sitting position, which causes your ribs to ache in protest, you let out a hiss of pain. Suddenly, you’re aware that you’re not in the room alone. 

“Oh thank God, you’re awake!” A cry of relief came from a voice that sounded all too familiar. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion at first, and then with anger. Sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair was none other than your ex, Colt Seavers. He certainly looked worse for wear. His short blond hair was all disheveled, he had bags under his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled. 

What the hell was he doing here?

You opened your mouth to ask that very question, but no sound came out. A hand rose to your throat as you realized you desperately needed something to drink. 

Sensing what you needed, Colt rushed to your bedside table to pour you a cup of water from the pitcher that sat there. Wordlessly, you accepted the drink and gulped it down in record time. Colt took the empty cup from you and sat it back down. 

“How are you feeling? Would you like more water? Do you remember anything?” Colt fired questions rapidly as he worried over you. 

He was acting as if everything was completely normal between you. As if he had never ghosted you over a year ago and broke your heart. It was bad enough that you were still trying to piece together what landed you in the hospital in the first place, but for him to be here too? You were beyond confused and you were livid. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Colt?” Your words didn’t hold as much menace in them as you felt, but you chalked that up to the fact that your voicebox felt strained.

Colt’s face fell drastically. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. His blue eyes darted back and forth as he tried to find his words. “I….I was your emergency contact.” He spoke softly, sounding deflated. 

You sat there in silence for a moment as that information sank in. Fuck, did you really forget to change that? You shook your head, just because he was your contact and he showed up doesn’t make everything alright. He nearly died over a year ago from a stunt gone wrong and he didn’t let you sit at his bedside, so why did he deserve to sit at yours? 

“You shouldn’t have come, Colt. You need to leave.” You finally broke the silence with your firm words. 

Somehow Colt’s face fell even further. You didn’t understand why he looked so devastated. Neither of you had spoken since his accident, and it wasn’t from lack of trying – at least on your part. He ignored every single phone call and text message you sent. After a while, you had to give up. It wasn’t healthy to continue begging a man to let you take care of him – to be there for him. 

Tears began to well up in Colt’s eyes as he looked away from you. He sniffled and chuckled ruefully before speaking. “I thought if you still had me as your contact, then that meant you would want me here…” 

Your mouth dropped open for a moment as you were at a loss for words. You stared at him in disbelief. “We haven’t spoken in over a year, Colt! You….you ghosted me!” Colt flinched as your voice raised, but you continued on. “You ignored me!” Your arms flailed around wildly as you shouted. “You shut me out!” By now, tears had welled up in your own eyes and were trailing down your cheeks. “Why would I want you here?!” 

Colt didn’t have a chance to respond as the volume of your voice must’ve alerted the nurses you were finally awake. Seconds later, one popped in with a concerned look. “Is everything alright in here?” 

You glanced between the nurse and Colt with a heavy sigh, but nodded. Colt remained silent and his gaze was now glued to the floor. Every so often you could hear him sniffle and his hand would raise to wipe at his nose. You tried your best to blink back your tears as the nurse came over to check your vitals. 

The air in the room was heavy and uncomfortable as the nurse asked you various questions about what you remembered. It started with your name, your birthday, where you worked, and ended with what you recalled from your accident. Thankfully, in the last ten minutes of arguing with Colt, the memory of the car crash had come back to you. What you didn’t realize, however, was that you had been unconscious for several days. The nurse took her time explaining to you the extent of your injuries and that you’d be staying in the hospital for at least a few more days. She refilled your cup with water and told you the doctor would be in to see you shortly before leaving. She shot one last glance towards Colt on her way out. 

Now, the two of you were alone again. After you reached over to grab your cup of water and take a few sips from it, your attention settled on Colt. God, he really looked like shit. Even more so now that his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He still refused to look up from the tiled floor, but you could see the tears that continued to fall down his face. You let out another heavy sigh, ignoring the sharp pain in your ribs. He was crying because of you. While a part of you rejoiced to know that he felt at least a fraction of the hurt you felt when he left you, the other part of you ached with regret. 

You set your cup back on the bedside table. “Have you been here the whole time?” You asked softly.

Colt finally lifted his gaze to meet yours and nodded. “I came as soon as I got the call.” He then chuckled wetly as he brushed away a few tears and sniffled. “I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

The ache in your heart only worsened at his admission and tears were blurring your vision. But there was still one nagging question you had to ask. “Why didn’t you let me be there for you?” 

Now it was Colt’s turn to sigh heavily. His hands rubbed up and down his thighs as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I…was embarrassed and felt like a failure.” His eyes refused to meet yours as he continued. “I nearly killed myself in front of you and the whole crew because I made a miscalculation– which turns out, wasn’t a miscalculation at all.” His words confused you, but he didn’t leave any time for you to speak. “But, at the time I thought I had screwed up. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of the….serious stuff.” 

All you could do was shake your head as Colt rambled on. “You know, the surgeries, the rehab, the…bathroom stuff.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “After a while, I realized my mistake. But I thought it was too late….That you had probably moved on.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “When I got that call…” He trailed off for a moment, wiping away fresh tears that had fallen down his cheeks. “I finally knew how you felt that day and I am so sorry for shutting you out.” Colt finally let his baby blues meet yours as he apologized. 

“I thought that if I was your emergency contact, that maybe I hadn’t missed my chance.” His eyes fell from yours once more as he shook his head solemnly. “I see now that I was wrong…” Colt pushed himself up from his seat and heaved a sigh, glancing towards the door before speaking once more. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m still in love with you.” 

As you watched him walk towards the door, your heart felt as if it was breaking into two all over again. You knew deep down that you couldn’t let him leave. “Colt, wait–.” 

He halted in his tracks and looked at you expectantly. You could see it written all over his face – the hope that you would tell him what he desperately wanted to hear. 

More tears cascaded down your cheeks and your lips trembled as you drew in a shaky breath. “I’m still in love with you too.” You admitted softly.

A beaming smile spread across Colt’s face as he laughed with relief. He was happier than you had seen him in a very long time. In mere seconds he crossed the room and crashed his lips against yours. His large, calloused, hand reached for your jaw and held you in place. He didn’t want you pulling away from him any time soon, but you had no plans of doing that anyway. One of your hands threaded through his messy hair as you passionately devoured each other. His thick beard scratched across your skin, but you loved every second of it. Your heart rate was increasing by the minute, the rhythmic beeping kicking up in tempo, but neither of you cared. It had been far too long since your last kiss. When you absolutely had to pull away for air, there was hardly a gap between you. Your breaths mingled and noses nuzzled against each other gently. 

After a moment of having full oxygen in your brain again, your confusion from earlier returned. Your brows furrowed as you posed your question. “What did you mean by your accident wasn’t a miscalculation?” 

Colt chuckled softly, planting another kiss on your lips. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.” 

This time, you couldn’t help but laugh too. “Mm, eighteen months is a long time to be apart.” Your mind is briefly filled with all of the things you would have to catch him up on. For the first time in a long time, you feel giddy.

“And I’m never leaving you again.” He murmured confidently, the tears in his blue eyes finally drying up as a light now shined within them.

You captured his lips in a tender kiss and he responded eagerly. It wasn’t long before his tongue was licking into your mouth and exploring every inch that he had missed in your time apart. You knew there was much for you to discuss, and you had a lengthy road to recovery, but there was no one else in the world you’d rather be with than Colt.

The two of you would figure it out – and that gave you hope for the first time in over a year.

[jelliedink]

Little Revenge

Warnings: smut, cheating!, pet names, older man/younger woman, boss/employee, power dynamic Picture is not mine. Divider by @thecutestgrotto

“You’ve fucked your wife thinking about me before, haven’t you?”

Your boss, with whom you’ve been chatting for the past hour, nearly choked on his drink.

“Excuse me, but where did that come from?”

It wasn’t the smoothest delivery, but you just couldn’t think of a better way of introducing the topic and you were afraid of losing the courage to do so. You’ve been babysitting his daughters sporadically for almost 2 years now, as you did with many other children in your university campus’ neighborhood. Everything was fine until about 8 months ago, when his work schedule became flexible enough to allow him to always spend some time in the house most of the days you were there. Before this you dealt almost exclusively with his wife, meeting her at the start and the end of every shift. Since this change, though, Ian was the one you spoke the most to.

At first, you didn’t mind it. It was quite nice, actually. Ian was reliable, pleasant and seemed to genuinely care for you. When with you he was always trying to lift the mood, asking about how things were going in your life and offering advice. 

But then he seemed way too interested in you, and his wife, previously sweet and warm towards you, became increasingly harsher and nitpicky.

“I have a theory for what the real reason why Mrs Allen fired me is. When you started staying at home I didn’t think too much of it, but it became difficult to believe you were just being hospitable as you gradually increased the frequency in which you inquired me about my love life and found excuses to touch me in ways that would make your wife fire me on the spot if she saw.”

Ian’s charming face changed its expression from its typical amicable neutrality to a condescending look.

“Darling, I think we have a great misunderstanding here.”

Your heart started beating faster, the voice in your head that said you got it all wrong getting louder by the minute. But now there was nowhere to go but forward.

“Mr Allen, I’m not mad at you. I’m actually kind of flattered, you know? To have an attractive and successful man such as yourself look at me in that way. I’m mad because I can’t get other jobs in the neighborhood because, as told by some of the other nannies, Mrs Allen has been warning all the mothers about her shameless babysitter that appears to be trying to sleep with her husband.”

His face didn’t change.

“I’m sincerely sorry about that, and rest assured you’ll be compensated for the trouble my wife’s actions brought you, but I still can’t see how that led you to such an unusual question.”

“Are you really not going to drop the act?” His insistent denial made you so nervous you felt almost dizzy. What if you were making a fool of yourself? “That’s a shame, really, because I was looking forward to letting you know how the real thing feels.”

Upon hearing this last statement, Ian confusion and disbelief flashed through his face, breaking the mask for a moment. Then his eyes filled with amusement as he answered you.

“My dear, aren’t you something?”

He got up from where he was sitting to get closer to you, squatting down in front of your seat in order to bring his face to your level. His initial defensiveness seemed to almost disappear, curiosity replacing it as he questioned you, eyebrows raised: 

“Aren’t you afraid of the consequences in case you turn out to be incorrect?”

You were. But you also knew your reputation was already unsalvageable, so you didn’t see how it could get any worse.

“It’s not like anyone is going to believe me, so I have nothing to lose anymore, I thought I might as well try and get something positive out of this whole situation.”

He let out a hum of acknowledgement and stayed silent for a while, his eyes fixed on you while trying to decide if you were telling the truth or if it was some sort of elaborate joke. Seeing that he was not yet fully convinced, you decided to face his gaze and say something you thought would help him make a favorable decision.

