#i’m at the end of my fuckin rope here

[cowboykakashi]

:|

[tightjeansjavi]

And They Were Roommates | drabble

“hazy shades of you” aka: weed…idk

A/N: when I tell you that these three have been living in my head rent fucking free…💀 there are so many fun and smutty scenarios that I can do for them and it’s so much fun! Big kisses for @syd-djarin for another BEAUTIFUL moodboard, and @sinsofsummers for betaing 💗

word count: 1.1k

Summary: Joel and Logan take care of you on the couch after they ✨beat✨ your pussy 🫶🏻

Pairing | Joel Miller x Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: smut, pussy pronouns, m/m, mmf, language, throuple, dubious consent given the use of marijuana, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

The wet sound of lips meeting in a chaste kiss echo behind you. The couch pillows have found their way to the floor in a smashed down heap, and you’re unsure where your discarded panties ended up…but your hunch leads you to believe that Logan secretly stashed them away in the back pocket of his jeans (for safekeeping, obviously).

Your thighs feel sticky, glued together with perspiration, and the remnants of Joel and Logan painting your skin in ropes of their seed, marking you, as always.

“Think she’s up for round five?” Logan murmurs against Joel’s lips, nipping playfully at the lower one, catching the soft skin and tugging—gently, earning an appreciative growl from the other man.

“Mmm…ain’t too sure about that, Howlett. Think she’s pretty fuckin’ beat.” He cards his fingers through Logan’s hair, twisting them through the endearing cowlicks that resemble cat ears, and tugs him in further—always yearning for more.

“You guys beat my pussy like it was your personal fucking mission. I can still feel her pulsing, and I’m not even sure if I have a clit attached to my body anymore.” You hoarsely joke, leaning forward from your spot between the two men on the couch to grab your jar of weed and rolling papers.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart.” Logan says teasingly, and curves his hand around Joel’s hip, pulling him into his lap with ease. “S’fine by us if you need a break. I think we can keep ourselves occupied.”

“Lemme roll this real quick, and then by the time I’m done, I’ll be ready for another poundin.’” You glance over your shoulder briefly at your men, a smile playing on your lips at the sight of them indulging in pleasure freely; it warms your heart and sends a spark shooting from the top of your spine, settling deep between your thighs.

“Mmm…” The Wolverine hums in appreciation, lulling his head to the side to give Joel easier access to his neck, and so that he could watch you with a lazy grin plastered on his flushed face. “Take your time, babygirl. Miller here is just gonna keep acting like a cock thirsty slut, anyway. And who could blame—”

“Yeah? That’s what I am?” Joel said with a snort under his breath, nudging Logan’s pulse point with the tip of his prominent nose before he pulled back slowly so he could look at his face.

“That’s right, bub.” He chuckles and diverts his gaze back to his lover straddling his hips, leaking cocks pressed together in this position, “ya heard me the first time, didn’t ya?” His brows rose suggestively, and his eyes drifted southwards.

“As if you don’t want me to shove my cock down that pretty throat of yours again, baby.” Joel rasped, closing the small gap between him and Logan with a searing kiss and trailed his fingers from his hair down to the bristle on his jaw, tilting his head upwards with the back of his knuckles. He rolled his hips forwards, easing the building tension between them.

“Fuck.” Logan sighs into the kiss, tightening his grip around Joel’s hip, nails bruising the skin there. “Thas’ it. Keep doing that.”

“Like this?” Joel rolls his hips again, experimenting with this new position freely, and he feels his ego swell from Logan’s unconditional praise falling from his lips between kisses.

“Yeah, bub. That’s perfect. Fucking—perfect. Gonna make me cum…again.” He growls.

“Goddamn. Y’all are fuckin’ nasty.” You chide playfully, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the building tension—those motherfuckers.

Your fingers were trembling by the time you finished rolling your joint, and just as you were reaching for the lighter along the coffee table, two pairs of hands were caressing you and easing your back against the couch.

“Boys, please.” You pleaded, “let me relax for five minutes, okay?”

Your lips pucker around the joint tucked there safely, but it dips down when you feel Joel’s lips brush against your neck on one side, and Logan’s following suit on the other.

“Babygirl, you are relaxing, see?” Logan says with a warm chuckle. “Let us take care of ya for a little, okay? We’ll be nice and gentle with her.” His eyes flick down to your pussy fondly, his fingers flexing in low-energy restraint.

Simultaneously, Joel’s lips trail down the expanse of your throat, kissing along your collarbone until you feel the hot press of his tongue lathing against your bare nipple, and one hand drifting down between your thighs, gently prying them apart at his leisure. His hand wraps around the meat of your thigh, gently draping it across his lap. “Baby, Logan and I jus’ can’t help it. We always wanna play with you.”

“Fuck me.” You let out a sigh through your nose, feeling your back melt further into the couch when Logan drapes your other thigh across his lap, exposing you completely to their wandering hands. “Just not too much, okay? She really did take a serious beating by you both.”

“Oh, honey…we know.” Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of your head when you naturally lean into him. “Just some gentle pets is what we’re gonna give her. Ain’t that right, bub?”

“Mhm. Nothing but the best for our girl and her pretty, bruised pussy. We’re gonna take extra good care of her.”

“God, I don’t know what I did to deserve you both, but I love you, seriously. Mind grabbing the light for me while you’re at it?” You gestured to the forgotten lighter on the table, and Logan was already reaching for it with his free hand. He pressed down on the spark wheel to ignite the flame, bringing it to the unlit end of your joint with ease.

The gesture was inherently intimate;your eyes met and you shifted closer towards him just as Joel’s fingers brush through the tuft of curls, playing with them endearingly.

You took a sharp inhale of smoke, holding it in your mouth as Logan leaned in and kissed you deeply, inhaling the smoke at the same time while his fingers dip down, spreading your inner lips open slowly.

“She’s so pretty, ain’t she?” Joel murmurs in awe when his eyes focus intently at the way that your pussy pulsed from even the lightest touches. His fingers had barely touched your sensitive clit, and you were already lurching forward, whimpering pathetically into Logan’s lips.

“The prettiest.” Logan hummed in agreement.

And for the next hour, and well after the joint that was pursed prettily between your lips had been enjoyed between the three of you, your boyfriends continued to gently tend to you, and your pussy. Coaxing orgasm after orgasm washing over you with just their fingers alone, and creating an even bigger mess between your thighs. And well, good dogs always lick their bowl clean, ain’t that right, bub?

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[rubiehart]

Do a part 2 of the request where reader squirts on jjd face but at the end he starts fucking here and asks is she’ll squirt again you should do a part 2 where the reader is just cock druncj and abt stop squirting😝

his mushroom tip punches your g-spot deliciously with each thrust, jaw slack, lips parted as you elicit perfect little whines each time, only motivating him further to get you to that point.

“you gonna squirt on my dick now, girly?” he breathes out, grunting when you tighten around him, moaning out at his vulgar words. “mmmmmm!” you manage, gripping his shoulders tighter and digging your nails into the muscle.

his biceps bulge around your head as he holds himself up atop you, fisting the bedsheets between his ringer fingers as you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him down for a searing kiss. he groans into your mouth once more, sweat slick hair sticking to his forehead as you get closer to your peak.

“you gonna fuckin’ squirt? all over my dick yeah? be my good fuckin’ girl, gonna make you a mommy, hm?” he rambles, clearly pussy drunk as the band in your stomach snaps and you squirt your release around his pulsing cock, with a screech as you dig your nails so harshly into his back you’re sure you broke skin.

he cums a few seconds later, shooting white hot ropes into your heat as you pant, tucking his head into your neck, catching his breath before beginning to suckle gently on the skin of your neck as you run your hands through his hair gently.

“you okay?” he whispers, humming at the feeling of you scratching his scalp. “i’m good.” you smile, kissing the top of his head gently. “i love you.” “i love you more.”

[honeipie]

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

“what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[effy-writes]

HIIIII!!! SO I HAVE A REQ FOR A FIZZ X READER (you can add asmodeus too if you want) WHERE IN EP 6 READER GETS KIDNAPPED WITH BLITZ AND FIZZ :3

HIII SORRY THIS WAS PUBLISHED LATE IVE BEEN SUPER BUSY THE PAST COUPLE OF DAYS. and i didn’t know if you wanted the reader already be dating fizz or platonic or smth so i made it where fizz and the reader are best friends and they ended up confessing their feelings bc they thought they were gonna die at the end

and thank you for requesting! hope you enjoyed <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fizz x GN! Reader: Confessed

Ozzie knows that you and Fizz has been best friends since childhood, so he called you to go with Fizz to run some errands because he doesn’t want Fizz to go alone. Of course you said yes because you wanted to protect him, so you and Fizz were currently at the Greed ring.

“Fizz, you sure you wanna do that clown tryout thing? You know how Mammon is.”

“Ugh not you too. Did Ozzie tell you to come talk to me about it?”

“Well, maybe. But still, you look so stressed whenever you’re working with Mammon.”

“Don’t worry about me-”

He got interrupted by running into Blitz, like literally running into him. Since childhood you obviously hung out with Fizz way more than Blitz, (so of course, Blitz doesn’t like you as much. Well more like he doesn’t hate you as much as he hates Fizz).

“Oh, wow. Lookee who it is.” Fizz crossed his arms.

“Oh, fuck... You again...Y/n? You’re still hanging out with him?”

“I didn’t abandon him like the way you did.”

“I didn’t- you know what fuck it never mind.”

“Stalkin' me now, huh?” Fizz replied to Blitz.

“Oh, don't fuckin' flatter yourself, clown. I have my own life, y'know, without YOU in it.”

“Uh huh, sure! Blitzo.”

“The "O" is silent now, bitch! And gee whiz, we've been in each other's relative vicinity TWICE, in the last FIFTEEN YEARS! That would make me, THE SHITTIEST STALKER IN HISTORY!”

“Twice... IS ALREADY WAY TOO MUCH.”

You watched as the two bicker at each other. You were about to say something to cut this interaction off but all of a sudden the three of you were touching bodies. And in a blink of an eye immediately got slammed against the wall. The wall slamming knocked the wind out of you.

“Funny to run into ya again, "Blitzy!"” Striker laughed as he pulls out his knife and slides toward Fizzarolli, pointing it under the chin. “And with a famous friend...” Striker looked at you and tilted his head, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Oh, fuck me.” Blitz groaned.

“For the record, we are not friends.” Fizz announced.

One thing led to another. Crimson tied up the 3 of you, and put duct tape on Fizz’s mouth. You tried to break out of the ropes to protect Fizz but it was no use. Since you kept making a lot of noise Striker put duct tape over your mouth while Crimson was leaving a prerecorded message.

You realized that Crimson was going to send the video to Ozzie. Does Ozzie know that I’m here with him? Fuck..he’s going to be so pissed that I let this happened.

After the message, Striker ripped off the duct tape of your mouths and threw the three of you into a cage. Fizz stammers in fear while Blitz scoots back. You got closer to Fizz, trying to calm him down since he’s a little claustrophobic.

“Oh, chill out, jester. Christ on a stick, it's like you've never been tied up before!”

“Sure, but not by a bunch of psychos! And a piece of shit!”

“Am I...? Okay, am I the psycho or the piece of shit?”

“Both!”

“Yeah, that checks.”

“Instead of yelling at each other we need to find a way to break out!” You whispered.

“Y/n why are you with him anyway?” Blitz jabbed.

“We’re best friends.” You shrugged.

“And Fizz still didnt ask you out?

Fizz gulped, completely discarding this topic, “Ohh, playin' that card, huh? Ok... What about you? Seems your tastes have gotten more... "regal", lately. Heheh...”

“Yeah, well unlike you, I fuck who I want, when I want. I'm not gonna be tied down to some big blue-blood asshole.”

“You could've fooled me the way Princey was cozying up to you at Ozzie's.”

“Wait, you were at Ozzie’s? And on a date with the prince?” You interjected.

“Hey! Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his mattress, it's nothing... y'know...It's nothing else...”

“Then why were you even there?” Fizz questioned.

“OTHER very important reasons, of course!”

You tried to wiggle yourself out of the ropes while in the midst of Blitz and Fizz arguing yet again. Hearing the way Fizz spoke about Ozzie made you have a pain in your gut.

Striker interrupted the discourse that was happening, and then proceeded to say all of the things wrong with the taboo relationships that Fizz and Blitz had with royal blue bloods. Obviously Fizz got defensive, which made Striker threaten him.

“Leave him alone!” You yelled out.

Striker glared at you and let go of Fizz, “Looks like you want him, don’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I see the way your face changed from pissed off to sadness once jester over here started talking about his boy toy.” Striker grinned sinisterly.

You glanced over at Fizz who had wide eyes, “No, I’m just sad because I have to be locked up in a cage with people who won’t stop fighting.” You said as a matter of fact.

Striker shook the cage before jumping down from it. You looked back at Fizz and softly smiled, not knowing on what to say without expressing your feelings for him.

You stayed silent as Blitz was finally able to get you and Fizz out of the cage, but once you guys all fell out and was met face to face with mafia members things got serious.

You and Fizz made a run for it while Blitz was fighting them off. “We have to help him.”

“What? No!”

“Fizz please. If we don’t we might die.”

Fizz didn’t want to help the person that stabbed him in the back, but he did wanted you to live. “Fine.”

And with that you and Fizz tried to kill off as many members as possible. Fizz doesn’t know how to fight, but you do know some fighting moves.

“What the fuck, Fizz?! How is someone this flexible, this useless in combat?! At least Y/n knows how to fight.”

“I’m a performer! I don’t do danger!”

With a few of the demons out for the count, Blitz, Fizz and you made a run for it.

“Well good to know you're still a wimpy circus puss that needs Y/n to protect you, sounds like you’re using them!”

“Where did you get that from!” Fizz yelled.

“Because ever since we were little they had to protect you! Especially after that accident!”

“AN ACCIDENT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“Guys we seriously need to stop arguing we HAVE to focus getting out of here!” You yelled.

“You didnt even sound grateful that Y/n was with you! And you were the one who wanted them and not me!” Blitz shot the mafia number that was coming from behind.

“I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT ME NOT WANTING YOU TO SEE ME! I WANTED YOU TO.” Fizz huffed, “I wanted my best friends to see me.”

All three of you guys had a look of realization. “Ohhhh.”

“Look, Misunderstanding or no, it's hard to just forgive you. It's been fifteen years and... That's so much time... But! I guess you didn't really ruin my life.”

“What, you're telling me getting blown up didn't ruin your life?”

“It was painful... and challenging, and y'know FUCK YOU STILL, BUT... It's not like I'm broken. And I now have someone who understands me and...” Fizz looks at you and softly smiled.

Blitz looked at you too, “Where were you in the fire?”

“I was with Fizz. He uh…pushed me out the way and he got blown up instead of me.“

Striker snuck up on you guys and got a hold of you three, “You been a pain in my ass long enough, Blitz. NOW, I'm gon' break you like a FUCKIN' HORSE!”

“Ohh don’t you dare talk sexy to me!”

“You're still on the horse thing?!” The two of you said.

Striker and the goons cornered you guys even more. “Fizz! Remember how you used to distract my dad so I could steal his booze?”

“I mean, yeah? Why?”

“Yeah well, I need to get up to that window there to bust us out.”

“Ohohooo! One distraction, comin' up!”

The moment Fizz started to perform you helped Blitz break out.

“Since when did you become a personal body guard for Fizz?”

“Since he saved me from that fire. I feel like I owe it to him.” You replied as you and Blitz created a tower of boxes to get to the window.

“I didn’t mean to blow him up, Y/n. I’m sorry that I did and it WAS an accident!”

“I know, I believe you. Don’t worry about it, okay? He’s doing good.”

Blitz used a blow torch to open the window. “I’m sorry I didn’t even try to contact you either. I was just..I don’t know.”

“Dude it’s okay. Stop apologizing- You just fucking dropped the blow torched.” You deadpanned.

“Fuck! Okay uh..give me those extremely convenient bombs.”

You turned around and saw them. “Oh, would you look at that.”

You guys set them around the window and took some steps back before pushing the trigger, making the window explode into a massive hole.

Fizz stretches up and allowed Blitz on his back while using his other mechanic arm to hold you and swung you guys out of the warehouse.

The whole building caved in as you three made a run for it while laughing. Your hand was still in Fizz’s, and since he can’t feel you assume he doesn’t know you guys are holding hands.

In the midst of you guys talking Striker grabbed the two of you. You stomped on his foot, but instead of him letting go you and Fizz, he only let go of you, making you drop and before you could get up and stepped on your neck, cutting off air flow.

“Y/n!” Fizz shouted.

“I'm THROUGH losin' these fights! This worthless little pet REEKS of his over-bloated master... I'll at least enjoy gettin' rid of 'im.”

Blitz sweats a little, then finally shooting the gas tanks, making them explode. Striker scurries away and the moment he did Fizz helped you up while you gasp for air.

“Are you okay!?”

You looked at your surrounding areas, flames all around you two. “Fizz! We’re going to catch on fire!” You screamed out.

Fizz tried using his mechanical hand to reach out to get you two away but it malfunction. “Fuck!”

“Fizz, I always had feelings for you since we were little and I really wished I said something before we die.”

Fizz saw Blitz hop onto a crane and hold his hand out to grab you guys. “We’re not going to die I promise, here hold on to me.”

You held onto Fizz as blitz swung you guys out of the fire and onto a safe area.

“YOU BLEW US UP AGAIN YOU PRICK!” Fizz yelled.

“I know. But this time I stuck around.” Blitz saw that you guys were still holding hands, “And I overheard Y/n express their feelings for you because they thought you guys were gonna die. So uh, congratulations! If I didn’t try to blow you guys up then Y/n wouldn’t have confessed SO, yall welcome.”

“Fuck you.” You and Fizz said in unison.

~~

Before you and Fizz met face to face with Ozzie, he wanted to talk to you. “I-”

You interrupted, “It’s okay if you don’t have feelings for me. I understand and it was very impulsive for me to say that. I know you and Ozzie-”

“We’re polyamorous. I want you in our relationship.”

“But what about Ozzie?”

“He won’t mind, in fact he’s always been telling me to invite you joining us because he knows I’ve had feelings for you since we were little.”

You smile out of relief and wrapped your arms around him to pull him into a kiss. “What are we going to say to Ozzie?”

“We’ll walk up in there and just tell him we’re in a relationship.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“Y/n,” Fizz placed his forehead onto yours so he could feel you, “Today he told me to ask you out. Everytime we hang out one on one he’s always telling me this. I’m just glad you were the one to say it first because I do NOT have the guts.”

“In my defense I thought we were gonna die, so if it wasn’t for Blitz we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” You kissed Fizz, “I love you Fizz, I really do.”

“I love you too.”

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.3

Hope y'all enjoy! As always if there's anything wrong/inaccurate let me know. I'm currently looking through the show and picking out the scenes from each episode I want to put her into if anyone has any they'd like to see please let me know!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1894 (I wanted to split it but there was no good dividing point)

Previous part - Next part

---

A few months had passed and y/n had settled back into life on the ranch.  She had become accustomed to the 4am alarm in the form of Rip banging on the trailer, dragging herself into the bunk house and Lloyd handing her coffee before heading out to start work before the sun had begun to touch the mountain peaks.  Winter had arrived in Montana and the snow had descended from the mountains and into the valley.  In between the mountains, the winter sun did little to keep the frost away from the frozen ground and the hands could see their breath as they sat on their horses in the corral.

It was another day of roping practice and it was getting competitive, as it always did.  Y/n watched from her horse as a couple of hands took after the steer.  When they caught it, there were jeers from the onlookers at how long it had taken them.

“You call that roping boys?” She shouted, “you’d think they’d have learnt after a few months how to get one.”

One glared at her, “you think you can do better?  You’re a barrel racer woman not a fuckin’ roper.”

There was a low whistle from Lloyd, “boy you just made a big mistake.”

“Which reason is that I can’t rope?  ‘Cuz I’m a barrel racer or because I’m a woman?  Boy, I could rope circles around you with my eyes shut,” y/n responded.

He laughed, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Rip you want to help me prove this son of a bitch wrong?” She asked.

The foreman nodded, “boys you’re about to learn a true lesson in cowboying.”

They lined the horses up on either side of the chute, exchanging a look of determination.  With a deep breath, she nodded at Jake to open it up.  The gate flew open and the horses took off after the steer at speed.  With the ease of someone who’d roped cattle for over a decade, Rip had the horns and pulled the steer left.  Y/n swung the lasso over her head and threw it with careful timing to catch the back legs and bring the steer to an easy stop.  

“You forget that I been dealing with cattle since I could sit on a horse,” she shouted back to them.

Lloyd chuckled, “she’s more cowboy than any of you motherfuckers could ever hope to be.”

The old hand looked at Ryan next to him whose eyes were trained on the young woman as she furled her rope up neatly and patted her horse’s neck.  Lloyd observed the softness in his eyes and the way he subconsciously leaned forward in his saddle.  

He leaned over towards Ryan, “you ought to be careful with how you watch her son.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Lloyd,” Ryan straightened himself up.

Lloyd shook his head, “I’ve seen that look in enough cowboy’s eyes to know that it ends in heartbreak.”

“Trying my fuckin’ best to keep it out of ‘em,” he answered.

He watched y/n lope her horse around the corral, “you know if you break her heart there’ll be a line to break your face and I’m sure as hell in it.”

“She doesn’t make it easy Lloyd that’s for damn sure,” Ryan muttered, “god damn charm without even trying.”

Lloyd nodded, “neither of you are fuckin’ subtle.  Just don’t break her heart.”

Before he could respond, y/n brought her horse to a stop in front of them.  Her smile was infectious and Ryan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Anytime one of you boys needs a little humbling with a rope you let me know,” Y/n declared, “I’ll take your money here or at the poker table anytime.”

Ryan whispered under his breath, “you are gonna be the fuckin’ end of me.”

-/-/-

A few days later the hands were all gathered around the table with the bunk house heater on full blast.  A cold snap had come into the valley and didn’t show any signs of leaving.  The usual beer that came with the nightly game of cards had been exchanged for hot drinks and nobody had been brave enough to take their jackets off when they came inside.  

An argument was just about to break out between the hands when the door to the bunkhouse swung open to reveal y/n, not that it was immediately obvious it was her underneath all the layers she was wearing.  They stopped talking as the door swung shut behind her and watched as she deposited herself with all the clothes she was wearing right in front of the heater.  That got them talking again.

“Woman that’s the only thing stopping this entire bunk from getting hypothermia,” Jake exclaimed.

She glared at him, “at least you got heat.  Fuckin’ trailer’s battery packed in and there’s no damn heat in there.  Colder than the artic.”

“Go back to the house where you belong then,” the new hand responded bitterly.

Y/n shook her head, “boy you’ve been here long enough to know those words shoulda never come out your mouth.  Now move over so I can steal this week’s wages from you.”

“Okay but seriously why don’t you move back there where it’s warm?” Jake pressed.

She sighed, “I’ll go back there when he takes back what he did to Kaye.  And he can’t ever take that back.”

-/-/-

Later, after taking money from the hands that they didn’t have to give, y/n replaced all the layers she’d shed in the warmth of the bunkhouse and retreated to the cold of her trailer.  Ryan had watched with concern as she stepped out into the freezing night but kept his thoughts to himself when he saw the look that Lloyd was giving him.  He resigned himself to finishing their game of cards before turning in for the night, aware of the time he needed to be up in the morning.  As the bunkhouse fell asleep, Ryan listened to the wind rattling over the roof unsettled by the thought of y/n in the trailer with no heat.

After a couple of hours of tossing restlessly in his bunk, Ryan relented to his concern and got up.  Quietly, he put his coat and hat on before leaving the bunk house.  His breath was visible in the cold air and he pulled his coat tighter around him against the chill of the wind.  A light still on in the barn caught his attention and he went to investigate why it was still on in the middle of the night.

In the barn, nearly all the horses were asleep and safely tucked away from the cold outside.  As he headed down the aisle, Ryan looked into the stalls to check on the horses and stopped halfway down where the light was still on.  The spotted horse looked up from his hay briefly when Ryan stopped before looking to the back of the stall, as if indicating the cowboy what was there.  At the back, partially obscured, was a barely distinguishable figure beneath a pile of blankets he recognised from before.

“Fuck you doing out here?” He asked, surprised to see her there.

Y/n opened her eyes to look at him, “could ask you the same thing, cowboy.”

“Jake snores too much,” he claimed.

She snorted, “you managed just fine for years.  Somehow I don’t think that’s it.”

Ryan looked at her through the bars of the stall door as she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.  He sighed at the look on her face and the collection of blankets she was in.

“Was worried about you in the cold,” he relented.

Y/n smiled at him, “Comanche is doing a good job of keeping me warm aren’t you boy.”

“And that’s why I can see you shivering under all those layers from here,” Ryan pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “honestly I’m fine Ry.  Go get some sleep.”

“God you’re killing me here,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re gonna catch your death out here y/n.”

“Honeslty stop worrying about me,” she sighed, “I’m a big girl I can look after myself.”

Ryan opened the stall door and looked at her, “we can stand here and debate that while you continue to get hypothermia or we can skip that and you can come sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Is there a way this conversation ends with me winning?” Y/n questioned from her place on the floor.

He shook his head, “if you want to be one explaining to Rip, Lloyd, Lee and your father why you didn’t take the opportunity to sleep in a warm bunk house and instead froze out here and therefore need to be taken to hospital for frostbite, be my guest sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart, huh?” She smirked at him.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “of that whole thing that’s what you took away, y/n?  Get your ass out of that stall.”

“It’s almost tempting to keep this going to see how you’ll react but I am starting to lose feeling in my toes,” she relented, “but you’re gonna have to pull me off the floor.”

He chuckled but stepped into the stall nonetheless.  Y/n held her hand out to him expectantly and he took it, effortlessly pulling her from the floor into him  They stood there for a moment, chests pressed against each other and his hand still in her cold one.  Even with the numerous blankets around her shoulders, Ryan could still see her shivering.  Y/n could feel the warmth from his hand spreading up her arm and gasped at the feeling of it.  She didn’t dare break his gaze, staring deep into his blue eyes.

Comanche snorted, dragging them out of their bubble and back to the reality that was the cold Montana night.  Ryan dropped her hand and wordlessly exited the stall.  Y/n stood there, blinking dumbly before she collected her thoughts and followed him out of the barn.

“And just where exactly in the bunk house are you expecting me to sleep?” She asked as they stood outside the door.

He smiled at her, “honestly for someone so smart you are being incredibly thick right now.  Take my bunk and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She followed him into the dark bunk house and allowed herself to be guided towards his bunk by a hand on her back.  Ryan watched as she shed the many blankets from around her and slid into the warmth of his bed.  Y/n gestured for him to take her blankets to the couch and he winked at her.

She allowed her eyes to follow his figure through the dark to the couch and watched as he took his boots off, placing his hat on top of them.  Once she was satisfied that he was settled, Y/n turned over to stare at the wall.  The smell of Ryan encompassed her from all sides and she couldn’t help the way every muscle in her body relaxed when she inhaled.  With warmth finally filling her bones, she allowed sleep to overcome her.

[simphornies]

Ahdjsksjsjkssb I love your Vox content and I was wondering if I could request a Vox x reader (preferably fem) who performs songs and dances online, they're like a big shot social media star(who's besties with Vel) and often ropes the Vees into making online content with her(games, dance challenges, reactions, etc. when they're free of course) and it's free PR that some sinners like watching because it's just funny to watch the 3 overlords + reader doing goofy shit. Bonus points if you write about sinners just #shipping Vox and Reader because they have good chemistry XD

A/N: I was listening to Circus by Britney Spears so I may have made the reader a little flirt :) Also this one's a little short so I apologize

Word count: 934

Social Sensation - Vox x Reader

“Vox!” You whined, clinging onto his leg. “No! I’m not letting you plug controllers into me so you can play video games for a video.” He groaned as he repeated himself for the fifth time.

“Vox! Please! The sinners! They want it!” You begged. “This one time and I won’t ask you for it again!”

He sighs, giving in just to get you to stop. And also because he knew you wouldn’t let go until he agreed. “Fine. You get 15 minutes.”