“You know, I’ve only been with guys my age before and it has been really disappointing. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly hoping for you to show me what a real man feels like.”

Ian let out a loud, amused laugh at your flirting attempt. His lips were still curled when his hands touched your chin.

“And to think I’ve been chastising myself for feeling attracted to the young, innocent little thing I thought you were.” He let out a series of “tsk”, feigning disappointment at you. “I feel tempted to take up your offer, missy, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll do exactly as I say and, once we start, I’m not going to stop. So, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” You nodded almost immediately. “But I have a condition of my own, too.

His eyes filled with curiosity.

“Oh, do you, kitten? And what is it?”

“Fuck me in the master bedroom. I want to have the satisfaction of knowing your wife will be sleeping in the same bed you fucked me in.”

Your request caught him by surprise, making him look at you with a mix of disbelief and delight. 

“My, my, how did such a petty little devil make her way into my peaceful home? Alright, I can do that for you.” He closed the distance between your faces in a kiss, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and the other behind your knees. “Up we go.”

You hid your face in the crook of his neck while he carried you, unsure of what to do next, until he laid you on the bed.

“Here we are, sweetheart. I must admit, I thought you were smarter than this.” The condescending tone came back while he gently stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. “Lucky me.”

He didn’t give you time to fully understand what he said before he kissed you firmly. It didn’t take long until you were straddling him, his hands traveling through your body, eventually finding their way under your dress. For a moment it felt like he was looking for something on your bare skin, until he broke the string of kisses and looked at you with a grin.

“Of course you’re not wearing underwear.”

“In case you needed more convincing.” You answered, suddenly self-conscious of that decision.

“So you were that determined to be my little whore today? What a naughty kitten we have here.”

He immediately started kissing down your neck while you clumsily palmed his abdomen through the polo shirt he was wearing. He took it off right after helping you get out of your dress, and then leaned back for a moment to admire your naked figure with hunger in his eyes.

“Oh, pretty, you look just right.” His hands ran through your upper body, eventually fondling your breasts. “The perfect little toy.”

His mouth joined your body once again, leaving kisses all around your collarbone and chest while your hands tugged lightly at his hair. You moved your hips, trying to find the perfect spot to grind on top of his clothed cock, and you felt him smile when he noticed what you were doing.

“So desperate, grinding on me like you were in heat. Let me see how needy you are.”

One of his hands traveled to your pussy, and he groaned the moment he felt how wet you were. Then he started alternating between slowly rubbing your clit and moving his fingers through the whole length of your cunt, parting your lips and teasing to enter you, only to slide back again. The whole time his eyes were glued on your face, watching your expressions change as he toyed with you. You were way too turned on to feel shy at his gaze.

“Ian, just fuck me already.”

“Of course you do, kitten. But first you’re going to put on a little show for me, ok?” He took his now soaked fingers back to your entrance. “Daddy’s going to curl his fingers up and you’re going to fuck yourself in them.”

“Haven’t you teased me enough already?” you whined, frustrated.

“Princess, you were the one who asked me to show you what it's like to be with a real man. You thought I’d just pound my dick into you mindlessly like the guys your age?” He brought his torso near you and nuzzled his face on your neck, speaking into your ears. “No, pretty. We’re going to be here for a while.” 

Then he leaned back again, curling his fingers as he said he would.

“Now be the good, obedient girl I know you are and fuck yourself on my hand, ok? Don’t make me ask again.”

You obeyed, placing your hands on his shoulders to support yourself while your hips moved up and down, his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt with ease from how slippery you were. 

“Ian…” You started, after a while, panting and almost breathless. “Please, I  need to ride you.”

“‘Need’ is a strong word, kitten. I’m having so much fun watching you act like a horny pet for me.”

“Please.”

“Shhhh…” He shushed you, stuffing your mouth with the same fingers you were riding. “You’re talking way too much for a pet. Be a good kitten and lick my hand clean.”

You sucked and licked all of your slick off his fingers, not breaking eye contact. When you finished he connected your lips again, this time with a kiss that seemed like he wanted to devour you.

“Such a tasty pussy. I’d eat it for hours if you weren’t so needy. Lay on your back for me.”

As you did so he finished undressing himself, hovering on top of you immediately after, one of his hands caressing your tights and propping you to lift it up to his waist.

“Since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll give you what you want this time.” You let out a loud, obscene moan at the feeling of the head of his dick running across your cunt. “I’m going to fuck your pussy now, ok?” 

“Mhmmm.”

He forced all of his dick into you at once, groaning a low “fuck” when he bottomed out. His dick was not that long but the girth felt good. You dug your nails in his back as he started moving his hips, skillfully rolling them towards you while kissing you once more.

“If I knew that little warm cunt felt this good I’d have taken you sooner.” He muttered at your mouth, along with a string of swear words you never thought you would hear from his mouth. “God, listen how fucking wet you are.”

You couldn’t say anything at first, his rhythm leaving you breathless and unable to make any other noise other than pants and moans. But when your cunt adjusted to his size, you started pleading for him to go deeper.

When he heard you, he stopped for a moment to grab a pillow and place it under your lower back, wasting no time sliding back in when you found a good position. 

“Better now?”

“Fucking yes.”

It felt better for him too, and it didn’t take too long before his pace started to get frantic. Then you placed one of your hands on your clit and started rubbing it, moaning even louder at the added stimulation. He moved his lips to your ears and started praising you when he noticed this, saying how pretty you looked stuffed with him, how cute your moans were, how perfect your pussy felt. You felt your orgasm approaching even quicker. 

After you came your arms went limp, barely holding Ian as he came inside you. He then kissed you one last time before falling by your side, both of you catching their breaths. His arms pulled you closer to him, and you laid your head on his chest until he decided to break the silence.

“You are a diamond. You did so, so well”

“The best fuck you’ve had in months?”

He laughed loudly before giving you a peck in the forehead and answering your question.

“You truly are a little devil, aren’t you? But how do you feel?”

“Great. A little ashamed, to be honest, but great.”

He gave your forehead another peck.

“Don’t worry about it, my darling. That was also not my wisest decision, but I enjoyed it very much.”

You hummed and snuggled in his chest even more, unsure on what to do next. Thankfully, it felt like he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

“Here’s what is going to happen now: we’ll take a bath and eat because no man in their right mind would send a woman home like this. Then, you’ll get to decide  if you want to go home after accomplishing your little revenge or if you prefer to spend the weekend with me in the lake house and not have to worry about your bills for a very long time.”

You looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Are you trying to buy me?”

“I’m willing to pay very well for it. But you don’t have to answer me now.”

He started getting out of the bed to prepare a bath, and once it was ready he came back to the room to take you there. When he took you in his arms again you materialized a thought that had appeared.

“I know it sounds silly now, but even though I’m tempted to spend the weekend with you, we’d have to stop by my house for me to get some clothes.”

Hearing this his mouth opened in the most mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry about it, kitten. My wife has a whole closet there for me to fuck you in.”

[bullet-prooflove]

A Fucking Saint: Mikey Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @savemeaimeemann @mckinleysbones @kmc1989

Companion piece to:

Mess - Mikey tries to prove to you both he made the right decision by leaving.

The Diagnosis - Mikey recieves an explaination regarding his behaviour and addiction issues.

Save It (NSFW) - Mikey shows you how sorry he is for all the shit he's put you through over the years.

It’s four months after the break up that Mikey finds himself sitting on the sidewalk across from your house. He has a black eye from the fight he got into a couple of days ago and a bottle of beer in his hand as he stares at the warm glow that emanates from behind the closed blinds, blocking him out. He could just walk right up to the door, rap his knuckles on it and you’d let him in, he knows you would but that’s the problem.

It's too easy to fall into that pattern, it’s too easy to hurt you again.

He's tried to keep his distance since last month but he finds himself coming back the same way he always does, like some fucked up feral cat. He’s tried to forget you, he’s gotten high, gotten drunk, gotten fucked but nothing seems to help because his heart wants what it wants and that’s you.

He doesn’t realise Richie’s found him, not until the other man drops down on the sidewalk beside him, their shoulders bumping. He’d cut out of their drinking session early because he couldn’t get the thought of you out of his head. He’s been talking about you a lot lately, how good you, how pure you are. You were a fucking saint to put up with him as long as you did, you’re still fucking are.

“It’s bookclub night.” He finds himself saying as he takes a sip from his beer. “They go around to each other’s houses, discuss the book for about fifteen minutes before the wine kicks in and things get a little wild.”

His version of wild is setting fire to his neighbour’s car because he let his dog shit on the lawn. Yours is dancing on a table in the bar the two of you used to drink in. It’s just another reason the two of you don’t work, Mikey, he escalates things, you’re the opposite. You’re always a soothing presence, a calming balm to his ignition point.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Richie says, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he stares at the house. “It’s not fair to you or to her…”

“I know.” Mikey says gruffly as he takes another slug from his beer. “I just can’t seem to help myself. It’s like I do all this crazy shit and then I get this moment, this moment of perfect clarity and all I want is to be with her again, to curl up in her arms and it tears me up inside because I can’t do that anymore, I can’t do that to her again…”

He’s crying now and he doesn’t know where these tears are coming from because Mikey, he doesn’t do this, he doesn’t express this type of emotion. He roars and he rages and he throws shit about, he doesn’t break no matter how close he feels to the edge. He never breaks.

Richie’s arm comes to rest around his shoulders, squeezing tightly and Mikey wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, the shame starting to filter through his system.

“I’m a fucking mess.” He says to his friend. “I’m no good for anyone.”

“That’s not true.” Richie tells him but Mikey’s not listening, he’s taking out another pill from the bottle that’s almost a permanent fixture on his coat pocket. He places it on his tongue and chases it with a sip of beer.

Richie sighs because for a moment he thought there may be a possibility of getting through to Mikey but that windows gone and now he needs to get his friend out of here before he does something he regrets.

“Come on Mikey.” He says helping the other man to his feet.

The oxy is already starting to kick in, Mikey’s eyes are glazing over, his movements sluggish. He manages to get him squared away in the car, the seat belt in place before the door to your house opens and you step out onto the porch, a hardback book tucked under your arm as you lock the door behind you.

“She’s fucking beautiful isn’t she?” Mikey says his forehead coming to rest upon the glass as he watches you with half lidded eyes. “Best thing that ever happened to me and I fucked it up.”

Richie doesn’t say anything because Mikey’s right, he did fuck it up and he’s going to keep fucking it up.

Love Mikey? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[callmerainman]

Never Again | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 3

plot. You and Adam ended up sleeping together. Despite you two swearing that you would never have sex with each other, here you are in the same bed, incredulous. Shit like this happens, but you and Adam agree on never doing it again. Right?

word count. 2.2 k

tags. enemies to lovers, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, making out, swearing, implied rough sex, Adam being nice, friends with benefits, Reader is a Royal Guard, Reader has wings

warnings! this fic is meant for adults, sex is not described in deep detail but mentions are heavy. please minors DNI!