“...20?” You asked.

“Don’t push it.”

.

Vox had the most deadpan expression on his face while you were livestreaming on Voxstagram, completely unamused at the fact that there’s three different cords plugged into the back of his head. “Vox, put your fuckin’ face away! It’s throwing me off.” Velvette complained, having fallen off of the platform. The three of you were playing Super Smash, as per request of the audience. He groaned and hid his own face on his own screen.

You, Velvette and Valentino were screaming at each other during the whole game. “Valentino! Move your head out the way I can’t see!” You groaned. “Well I can’t fucking see either!” He yelled back, eyes squinting at the screen.

After what felt like forever to Vox, you win the game. You grabbed your phone and smiled, “Thanks for joining in you guys! I’ll see you all tomorrow for another stream!” You put an arm around Vox and put the camera on him. “A big thanks to Vox! For letting us use him for the game today!”

The comments were flooded with a bunch of thanks to Vox, cheering him on for being a real one and promising to buy more VoxTek devices. You signed off and ended the stream. Vox took out the cords with no hesitation as soon as you did. “That was not 15 minutes.” Vox squinted at you, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, Voxy~” You giggled and laid your head on his lap, happily scrolling on your phone, “I got you more sales and I got more followers. A win-win!”

He huffed, “I get sales either way.” He was full on pouting now. You reached up and pinched the side of his screen, “Aw. Don’t be mad. You know you love me. Besides, you’ve been getting more sales ever since I started crashing here with you guys and you can’t tell me I’m wrong.”

For a brief second, you swore his usual blue screen started to fade into a red before going back to blue. “I guess you’re right on that.” He lets out a sigh and relaxes into the couch, “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I gotta go tomorrow to the Lust Ring.” You showed him a photo of the poster Asmodeus posted on his Voxstagram. “I’m performing!”

“The Lust Ring?!” His voice cracked before he cleared his throat, “That’s a…You’re gonna fine by yourself?” “What?” You grinned cheekily, “You scared someone’s gonna fuck me there instead of you~” You teased as his screen turned a little red.

“What! No!” He huffed, “I was just wondering if you’d want an escort or something.”

“Aww. If you wanted to come with me, you could’ve just said so!” You giggled and got up.

“Don’t get it twisted! It’s for business.” He crossed his arms.

“Right.” You winked, “Business. Anyways I’ll see you there. Gotta meet up with Velvette for my new outfit.”

.

Vox sat in one of the seats closer to the front. He stayed on his phone during the other performances only putting it away after you were announced to come up next.

“And it’s my pleasure to announce our final performance for the night! The darling, Y/N!” Asmodeus stepped away from the spotlight as it shines on you.

You began your performance immediately making eye contact with Vox. A seductive smile on your face the whole time. You danced seductively while you sang. Vox didn’t take his eyes off of you, glued to your intoxicating display. His eyes followed your hands running up your hips and to your chest and through your hair. He was enamored.

.

Your performance went viral online, plenty of people talked about the dress Velvette made for you which boosted her sales making her very happy. Vox’s jaw dropped expression and your wink at him went crazy too, people shipping the two of you together.

“Vox!” You yelled, catching his attention, “The sinners loved the performance. I’m so glad you came and watched it!”

“Y-Yeah! It was amazing as always, my dear.” He grinned, “You’re very lovable, Y/N.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching you gleefully scroll through your phone.

You showed him the comments on your phone, “They love us too, baby~” You teased. He choked on his drink and looked at all of the people commenting under a picture of him staring at you on the stage. “I think you should give what the people and I want and go on a date with me.” You winked.

“A date?!” He coughed, “You want to go on a date with me?”

“For an allegedly smart overlord, you’re a little slow, huh?” You giggled and left him a kiss on his screen. “That show was for you. I’ll see you later tonight~” You snapped a photo next to him rebooting and posted it to your socials with ‘Told him we’re going on a date tonight! <3 Love ya @ Vox <3’ as the caption. Your comments were flooded with excited fans going insane over the development. You giggled and walked away, leaving Vox to deal with your confession by himself.

[runnning-outof-time]

Cia!! Thanks so much for sending this my way! I always appreciate your lovely GIFts 😉😉 I’m sorry this one took a bit…I struggled with figuring out a plot for it. This could be read with the couple from my series Birmimgham, but there’s nothing specific that locks it down to them…so it’s a regular Tommy x Reader as well! (I just wanted to write a little something more with those two) I hope you enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Not How I Wanted It To Go

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: language

Tommy’s initial plan of calling the men into the kitchen gets thwarted when the someone, who’s not supposed to be present, walks in.

“Right, boys, you’re all here,” Tommy started as he took one last drag from his cigarette before removing it from between his lips and stamping it out in one of the bowls on the kitchen counter.

“Shoulda had a fuckin’ map done up,” Arthur commented on the vastness of the house that his younger brother now owned as he and the other men filed into the space.

“Party’s still goin’ on out there, Tom…why’ve you got us in here?” Johnny Dogs questioned while eyeing up one of the trays that the cook staff was busy preparing.

“I wanted to let you all know before I go and do it…” Tommy trailed off, taking a deep breath as he rested his hands on his hips, “I’m going to propose to (Y/N),” he announced his plan, making the room burst into cheers and hollers.

“Fucking finally!” John exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.

“It took ya long enough!” Arthur added, getting in on the teasing, walking over to clap Tommy on the back.

“Is this why we’re all packed into this crowded house?” Uncle Charlie asked, his brows raising.

“Fuck you callin’ crowded, Charlie? This place is bigger than all of our houses on the lane combined and then rebuilt two times over,” John jumped in before Tommy could respond, refuting the older man’s statement, “and let’s not get started on the fuckin’ stables…can fit half of the King’s horses in…”

“Oi, John!” Tommy cut his brother off, sending a warning glare in his direction, “enough,” was all he had to say before John fell back into line. Tommy huffed at the tangent they’d just been taken on before responding to the original question, “it’s one of the reasons, yeah.”

He and (Y/N) were hosting a party at their new estate; a housewarming celebration. (Y/N) had wanted to have it so that she could finally invite all of their friends and family over. Tommy thought that it was a good place to finally propose to her.

“So you’re gonna do it then, Tommy?” Jeremiah was the one to bring the group back to the original topic of discussion.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded his head in a definitive manner.

“When, brother?” Arthur wanted to know the details.

“Today,” Tommy’s voice still held confidence. Surprised expressions formed on the faces of the men in the room. Tommy looked around once before he continued talking, “I’m going to do it today and I pulled you all in here to let you know where you fit into it…” he paused, looking around the room once again, “it’s going to happen later, which means you fuckers can’t do anything that will embarrass her or make her upset…”

“This is (Y/N) we’re talkin’ ‘bout here, Tom,” John interjected with a grin on his face.

His words made Tommy zero in on him, “anything,” he repeated, his eyebrows raised to show the seriousness in the situation, unhappy that John was still joking. He looked around the room to see the men watching him intently. He ran a hand over his face before continuing, “no taking bets, no stealing stuff, no sizing up her extended family…”

“What if they come at us?” Isiah cut into Tommy’s speech this time, looking to the right then so that he could send Michael a grin. Those two had gotten into enough fights together.

“What?” Tommy spun to look at him, his brows now furrowed in confusion. He was slowly but surely slipping to the end of his rope with the questions and interruptions.

“What if they start the fight?” Isiah asked his question with slightly different wording.

“You step away. We’re not fighting tonight…do you understand me? No fighting…” he paused as he moved over to the line of men, moving down and pointing at each one of them as he repeated his statement, “no fighting, no fighting, no fighting…” he paused again, moving to the middle so that he could look at the entire group again, “no. Fucking. Fighting!” he barked his order, the frustration slipping through in his words. Isiah’s question had been the one to set it off. Silence fell in the room after his outburst, and he took a few deep, steadying breaths as he looked at the men again, “are there any other questions?” he dared to them to continue, knowing that the next person who tried to would most likely get their head chewed off.

“Let us see the ring then, Tom,” Arthur’s words came out as a statement rather than a question, and it served to cut the tension.

Tommy huffed out a sigh then, rooting in his trousers’ pockets to retrieve the box as the men all began chattering again; this time about catching a glimpse of the ring he was going to give (Y/N). He opened the box as soon as he pulled it out, showing the men that had gathered around him.

“She’s gonna love it, brother,” Arthur commented, patting him on the back as he smiled proudly, “the last of the Shelby men to get married…besides Finn over there,” he said then, nodding his head at their youngest sibling.

“Though Finn might have married (Y/N) if you didn’t get around to it,” John added with a grin, his words making the boy they were talking about blush profusely.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Finn had a bit of a crush on (Y/N)…he’d been starstruck by her from the time that she helped him with his maths those few years ago.

“So you’re doing it tonight then?”

“Yeah, later. I wanted to have it so that she’s not overwhelmed by everyone after it happens,” Tommy explained more of his plan, smiling as he looked down at the ring.

A voice came from the entrance to the kitchen before anything else could be said. “What’s going on in here, Tommy?”

Tommy looked up from the ring upon hearing it and his throat went dry as his eyes fell onto (Y/N). Shit. “Uh…what’re you doing here, love?” he asked, feeling his heart rate increase. The ring was still out in full view…there was no way she didn’t see it!

“I came looking for you. Some of my family were getting ready to leave and wanted to thank you for the invite…what are you all doing?” she asked, trying to look anywhere but at the box in his hands.

“Might as well do it now, brother,” Arthur mumbled behind Tommy as a tense silence hung in the air.

Tommy glanced to his side, seeing his brother nodding towards (Y/N). He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he decided to go forward with it. He took a few steps toward (Y/N) then, the jewelry box still clutched in his hands. “This is not how I wanted this to go, (Y/N)…” he started off, keeping his eyes locked onto her as her lips parted slightly in surprise, “I wanted to do it in a way that would make things more special; a way you deserved. I’ve never in my life loved someone as much as I love you, and there is no one I’d rather spend the rest of my days with…”

“Yes, Tommy,” (Y/N) breathed, beating him to the punch and making his brows furrow in response.

“I’ve not even gotten down on one knee, love,” he pointed out.

“I don’t need that. My answer’s yes,” she shook her head, a wide smile present on her face.

“(Y/N)…”

“Fuck the particulars, just put the ring on her finger!” John yelled from where the men were still gathered, his words cutting off Tommy’s hesitancy.

Tommy turned and shot a glare at his younger brother, who was wearing a shit-eating grin, before looking at (Y/N) once more. “Will you marry me, (Y/N)?” he asked her even though she’d already given her answer.

“Yes!” she nodded her head, reaching out to wrap her hand around the back of his neck so that she could pull him into a passionate kiss. Tommy took hold of her waist with the hand that wasn’t holding the ring, steadying himself as he kissed her back with equal passion.

A chorus of cheers broke out behind them as they broke away. Tommy took the ring from its holder and slid it onto her left hand, looking up at her with a big smile once it was sitting comfortably at the base. (Y/N) smiled back at him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as the men moved in to begin congratulating them.

It may not have been the original, extravagent proposal that Tommy had been planning, but it was the perfect proposal for them.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable

MASTERLIST

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

SNAIL & THRUSH (II)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER III ||

PAIRING: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, self destructive tendencies, insinuations of PTSD, talks of death, thoughts of violence, banter but it’s more just straight up attacks

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Can you—” An aggressive sigh sounds out over the air as your fast-walking form continues on; the earth molding to your shoes. “The area isn’t locked down this far out, Ma’am. Can you just get in the bloody car, please?”

Your eyes stare straight ahead, half-lidded, and could probably melt a sheet of metal if they had to. 

Not answering, you continue to walk back into town, ignoring Gaz entirely as he attempts to coax you into the large car he’s driving. The window is down, his accented voice hitting your ears and bouncing off the invisible barrier you had put there to block out his prattle about a mile back. 

You utterly refuse to enter the vehicle, even if you were already as tired as a marathon runner. The person driving followed you at a snail’s pace at his wit's end.

Stepping on gravel that crunches under your weight, your fists swing clenched beside you in small clipped arches. If volatile had a picture attached to the definition page, it would be you.

Not only had you figured out Samson Row was dead before you could kill him yourself, but now you had to deal with weapon and drug lords who had it out for you and your mother.

Under your breath, quick worded mumbles are missed over the car’s engine, the slow forward motion of tires that stir the dust and leaves you blinking quickly. 

You’d both been at this ever since you’d forced your way out of the garage back on Base and had restrained yourself from making a scene because they had refused to give you your laptop back.

“Protection detail,” your lips curl, thinking over Laswell’s clipped sentences. “Like I want your help after all of this. Just open your home, why don’t you?” Sarcastic flails of your hands leave Gaz groaning and rolling his eyes at the childish scene, a hand going to rub over his neck soothingly. The attempt to bring clarity back to himself only barely works. “Just accept that we can’t keep our own operatives on a leash—but here! Just take the one that forced you into the back of a van and put a revolver to your forehead—God!”

“Are you done out there yet?” Kyle calls, single grip over his hat as he glares out the windshield, no longer wanting to look at you as your teeth bare else he’d get to the end of his rope before he even started climbing. “Bit of a walk back to town, y’know. Not exactly how I’d want to spend my morning, copy?” He mutters the last sentence under his breath. 

Don’t want to spend any bloody mornings like this.

“If you tell me one more time to get into the car,” you level as you crush a weed in your way, “I’m sprinting off into the field and making you run after me.” 

A long scoff and an exasperated shake of his head later, Gaz is growling an acknowledgment; tapping his fingers over the wheel. Did you not understand the severity of the situation? Hell, it was like you didn’t even care! This was his job, and he took it very seriously. There was no room for fuck-ups.

The car continues to waste gas and slug along, even if the Brit wanted to hop out and drag you into it like the stubborn brat you were acting like. 

“How many years overseas?” He asks himself as your form stomps farther away before he presses his foot to the gas lightly and hears the gears squeak. He pulls up beside you moments later, lips tight. “Fuckin’ hell mate. Have a go at this.”

“I can hear you, idiot.” Your voice sounds off, face turning slightly his way. The mid-morning sun was warm, but the breeze from the not-so-far-off Lake Michigan was a welcome feeling as it went over heated skin. “Talk quieter so I don't have to.”