"Fffuck" he says.

“Yeah, fuck”

So, you and Adam, the First Man you swore to guard to protect the Hotel, had sex.

You tighten a hand around the white sheets, pulled up to cover your bare chest. Your mouth is pressed in a straight line and your eyes are wide open, unable to blink. Black and (f/c) feathers are scattered all over the mattress, along with various articles of clothing. For a split second you look up and see that your bra landed high up on a chandelier in the middle of the room. A couple of pillows caught fire and were currently still smoking. Adam is laying on his back next to you, with the very same incredulous expression on his face. One hand is resting on his stomach, the other is outstretched over his head. A bare and hairy leg peeks out from under the covers. And the bed collapsed, by the way. It’s hard to decide where to look at, so you opt for the ceiling. Your cheeks still feel hot, your whole body too, it’s like you’ll never cool down. Even if it was exhausting. Perhaps the most marathon-level sex you ever had. And messy. And also…

“Okay” Adam begins “I know we never got along on anything but can we agree that this was-“

“The best sex we ever had?” you interrupt.

“Exactly”

Words couldn’t form in your mouth even if your life depended on it, so you just nod frantically. The very fact that not even Adam was able to produce a sentence is astounding. Usually he had the opposite problem. So you two just lay here, completely naked. Minutes later, which felt like hours, Adam talks again.

“And it means a lot from me, I had sex for billions of years”

“I like you more when you shut the fuck up”

“Okay got it”

You take some more minutes to recollect yourselves, your minds still foggy from the afterglow and dizzy. Your mouth, which was busy with Adam’s not so long ago, is painfully dry. You definitely need to rehydrate. You hear the sound of covers rustling, Adam finally moved. He rolls on his side, propping his head up with a bended arm. He’s trying so hard to look nonchalant.

“Just so you know, this was a one time thing, right? I still can’t stand the fuck out of your attitude”.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. You twist on your side too, facing the First Man. Still holding the covers up to not let him have another glimpse of your chest, with which he had his fun, you reciprocate his gaze.

“Of course, the fuck did you expect?”

Adam snorts, looking away “Nothing at all, things like this happen all the time. We just got a little carried away”

“Another thing we agree on, I guess…”

You both roll back to face the ceiling, your breaths steady and eyes closed. A crackling sound makes its ways to your ears, and you’re reminded that pillows are still burning. You drag a hand down your exhausted face.

“We need to ask Alastor for a new bed”

Adam shrugs. He sits up on the border of the bed, giving you his winged back. Your stomach drops a little when you notice the long scratches trailing down his bare skin, exactly in the valley between the base of his ebony wings.

“I’ll come up with something, it’s better if the others don’t know what happened here”

You nod in agreement “It’s not like they heard us, right? We’ve been discreet”

Downstairs, everybody absolutely heard everything. Every bedspring creaking, every bang of the headboard against the wall, every scream, exclamation, degrading nickname you both screamed to each other. The moment Alastor heard the first, undeniable sound of a wild intercourse, he stood up and bid everybody goodbye to pay a visit to Rosie in Cannibal Town. Husk chugged down two entire bottles of vodka to try to forget what he was hearing. He also had to hand Angel Dust money. Vaggie kept her hand on Nifty’s ears the whole time, maybe the only one who didn’t understand what was going on in Adam’s bedroom and that’s for the better. Charlie just stared at the floor wide eyed, her mouth morphed in an expression of pure uneasiness. Although she also lost the bet against Angel, Cherri tried to distract herself by bumping some music in her headphones to muffle the obscene sounds. Speaking of Angel Dust, he’s now sitting on the couch, his long legs crossed, merrily counting a plump stack of bills.

“Nah, I don’t think so” Adam brushes it off.

He scratches his messy hair, right between his horns. Then, he hunches forward to pick up his boxers from the floor. As he slides them on, you reach for a glass of water left on his nightstand.

“So, it was nice while it lasted, but never again” Adam says.

“Never again” you convene.

That night, you can’t sleep. It’s not the first time Adam hinders your relax, but this is unbearable. You keep rolling left and right on your bed, eyes squeezed shut but your mind still very much active and able to recreate every image your retinas registered that morning. Adam all over you, his wings twitching with every thrust, his voice raspy in your ears, your sweaty bodies brushing skin to skin. Then Adam under you, holding you by the hips with his hands, helplessly grinding against you. And his kisses, his oh-so-skilled fingers because he was a guitarist after all, and the names you called each other, your wings intertwined. You buried your face in your pillow and screamed in agony. You can’t do this. As if your body just gained free will, you get up. You only have a shirt and panties on, but for what you’re about do you decide to leave it that way. You turn the lights in your room on and check yourself quickly in the mirror, brushing your messy hair with your fingers just to be more presentable. Then you take a deep breath, and you rush towards the door. The moment you open it, someone is already on the other side.

Adam.

Eyes wide open in surprise, and his hand extended as if he was about to knock on your door. Your jaw is almost touching the floor right now, and you and Adam stand there for a couple of seconds just staring at each other. You break the silence.

“Were you thinking what I was thinking?” you ask.

“Yes” he blurts out, almost desperately.

In the matter of a second, your mouths are already interlocked again, light moans of satisfaction escaping from both of your lips. You feel Adam’s hands going down the back of your thighs, and you immediately oblige on what he’s suggesting. You jump and intertwine your legs around his waist, as he holds you up with his arms under your thighs. This time it’s Adam who kicks the door shut.

—

To set things straight, Alastor had to replace two beds. The second time unfolded exactly like the first one, with you and Adam promising that it would never happen again even if this is the best sex you both ever experienced. Becoming friends, or better, enemies with benefits wasn’t recommendable. You feared that Lucifer might not take you seriously ever again, and that would shatter you since you look up to him so much. And Adam didn’t want to admit that he was getting himself comfortable in the Hotel.

You fucked again obviously. A lot.

Adam started to question whether your hotel room was enchanted with some sort of sorcery to draw him towards it every night. Honestly you wondered the same about Adam’s room. Especially when you started finding yourself in his bed once, maybe twice a day. The situation is definitely out of control. So much that you and Adam stopped trying to rationalize it, and just came to terms with it. When you met Adam for the first time, not in a billion years you would have thought that things would go this way. He was insufferable, arrogant, a total dickhead. Still kinda is. But Adam’s also your…fuckbuddy? Plaything? Thing? The lines are blurred.

However, you’re good with it and that’s what matters. You don’t care about labels, especially not with someone like him. Who knows what stunts he could pull, you still don’t trust him completely. Something else that matters is that sex with him is astronomically good, but you make sure not to praise Adam too much to prevent boosting his already titanic ego. But Adam knows you like it. It’s in the way you cling to his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your hand tugging his hair in the gap between his horns, your mouth full of sounds of pleasure and his name repeated like a chant. But you managed, more than often, to also turn things around. When it came to sex, Adam was surprisingly able to pipe his ego down a bit to let you just take control, pushing him down and doing all the rest. And in a snap of fingers he was the one hopelessly repeating your name. It was hard for him to restrain himself from dirty talking you, not that you wanted him. You couldn’t judge Adam because you did the same. The rule about no derogatory names was utterly thrown in the air along with any kind of rationality left in you. You liked telling him how much of a fucking asshole he was as you straddled his lap, “I hate you”’s were also a regular between you and Adam when you were close to each other’s faces as you pulled his horns. All of this, to you, feels as if you really just discovered now what sex is, despite all your past experiences.

At first, aftercare wasn’t really a thing. You or Adam, depending on where you were fucking, would just get up and go to bed in your respective rooms. You had nothing else to share after reaching your all time high. You believed that it was the way it ought to be, it’s not like he was your boyfriend or something. Then, one time, you stayed.

—

A bead of sweat running down his temple, Adam rhythmically breaths in and out. That was back-breaking. Awesome as always though. You, on the other hand, are lying down on your stomach, your wings peeping out the sheets. A relaxed smile extended on your face, you close your eyes with your chin resting on your crossed arms.

“Shit, you almost ignited my fuckin’ nuts, fire tits” Adam slurs, his breathing still irregular.

You open one eye, looking at him “You hot?”

“As always” he says with a shit-eating grin, but goes “OW” as soon as you punch his shoulder.

“I mean, duh? We’re in fucking Hell, Heaven was a bit cooler. In every sense” he adds.

“Mh, you’ll get used to it. To be honest, I find your room too chilly”.

Adam pulls himself up in a sitting position, and turns his head to look at you. Your face still plunged in your arms, he could only see your hair spread all over your naked back. But the spots of visible skin were all punctuated in goosebumps, your wings slightly puffed up. He bit the inside of his right cheek.

“You cold?” he asks, unsure.

“As always” you chuckle, mocking him.

Adam rolls his eyes. Then, you hear the familiar sound of sheets moving under Adam’s body, and the mattress bouncing a little meaning that he just got up.

“Take this”

You feel something land on your back, your eyes springing open. You roll around, sheets sliding down from your chest. You notice something stuck hanging on the tip of your left wing, a t-shirt. You take it in your hands, a bit startled. Was Adam being nice?

“Uh…thanks” you say.

Adam mumbles a “Whatever” before getting back to bed.

You pull the shirt down your naked torso, and you check the print on it. A genuine smile forms on your lips.

“You like Limp Bizkit?"

Adam almost chokes on the milkshake he was slurping. He always had one on his nightstand for after sex, his equivalent to a cigarette. He turns around and looks at you with a spontaneous grin of his own.

“You know Limp Bizkit?!” he exclaims.

“Uh, what if I said that Fred Durst signed my tits at Woodstock?” you reply confidently.

Adam’s hands fly up to his head, plunging them in his hair “There’s no way! You’re so fuckin’ lucky! Man I wish Fred Durst signed my tits-no wait a sec”

“One of the best days of my life” you sigh “I miss concerts”.

“Ugh, what would I give to see a human concert. Earth is a shitty dump truck but holy fuck if they have the best music. But not a single artist ends up in Heaven”

You chuckle “I didn’t expect you to be into music this much"

“You literally asked me about my band and you saw my electric guitar getting fixed a thousand times!”

“I thought that was just an act to pick up chicks”

“Not an act but yeah that’s also a reason”

After rolling your eyes in annoyance, you find yourself asking him which other bands he also liked. And, to your surprise, you and Adam had the exact same taste. He excitingly asks you about the concerts you’ve been to, and you tell him all your crazy stories about festivals and concerts. None of you leaves tonight. Adam lies in bed next to you, daydreaming about music, rock or metal. You two scoot closer and closer, your wings touching, chatting and blabbering about everything, not only music, with permanent grins that hurt your cheeks. None of you can help it. And Adam ends up holding you in his arms, french kissing you but lazily and gently, until you two fall asleep. It felt good.

Adam, felt good.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author's Note: Hello hello and welcome to the first installment of my holiday fics! Up first, I had some requests for sub Jake, breeding kink, and one incredible ask talking about how we should appreciate Jake's ass more (I wholeheartedly agree) Thank you for reading and if you see any typos... no you didn't.

Word Count: 3940

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, sub!Jake, dom!reader, cussing, gratuitous use of the word ass, orgasm denial, dry humping, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink (stay safe out there folks!) and a lil bit of fluffy domestic Jake. I think that is all but as always please tell me if I missed something. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

It’s no secret that Jake has a lovely ass. And there’s really no other way to put it. And even worse, Jake knows that he’s got a great ass and loves to never let you forget it. And really, Jake only brags about it to you because he knows how much you love it. He’d caught you ogling early on in your relationship and he’d never let you live it down since. 

And if you’re being honest, you play into it plenty on your own. Any time he passes, you love to smack him if you can – sometimes hard, sometimes just enough for him to feel it without anyone else noticing. Jake has a body that makes your mouth water – the most delicious mixture of strong and soft, curves and hard lines of muscle. He’s a rare thing, really. And thus deserves to be appreciated as such. 

And so even though the two of you are hosting a lovely, wholesome family gathering at your house for Christmas, you still feel the need to let him know how sexy he is. 

You enter the kitchen to find him humming quietly under his breath, moving gracefully between the counter covered in ingredients and the stove. He’s got his hair tied up in a low, messy bun (your favorite) and has the apron that you bought him as a joke two years ago tied snugly around his waist. He looks positively delicious. 

“Smells wonderful.” You tell him, stepping fully into the kitchen. 

He glances up from his work, a sweet smile that crinkles in the corners of his eyes gracing his lips. 

“Thanks, babe.” He says, tilting his head as you come up to him. 

Smiling mischievously, you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him down, laying a searing kiss on his lips before pulling away with a smug smile. 

“Woah.” His eyes sparkle as he looks at you, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. “What was that for?” 

You shrug, grinning innocently at him. 

“Just doing what the apron told me to do.” 

Jake chuckles, glancing down to where Kiss the Cook is written in fancy red letters across his apron. 

“Fair enough.” He inclines his head, his attention diverting back to the stove. 

“And besides,” you begin, your hand sliding down from his shoulder to cup his ass and squeeze. “Your ass is looking extra lovely tonight.” 

“You say that every night.” He says, turning his body back around to face you fully. His hands find your waist and he walks you backwards until the small of your back presses into the counter. “I think you just like to tease me.” 

You shake your head, grinning up at him like the Cheshire Cat. You wish viciously that you didn’t have a group of guests waiting out in your living room so Jake could bend you over the counter and fuck you right here and now. 

“I just like giving appreciation where it's due, is all.” 

He hums, leaning down to seal his lips over yours again. You can’t tell if it's him, the heat from the stove, or both, but you feel like your body is on fire. A breathy little moan escapes you as his tongue slides between your lips and his grip on your hips tighten.

“Jake.” You whine, a throb taking up residence between your thighs. “Don’t tease. We have company.” 

Jake only laughs, pressing a thigh between your legs and putting pressure on your throbbing cunt. Then, without warning, he lifts you, setting you down on the counter and pressing himself in closer to you.

“They’re not staying all night.” He murmurs, his lips hovering just over yours. “I wouldn’t let them. I still have to give you your gift later.”

Your brows raise slightly at his words, though you’re having a hard time focusing thanks to the feeling of him being so very close to where you want him. 

“We already exchanged gifts this morning.”  

His grin is downright feline as he regards you. 

“This one is special, though. I can’t give it to you until tonight…” he runs a calloused finger over your nipple, pinching it and rolling it so that it hardens, “once everyone is gone.”

You can feel the wetness pooling in your underwear. You hook your legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to you and moan as the rough fabric of his jeans brushes slightly against your clit. He’s got one hand on your hips, the other placed palm down on the counter as he leans over you – the very picture of a man who is about to get exactly what he wants. 

“Jake, I-”

“Really?!” 

You both startle and Jake’s eyes snap to the doorway like those of a child who’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Josh stands with his arms crossed, a disgusted, incredulous look on his face. 

“It is… definitely what it looks like.” Jake says with a shit eating grin, stepping back away from between your legs and straightening his apron. 

“In the kitchen? Where we make the food?” 

“Sorry, Josh.” You say, hopping down from the counter and strolling past him, squeezing his shoulder as you go. “Just couldn’t control myself.”

Jake chuckles, turning back to the stove to stir something. 

“She can’t resist, Josh. It’s really not her fault.”

Josh meets his words with an affronted look and a gagging sound before following you back out into the living room with the rest of the guests. 

“You both are gross.” He grumbles, shuddering a bit at the grin on Jake’s face and the flush to your cheeks. 

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

It feels like time moves at a glacial pace. Dinner had been fantastic – you’re convinced that Jake was a chef in another life, but you were more than happy when your guests finally began to leave. You and Jake watch them go, thanking each of them for coming and wishing them a merry Christmas. As impatient as you had been all night, it was still nice to have everyone together – a rare and difficult feat these days given how crazy everyone’s schedules are. And everyone being free tonight had been nothing short of a Christmas miracle. 

As you stand in the doorway waving as the last car pulls out of your driveway, like a cat, Jake stalks up behind you quietly and leans down, pressing his lips just above your ear. 

“Can I give you your gift now?” 

You startle only slightly before you spin around to be met with Jake’s dark eyes staring at you. 

“I’ve been waiting for hours.” You whine, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed for how needy you sound. 

Jake smiles widely, his white teeth glittering. 

“And I’m going to make you wait just a few more minutes.” 

You open your mouth to protest but Jake silences you with a look – that same domineering look that he always gives you in the bedroom. Your mouth snaps shut and he smiles appreciatively. 

“I’m going to go upstairs and get ready and you’re gonna wait down here until I text you to come up.” He raises a brow at you, silently demanding whether you understand. You nod once, afraid that your voice will fail you. “And when you do come up, I want you in nothing but your bra and panties.” 

“Yes sir.” 

With that, he spins on his heel and ascends the stairs, leaving you a wet, shaking mess in his wake. With trembling fingers you pull off your shirt, thankful that the blinds had been drawn as the guests began to filter out. The fire in the fireplace crackles as you step out of your skirt, leaving you in only your undergarments just as he had asked. With nothing else to do, you fold them and place them on the back of the sofa so that you can easily come and get them in the morning. (You have a feeling that Jake isn’t going to let you leave the bed for the rest of the night). 

Finally, your phone pings with a text from Jake. You don’t even bother reading it before scampering up the stairs, your heart pounding and your thighs sliding easily against each other thanks to your wetness. 

As you reach the top of the stairs, you can see the door to yours and Jake’s bedroom cracked ever so slightly. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you push it open to be met with the warm glow of the mini Christmas tree that you had made Jake put in here. The fragrant scent of cinnamon and sugar wafts through the air thanks to the candles that lay lit on just about every surface. 

And finally your eyes find Jake, completely bare and leaning back in the middle of the bed, his thighs spread and his cock already hard and leaking with precum. His smooth skin washed in warm light looks damn near edible. His eyes look almost black, half-lidded and watching you closely. He’s taken his hair down, letting it fall down to rest against his shoulders. With one hand wrapped around his cock and stroking lazily, he grins at you.

“Jake, what-?” You’re at a loss for words. Your mouth has gone dry and you’re sure that your eyes have widened like saucers. 

“Your gift.” He says, his voice smooth as velvet. “Me. However you want me.” You feel as though you might combust on the spot. “All the control. Tie me up,” his eyes cast upwards to the hook on the wall above the bed that is always reserved only for you, “make me beg, don’t let me cum. Whatever you want. Just for tonight.”

“Holy fuck, Jake.” You murmur, stepping closer to the bed  and practically drooling at the sight. “This is…” You can’t find the words. It’s everything. He is everything. 

“Come on, baby.” His voice beckons and your feet move seemingly without your knowledge of them until you’re standing right next to him. “Don’t know where to start?” He mocks, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip.

You really don’t. He’s always the one in control, always the one telling you what to do. And now here you are, suddenly with all the power resting in your hands. There’s so many choices you can’t even decide. 

Jake chuckles. 

“I finally give you what you want and you can’t even choose.” His voice is saccharine and his hand still works over himself slowly. “You weren’t shy earlier when you came and grabbed my ass where anyone could have walked in and seen.” He reminds you, and the words are like a switch deep within you and a wicked, filthy idea pops into your mind. 

“Stop talking.” You find yourself saying, your voice coming out far smoother than you were expecting. 

Jake’s eyebrow quirks up. 

“Oh?” 

“I said stop talking.”  This time the demand in your voice is clear and Jake’s jaw snaps shut. “And stop touching yourself.” Obediently, his hand falls limp at his side. His breathing picks up. 

Without a word and with fire between your legs, you crawl into the bed. Jake is the picture of delicious sin laying there prone and waiting for you. You glide a palm down his leg, stopping at his calf where you trace small circles into his skin. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” You ask softly, though you aren’t expecting a response. In fact, with the way Jake’s chest heaves and his cock twitches at your use of the word ‘pretty,’ you already know that you’ve found a nerve without him uttering a single syllable. “You are,” you continue, letting your eyes glide up his form – over his strong thighs, over the soft curve of his stomach, to his broad shoulders, his glossy hair, his beautiful face, “so, so pretty.” 

A soft whine escapes him and fuck it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. You want to get lost in him, to lick across every inch of his gloriously exposed skin and to make him whine like that a thousand more times. All things that you will do later. But for right now, the ache between your thighs has become unbearable and you need to find some sort of release before you can start in on him. And you have the perfect idea for it. 

“Lay on your belly, Jakey.” You murmur and you watch with lustful eyes as he complies immediately. 

You swear under your breath as he settles and your eyes land on that beautiful ass of his – so plump and round. You splay your palms out on each cheek, kneading into the thick flesh. Without warning, you lay a harsh smack against it and he cries out – the sound like music to your ears as you watch the way his ass jiggles from the strike. 

“You know how much I love this, don’t you?” You ask, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss on his right then his left cheek. 

Jake nods, a breathy little ‘yes’ hitting your ears, muffled slightly by the pillow. 

“It makes me so wet.” You admit, rising slightly and moving yourself upwards so that you’re straddling one cheek, pressing your clothed clit into the ample muscle. “I’ve always wanted to ride it. Imagined how good it would feel on my clit.” You experimentally rock your hips and your body shudders at the pleasure it renders. “You don’t cum yet, baby. Okay?”