Kyle didn’t understand how you could wear that thick jacket, though. It was slightly chilly, sure, but not that bad out. But he certainly wasn’t going to ask. Not when you were acting like you were going to shank him in the kneecap for breathing in your direction.

“Brilliant.” He spreads his digits from where they curl over the steering wheel, shrugging his shoulders to himself mockingly. “Anything else I should know, Ma’am?” 

Drive into a tree, you want to snap, but refrain. Even if seeing the Brit’s eyes go small and jaw go tight was a smirk-inducing sight, what you wanted was silence. A silence that you would probably never get now that your house was being invaded without your say. 

At least it’s only him, trying to find light in the situation was your father’s specialty–not yours. Your body forces out a tight breath to calm down. Could you imagine what would have happened if Laswell had forced the one with the dead eyes to watch me? Ghost?

Your body shivers tightly. If Price was at the top of your list of people you feared, Ghost was second. You couldn’t stand to feel those blue orbs lock on you in the rear-view mirror when they’d brought you in. You already had enough ghosts living at the mansion, you didn't need another.

A few seconds later, the car beside you comes to a fast halt with a ruckus of crunching gravel. You hope for a moment the car will turn around and disappear into the background.

“...Y’know what, yeah? I’m solid walking.” The clashing of keys being ripped from an ignition makes you blink in horror, head whipping to the side to watch as the car door is shoved open. 

Sergeant Kyle’s tall form greets you as your legs stall, shock coating your lungs.

“The hel–” you stop your sharp tongue. Gritted words fall instead. “And what are you doing?”

Gaz’s body goes to the back of the car, popping open the trunk and throwing out bag after bag as your jaw drops. He grasps one of the largest—a duffel bag—and slings it over his back. Two more are taken in one hand as his muscles writhe, though it looked like the apparent weight doesn't bother him much. 

The Brit ignores you, striding past as his long fingers go to his right ear. 

“Actual this is Bravo 2-6, I’ll be needing a pickup for a vehicle about a mile down-road. Parked near the edge. You copy?” A pause as you watch him continue on, looking back and forth from the still metal to his clenched fist over the straps of his belongings. A small sound escapes your throat. “No,” Gaz huffs a stiff laugh in response to the conversation you can’t hear. Your ear tips burn. “No, there’s not a damn thing wrong with the bastard, believe it or not.” 

“Hey!” Calling loudly, you stare at the figure as it gradually gets farther away, feet spread apart and the air smelling of corroding anger saturated in lake water.

“Affirm, Actual. Will do.” Kyle smoothly utters, taking his hand off his earpiece and fixing the black cord that descends from it so it won’t get in the way of his shirt collar. 

Not thinking much of your absent footsteps, the Brit’s head tilts. His ball cap blocks out the sun from his eyes yet they still squint at your practically vibrating silhouette. 

“You coming then, Love? Long walk.” Your hands snap to your pockets, the one finding the small coin immediately and bringing it into a tight grip. Suddenly, Gaz’s dark Adam’s Apple was the most offensive sight you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Best get to it, then.”

You can no more say you were fighting off a string of curses more than you were struggling against the rampage of your heart. Kyle just turns back around with a small smirk growing at the apparent slackness of your jaw; brown eyes crinkling. His internal scoreboard marks a point under his name.

Staying stationary for a good minute, stance tight and mind running, Laswell's words come back to encompass your consciousness in between the seething hatred you hold as the two of you become more separated. The price on your head—the threats to your mother’s safety as well as yours. 

Your thighs tighten. 

For better or for worse, you had to stick close to Kyle for the simple fact that he knew more about this than you did. Trained to be a killer and not hesitant to pull the trigger of a gun for the sake of his precious orders. Even now your eyes snap to the open expanse of the military base’s outer fields; the long grass and the dark ruts in the dirt. Blinking, your tense feet slam the ground as you start forward begrudgingly.

Fine. I’m an adult. I can handle it. But…maybe getting in the car would have been better than walking beside him. Your jaw clenches, not willing to admit that small fact to the man ahead of you. 

“Do you get tired of being a piece of work?” You call loudly, catching up quickly at your pace as though the man was hanging back purposely, also knowledgeable of the situation. 

He couldn’t just abandon his charge.

Kyle glances at your side profile, quirking a dark brow and sloping his chin. Being this close to him made your nose scrunch at the smell of his cologne, the scent not unpleasant but ultimately still attached to him.

“Actually, Ma’am, I take it as a compliment. Means I’m doing my job.” A pause as he fixes the hold on his gear, grunting. Not able to help himself now that the opportunity presents itself. “Do you?” 

Keeping a wide berth between you too, your face tilts to the sky, finding the whizzing forms of water birds and growling like a dog choking on a bullet. The hatred in the air was palpable; none too eager for the job ahead. 

My protection detail, you send long glances at Kyle thinking over the title again, studying his strong back and the sharp stab of his nose as it twitches to the scent of native switchgrass seeds. Keeping your studious attention far away from his brown orbs, you peel at the sides of your nails inside your pockets. The person I need protection from is already right beside me. How ironic can my life get?

But you can’t really be surprised, after all, you had expected to see him and the others again someday. Just…not like this. In the ground would have been preferable.

As you both walk in a strangling silence, your thoughts go back to your mother; wondering if she would be okay. The woman was far more stubborn than even you—there were few things that pulled her away from her work in helping others. 

Taking one hand to itch at the skin under your left eye, you stifle a yawn. 

At most, you’d text each other perhaps once a month. Quick updates and brief conversations about the weather like strangers. You couldn't talk about your nightmares or your father even though she’d been informed about the accusations on her deceased husband. 

You didn’t know if the CIA agents had told her the specifics about how he died when they delivered a detailed condolence letter and forced signatures of silence. It would destroy her if they did. 

Maybe I’ll call her when I get my phone from my nightstand back home. 

You narrow your vision. An urge to hear your mom’s soothing voice hit you like an anvil. She couldn’t make this better, but she’d certainly be able to help. 

Gaz’s eyes rove and observe the land, his combat boots leaving prints behind him. But his inspections always lead him back to you. His charge. The phantom from his past that had never really been forgotten just pushed to the side in between missions. The girl who seemed to not give a damn that he was the only person able to keep her alive at this point.

The line on Kyle’s forehead deepens. 

Part of him was completely fine with keeping his voice in his throat; listening to the chatter of birds and the clink of his bags’ zippers as he carried the great weight of them with no complaint. Another piece, the loose, reliable, part of him that followed procedure was hesitant to try and articulate how dire this was out loud to you because that wasn’t how this usually went. 

The target on your back was no joke, even Laswell knew it. But the soldier carries the burden of detail. 

Would she take me seriously if I don’t try to tell her, is the question. The Sergeant makes a noise in the back of his throat.

First impressions are a lock and seal as he was sure you were well aware. 

His lips part, half a word formed before the skin gradually falls shut again. Kyle takes a glance at you once more, looking at your wound-tight form and the utter mental exhaustion on your face. Despite his reservations about you, a sliver of regret finds his heart.

You hadn’t asked for any of this, and while you weren’t giving him much slack, his dry sarcastic nature hadn’t helped either. The two of you were just good at making the other go insane, no matter how much time you did or didn’t spend together. 

Kyle would never admit it, but it slightly impressed him.

“Should be back in town near o-twelve-hundred.” He clears his throat, trying to lose the bleeding of his stoic words. Make them lighter; airier. Attempt to be cordial. “If we keep this pace, of course. Then I can set up and be out of your hair for a bit.” 

Your feet had come to a slow drag-legged stop. Gaz blinks, noticing from the corner of his vision, and does the same—his tightness immediately going to confusion. He looks around the area, though spots nothing out of the ordinary.

Hell, what did I say now? 

But he sees your distant gaze with a stilling of his facial features, gaze falling to what you were staring quite hard at. 

You blink down at the corpse near the side of the road. 

Its small body was covered in dirtied feathers; colors of orange, gray, black, and white speaking through despite the obvious decay. A beak so long it took up larger space than the skull. 

Belted Kingfisher. 

When an animal dies the eyes are always the first to go—maggots and flies, whatnot. Soft and squishy. You don’t know why, but looking down at that small, dead, bird you longed to know what its eyes had looked like. The color, the intelligent sheen of them. Now only a black eye socket gives its voided opinions like a mute judge. 

You’d spotted it quite by accident, just looking over the landscape as the Brit tried to speak to you. A breeze ruffles the feathers that are left over the frail being and you find for the first time in a long while your head is completely silent.

Your muscles loosen.

“...Ma’am?” 

Violently flinching, the brief contact to your shoulder is snapped back in an instant, Kyle going to splay the offending hand in a sign of no harm. Dark eyebrows tight. Taking down a full breath, you miss the concern in the Sergeant’s expression, the steady look. There’s a moment when the world holds its air; the animals nearby fall wholly still as the wind carries every unsaid word better than you can annunciate it. 

Your stomach rolls at the reminder of his touch, even through layers of clothes. Gaz murmurs a question of which you ignore.

Shoving past him, on your way past his tilted face you growl upwards, “Keep your hands off of me, Garrick.” 

You increase your walking speed, trying with all of your might to fight the impending explosion of anger and anxiety. It was like your hands wanted to grip him by his neck, shove him down to the floor and let him know what it felt like to hurt the way you do. For a moment glimpse the life draining from his amber optics.

But any sort of physical pain, or even death, could never amount to knowing what you’d gone through. Not to mention you’d probably get your ass handed to you in mere seconds. 

Staring after with wide, creased, eyes, the Brit waits for a moment before he looks down at the small bird carcass you were entranced by moments prior. 

His head tilts, lungs filling.

“...Poor bugger.” He frowns and observes the way you quickly walk on with emotion on his lips. Gaz sighs and shakes his head, raising a brow back down at the now-soulless body as the telltale signs of a migraine start to pulse. “Recon I’ll be ending up like you in a bit, Mate.” 

He catches up easily, even with the weight of his bags and you have to wonder how anyone thought that this was a good idea. 

The devil beside you walks so far removed from normal life that it astounds you, and the rest of the trip is stuck in an uncomfortable silence reserved for those who dislike one another. 

Town can’t come soon enough, and you’re stopping at Hector’s Café along the way to your Estate. 

“It’s best to go straight back,” you thin your lips and slip into the building, the door creaking behind you as Gaz waits at the entrance. “I need to secure the property ASAP.” 

“You’ll get to wreck my home all you want in an hour.” Your backpack was on the main counter, and you walked to it slowly; drawing out the Sergeant's annoyance as much as you could. If you can’t hurt him physically at the moment, mentally was just as good a substitute. “I need my backpack.”

“Oh, you mean the one that left a dent in my skull.”

“Yes. I think I’ll end up keeping it as a family heirloom. Frame it maybe.”

“Ah, Lovely. Glad I can be a part of such a defining moment.” Strap in hand and a sarcastic retort on your breath, a great ruckus sound off from the backroom. 

Before you can react your jacket sleeve is being pulled sideways, a form shoving itself in between you and the kitchen door. Your eyes widen, feet stumbling to a stop before adrenaline stabs itself into your heart.

“Son of a bitch!” Rushing out, Hector wields a skillet in one hand—raised halfway above his head with a rabid snarl. “You!” He points it at Kyle, who has a small pistol gripped in his hands; bags haphazardly dropped back near the entrance. Your lips pull to a smirk when the Brit’s ready stance lessens. His wide shoulders lower like a dog’s neck fur. “You think I don’t know a government conspiracy when I see it! I lived in Jersey, motherfucker! What have you done with ‘er?” 

“Hector,” you peek over Garrick’s shoulder as the Sergeant spares you a look. “Easy with that, man….Aim for the throat, though, would you?” 

The skillet lowers, bright eyes landing on you while yours stick to his growing smile and twitching mustache. 

“Kid!” Loud laughs echo. “Holy hell, you scared the shit out ‘o me this morning. What was that all about?”

“Misunderstanding, Sir.” Gaz tries to explain, placing the pistol back into the belt of his pants as you clock it before stepping out from his shadow. It looked like an X12 to you. 

When did he get that, your eyebrows tighten and store that thought for later. There might be a chance to use that against him if you could get your hands on it.

The Café owner glares at the Sergeant as you fix the backpack strap over your shoulder. “Did I ask you, Son? I’m speakin’ to the lady.” 

“An Ex.” You lie smoothly, feeling Kyle’s shocked eyes on you instantly. Itching at the back of your neck, you feign embarrassment. “Cheated on me in high school. When he showed up, well…I did what I’d wanted to do for a while.”

Letting the sentence trail, you were excited for what came next. Genuine giddiness builds in your lungs; fighting a smile as the Brit stutters beside you. Gaz’s eyebrows pull up even higher.

“Cheated…” Hector’s accent becomes more prominent as you twist on a heel and begin heading to the door—only then do you anchor a hand to your mouth to stop the belly-deep laughter. “Oh, you’ve some nerve, showin’ back up, Son. How dare you make her see your face—!”

“Sir, I, bloody hell, I’m not—” Gaz grumbles, shooting heated glances at your disappearing form. “This isn’t….” Stuttering like a rookie. Everything in VIP Protection Training and his copious years in the army was pulling null. 

But no one was ever pulling his strings like you and it’s only been a few hours.

“See you, Hec!” 

“Hey! Come get this piece of trash out of my building.” Your face turns sideways, and Kyle notices the smirk immediately. His chest goes heavy with a wave of seething anger. 

“C’mon then, Kyle. You heard the man, didn’t you?”

If looks could melt people like gold, you would be a puddle of great Midas's curse before your skin hit the air outside, kicking the Sergeant’s bags away with a foot. 

Oh…she’s wicked, she is. The steps he takes are firm, a great cloud over his head as he re-situated his cap with taut fingers and grunts aggressively under his breath. Insulting him directly was one thing, but the chips at his character were cruel. Can I even do this? Hmm, Laswell might still be able to pull me out, let me join back up with the boys.

But everyone was counting on him for this and his stubborn side knew that he’d gone through far worse than a few verbal attacks. Physical strength was needed for this job, but many overlook the larger aspect. And if there was a single thing that Kyle Garrick was prideful about, it was his mental fortitude. Rare were the times that rigorous interrogation even put a dent into his psyche. 