“Okay.” His voice is broken – breathless and needy. 

You roll your hips, the friction positively delicious and you can’t help but to cry out. You keep it slow, just enjoying the feeling. It’s better than you could have imagined – and far better than any pillow that you’d done this to in the past. With each drag, Jake moans beneath you and the sound drives you wild. 

You lean forward and place both of your hands on his lower back, digging your fingers into the flesh and using the leverage to grind your hips harder against him. You begin to bounce, abandoning any thoughts other than the release that you’ve been aching for since your run in with Jake in the kitchen all those hours ago.

With each roll of your cunt against his ass, Jake’s hips press down into the mattress making his cock rut into the mattress each time. He’s a whining mess beneath you, the friction enough to get him to the edge but not nearly enough for him to cum yet. Just enough to drive him mad beneath you. 

"Fuck." Jake mumbles, his lower back arching downwards and his ass pushing up into you more. As much as you're enjoying this, he seems to be enjoying it, too.

You slow yourself down again, sensually undulating your hips and exhaling shakily.

"You feel so good, Jake." You praise, keeping that slow pace of your hips. Jake's only answer is to moan beneath you and you can't help but to imagine doing this again. And fuck, you know that you're never going to be able to even think about his ass without growing wet... let alone admire it with your eyes.

Spurred on by the thoughts of how sexy you find this position and by the way Jake is whining and wriggling beneath you, you begin to pick up your pace. You know that you're not going to last. You can't hold it off any longer. You need it.

With yet another slap to his ample backside, you roll your hips faster, that low burning in your belly morphing into fire as your orgasm finally hits you. You toss your head back and cry out as the waves crash through you. You keep moving your hips against him, drawing out your release as long as it can go. Finally, when your body begins to shiver with overstimulation, you fall off him. 

“Y/n.” Jake whines, rutting his hips harder into the bed.

“Don’t.” You warn, stilling him with a heavy hand on his lower back. “Roll over.” He does, and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen his cock so hard before. You press a hand to each of his knees and spread them wider, giving you plenty of space to settle between them. “What’s got you so worked up, baby?” You tease, eyeing him like a piece of candy. 

“You.” His voice cracks on the word and he clears his throat. “Hearing you.” 

“Aww.” You say sweetly, pinching the top of his cock between your fingertips. “So sweet, Jakey.” You’ve never really used that nickname much before, especially not in the bedroom. But right now, with him pliant and needy beneath you, it seems fitting. This isn’t the Jake that you usually have during sex – the rough, dominant Jake. This Jake is soft and delicate and oh so desperate for any bit of relief. Jake's body tenses and jerks, a cry falling from his lips each time you ghost your fingertips over the swollen head of his cock.

“Please.” He arches into you, his stomach muscles tensing and untensing as he tries to control himself. 

“Please what?” You can’t help but tease him. 

“Touch me.” 

You giggle and continue to play with just his tip, switching between squeezing and delicately tracing it with your fingertips. You can't stop the amusement that you feel. He's so sensitive, so receptive to each ghost of a touch.

“I am touching you, babe.” 

He groans, tossing his head back harshly into the pillow. You only laugh and wrap your hand around him fully. He’s hot and pulsing in your palm. You smear his precum around him and begin to pump him slowly, drawing a deep moan from him as his eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’m getting why you enjoy this so much.” You say and Jake blinks his eyes open at you. “Seeing you all squirmy and desperate.” 

Jake opens his mouth to reply but you tighten your fist and speed up a bit. 

“Oh fuck!” He groans and his hands reach out to grab you – whether to pull you in closer or to make you speed up you can’t tell (he probably doesn’t even know either), but you immediately let go of his cock at the motion. 

“Oh. I forgot.” 

You rise up a bit, reaching up and over Jake to pull open the top drawer of his nightstand, your fingers quickly finding the silk that Jake loves to use on you. You tap Jake’s chest and he surrenders his wrists to you without a fight, holding them next to each other as you loop the scarf around them and then hook his arms up on the little peg above the headboard. 

“I think the power has gone to your head.” Jake murmurs, his brown eyes watching you with nothing short of reverence. 

“Maybe a little bit.” You shrug, settling back between his legs. “I just can’t help myself though. You look so pretty like this.” 

“You like calling me pretty, don’t you?”

You shrug again and resume your stroking on his aching cock.

“And you like being called pretty.”  You challenge, speeding up your hand. 

Jake’s only answer is tossing his head back and arching his back, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he fights against the restraints. You move your hand quickly, so quickly that your forearm burns. Pleas and whines fall from Jake’s lips without so much as a breath in between, his body fighting between pleasure and pain. You can tell that he’s close, his mouth completely open and his chest flushed and glistening with sweat. You keep going a moment longer before bringing your hand away completely. 

“Y/n.” Jake cries, his hips rising off the bed to try and follow your hand. 

“I told you not to cum yet.” You remind him, laughing at the desperation on his face. “You’re not gonna cum yet, right?” 

He shakes his head quickly and a bead of sweat rolls down his temple. 

“I won’t. I won’t.” He whines and you reward the plea in his tone by starting again. This time keeping your pace deliberately too slow. “More.” He begs you after what could have only been a minute, those beautiful eyes of his boring into your own. 

“And you won’t cum?” 

“Promise.” 

You give him what he wants, pumping him faster and pressing your thumb into the spot just below his head just like you know he likes. He’s panting and writhing beneath you and his legs begin to shake as he nears that edge yet again. 

“Jake.” You warn, but you don’t let up, you don’t slow down. 

His whole body is tense and his muscles still fight against where his arms are restrained. 

“Jake.” You warn again and his mouth drops open with a loud moan. “You better not cum.” 

“I can’t- I’m gonna- fuck, stop!” 

You do and he sighs in some mix of both relief and disappointment. He’d been so close. 

“Good boy.” His eyes crack open at that and a tired smile graces his lips. 

“It’s definitely gone to your head.” He says, trying to get his breathing back under control. 

You giggle as you reach behind you and unclip your bra. Jake’s eyes fix on your bare breasts and he bites his lip. 

“This is torture not being able to touch you.” 

“I know.” You laugh as you slide your soaked panties down your legs and toss them somewhere in the room. “Now you know how I always feel.”

“You ever gonna let me cum? It fucking hurts.” He says, his voice pitched higher. 

“So whiny.” You tsk, settling yourself on top of his thighs. “But still being so good for me.” 

He preens at the compliment, practically purring beneath you. You reach up and unhook the silk from the hook, freeing his wrists at last. You grab them and place them on your hips for him. Immediately, his grip tightens. 

“I’m gonna ride you, Jakey. And you can touch me as much as you want now.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out and you can tell that he really means it. 

You reach between your bodies and grip his cock, guiding his head to your folds and finally you sink down on him. The stretch is delightful and so so perfect and you both moan at the feeling. 

“Holy shit.” Jake says through clenched teeth, fingers digging into your hips. 

You rise up and slam back down on him, immediately setting a brutal pace that you know neither of you will last long with. Already, you can feel your second orgasm approaching and Jake is absolutely losing it beneath you. His eyes have clamped shut and his mouth hangs open. Moans slip past him with each thrust and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. 

You stop for a moment and he makes to protest before realizing what you're doing. You rise up and plant both of the balls of your feet on the bed, squatting over him as you start to bounce again. This time, the new angle allows him to slip even deeper into you.

"Jesus."

"Fuck, you fill me up so good, Jake."

Your thighs burn but you don't stop. You won't stop if only to keep that face on Jake for a moment longer. His brows are tipped upwards, his hair sticks to his face from sweat, and his plump lips are parted in almost a snarl. You've never seen him like this – as if he truly is doing all he can to not fall apart this very second. Jake has always been vocal during sex, never afraid of moaning or crying out when something feels good (so unlike most men that you've been with). But tonight it's like he couldn't control himself if he tried. Moans, whines, even whimpers fills the space between you, mixing so beautifully with the sound of his cock moving through your wetness that has begun to drip down your thighs. This moment, here with him like this... it's like Heaven on Earth.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jake tells you and you keep going, nodding and crying out as his tip hits that special place inside of you. “Fuck, Y/n.”

It’s a warning. You’ve been together for years but you’ve never let him cum inside of you before – no matter how many times you’ve seen the disappointment in his eyes when you ask him to pull out. It was never the right time. You’re both always so busy and you never wanted to risk it. But right now... you don’t care. He’s always been patient with you. Never pushes for kids when he knows you’re not quite ready even though he wants them so badly. And really, the odds of getting pregnant with where you are in your cycle right now are low anyway. But you find yourself thinking that if tonight doesn't work you'll be trying again soon. You want this with him. It’s almost the New Year and what better a way to move into 2024? Jake has proven time and time again that he will always be by your side and as you ride him, after he's given himself wholly and totally over to you... fuck, it sounds like the most wonderful thing in the world.

“Y/n! I can’t hold it! Fuck!” Jake’s voice is desperate, his body so tense you’re worried he might hurt himself somehow. 

“Give to me, Jake!” You cry through a moan, your hips grinding into his at a merciless pace. “Fill me up! Fuck, please.”

That’s all it takes. Jake yells as he finishes, a feral growl starting deep in his chests that builds up into a mighty cry as he spills into you. You can’t hold on any longer yourself and your orgasm tears through you. Stars explode behind your eyes and Jake’s body twitches and shakes beneath you as your walls clench around his spent cock. With one last exhausted roll of your hips, you collapse at Jake’s side. 

“Shit.” Jake breaths out, his chest heaving and his skin slick with sweat. "Best sex we've ever had."

“Yeah. Fuck.” 

“I-" Jake swallows once and inhales deeply through his nose for a moment. "Thank you. ” His voice sounds tired but soft and warm. Those two words are simple, all he can think of to say. But they carry the weight of everything and you both know it. He rolls over to face you, those chocolate eyes of his looking at you with so much love you think you might cry.  

“Merry Christmas.” You answer him softly in return. It seems you also had one last gift to give him this Christmas.  

He laughs and the sound rumbles deep in his chest. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋⍋

-

-

-

-

-

If you would like to be added to my taglist, you can fill out the form here or send me an ask <3

[peterhollandkait]

Try to Love Me, Honey Please

A/N: hello!! This is the first time I’m posting any fics on this account, so I’m pretty nervy 😵‍💫 but!!! I wrote this for the dear @tightjeansjavi and I decided I wanted to share it with the world. Likes and comments are appreciated 🥹🥹

Summary: Joel opens up to you about his pain after you’re injured.

Warnings: mentions of blood, sad!joel, mentions of death, angst, soft!joel

—————————-

The only sound heard was the crackle of the fire as Joel rewrapped the cut on your arm where you’d run into a glass door earlier in the day.

You hadn’t even realized you were bleeding until you reached for Ellie and found your hand covered in red. Joel had freaked, immediately rolling your soaked sleeve to reveal the moderately deep cut in your forearm. He sat you down and wrapped your arm as best as he could under the circumstances before the three of you continued forward to find shelter for the night.

Now, you sat beside the fire, watching joel as he cared for you. He hadn’t spoken a word since Ellie crawled into her sleeping bag and said goodnight, but you knew his mind was turning.

“Joel,” you started carefully.

He shook his head slightly. “Don’t.”

“Can’t help it. You’re thinking too loudly.” He chuckled dryly, which made you smile. “This wasn’t your fault y’know.”

“I should’ve clocked the clickers; you wouldn’t be hurt if I had.” He pulled away from you once the bandage was set, turning to face the fire.

“Hey,” you reached forward, resting your good arm on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug you off, a good sign. “I‘m okay. I’m not bit, it’s just a little cut.” When he didn’t respond, you leaned forward for his hand. “Joel, I’m right here. I’m okay.”

You knelt down beside him, searching his face for any signs of relief. You watched as he looked down at your entwined hands and squeezed yours gently.

“I’m not…good at this.” He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been good at this in a very long time.”

You nodded, brushing your lips against the back of his hand. “S’okay. I’m not expecting anything from you. Can I tell you something?”

“‘Course,” he offered.

“I was scared shitless back there. I still am. But you know what makes it better? You do. You protected me and Ellie, just like you do every god damn day. You can sit here and grumble about would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but it doesn’t matter. You did it; you saved us. You’re the best fucking thing that has happened to me since this shit started twenty years ago.”

Joel ducked his head, attempting to hide his tears from you, but it was no use. You slid yourself into his lap, gently wiping away his tears with your thumbs.

“I-I’m so afraid of losing you, of losing Ellie,” he whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the fire. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I see. It…it changes every night too. Sometimes it’s infected, sometimes it’s a hunter.” He takes a deep breath, pausing. “O-one time it was me; I-I was the one who killed you. O-or I’m walking Ellie right into her death. I can’t escape it.”

You pulled his head against your chest when he finished, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I could take the dreams away. I’d sacrifice myself if I could.”

Joel sat up, eyes stern as he placed his hands on your shoulder, grip hard. “Don’t you dare say that.”

“It’s true. I’d sacrifice myself to take your pain away, Joel. Without a second thought.”

He shook his head, grip on you still tight. “I’d rather face every demon in my dreams if it meant I got to wake up to you every morning.”

You kissed him then, soft and languid. Joel kissed you back, moving his arms around your waist to hold you closer. Your hands gripped the collar of his jacket, tugging him against you.

When you finally pulled away, Joel followed your lips, stealing another kiss. “Will you come to bed with me,” he whispered.

“All you had to do was ask,” you smiled sweetly, removing yourself from his lap and standing. Joel didn’t let go of you as he stood and let you toward his sleeping bag a few feet away. You let him climb in first before you followed, resting your head on his chest.

Once you zipped the bag shut, Joel turned on his side, back facing you. In response, you wrapped your arm around his middle, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Joel hummed in response, which made you smile.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered.

“Night,” he mumbled, sleep already calling to him.

[ineylesian]

$TING — GRAVES & ADLER

KINKTOBER PROMPTS | Interrogation

AO3 | MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

DEBRIEF | Graves’ and Adler’s means of getting information out of you.

WARNINGS | smut, finger fucking, light choking, use of aphrodisiac, depiction of an unhealthy relationship, fem! reader.

NOTE | this is me holding back from writing Graves & Adler smut where they just bully the reader,, thinking about it but i have self control… included adler for the small handful of people who love him as much as i do 🫶

ADVISORY | NSFW CONTENT BELOW.

GRAVES, FOXY & ADAMANT.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here, sugar.”

His figure is barely visible, carolina hues basking in feverish light. You nearly wince at his tone, all too familiar— memories rush back and you scowl his way.

“Didn’t expect you to chase a paycheck.” You fire back, hands rubbing against thick cord. “You’ve changed.”

Graves steps forward, swallowing the light, staring you down like he’s picked up the scent of prey on the wind. Dust swirls through the air as he bends over, face stopping mere inches from yours. His tongue pokes at the hollow of his cheek, eyebrows knit together, watching.

Something in him still doesn’t understand it. Traces of his life he’s desperately chased whole, right where he wants you. However, something’s different this time. When he looks in your eyes, he can only see the enemy staring back.

It pushes him to no end. Control slips away from his hands and just as he thinks he’s getting somewhere, the chair you sit on hits the floor loudly and you’re pinned against the wall. He sees you smile and his grip tightens, closing around your throat in an attempt to kill the remains of you that float amidst his head.

You keep looking at him, and his resolutions fall against the floor he stands on. The gleam in your eyes reflects off of years passed, and he senses the approach you take before you speak.

“You’re Shepherd’s bitch, Graves.”

Playing dirty, as always.

“I’m no one’s bitch. But you…?” The reply pools off of his lips, cool and relaxed, running a hand down your neck. “Still miss me, Mrs. Graves?”

He smirks, lightly jingling your dog tags.

“You got yourself caught.”

You scoff, shifting against the wall. Graves’ thigh pushes against your pelvis, keeping you in place.

“Wouldn’t have been any fun if you never got what you were looking for.”

His head tilts to the side, eyeing you carefully.

“Are you saying I wouldn’t have been able to find you?”

You lean forward, lips brushing against his. Danger flicks between your gazes, but he doesn’t push away.

“I’m telling you.”

Graves’ lips are rough, as is the grip that holds you against concrete. You writhe in his grasp, moving so your arms can hook around his neck. Gunpowder kisses your tongue, the scent of war tickling your nose as he kisses you. Light stubble scratches your skin, opposed to the clean shave you feel in your dreams.

You allow him to strip you of your belt, canines pressing against the inner flesh of your mouth when he tugs at your fly. A smile creeps along his face, pulling away from your lips to study your face. You’re nearly the same as he remembers, so dangerous, yet holding the same dumbstruck look in your eyes whenever he touches you.

“Ever thought of renewing your vows?”

Rough, padded fingers circle around your clit as he tugs his other gloves off. The noise that comes out of you is caught between a laugh and a moan. Graves smirks at the sound, breath pooling against your neck as he replaces his gloved hand with his bare one.

“Maybe.” You shrug, groaning at the sudden intrusion of his fingers against your cervix. “What’s my price?”

Graves’ fingers rub your walls, and you start to burn up. You direct your gaze to his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his dick considers your question. Sweat gathers at your temple, and you bite down on your hand when he adds another finger.

It feels like it did 10 years ago. You and your husband, holed up in a shitty base in a shitty town fucking like it’s your last day on earth. You reminisce on those days often, back when Graves was still a marine and had a ring sitting on his finger. Back when Shepherd was off his radar, before he took you off of his too.

He looks slightly older; scar lighter on his skin and faint wrinkles crawling against the corners of his eyes. The way he fucks you is still the same, impatient and needy, just how you like it.

Before you know it, your abdomen feels likes it’s twisting into knots and you cry out from the pleasure. A low groan pushes its way out of his throat, canines fastened to his lower lip as his fingers pump in and out of your pussy.

“Another round, maybe?” He grunts out, mindlessly pushing his erection against your naval. “That’s cheap, ain’t it darlin’?”

ADLER, DECEITFUL & COY.

“Package came in from labs, thought you’d wanna see it.”

You round the corner of the hall, seeing Adler perched up against the island in your kitchen. A small, plastic bag sits on the side nearing you, adorned with a CIA label.

“Huh.” You hum, pinching the seal between your fingers. “You know what it’s for?”

Adler shrugs, and you tilt your head in acknowledgment.

“Only one way to find out.”

You can feel Adler’s gaze on you, watching through a pair of clear lensed aviators. He’s leaning against the edge of the counter, seemingly over interested in the contents of the bag. A light crackle emanates from the bag as you open it, and you’re hit with a puff of a silver toned dust.

“Jesus.” You cough, subconsciously dropping the bag to wave a hand through the air. “What the Hell is this, Russ?”

Adler stays quiet, perched up against the wall with his hands folded between his chest. His lack of response tells you all that you need to know, and you scoff.

Then the worry sets in.

You feel a subtle heat crawling up your arms, seemingly moving its way up to your face through your veins. Within seconds, your entire body behinds to tingle. Your body feels hot, almost like you’re covered in layers that are glued to your skin.

The world is loud, nerves burning against your spinal cord as confusion races through your mind. You run your hands through your hair, feeling a distinct sensation pool in your abdomen; it takes root, leaking down to your naval.

Through the rushes of blood in your head, you can hear Adler’s shoes click against the floor. The sound makes your stomach churn with need, and you look at him, standing just a few inches away.

“Adler..” You call, reaching out for him. “Something’s— wrong. Help me..”

You sway, losing balance and falling forward. Adler breaks your fall, holding you against the ridge of his turtleneck. You cling onto him as if you’ll die if you let go, eyes opening only when you feel yourself being set down on the couch.

Adler kneels in front of you, catching the hand that paws at his waist. He runs a hand along your face, lips quirking at the balm encasing his fingers. You reach out again, and he makes no motion to stop you.

“Didn’t see this as an interrogation drug.” He mumbles, allowing you to tug at his zipper. “Fuckin’ freaks.”

Your mind is completely lost to him, focused only on the hem of his jeans. An animalistic desire scalds your nerves, and you whine as he pushes you against the edge of the couch.

“It burns, Russ.” You groan, bucking your hips up as he moves to unbutton your jeans. “I need you…”

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

His hands smooth over your pussy, fingers dragging over your clit, adding a teasing flick as he thinks. You lock your legs around his back, attempting to force him into you as your hands palm his dick. Adler clicks his tongue, slowly pushing one of his fingers into you, deciding to test the waters.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You.” Your voice comes out strangled, practically squeezing his cock in desperation. “I always do.”

His eyebrows raise in interest, finding this drug more useful than dozens he’s used in the past. Shame it had to be tested on you, though. Or.. maybe he was enjoying this a little more than it seemed.

Adler lets you pull him forward, fingers pulling out of your pussy as you sloppily stuff yourself with his cock. He bites down on his cheek as you rut against his hips, searching for friction.

“Tell me,” He continues, placing a hand behind your back to guide you as he lays down. “What am I doing in your dreams?”

“You’re.. ugh— you’re fucking me, Russ.” You moan, dragging yourself down on his cock. “The real you never has time for me— anymore.”

He tilts his head at your confession, reaching over to the coffee table for a pack of cigarettes.

“We’ll see to that.”

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[abiiors]

sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you. 

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems). 

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug. 

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face. 

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout. 

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does. 

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight. 

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find. 

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it? 

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys. 

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass. 