“Just hold out,” he grumbles, ignoring the Cafe owner’s now-known disgust and picking up his bags. Gaz almost felt regretful for being so swift to place his body in front of a possible threat but scolded himself for thinking that immediately. This was his job. “She’s just scared, yeah? Doesn’t want to be around the bloke who,” he slightly cringes and lets the building’s front door close behind him, seeing your jacket ahead and rubbing at the back of his neck. “Who shoved her in a fucking van and put a gun to her head…Christ, Kate, what were you thinking assigning me to this?”

For the remainder of the small journey, Gaz stayed behind you, calming down as your enjoyment of his torment swiftly ended. Small victories weren't worth it, especially when the Brit says nothing in retaliation. Did your little dig at his character really insult him that much? It wasn’t the worst thing you had thought you could say. Not by a long shot.

Sure it seemed that you could piss him off, even if he never snapped and exploded with anger—he didn’t seem the type beyond back-handed comments—but if he didn’t respond it made no difference. 

You…you wanted to hurt him. Make Garrick suffer. You just didn’t know how to do it effectively, or if you could. Now you knew, though, that attacks on his person and morals were the way to go for quick results of muteness.

The iron gate of your home was up ahead, and with a delving of fingers, you produced a key from your back pocket, moving your wallet out of the way to grasp it firmly. 

I want them all to suffer. Your mind wanders as you twist the lock, hearing the metal shriek at you in figurative suffering. Blinking, the shadow behind you causes your body to be hyper-aware. A plan forms grimly, and you have to think if you even have the courage to try it. 

“Hm,” you huff, shoving open the gate and calling over your shoulder. “Close it behind you!” Tossing back the key. 

Kyle catches it, you know, because of the small thump of material meeting a ready palm. A moment later you’re walking through a path of weeds and overgrown bushes, eyes scanning the hedges blandly. You hear the gate close and a moment later, footsteps.

Gaz twirls the key in between his fingers, trying not to say something about the state of the place. But his brown vision roves from one area to another with muted shock.

Didn’t expect this.

Everything was falling into disrepair, even the gargantuan mansion of white and black coloring which normally would have been a grand sight to anyone with sense. Windows were all shut, the lawn looking more like a forest; the concrete underfoot was layered with dirt and insects—grass bleeding into the cracks. 

What should have been a multiple-million-dollar home was looking more like an abandoned lot. 

Kyle turns his confused stare to the back of your head, looking down at the key in hand. 

“Past its prime, I’ll say that.” He speaks to himself, keeping his manners despite the discourse between the two of you. 

It was one thing to bark back and forth like animals, but another to involve the place where one lives. But, your family was well off. There was no reason for it to look like this.

“Any staff I should be aware of, then?” he needs to ask as you ascend the front steps to the double doors. “Gardeners,” Garrick glances quickly at the greenery and coughs, “or, butlers, maids…anything like that” 

“Everyone quit because of the publicity.” Your voice is unusually distant, and you push aside a raggedy welcome mat to produce another key. This one is smaller and rustier, belonging to the main entrance. “Shocker, people didn’t like being harassed on their way to work by camera crews and news anchors. Didn’t hire after that.” 

Kyle’s feet shift, a strange feeling entering his skin as he blinks at you. 

You slip through the doorway first and immediately dart to the side table to the direct right—dropping your backpack dismissively with a quick, yet silent, slam. Heart jumping, your adrenaline spikes. 

Normally the small table would be reserved for purses and other small belongings, but before Gaz can come into the mansion you grab the slick body of a penknife and shove it into your sleeve with twitching fingers. Eyes snapping to the corners of the large foyer and looking over the gray walls and navy curtains. Creaking hardwood. 

“Nice place you got ‘ere,” Kyle tries to lighten the mood, if not for your stubborn sake than for his. Easier to get the job done if at least one person was willing to engage, and he’s willing to attempt it again. The bags in his hand are carefully placed down.

A hand snaps to your father’s gag and you yell when he rages, body shifting forward feebly before a shadow descends upon you. A swift force keeps you back, and your head snaps upwards. 

“Been in the family forever.” You slowly slip the blade out, trading weight from one hip to another and keeping it hidden. “Not really mine, at the end of the day.” 

The hand digs into your shoulder, forcing you to stay in your seat as your lips quiver. It’s not delicate, the hold, and when your eyes scrunch in pain, he somewhat lessons it though not enough to stop the sting. 

A slight relief at the non-confrontational action lets Gaz force out a chuckle. 

“Lots of places like that over in England—you have to wonder how they’re still standing, eh? Solid foundations.” A pause. “Proper interesting pieces of history.”

Never would the image of sepia-colored eyes like those leave you again. Inlaid in brown skin and below dark eyebrows.

You stop fidgeting, all thoughts for a moment stilling. What had he said? 

“You—” Stopping yourself, you turn and tilt your head in his direction, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks around the stairs to the second level and the small seating areas. Your voice echoes like it usually does; like a ghost unwilling to go to rest. Kyle closes the door behind him with one hand, only looking at you directly when it’s fully shut.

“What’s that, Love?”

Your feet rearrange over the rug.

“You’re…interested in that kind of stuff?” Kyle sees your hands clench but thinks nothing of it. His curiosity fills his lungs when he becomes familiar with the deadly expression on your face. 

The material of his clothes moves as he shrugs, turning his gaze away when he knows it makes you uncomfortable. Gaz wasn’t ignorant—he knew you didn’t like looking people in the eye. As his orbs find the dusty and dim chandelier hanging dangerously above them, he notices your eyes now settle back on him. 

“Not overly, but I can say History was one of my best subjects back in Secondary Education—erm,” his lips pull tight, a tiny pinch of a smirk on his face, “high school as you call it.”

You fiddle with the weapon secretly, unblinking vision stuck to Kyle’s feet. His comment made you think about the assignments you still had to complete for college; the papers to write. After all, if you flunked out of all the courses, you’d never be able to take your father's place at the museum. It was your ultimate goal, at the end of the day. Become like him.

The inability to move made your teeth bite down, but common sense won over. You place your hand into your pocket and slip the penknife inside, your other holds itself out loosely.

I have to be smarter than that. Discreet.

But you really wished you could have slid the blade home.

“Key.” Gaz nods, moving over and dropping it into your awaiting clutch before you rip it away and toss it to the side table. 

“Ma’am,” the Sergeant’s face twists, but you’re already stalking past him, going off deeper into the house. Brown eyes follow. “I know you don’t want me here,” his voice bounces at the stark emptiness of the mansion, “but the only reason I’m staying is to keep you safe. I’m not expecting you to—”

“East wing is all yours.” You’re halfway up the stairs and still going, feet silently stomping over the various moth-eaten rugs. But the man cannot see your face as he’s left with a line on his forehead and a blunt frown on his lips. So much for your few seconds of compliance. He’d thought he was getting somewhere.

“I’d rather be closer. Encase there’s—” Again, he’s cut off. There’s going to be a lot of that. 

“Keep to it after your little exploration. And don’t try anything, my father installed security cameras.” You didn’t give away that you didn’t know how to operate them, but that was beside the point. 

Reaching the top, you head to the west and disappear down a hallway. Kyle hears one last comment bounce.

“I leave at eight every morning!” He’s left alone with only faint light and silent walls. 

But, with a shake of his head and the grabbing of bags at his feet, he can’t say he’s surprised. 

Looking about, Kyle takes in the lack of personality and blandness all around, forgetting for a moment that this home once belonged to a late museum director. He had expected more character—more expression. Certainly more light. 

This place was at a stand-still, like time didn’t begin or end in this house and it simply was. 

He sighs, nodding. He’d just have to work with it. “East wing. Brilliant.” 

His mind still held doubts about this—had ever since Price had given him the order straight from Kate. How can you protect someone that rightly hates your guts? You had more of a chance of tearing him a new one than he did of getting you to cooperate. And that was saying something, considering he was professionally trained in hand-to-hand. 

Again, Gaz had to ask himself if he was capable of doing this job. He thinks back to that mission three years ago, expression pulling tight as he jogged up the stairs and took a swift right. 

He regretted what had happened, yes, but at the end of the day, it was just another target who had gotten what he deserved. It was what the Sergeant did—got his hands dirty to clean up messes and keep everyone else safe.

Your father couldn’t have been any more of a good influence than a bad one. Gaz had seen the file on him. The countless dead. 

He wasn’t a good man, how couldn’t you see that?

“Mate, that was her fuckin’ father.” Growling, that sliver of civilian common sense slithers back in like a rope around his neck when he goes deeper into the house, past various open doors that show meeting rooms, libraries, offices, and art rooms. No bedrooms yet. “Christ, you’re losing it. Man got his bloody head blown off right in front of ‘er.”

When had he become so desensitized to this? 

His brown eyes glared at the floor when he realized he couldn’t remember being horrified by anything he had seen in the last few years. 

Death was death—didn’t matter how bloody it was, or how drawn out. At the end, all of it was just red. 

But he’d never taken a moment to think about how that would be for someone like you. Unused to violence. There was a grand question that Garrick still didn’t know the answer to. Were you a hostage in that little stunt, or were you just leverage? 

The Captain knew the answer—leverage. There was never any intention to actually pull the trigger on you. Kyle would have flatly refused if there had been, as would Soap. Ghost was still an enigma, but part of the Sergeant wanted to believe that he didn’t want that either. 

Samson Row. 

An overwhelming hatred struck the back of his skull as he entered the first room he saw with a bed in it, setting his bags on the covers and pushing his fingers to his nose bride. Eyebrows pull in. 

No use getting like this over a dead man. Stay focused. 

His fingers had only just begun to toss off the duffel bag from over his back when he first saw it. 

His hands paused, body going as still as a stick when he breathed in tightly. 

It was a portrait of your family. Picturesque. Mother on the left father on the right, and you—younger, of course—in the middle. Gaz blinks away to study the rest of the room.

It was incredibly large, with chairs and a couch covered by white cloth to imitate oddly-shaped ghosts and the same navy curtains over a wall of nearly all window panes. And yet no personal belongings other than the picture. 

Brown eyes filter back, staring long at the small girl with a wide smile; the mother with a hand on her shoulder, and the father looking down at his daughter with a nearly missed look of adoration. Garrick half expected the image to bed down and kiss you on the forehead.

Looking away with a clenched jaw, he huffs.

Wordlessly, the Sergeant once more grabs his belongings and walks out the door. 

—

You shook above the bathroom toilet, your breaths a heaving mess of warring instincts. Take down air or let the swirling of your gut cease—the offers were tempting. You’d been in here for most of the day, knees grinding into the tile with the efficiency of a blunt chisel; clothes ruffled as your jacket lay tossed on the floor back in your dark room. 

Throwing your empty stomach up. 

Struggling to think over the day, you force yourself back from the white porcelain, shuffling on jerking legs to rest your back on the opposite wall. 

“He’s in my house. Oh, Dad, one of them is in your house.” Fingers weave through locks and clench tight, hitched words loud in the silence you’d grown to comply with like an old God. Cryptid horrors that stalk the hallways that you see from the corners of your eyes, ghosts that won't leave. “I couldn't do it, why couldn’t I just try?” 

The penknife. It would have been instantaneous. 

But you knew deep down you’d never even be able to get close. 

Sweating and panting, you can almost hear him walking the halls, studying the layout with invasive digits. A parasite. And you’d just let him in. 

The price on your head was scary, sure, but there was already a threat in your very home; learning the rooms like he had any right to be here—like he knew the memories that lived in the walls. Holidays were spent in the main living room, meals made as a family in the kitchen as the butlers watched with happy eyes. The man-made pond in the back behind a wall of green trees because your mother loved to watch the birds. 

This house was generations of your very bloodline. Stories along every surface. History.

“He can’t be here.” You gasp, curling inward as you try and suck down larger breaths. Trying to calm yourself down with reassurance. “He’ll leave soon. He has too. He will.” 

Just wait until Mom gets back, she’ll make them go away. The thought makes air return to your lungs; shaking come to a drawn-out ceasing point. Blinking, you let your hands fall to your lap, body slouching forward. She’ll make it all go away. 

When you find the strength to rise, your feet only stumble slightly, propelling you out of the bathroom towards your bare-bones room. A bed, nightstand, dresser, and couch are the only articles of furniture seen outwardly; a fireplace set into the wall with a rug by it. Curtains drawn closed and smelling of charcoal and old linens. 

Peeling back paint, you stare heavily at the nightstand’s drawer, seeing the copper handle and thinking. But you shake your head and dispel the thoughts.

The acidic taste in your mouth made you smack your lips, almost enough to make you want to gag again. But as easily as the high of injected panic came, it went with a low of immeasurable depths. Still, though, your fingers twitched with unruly nerves; anxious at every creak in the wood outside the door. 

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Exiting your room, your socked feet know where to step so the wood doesn’t talk back at you, one hand rubbing up and down your face to bring the aliveness back. You needed coffee. Something with caffeine or an immensely high sugar content to keep the rest of this at bay. 

As you turn a corner, your stomach grumbles, sweatpants bunched at your ankles. Food too, you decided.

Walking through the large, arched, entry to the kitchen, you make your way through in complete blackness. You frown, though aren’t surprised you’d spent most of the day inside your room—past the fabric barrier, the hidden French doors to the patio let in the faint light of a dying sun. 

Around seven, if you had to guess. The loss of time to you should have been concerning, but you had in fact grown used to it. 

Year number one after your father’s death was…really nothing more than a blank slate. But you didn’t want to remember any of that, truth be told. 

Stumbling to the fridge, you grip the handle and pull. 

“Bit late for supper.” Yelling, you jerk your hand back and whip to the shadow in the entrance. 

The light snaps on with a flick of a finger, and the sheepish smile on Gaz’s face leaves vexation perforating the large room. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“Do you mind, Garrick?” Your eyes go to his chest, looking away just as quickly when you spot he’d taken off his outer later and was only in the white t-shirt that hugs his physique. The army pants still remained. “What are you even doing down here? I told you to stay on your side.”

“Not really able to do my job from the corner, yeah?” He walks closer, noticing the layer of dust over the gas stove, and raises a brow; wisely knowing not to comment. “Heard you comin’ down, thought I’d make sure everything was solid.”

“I’m fine.” You take out an old carton of milk, nose wrinkling at the smell emanating from the interior. Kyle’s eyes narrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now leave.”

You were too tired for this. 

Slamming the milk back into the fridge and closing the door, you plan to make the trip back to your room on an empty stomach. Kyle clears his throat, seeing an opportunity presenting itself. 

I have to get her to at least tolerate me. 

He’d take every occasion he could get.

“How about I have a go at it?” He speaks quickly as you freeze in the entryway, light from the kitchen spilling out into the hall. “Sandwiches?” 

Your gaze stays dead ahead, numbly stuck to the paint of the wall as if it was going to move and entrap you. Lips pulling back you feel your heart skip a beat. 

Kyle continues, hopeful. 

“Can’t say I'm an expert at it, but I spent a good few weeknights fixin’ my own meals on Base.” You can hear him moving behind you, opening the fridge back up, and grabbing the few items you had that weren't expired. Opening cupboards that your father opened. Grabbing pans that your mother made eggs in. “...Ma’am? That alright?” 

Your eye flinches minutely, cheek pulling upward in response. Yet the churning in your stomach was volatile, and if you went another hour without food you’d probably be passing out every time you stood up. What harm was there in taking advantage of the man? A meal was a meal, and you’d only had coffee today anyways.

Saying nothing, you take one step backward and pivot. 

Gaz watches in shock, not expecting you to take him up on his offer. By the heat in your eyes, he supposed you wished you didn’t. 

I didn’t see her at all after she disappeared into her room—not even when I was doing a sweep. The Sergeant had memorized the entire mansion layout in only two hours, going into every room except the one that had been closed tight. Yours. 

It wasn’t hard for him, though it was tedious the fourth run of the place. He’d counted every window and every entrance or exit door and had locked every one that led outside. 

But he kept re-walking past that closed door; his feet taking him back even as his mind stayed focused. 

Gaz’s hand had been poised to knock at one point during that time period but had only stayed stationary before it fell back down to his side. It was best not to push too hard. Inch before the mile.

In the kitchen, he sees you slip onto the island bar stool, always keeping a side-eye on his hands as they dig through sparse ingredients. 

Egg sandwich it is, then. 

Your voice rasps out, “I don’t remember ‘cook’ being in the detail description.” 

“Well, I sure hope it wasn’t.” Kyle chortles. His brown optics spare you a quick dart, seeing your form tense over the marble countertop as he swishes away dirt from the stove; placing a pan on top. You seem subdued…fingers twitch over the handle before his eagerness to earn your favor slowed. Sickly. 

Your skin is sunken, eyes blinking fast and snapping back and forth at every sound his body makes as if he’d pounce on you. Keeping an ever-heavy glare to where his pistol was sitting in the clutch of his belt—visible from over his shirt. 

The Brit swallows and looks back. 

“My job’s just to make sure you live another day, yeah?” The man’s voice lowers and you look to the coffee bar near the abandoned family table. “I’ll be in the background the entire time.” Leaving the chair, you go to it and speak as the sound of cracking eggshells hits your ear like a caving skull.

“I have rules.” 

Garrick nods firmly, but you don’t see it as you open a bag of fresh grounds and grab a mug.

“Copy, Ma’am. It’s your house—I’ll follow what I’m told.” He shifts his arms into a crossed position and leans back against the island as the eggs sizzle. You know he wants to say more, and too tired to care to give a retort or interrupt him, you let Gaz continue. “But I’m not willing to let that interfere with my mission. Any order I’m given’ll override what you tell me if it has to, even if it’s dodgy.” 

You watch dark liquid fill the coffee pot in a deluge of blackness like a wave of ink, and with that inkiness, the pit in your stomach gets larger. 

You could always poison him. Your eyes blink, hearing the slight beep of the machine in front of you as you grip your mug. 

Nightshade.

“Well, then,” Kyle looks for plates and finds a stack in a cupboard near the entrance. “What do I need to know, Ma’am?”

Hemlock.

“I don’t like people messing with my things,” you level, filling your cup to the brim as Gaz takes the pan off the heat; putting out the flame. “Stay out of my room and the room next to it if you insist on walking around.”

Choosing the opposite end of the wide island, you put your cup down and sit. A plate with a piece of bread with the yellow and white sight of scrambled eggs is slid into view. Kyle does what’s best and goes as far away from you as possible to eat his fill as well. 

The built man stands. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he admits, “I’ll be taking a look around every day, but I doubt anyone would try and break in.” 

The fingers which had picked up a small piece of egg paused with it halfway to your mouth.

Castor Bean.

“Why do you say that?” 

“The curtains.” You spare a glance at his nose, watching him take a bite out of the bread and act like the answer was obvious. He swallows and you follow the action with a tight throat. “Erm, no offense, Ma’am,” you raise a brow slowly, “but am I safe to assume you never open them? Least, not all the way?”

“What do you think?” You eat your food and take a long sip of your drink, downing half the mug in one go. You really just wanted him to disappear like a bad dream.

Large quantities of Daffodil.

“Less of a chance of anyone else knowing where your room is—would take too long to figure out. Wasting time like that isn’t how foreign cells operate…quick and easy, y’know?... Any others?” Kyle finishes his plate quickly, moving to place it in the sink; not wanting to dwell on the comment.

You take a few bites of your own, wondering silently how he can eat so quickly, and nod.

“If you hear me screaming in the middle of the night, leave me alone.” 

The air thickens.

Kyle blanks as you continue eating slowly, taking brief intermissions between bits to sip down more coffee. The tired moments of your sluggish eyes and twitching fingers. You don’t think to explain further, content to hear in those few moments absolutely nothing besides the beating of your own heart.

Rosary Pea. Induces tremors, high heart rate, and burning in the back of the throat. Fatal. 

Your mother also liked her plants, though you doubted the fauna in the back garden was still alive. You hadn’t bothered to keep it up after the gardener quit.

“I’m…not following.” Gaz scratches at his chin, face pulled back in confusion, lightly shaking his head. “Screaming?”

“Screaming.” Taking the empty plate, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “In the night. I was quite clear.” A devious smirk whittles itself over your flesh like wood. “You’ve heard my scream before, you’ll recognize it. Sound carries.” Dismissively you toss your free hand. “As I said, it’s an old property.” 

Gaz tries his best to not engage, but the words he’d been wanting to tell you slither off his tongue after a moment's thought. He had to make you understand. Strain forms again.

His head shakes with a slight parting to his lips. No matter what, every conversation always led back to an argument. “Do you think this is a joke?”

You’re walking back to your seat with the coffee pot in hand, scooping up your mug with the intention of bringing both back to your room. 

You don’t answer right away, causing the man to call your name sternly; seriously. 

“I hate you. That’s not a joke.” Your words bounce, not at all hollow like the wound in your heart. Violent and utterly true. 

You didn’t want this man around—you didn’t want him in your house, you didn’t want him in your city, you didn’t want him living. 

Walking off, the suffocating air trails after you as you disappear into the darkness, avoiding the truth. 

But this situation is not a joke. Not at all, but you can never say that out loud. Where would your thin bit of control go? The brief moments of pleasure when you make Kyle’s patience and lax nature devolve into annoyance—even anger.

The words follow after you in a deep, aggravated, sigh. 

“Yeah, trust me, Love, I’m well aware.”

Cold was a day in hell before you admitted to this boy you were terrified.

But how many more days could you keep that act up? Three? Five? Ten? How long was this even going to go on?

Your mind was scattered, torn between duty and self-preservation. Killing the Sergeant would lead you down a dark path, one you weren't sure you could take by yourself. But was that justice?

Is that what Dad would want? You have to ask yourself as you make your way back to your room in pitch blackness, guided only by the old walls of a home even more dented and destroyed than you were. 

But the worst part was that you didn’t even know the answer anymore. And everybody who could help was limited to a stray cat that didn’t like you and a mother who left you here alone during your darkest moments.

The house was filled with ghosts, but you’d never felt more alone.

TAGS:

@fatunn, @mh073099, @littlegaypng, @untitled69555, @babybooday, @caffeine-anxiety-and-randomfacts, @underrated-youngster, @jupiterredolent, @idocarealot, @karnellius, @latteisaqueen, @petrat97, @jade-jax, @roosterr, @escapefromrealitysm, @renaich, @kysa32, @human-turtle, @aurora-basin, @terumisworld, @violet-phantoms, @xxfeelmylovexx, @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan, @20forty9, @mdjenjen, @marrianena, @angeldaisyy, @alhaizen​, @homicidal-slvt, @emerald-valkyrie, @raissadoesthingslmao, @misfne​, @hollyhopesworld​, @wasteland-babe​, @330bpm-whiplash​, @anna-banana27​, @justherebecausesafarisucks, @sunnynomoar​, @doggydale​, @thecrispypotatochip, @74478328​, @blueoorchid​, @das-conk-creet-baybee​, @dragonfruit1985, @chestnutsandcurls​, @vamqyr3​, @lavalleon​, @nebula67​, @urfavsunkissedleo​

[unearthly-org]

𓆩♡𓆪- A/N: Yeoo, This is kinda ass but i’ll improve. Enjoy!

You and your slick ass mouth always making comments about how Shinichiro gets no play, zero bitches and to say how it frustrated him was a understatement so he decided he’d prove your annoyance ass wrong.

Now here you are, Bent over with your ass up for him to relentlessly pound into your pussy causing nothing but your sweet and loud moans to fill up your room, Shit from the way Shinichiro was hitting it you were filling up your whole damn house with your screams or pleasure which only fueled him to keep going.

His large calloused hands pushed down on your upper back to push you down further as his strokes were brutal, his balls slapped against your pussy and he groaned soft little comments down at you. "Aw, look at the little bitch creamin’ all on my dick, ain’t that just pathetic?” he cooed teasingly as he kept his slamming his hips against your plush ass. Fuck, did he love how your ass clapped back onto his dick, how the sounds of your pathetic moans and pleas filled your room and how ya pussy took his fat cock so well. You pushed your head into the pillow so that you weren’t so loud and a neighbor could come up and cuss you out but that didn’t last very long because Shinichiro’s hand was already gripping a handful of your hair yanking your head back with a amused breathless chuckle. "Nah, Nah we ain’t doing that..” he pants lowly. "You gonna apologize on this dick while i cum in ya stupid little pussy, understand?” he didn’t really wait for a response because you were already crying out loudly. "m’sorry, m’so sorryy!” He replied by giving you harsh slap on your ass honestly a part of him just wanted to see it jiggle on dick but he’ll never admit that especially not to ya annoying self. "Such a good bitch….” he propped up he leg as he leaned in behind your ear, whispering into your ear with soft pants while he waited the correct answer."Who’s my bitch?” from your angle you couldn’t see him pull out his phone, hitting voice record in a swift motion without missing a beat he continued his pace and you could feel your climax coming so quickly that you immediately scream out. "I’m ya bitch!” He replied with a grunt. "That’s right baby, again let them neighbors fuckin know..” he growled out as he was getting close to his own climax due to how he’s twitching in your hole. "Again..” he steadied your hips with his free hand while the other was still tangled up in your hair. "I’m ya bitch, Shin!” and with that you both came together with you creaming heavily on his dick snd him sending thick ropes of his own cum into you.

After a moment and him cleaning himself off he gets up and adjusted his clothes with a smug look on his face. "Glad we know..” Now that confused you for a moment until later that night after you showered you check your phone. The groupchat was blowing up with notifications, Notification after notification;

Jay: Shinichiro blowin’ backs out, my turn 😩

Kei: ^ Ignore her pls. 😐

Wakasa: Next time send a video, Shin.

To which Shinichiro put a thumbs up emoji you realize That bastard sent a recording in the chat and You’ll never hear the end of this.

[latenightsimping]

Thinking about eddie + slow gentle handjob...

Anon I'm so sorry this took so long, but trust me it didn't leave my mind

18+ MINORS DNI I'LL THROW ROCKS AT YOU ISTG

“Baby.. You’re -fuck- you’re killin’ me here.” 

You hummed in mock sympathy, thumb stroking over the sensitive head of his cock and earning you a small whimper in response. The movie you both planned to watch long forgotten about, just background noise as your hand worked over his length. Agonisingly slow movements that made his hips tilt upwards, before self restraint kicked in and he resorted to gripping the couch cushion behind you with a white knuckle grip. His face buried in your neck and occasionally wandering to stamp kisses to your bare shoulder, the back of his neck cradled in your free hand. The position wasn’t the best, sat side by side, but both of you were too far gone to move things to his bedroom just down the hall. His need to come building fast, and your need to toy with him even further keeping you in place. 

“That feel good, pretty boy?” you whispered into his ear, the act making him shiver in pleasure as you guided the pad of your thumb over a prominent vein. A small whine and a fervent nod your answer, though not enough for your tastes. “Use your words for me.” 

“S-so good.” By the broken whines with each pump, the way the hand behind you shifted to hold onto your lower back, pulling you in as if your bodies weren’t touching enough, you knew what he needed. “Faster, please…”

“Hmm… You sure you earned it?” you asked, your tone bordering on mocking as you slowed down your movements, earning a pitiful sound that tumbled from his lips. “Going to be a good boy and do what I say?”

You knew what calling him the pet name would be his unravelling, his cock twitching in your grasp as his nodding became more frantic. “Yes, fuck, I’ll be good,” he whispered into the skin of your neck, and you knew him well enough to know he’d make good on his word. Eddie adored you, and adored your body just as much. Getting you off was just as good for him as it was for you, if the amount of times he’d came just by rutting against the mattress whilst eating you out was anything to go by.

You pulled your hand away to reposition yourself, his brows furrowed and full lips parted as a groan of need left his lips from the lack of contact. As if he’d expire without your touch for even a second longer, though it changed once he realised you’d perched yourself on your knees between his thighs. His hips lifted upwards to help you pull his jeans down further, just enough for you to get access to his heavy balls. Spitting into your dominant hand for ease of motion, you grasped his cock again, picking up movement quickly and watching him fall apart underneath you. 