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?” 

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again. 

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day. 

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you. 

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house. 

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss. 

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much! 

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with. 

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house. 

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it. 

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you. 

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped. 

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit! 

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died. 

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding. 

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams. 

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room. 

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect. 

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight. 

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you. 

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days. 

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever. 

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment. 

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left. 

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents. 

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns. 

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head. 

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants. 

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves. 

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it. 

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band. 

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get. 

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him. 

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is. 

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body. 

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through. 

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless. 

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks. 

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever. 

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it. 

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off. 

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness. 

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls. 

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast. 

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly. 

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general. 

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him. 

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time. 

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit. 

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay. 

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins. 

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back. 

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim. 

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning. 

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”. 

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow. 

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious. 

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day. 

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard. 

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you. 

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in. 

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you. 

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk. 

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor. 

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction. 

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo. 

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails. 

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you. 

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair. 

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face. 

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you. 

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest. 

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting. 

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much. 

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all. 

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs. 

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic. 

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now… 

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores. 

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy 

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes! 

this literally needs zero explanation. 

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked  but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side. 

he cracks an egg. 

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.  

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big. 

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge. 

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan. 

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away. 

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug. 

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is. 

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either. 

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders. 

unfair really, that he should know you that well. 

“hmm,”  you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine. 

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.” 

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss. 

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you. 

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it. 

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money. 

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality. 

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes. 

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later. 

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss

add yourself to the taglist

[eddiestommy]

i saw this post by @shaunashipman and next thing i know i was writing this

(brand new, full throttle) touch me while your boys play grand theft auto

Bucktommy || 878 words || mild sexual content

Read on AO3

Truth be told, it wasn't Buck's fault, honestly. Mostly.

Since the Grant-Nash's house fire and Gerrard became the new interim captain, his 118 family had started a weekly brunch with a rotating hosting system (yes, that had been Buck's idea, thanks for noticing) but after Buck's first turn having them over everyone had agreed that his loft was too claustrophobic with everyone in it so Tommy (sweet, kind, loving Tommy) had offered his house with its big backyard patio with its built-in firepit and grill instead.

So over the summer his family all came together at Tommy's Spanish-style bungalow once every five weeks and really, it wasn't Buck's fault that over those weeks he had started spending more and more time there than in his own loft, sometimes only stopping by his apartment to get more clothes that would eventually end up in the dresser Tommy had built for him on the little workshop he had in his garage tucked between his Muay Thai setup and the car lift, and it really wasn't his fault that he had started thinking about the house as their home even though it was definitely too soon to be thinking like that.

If anything, it was Tommy's fault because that Wednesday morning he had spent forty minutes opening him up so thoroughly with his tongue and fingers that by the time he had finally slipped his cock in him his hole had given no resistance. And it really was Tommy's fault that he'd fucked him fast and hard, Buck's face and chest pressed against the mattress and his ass held up by Tommy's hands marking bruises on his hips, and just as he'd been about to come he had pressed his lips to Buck's ears and growled: "You're such a good boy for Daddy, aren't you? You're gonna cum from Daddy using your loose hole as a fuck toy, huh? Such a perfect boy."

(And really, what else could Buck do but cum so hard he passed out for a minute?)

All this to say that it really wasn't Buck's fault that later that day when he and Athena were washing and drying dishes in Tommy's cozy kitchen he remodelled himself a few years ago and Tommy and Bobby came in with more wine glasses and asked if they were okay washing them or if they wanted them to do it he had felt so comfortable and at home that he didn't stop to think before speaking.

He took the glasses from Tommy and said, "Don't worry, Daddy, I got it," like he would any other day they were together.

(That it took him five seconds in between saying those words and realising what he had just said in front of his dad and his wife was definitely on him.)

The moment he realised his mistake he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. All his blood rushed to his head and heated his face redder than it had ever been.

He barely registered anything else going on. Tommy's panicked stare and tense posture, Bobby's red face, Athena's laugh.

"I think you two can handle the rest of the dishes," she said in between laughs, walking past where Buck and Tommy were still stuck in place.

Buck refused to look up, maybe if he stared at the ground with enough determination a hole would open up and swallow him and he wouldn't have to deal with the fact that his captain and Athena now knew what he called his boyfriend when they were alone.

(And look, if it wasn't because Bobby heard him too he would be laughing with her. He wasn't ashamed of it. He wasn't gonna tell everyone about it but what two consenting adults got going in bed was their own business. Still, there was a difference between embracing your kinks and having your father figure find out about it, there couldn't be anything worse than that.)

"I think," Tommy started in a tentative tone, "we can all agree to forget about this."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. And God, why was Bobby still here? Had Buck not embarrassed himself enough already? 

"Of course," Buck could hear the amusement in Athena's voice. "But if I'm allowed to say, Buckaroo, there's nothing to be ashamed of. You should hear what Bobby calls me."

(Scratch that. Thinking about Bobby having kinky sex was so much worse. That was his dad.)

And really, it wasn't his fault if Tommy laughed so hard at Bobby's bewildered look that he made Buck forget all about his own embarrassment

"Okay, no more talking," Bobby said. His face was so red it was a wonder any blood was still pumping in his heart. "This never happened. No one ever heard anything."

So really, it wasn't Buck's fault that now his dad knew what kind of names he'd been calling his boyfriend in the intimacy of their own home. And it really, really wasn't his fault he now could imagine the things Bobby called his wife when they were doing it.

(The way Tommy came so hard he blacked out from Buck riding him to the chant of, "Fuck, Daddy, you fill me so well. Love your cock inside me, Daddy" later that evening was entirely his fault, though.) 

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 3) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 3: today, it would be sarah's 34th birthday. but today, tomorrow, and every other day, joel needs you.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, smoochin', gropin', mentions of death, joel grieves, joel sings, arguing/fighting (kinda), mental health discussions, lewdness, angst, heavy feelings (and there's more where that come from!)

words: 3.4k

a/n: man. can u tell I rewatched episode 1? i’m proud of this one. also, I hope this reaches my fleetwood mac lovers.

-

Joel, while in the middle of hauling a bag of horse feed over his good shoulder (and ‘good’ was being generous), realized he was getting old. This was the tenth revelation of the day, give or take. From when he forced himself out of bed onto aching joints, to when he hadn’t heard Ellie come up behind him in the kitchen, and most notably, to when he realized Sarah’s 34th birthday would’ve been today. 

It didn’t sting anymore. Not after this long, not after 20 years. It didn’t even hurt. 

It just ached. 

He sloughed the feed into the trough, stepping back to catch his breath. He glided his hand over the pretty little mare that he usually took out. She seemed too small to not be a pony, but hey, equine standards had flown out the window 20 years ago along with everything else. 

Tommy knew, too. He never forgot. Maybe that's why he patted Joel on the back at breakfast that morning and told him to go ‘take a ride’. Clear his head. They still had work to do today. The Earth never stopped spinning. Joel thought that by now, it should’ve.

To be fair, the date could’ve been a little off, but the air was that same lukewarm cold and the sun shone blinding in a clear blue sky the same way it did on the day Sarah was born. Winter was melting into a tepid spring in Wyoming, and Joel was still here to fucking see it.

For a second he wondered if his vision was going, too, having to do a double-take when he noticed you leaning against the wooden beam of the stall entrance.

“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Y’ever heard of knocking?”

You rolled your eyes. “Must’ve missed the door.”

“How’d you find me?” He asked, finally turning to really look at you. Irritatingly beautiful.

“Ellie,” you answered. “Said you were going for a joy ride.”

He sighed, coming over to wrap his arms just below the dip of your spine. “Kid couldn’t keep a secret if her fuckin’ life depended on it,” he grumbled, pausing afterwards to give you a slow kiss.

“I like the honesty. She’s got nothing to hide, especially if it has anything to do with you.” You grinned and fell right into his little ploy. 

“Mmh. Lucky me.”

He had you backed against the wooden railing in an instant, his hand creeping up below your shirt and onto the soft skin of your waist. The touch raised goosebumps all over your body. You placed two hands on either side of his neck, gently, enjoying the way he was feeling you up with his lips glued to yours.

“Now? Right here?” You asked once you had the chance to break away from his mouth. “A little risky, Miller. Don’t forget, I’m still your worst kept secret,” you chided.

“No, not right here. And fuck you.” He pulled away until all but one hand was still stroking your side through your shirt.

“Likewise.”

And Joel loved you. Maybe not in the same way he loved Tommy or Ellie or Sarah, but still, he did. He loved your smart mouth, the way you blazed like a fire in bed with him, your natural talent, the way you made it all ache less. 

And you did– make it ache less. That was reason enough. 

He gestured to the horse that was a few feet away, still eating its breakfast. “You wanna join?”

“Can’t say no,” you said. “What’s the occasion? I thought they were strict about leaving for non-essential reasons.”

Joel was looking at you until he wasn’t, his gaze going right through you. He could tell you. He knew he could. You knew about his daughter and you still never brought it up. You’d lost people too, he knew that. He could tell you and you would bring him into your arms and say something like, I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m here. I’m here if you need me. 

He would tell you. But not today.

He shrugged and pressed a kiss into your hairline. “Just another day. I want you to come.”

“Alright, then.” You nodded towards the guitar sitting in the corner of the stall. Dark stained wood around the edges fading into a lighter mahogany. It was beautiful. “Bringing that, too?”

“Yeah, why not. Here, let me help.” He grabbed it and lifted it over your head, situating it so that the body of the guitar was resting against your back. “You ever played?”

You shook your head. “No. Good thing you do.”

He brought the horse out into the open, making sure he still had everything important– a gun in his pocket and a broken watch on his wrist. He helped you up onto the saddle, sitting behind him and flush with his back. 

Outside the walls, It was a beautiful day. The sun had melted away the heavy snow on the peaks of the rolling hills, the first kiss of spring. New life, grass that had started to green. You had your arms wrapped tightly around Joel’s middle, face pressed against the back of his shoulder. The fields seemed boundless. You hadn’t realized just how infinitesimally small your world had grown since being in Jackson. 

“Are there usually infected around here?” You asked. 

“Not really. The valley helps. We’ll stay out in the open, don’t worry, baby.”

You didn’t even have to ask. The little tour he was giving you around the east end of the fields was mostly an effort to case the surrounding area, his senses on high alert for anything dangerous. The truth was, this place was secure. Still, Joel would move mountains to keep you safe. Would do anything. He’d made mistakes in the past that he wouldn’t let happen again. Couldn’t.

After a loop around the outer wall, riding with a mixture of the horse's friendly canter and Joel intentionally speeding her up to scare the shit out of you and make you hold on tighter to him, he settled on a plateau at the top of a hill, a few steps away from the thick evergreen forest.