It didn’t take long; a few more pumps and your other hand playing with his sack, and his hands were back to gripping the couch cushions, near to ripping the fabric as his eyes screwed shut. “I’m close,” he managed to pant, mouth hanging open as his head tipped back. “Jesus, please can I come, sweetheart, please.” 

The way he begged for you, so close to the edge but needing your permission to finally tip over it, it had you clenching with want as you captured your lower lip between your teeth. “Come for me, pretty boy. Make a fuckin’ mess.” 

With one last groan that ended in a whine, jaw slack and brows pinched, ropes of cum painted the lower half of his band shirt, his body following your orders of making a mess as each spurt didn’t wane in amount. You slowed down your movements, waiting until the last flex of his stomach, giving one last small tug to make him whine with overstimulation. 

You pulled yourself to stand, coaxing his ruined shirt off him and bending at the waist to clean him up whilst he got his bearings back. You knew he’d come back to his senses when he gave you a lopsided grin, arms outstretched as he sighed in content. 

You folded up the fabric until you were sure it was all contained, making quick work of throwing it into the laundry basket in the utility closet before coming back to be pulled into his arms. Having his lips press earnest kisses to the crown of your head as you rested it on his chest, listening to his pounding heart starting its descent into slowing down. 

“Better?” you smirked, tilting your head up to look at him, pleased to find a blissed out expression smoothing out his features. 

“Babe, I think I saw God for a second there,” he chuckled, fingertips beginning to trace idle markings onto your shoulder. “Gimme a sec and I’ll return the favour, yeah?”

You grinned, pulling him down for an eager kiss, your tongue playfully flicking against his lip and making him groan. If the way he grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap was anything to go by, ‘a second’ was literal. And the fact that you both didn’t seem bothered about moving things to his bedroom, it was only a matter of time before he was on his knees and having you spread on the couch, screaming so loud the neighbours would hear and returning the favour tenfold. 

[around1302]

XVII. YOU HAVE ME

SPARE PARTS: a series (17/20)

BOLOGNE, ITALY

(W) strong language, family restraints, alcohol use, fingering

good lord this has taken me some time to finish. i’m so sorry, life just got in the way. hopefully 4.3k of a smidge of angst and a fuck-ton of fluff makes up for it!

HARRY’S POV

“What’s the move for tonight?”

“You can do what you want, I’m taking Charlie out.”

Niall’s usual grin twists into a smirk, his eyes glinting. I resist the urge to roll my own.

I am taking Charlie out. Not that she necessarily knows that yet.

I don’t mean to sound like a desperate man, but I need Charlie and I to move on like I need air. I can feel her warming to the idea of me, but at the end of the day she still just sees me as her annoying bandmate who’s up to giving her an orgasm or two. 

I need to be more than that to her. I can’t be either nothing or just her temporary fix.

And if there’s one thing that’s apparent about Charlie, it’s that she’s a hopeless romantic. She doesn’t crave sneaking around and fleeting glances and meaningless moments. I’ve seen her face light up more from seeing a couple holding hands in public than when I’ve been literally going down on the girl.

In fact, in the time I’ve known her, she’s only ever dated one person – Zayn, which is also why this could get messy.

(But fuck him. I was there first).

“I’d love to say I’m surprised about this whole thing, but I’m really not.” Niall snorts.

I narrow my eyes, but before I can ask anymore questions, the guys barge into Niall’s suite.

“Fuckin’ Hell, Horan. You have it fancy in here.” Louis gawks far too loudly for the fancy establishment we’re in, but I have to say, I share the sentiment. We all have nice rooms (it’s the most expensive hotel in Bologne, for God’s sake) but Niall managed to bag da Vinci’s fucking shrine. 

Niall shrugs, sitting up with that mischievous flicker in his eyes.

“Lia still out?”

“Yeah,” Liam explains, “she’s dragging Charlie and Zayn round the shops. Tried to rope us in but we managed to escape.”

My chest tightens. I force it to relax.

Liam throws his legs up on the Ottoman, stretching out. After the show last night, we’re all exhausted. After nearly four months of touring, non stop performing and the consequential non stop partying, we’re all wiped the fuck out. It’s why Niall and I said no to their little day trip around Italy. To put it frankly: I can’t be arsed with the tourism shit when there’s a mini bar five feet away from me up here.

“Good,” Niall reaches behind him, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

“What the fuck is that?” I spit.

“This, my friend,” Niall flicks the box open. My suspicions are confirmed, “is about to get me the best head I’ve ever had.”

“Holy shit.” Louis grabs the diamond, making Niall fly up and snatch it back. 

“For real?” Liam stands too, while I’m still sat in shock.

“Why I got this fancy suite,” Niall’s as giddy as a kid on Christmas, “want to do it tonight. Italy’s always been her favourite place and I figure–”

“You’re twenty-one.” “Twenty-two this year.”

I scowl. Niall’s cheeky grin droops.

“Oh come on, man. Who cares how old we are? I know I’m gonna be with this girl till I’m all old and gross and grey, why not seal the deal now?”

“Because it’s insane!” I splutter. I’m not angry. Am I? Why am I angry?

“Hardly,” Louis sharply laughs, “they’ve been basically married since they met.”

“Okay, but being basically married and being actually married are two very different things.”

“Dude, don’t you think I know that? I have thought about this, you know.”

My jaw tightens.

My best friend is about to propose to his girlfriend, and I can’t say I’ve ever even had one. The girl I’ve been in lo– whatever. It doesn’t matter. The point is, I can narrow my anger down to one, ugly thing: bitter fucking jealousy. 

So, I do the mature thing; I storm out.

Luckily for me, the second I step out into the hallway – all heaving chest and unnecessary frustration – Charlie, Amelia and Zayn bump into me. They’re all laughing about something, a million shopping bags between them.

“Oh, hey man–” Zayn starts, but I cut him off by grabbing Charlie’s waist and pushing her in the direction of my room. The sliver of skin given to me below her crop top sends a spike through my spine. 

I don’t care that Zayn is probably about to start quizzing Amelia to no end, all I care about is the universe quite literally handing me the only person I want to talk to right now.

“Yo, what the fuck?” She twists, staring at me with what I assume is a mixture of vexation and confusion, but I’m too busy staring ahead to notice. Charlie doesn’t make a move to escape my grip (something I know she’s more than capable of doing), so I keep walking us to my room. 

I messily scan my keycard and grab her shopping, setting it down as carefully as I can in my haste before closing the door with her body. 

There’s something else I want to do before talk.

But, I hesitate for a moment, brushing my lips against hers. I silently ask for permission, pulling her toward me so her lower back lifts from the door and our torsos press together. She hesitates, too. Brushing her nose against mine before kissing me with as much urgency as I got her into the room with. 

I sigh into her mouth, completely wrapping my arms around her back to hold her flush against me. “Missed you,” I mumble against her lips, trailing my hand up to hold the back of her head. I rake my fingers through her hair, loosening her ponytail. 

“Missed you too.” She gasps, looping her fingers through my belt hooks.

I nearly let myself smile, but then she palms me over my jeans.

Quickly, I hold her wrist, preventing me from dragging her to bed and insisting we don’t leave my hotel room all night. “Go out with me.” I let the words tumble like a subconscious spill, letting my chest do all the work so my brain doesn’t have to. 

Frowning, she pulls back. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I want to rewind and let her do whatever she wants with me. Why the Hell did I–

“Go out with you?” She’s smiling. She’s smiling.

“Yeah,” I feel my cheeks heating. I’m getting shy, for fuck’s sake. I don’t do shy. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve said those four words over the years, and I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve said it to. I don’t recall nerves ever being a factor in that habit.

“You realise I’m a sure thing, right?” She cocks her head, and I want to kiss the faint dimple that pops beside her lips. I settle for her bottom lip.

“I want to take you out.” I pull her lip between my teeth, bathing in the way she sighs. “Properly.”

“You’re having me on.”

“Nope,” I pop. I need to banish this shy thing. Fuck the shy thing. I realise our proximity might have something to do with that, so I step away, flicking the light on so I can see her properly. 

Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are dark and her hair is mussed and– and shit. I’m so gone on this girl. She folds her arms across her shirt, and that’s when I notice the shirt. It’s my shirt – the one I gave her weeks ago, the band she claims to hate, the shirt I’ve dreamt about fucking her in ever since. 

The shirt which now rests just below her bra. 

“Oh,” she clocks my thought process – probably because I’m staring at her chest – and fumbles with the messy hem. “Shit, sorry. I never even asked if you wanted it back–”

“Never.” I murmur.

A pause. “What?”

I blink back to reality, back to her eyes. “I never wanted it back,” I clear my throat, try and regain some conviction, “the band sucks anyway.” I wink, she chuckles.

God, maybe we should just stay here. We could order room service and continue our theme of fucking in hotel showers and spend all night getting sweatier and sweatier in between the sheets and–

No! No. I need to take her out. 

“Be ready by seven.” 

I bend to pick up her shopping, handing it back. Charlie takes the bags slowly, looking at me like I just told her my name’s actually Bill.

Then, softly, nearly meekly, she whispers, “I thought we had rules?”

My lungs stop working. “We did. We do.”

Right – I’m not even considering her right now. I know what I want, and I know I want it badly. I need to learn I can’t just demand this. Sure, I’ve waited six years, but she sure as shit doesn’t know that.

Patience is a bitch.

She looks at me, scrutinising, studying. I want to read her mind, it seems to all work so complicated up there. A million bolts and cogs working tirelessly; I’d give it all up for just a peek. 

“I suppose I’d be pretty stupid to deny we’re at least friends at this point, right?”

I can breathe again. “Right.” I rush to say.

“So… dinner as friends. Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” No, fuck no. “Bonding time.”

She purses her lips, seemingly amused. Nodding, she swivels from the door, palm wrapped around the handle and about to let me stand in my room and punch the air but…

“You sure you don’t want me to help you out first?”

Her eyes flicker accusingly at my crotch. Specifcally, my hard on, from just kissing the girl.

It’s like I’m fucking fifteen again.

I snort, pushing my tongue against my cheek to stop the habitual impulse to say something inappropriate. I want to scream yes, God, yes but I can’t. Charlie’s like some kind of kryptonite – one handjob will turn into one blowjob will turn into round after round after round.

“I’m good, love.”

Charlie scowls. “You’re really just going to try every nickname in the book, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan, sweet pea.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she swings the door open, so before it slams behind her I shout a reminding,

“Seven!”

And then I stand in my room, and punch the air. 

“Jesus, Styles, this place is fancy.”

I smirk. “Only the best for a princess.”

“Hey–”

“I’m kidding! Here,” I let go of the small of Charlie’s back to pull her chair out for her, “sit, before you hit me.”

“I can still reach you from over here.”

I playfully roll my eyes as I take my seat. She definitely can. I made sure to get us a table hidden away, close enough for our legs to accidentally tangle and far enough away from anyone else Charlie doesn’t need to worry about people.

She’s always panicked about mobs. The first one was pretty traumatic I guess, and ever since she’s been the overly cautious one in public. Never seen without heavy glasses and an even heavier hoodie, so I made sure she wouldn’t be spending our first date (that is what I’m declaring that is, friends or not) in fear.

It’s not conceited if saying your name for a last minute res at one of the most established restaurants in Bolonge works. Fame has it’s perks, I’m allowed to admit that.

… I think.

Within a few seconds, a waiter comes over with a bottle of red I preorded on the phone. Charlie leans back, looking at me quizzitivley as he pours us both a glass and leaves the rest between us. We thank the waiter, and I gauge her reaction.

A pause. My heart awaiting a beat.

“I’m impressed.” She raises her brows, a glimmer of a smile on her rouge lips.

“Good,” I lift my glass, clinking it against hers before we both take a sip.

I let my eyes properly roll over her for the first time since I met her outside the hotel. It was too dark and too much of a rush to the car for me to drink her in, and God. She looks fucking edible. She’s wearing a strapless dress that lets my wind wander to every inch of skin I can kiss with her still in the thing – but, Jesus, stop. 

Tonight isn’t about that.

Quiet falls on us, because, well. What do we talk about if not for the security of sex or argument, if not for the safety net of anyone else around us? Here, we’re uninterrupted. In fact, no. We’re not anything.

We’re two people on a first date. We’re fresh.

“You know,” Charlie chuckles to herself, setting her glass down and leaning on her palms, “I love trying to figure out the other people at restaurants like this. Like, okay, that couple,” she nods behind me, so I try and turn as discreetly as I can. She hits my leg. “Don’t be so obvious!” She hisses behind a smile.

I’ve just gone and made things worst myself by taking Charlie out, haven't I?

“That couple is on their first date, and he’s trying to figure out how to leave.”

“And how do you know that, Sherlock?”

Charlie shrugs and leans back to take another sip.

“I know people. He’s fidgeting like crazy, looked at the bathroom like five times in the past thirty seconds. For sure planning his escape.”

“Or he just really needs a shit.”

Charlie snorts into her glass, spraying wine onto her cheeks. I guffaw, and both of us fall into laughter too loud for an establishment like this. “Fuck, my makeup.” Charlie taps at her cherry stains aimlessly, so I lean across with my napkin.

“Here, hold still,” I chuckle, pinching her chin between my fingers and trying to get as much grapejuice from her face. In the midst of the scene, our waiter returns.

“Are you… oh.” He clears his throat, and we pause to look up.

“We might need a few more minutes.” I mumble. Charlie grins sheepishly.

Yeah, okay, maybe it is conceited – but thank God we do what we do, because judging by the compressed scowl on the guy’s face as he leaves us, we were one 0 in our bank accounts away from being kicked out.

As I’m wiping at her face, our eyes lock, and the words tumble out before I can think about what I’m saying.

“Niall’s proposing to Amelia.”

She gasps. I sit back.

Silence holds us, until a slowly whispered, “shit,” punctures it.

“Yeah.”

I see her reach for her wine. Then she downs it.

“So I told my mum Gemma was a drug dealer. Of course my mum was like, Harry, she’s nine. But it was the worst thing I could come up with at six years old.”

Charlie throws her head back at the story of myself and my sister, one of my favourite memories to relay. I stab my fork in my pasta and try and muffle my grin as Charlie giggles away.