After helping you off the mare and spreading out the woven blanket he had rolled up on the back of the saddle, Joel sat down with a heavy sigh. You tied the lead to a low tree branch where the horse seemed content to roam. After, you pulled the guitar over your head and handed it to him.

It was still early in the day, and the sun was barely cresting over the hilltops from this view. 10:42 AM. That’s when his daughter was born. He looked down at the broken face of his watch out of habit, even though the thing had been broken for years at this point. 

You dropped down next to him and your head immediately connected with his shoulder. Looking over at him, his eyes were far away and glassy. “What’re you thinking about?”

Joel shook his head and pressed a slow kiss into your forehead. “Nothin’. Just wondering what I should play.” He brought the guitar into his lap and strummed it a little, pausing to tune the top string down half a step. “Feel like I gotta impress you.”

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “You don’t have to. Who’d you used to listen to?”

“Oh, Jesus…” he had sort of let go of the fond memories he had of old music. With you, though, he was starting to miss it. “Some Zeppelin, some Billy Joel, Pearl Jam… Nirvana was just gettin’ good, too. Lots of Chet Atkins when I was younger.”

You just smiled, moving your hand to stroke his knee. “None of that surprises me.”

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” he asked after a while. “Stevie Nicks, always one of my favorites. My daughter’s, too.”

Your heart hurt a little at that. Joel had never brought up the daughter he’d lost with you. You kissed his shoulder as he started picking the strings to the tune of Landslide, that gentle back and forth that you hadn’t heard in more than 20 years. 

“That's a good one, baby.”

You still remembered the lyrics. He did, too. 

I took my love, I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

‘Til the landslide brought me down

Joel’s playing wasn’t perfect. He’d picked the guitar up again a few times in the last couple weeks, but before that, it had been a lifetime ago. On that radio station in Austin, The Best Of The ‘70’s, this one would come on all the time. Sarah would grin and sing her best rendition, as loudly as possible, always egging Joel on to join in too. Sometimes he would, but not always. He regretted that. 

He thought your voice was beautiful. Clear and bright. His voice was probably an octave below yours, gravelly and out of practice. The two of you mixed together like honey into whiskey. 

Oh, mirror in the sky,

What is love?

Can the child in my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

He would’ve liked to scoff at that. There's nothing to do but handle it. Push forward and deal. He didn’t die on September 26th, 2003, despite his best efforts and no matter how much he wanted to. He was here with you. Singing with you, laughing through the verses, watching the sun light up your eyes. And for that? A part of him had to consider himself a lucky son of a bitch.

He couldn’t stop himself from wanting to make a life with you. The extent to which he could see that to fruition, he wasn’t sure. Everything was uncertain. He didn’t even deserve it. Nothing he had done over the past 20 years was worthy of you. But fuck, he could be good. If he tried, maybe, he could be good for you. And trying? It’d be worth it. 

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I’m getting older, too

Joel had to stop singing. Tears were swelling in his dark brown eyes and one wrong move would break the entire dam of emotions. He kept playing, though, into the second chorus, happy to listen to you.

Well, I’ve been afraid of–

“Joel?”

You turned away from the landscape to look at his face. Tears were streaking his cheeks, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. You didn’t say anything– you took the guitar out of his arms and brought him into yours instead. You rubbed slow circles into his flannel-clad back, holding him tight as his shoulders sagged and shuddered with every shaky inhalation. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry," he managed to say.

“It’s okay, Joel. You’re okay. It’s just me, you know I don’t mind. I got you, come on, just get it out.”

You had your own guesses as to what was getting to him so bad. You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t pry. He wouldn’t tell you like that, anyway. He had to do it himself. 

After a few pregnant moments passed with the two of you like that, his breathing finally evened out enough for him to speak clearly. He pulled away from you, taking your face into his hands so you couldn’t look away. His eyes were reddened and puffy, his cheeks wet.

“I ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you. D’you understand that? Nothin’. I’m gonna take care of you. Keep you safe. Keep you happy.” He tucked your hair behind your ears before gliding his thumbs over the skin just below your eye. “I will. You just gotta let me.”

You gently pried his hands away from your face, taking them into your own and pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “Okay, baby. I’ll let you. I’ll let you,” you repeated. “I’m safe with you, I know.”

He pulled you in suddenly, practically squeezing all of the air out of your lungs with the grip he had on you. “I promise you. I promise.”

He promised you, and you believed him. 

And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills,

Well, the landslide bring it down

Oh, the landslide bring it down

-

At your lesson with Ellie, she seemed more motivated than you did. Sooner or later, she was going to exhaust the entire Star Wars: A Beginner’s Score sheet music book that you had found a few years back. 

After successfully sight reading the first few bars of The Imperial March and promptly declaring that she had had enough ‘piano-ing’ for the day, Ellie gave you a look.

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“Nothin’,” she said flippantly, looking away from you. “Just– are you and Joel, like, together?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Ellie turned, looking exasperated. “Pft. You know exactly what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and jokingly shoved her away from you by the forehead. “We’re getting married next week, actually,” you said, laughing. “Mhm, we’re running away with each other. Gonna buy a big white house with a big picket fence down south– you know, to keep you out.”

“Oh, fuck you, dude.” She giggled too, punching your shoulder in return hard enough to push you down the piano bench. “I have a right to know! And besides, I don’t have anyone to tell. I can keep a secret.”

“I disagree, but– if you memorize your F# minor scale by Tuesday, I’ll tell you all about it. Has to be perfect, though,” you qualified.

“Fine,” she said with stubborn resolve. “And… there's one more thing.” Her eyes cast downwards and her shoulders drooped a little as she gave a long exhale.

“What is it?”

She looked back up at you through her dark lashes. “Did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda?”

“The– the who?”

With a completely straight face, she said, “Yeah. He’s lucky it was a soft drink.”

Ellie’s laughter could barely be heard over your exaggerated groaning. You had your head dropped into your hands and Ellie in tears when Joel walked in through the front door.

Ellie, sighing and wiping her eyes, said: “I told her the ol’ soda-can-to-the-head one. Pretty good, right?”

“Jesus…” you heard Joel mutter.

Shiny-eyed and smiling, you pointed to the door. “Out of my house. Both of you. And don’t bother coming back.”

Ellie grabbed her coat and was out the door before Joel could even open his mouth. “See you Tuesday!”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

-

Later that day, in the hot and unusually busy Tipsy Bison, Joel was too drunk.

It was the perfect conclusion to the most bittersweet day he’d had in a while. Had the morning with you, finished up a roofing project just after dinner, and against his better judgment, asked if you wanted drinks. You arrived as a pair, undoubtedly eliciting new whisperings from your fellow Jackson residents, but Joel was starting not to care.

You’d mentioned going out together in passing to him after he had told you about the bar scene when he was younger, commenting on how you wished you’d gotten to experience that. And yeah, maybe this felt more like playing pretend to him than anything, but he wanted to give you good days. Good memories. A real life, where you could experience things with him and not have to worry about how long the happiness would last.

Tonight, it backfired. A year ago today, he would’ve been mixing whiskey and oxycodone to forget it was Sarah’s birthday. But now, he was too drunk with Tommy, and you were watching all of it, and he wished he still had a handful of pills to knock him out. 

“She your girlfriend now, brother?” Tommy slurred, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Joel grabbed you roughly by the waist from his seat at the bar, tucking you in close to him. “Yeah, she’s my girl,” he cooed. “Ain’t that right, pretty baby?”

Tommy chuckled, slamming his glass down onto the counter. “Same way Tessa was your girl? Or different this time?”

Joel wanted to be sick. “The fuck’s wrong with you, asshole?”

You, a little tipsy yourself by this point, smoothed a hand over Joel’s curls in an effort to de-escalate this conversation. “Joel, hey. He’s your brother. Don’t start a fight.”

Tommy shook his head and patted you on the arm. “It’s okay, baby, let him speak.”

Drunkenly, Joel stood up, pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be saddled with all this shit,” he started. “Always chasin’ your sorry ass. Halfway across the fuckin’ country this time. If it weren’t for you, Tess’d be here.”

This was an old argument, but they were drunk, and it seemed like the perfect time to rehash it. 

Tommy stood up to meet his eyes. “Oh yeah? Really? If it weren’t for me, Joel, you’da had a bullet in your head by now. Oh, y’haven't told her? Your girl? Go on, tell her. Tell her all about Sarah. Happy fuckin’ birthday to her.”

“Keep her name out your motherfuckin’ mouth, you– bastard–”

You had your arm interlinked with Joel’s, but he flung you off of him in an instant. He swung at Tommy, but his aim was a little diluted from the gin and Tommy ducked anyway. He only got one attempt in before five different people were pulling them away from each other to opposite ends of the bar.

You followed Joel, thanking the two men who were restraining him as he shouted strings of profanities and nobody, assuring them that you could take it from here. 

“Joel, you gotta calm down. Hey. Hey, Miller, I’m fucking talking to you.” You grabbed his face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “Take a breath. Just take a breath.”

He did as he was told, but his eyes were still darting rapidly around the room. “Tommy…” he breathed out. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to, I swear. Did I hurt him? I hurt him, didn’t I?”

“No, baby. You– uh, you missed.”

“Ah,  fuck.”

Maybe narcotics wouldn’t have fixed this, either.

Joel let you drag him back to your place without putting up much of a fight. Sarah. She would’ve been ashamed of him. There was a mounting list of things that Sarah would’ve hated him for, and this was just the icing on the cake.

Back on your couch, lying on his back, he wanted today to be over. 

“I was s’pposed to be doin’ good for you,” he said quietly. “Bein’ better for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your voice straining with the force it took to tug off his left boot.

“I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“I ain’t, babydoll. I ain’t. Not for you, not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not for Tessa, and not for Sarah,” he mumbled. “It’s her birthday.”

“I know.”

“I miss her,” he swallowed. “Real bad.”

“I know, Joel.”

There was a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest. Landslide was still stuck in his head.

… saw my reflection… snow covered hills …

He shut his eyes. “Is Ellie alright?”

“Mhm. She’s asleep down the street,” you said, tracing lazy shapes into his stomach.

“She’s a good kid,” he mumbled. “Tough kid.”

“She is,” you agreed. “She relies on you– cares about you. Lots of people care about you.”

… time makes y’bolder, children get… older …

Joel hummed in response. “I still need you.”

… I’m gettin’ older, too … 

You bit your lip. You should really get back up, make sure Joel had a glass of water and painkillers near him for when he woke up. Maybe even a bowl from the kitchen. But your body felt like it was being weighed down by lead, and the infrequency at which you actually drank alcohol was making you unfathomably tired.

You laid down on top of him, head pressed against his chest. His breathing was slow and even and his heart rate was calm. 

“I need you, too.”

-