“I never thought you’d be the type to take WWF wrestling so personally.” 

I shrug. “I was a dedicated fan. I still refuse to believe it’s staged.”

Her laughter dies, and she gets this sort of gone off look in her eyes. Like she’s thinking about something, someone, and then it hits me – I’ve been sat here reeling off stories about my sister without any regard for the fact she no longer has hers. 

“You know,” she shifts, eyes dropped to her plate. She pushes a piece of broccoli around with her silverware, chewing on her lip. Then, her voice gets quiet, small, when she admits, “I don’t think my parents have called me one time this whole tour.”

She chuckles to herself, but it’s void of any humour.

“They did their usual prayer for my safety before I left, and rang to see if I had changed my mind, but…”

I dip my head to meet her eye. She looks up at me, meekly. Like tears are threatening to spill but she’s using every muscle to hold them back. I’m so terrible in situations like this, I never say the right thing because, truthfully, people don’t often open up to me.

(Not like this, at least.)

So, I go with my gut, and pray it doesn’t betray me.

“Pretend I’m your parents.”

Charlie piques. “What?”

Confidence begins to slip from me, evident in the way I mess with my hair and twist my rings beneath the table. “Pretend I’m your parents,” I repeat – despite the out she just gave me.

“This apart of that daddy kink you were talking about?” She smiles smally. 

“No,” I lilt. “Tell me about tour. Look,” I sit up straight, bringing my hair forward and cracking my neck. Getting into character. I lift my hand to my ear, pretending to be on the phone. “Hi sweetie, how’s tour going?”

Charlie snorts. “That supposed to be my mum?”

“I’ve never met the woman, go with it.”

She rolls her eyes, but she sits up and lifts her hand, too.

“Hi mum. It’s fine.”

“Fine? Come on, you’ve been away for months.”

She sighs, giving me that look through those lashes. I lift my brows.

“It’s been amazing, actually.”

I smile. We’re getting somewhere.

“Everyone really likes our album,” she continues, “and I started banging the one with long hair you always tell me I need to stay away from.”

“Heey,” I drop the ‘phone’. She looks pointedly at my hand. I raise it again.

She heaves a breath, her expression stone again.

“I wish you’d try and understand my job a little more. I think you’d see what I’m doing is actually really cool if you took the time.”

My chest aches. I knew Charlie had a strained relationship with her parents, I just never knew why. They’d never come to shows, she would never mention them. I don’t even remember them sitting with her at Poppy’s funeral.

Maybe when Charlie blamed herself for her sister’s death, her parents did too.

“You were wrong, by the way.”

I got so lost in my own anger I forgot we were doing this.

“Wrong?” I ask. 

“About the dude with long hair. He’s actually alright.”

I couldn’t let this night end.

We practically got kicked out of the restaurant when we wound up being the last two in there, and then we stumbled our way to my hotel room and have been laid on the bed giggling over nothing for the last hour.

Red wine is strong shit.

So far, I’ve learnt Charlie hates the colour purple, secretly loves 90s horror and sometimes worries she made a mistake by going to that audition six years ago.

“I just want a dog, y’know?”

“You can have a dog.” I laugh.

“No, no,” she flips, her hair messily cascading her shoulders as she hovers above me. I let the wine guide my hand, tucking a strand or two behind her ear. She leans into my palm. “I want a dog, and a spouse, and a kid.”

I caress her cheek, and then she lays her face completely on my chest. I freeze, watching in awe as she shifts so her legs hang off the bed and her head is on the spaces were my shirt gives way to my skin. Charlie tilts her head, closing her eyes when my fingers find home on her scalp.

I just want this, I want to scream.

“What?”

Fuck. Wait. Did I not think that?

The domestic bliss lasts all of ten seconds before she’s sitting up again.

I’m at a loss for words. I’m sure she’s going to leave, that I just fucked up this whole night, but then she’s climbing a top of me. My hands instinctively fly to her thighs, holding her close through the silk while she assesses me from above, her hair a curtain.

“You want friends with benefits forever? That’s your end goal?” She sounds amused, so I can’t tell if she’s being serious or not. I want to shout, is that all I am? Even after today, after everything?

I’m better at holding in my thoughts this time, though.

“You really think we can ever be friends?”

Then, she sighs and straightens. Her hair no longer tickling my neck.

“Jesus, you’re confusing. I thought that was why you took me out in the first place!”

This girl will be the death of me.

“Okay, Charlie,” I sit up, gripping her waist to pull her against me. I feel her chest huff out against mine in three quick, fluttering motions. “Let me be crystal clear,” I cradle her face, now, just brushing her bottom lip. She leans into my touch again, and I feel every ounce of self-doubt fade away with the sigh she lets out. I knock my nose against hers.

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Charlie rushes to say, “You have me,” whilst fisting at my shirt.

As much as I want that to be true, I know she doesn’t believe those words in the same way I want to believe them. So, I stifle a breathy chuckle, shaking my head.

“I don’t think I do.” My throat stutters at the word baby. I haven’t tried that one out yet.

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

Charlie looks genuinely confused, which I suppose is the problem. The problem I created. I pull back, sinking into her brown eyes till I’m sure I’ve turned to stone. All I’ve wanted for the last six years is to hear Charlie say those words: you have me. Yet, in this moment, I realise I’ve gone about all of this completely wrong.

“I want a redo.” I barely whisper, insecure in my words.

“A redo?”

I quickly lick my lips. “Of everything.” I thumb at her jaw. “I fucked it all up, Charlie.”

“Fucked what up?” She deadpans, clearly tired of my inexplicability.

“You. Me. Us. This.” 

Charlie shorts out a huff, as if she’s finally got it.

“We didn’t know this would end up happening–”

“I knew.”

I let my confession barrel before me. If I scare her off, then fuck it. I scare her off. But she needs to know. She needs to know that,

“I’ve wanted you since we were sixteen and you shouted at me for being late to our first recording. I knew the minute you stood there in your stupid scarf and your even stupider boots that I was going to have it bad for you and I’ve not known what to do with it since.”

Charlie looks startled, but she’s unmoving from my lap, so I take it as a sign to keep going.

“I thought that you’d always hate me,” my throat swells, “so I’ve been a prick to you and I… especially after Zayn, I just didn’t…” I shake my head, looking down, losing myself.

It’s the wine, that’s all that’s fuelling this sudden, dumb confession. The wine and the fact that right now my best friend is probably engaged. But, then...

Charlie lifts my chin.

Charlie hesitates.

Charlie’s eyes flick back and forth between mine.

Charlie kisses me.

I kiss back with force, pouring everything I couldn’t say into her lips. I hold the back of her head, moaning against her tongue as she pushes me back to the pillow and grips my shirt so hard it pulls nearly painfully against my back.

And then she stops.

“Zayn told me after Amsterdam he loves me.”

Just found the quickest way to kill a boner.

“Oh.” Is all I can say, apparently.

“But I don’t…” she trails off, her eyes dropping to my lips. “I don’t love him.”

“Okay.” I whisper. 

My insides are having a fucking party, right now.

“That doesn’t mean I love you.” She rushes to clarify. I smile.

“I know.”

“But you are the first person I think about when I wake up. And when I go to sleep. And while that’s confusing because most of the time you piss me off, you don’t seem to do that anymore.”

I try not to sound so excited as I respond. “At all?”

“I mean, don’t push it.”

I chuckle, brushing her hair from her face. But then a dreadful pit starts to hole its way through my stomach, and I have to ask,

“You’re not just saying this because you want a dog?”

Charlie smiles against my lips. “I want you, Harry.” One sweet, chaste kiss. “I’m not thinking about the dog right now.” 

I lean up to kiss her, flipping her onto her back. My hand slips under her dress, and her breath hitches. “Good,” I breathe against her mouth, rubbing her over her knickers. Her gasp travels to the back of my throat, and I swallow it, keep it, store it, run it over and over in my mind as I push her pants to the side and curl my middle finger in her.

“Stay the night?” I ask, adding my index finger.

“Oh,” Charlie moans, her head tipping back. I kiss her throat, “yes.”

“Yes, you’ll stay the night?” I nip at her neck, losing myself in vanilla and Merlot.

“Yes, Harry,” she pulls my face up, “just assume from now on I will always– fuck, stay the night.”

I grin. Her nails dig into my nape as I pull my fingers out and rub her clit. 

“God, like that,” she breathes as I push my finger down harder, tuning myself to every gasp and moan she gives me. I kiss her through her orgasm, muffling her cries with my mouth despite wanting the entirety of Italy to hear how pretty she sounds when she comes.

“Always so good for me, baby.” I murmur, gripping her thigh as I shift my weight and move her core to my own thigh, still covered by the overpriced trousers I asked Amelia to find for me. She bucks her hips, capturing my bottom lip between her teeth. I whimper.

“Baby,” she breathes questioningly. “I like that one.”

taglist: @lilfreakjez @be-with-me-so-happily @sirtommyholland @tpwksm @b-reads-things @tiaamberxx @daphnesutton @mleestiles

[x-heesy]

​Trumpies not well cum here 👉🏾🖕🏾👈🏽 (#gotoschool)

oOoF

hEy ThErE dEmOnS, iT’s Me, YeAh BoY

fIrSt ThInGs FiRsT gUyS

i JuSt GoTtA sAy FuCk NoRmIeS

uH, i’M sIcK oF tHeIr MeMeS

i’M sIcK oF tHeIr ShItTy NoRmIe FuCkInG mEmEs

ThEy’Re PoStInG oN fAcEbOoK

tHeIr StUpId „CaTcH mE oUtSiDe“ MeMeS

tHeIr PiCkLe RiCk MeMeS, mAn FuCk NoRmIeS!

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE, uH

sLiT mY wRiStS fIlL tHe CuP, cAn’T cO-eXiSt

NoT eNoUgH bAlL mY fIsT

tHrOw It Up, KiLl ThE kIdS lEt DeAtH eRuPt

SlIt My WrIsTs FiLl ThE cUp, CaN’t Co-ExIsT

nOt EnOuGh BaLl My FiSt

ThRoW iT uP, kIlL tHe KiDs LeT dEaTh ErUpT

yEaH, lIgHt It Up WhEn I cOmE oUt ThE gRaVe

GoNnA gEt My ReVeNgE, iT’lL bE dEpRaVeD

i’Ll Be YoU cHaSiNg YoU dOwN

mAkE ‚eM bEg AnD pLeAd „No“

GoT nOtHiN‘ tO lOsE aT tHe EnD oF mY rOpEs

LiKe ThIs, ThEy DoN’t KnOw WhAt I’mA dO

bOy, YoU bEtTeR dUcK wHeN a MaN cOmE tHrOuGh

WiTh An Ar YoU’rE oN mY rAdAr

AiN’t NoBoDy GoNnA hElP yOu No SaFeGuArD, yEaH

sLiT mY wRiStS fIlL tHe CuP, cAn’T cO-eXiSt

NoT eNoUgH bAlL mY fIsT

tHrOw It Up, KiLl ThE kIdS lEt DeAtH eRuPt

SlIt My WrIsTs FiLl ThE cUp, CaN’t Co-ExIsT

nOt EnOuGh BaLl My FiSt

ThRoW iT uP, kIlL tHe KiDs LeT dEaTh ErUpT

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE, uH

lOsT iNsIdE mY tHoUgHtS i JuSt MiGhT hIt ThE fUcKiNg BoTtOm

I aIn’T gOt HoPe LeFt In My HeArT i JuSt MiGhT hIt ThE fUcKiN‘ bOtTlE

iT’s JuSt Me AnD aLl I gOt Is Me ThAt Is AlL i NeEd In ThE mIdDlE oF

tHe BeD i SeE tHe PaPeR iN mY dReAmS

eVeRy DaY iS a GoD dAmN sTrUgGlE

fUcK iT aNyThInG tO hElP mE? nOtHiNg-NoThInG

tOsSiNg AnD tUrNiNg My StOmAcH iS cHuRnInG

i CaLl OuT tO gOd BuT i’M bEtTeR oFf BuRnInG

i WiSh I cOuLd EnD iT, i WiSh I cOuLd EnD iT

i’M hAnGiNg On By A tHrEaD lEtS nOt PrEtEnD tHaT i’M fInE

i’M lOsInG mY gOd DaMn MiNd, YeAh

I’m LoSiNg My GoD dAmN mInD

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE

wHeN i DiE bUrY mE iNsIdE a GuCcI cOfFiN

mAkE hItS aLl DaY aNd ThErE aIn’T nO sToPpIn‘

JaKe HiLl, JoSh A mAkE tRaCkS tOo OfTeN

i AiN’t NeEd A gOlD cHaIn ‚CaUsE wE’rE tOo DaMn AwEsOmE

sLiT mY wRiStS fIlL tHe CuP, cAn’T cO-eXiSt

NoT eNoUgH bAlL mY fIsT

tHrOw It Up, KiLl ThE kIdS lEt DeAtH eRuPt

SlIt My WrIsTs FiLl ThE cUp, CaN’t Co-ExIsT

nOt EnOuGh BaLl My FiSt

ThRoW iT uP, kIlL tHe KiDs LeT dEaTh ErUpT

wOw! ThAt WaS a VeRy EvIl TrAcK

i’M sOrRy GuYs, I dIdN’t MeAn To ReAlLy Go In

I aPoLoGiZe BuT-bUt LiKe GoD dAmN

@len0r @m-l-3 @bigbonzo

wOoF 🐶

Normal isn’t a compliment 😂👉🏾🖕🏾👈🏽

Gucci Coffin by Josh A, iamjakehill. 🎹

[corazondebeskar-reads]

wip wednesday!

thank you for the tag @janaispunk 🖤🖤

step one: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet

ok so some of these are really rough and have no titles and I didn't include things like "of rage and ruin" because that's already got a priority order, but here are these:

"I'll take care of you" mini-series

very dark!Din x f!reader

yes, I have a problem, and I'm turning it into a mini-series. no snippet yet, but here's a teaser

You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in an alley. You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in your home. You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in a bunker. You… aren’t sure how you met the Mandalorian, anymore. But you know, now, that no matter how far you get, no matter how much you forget, he’ll always find you.

patrol partner!Joel

ft. switch!Joel but mostly sub!Joel x f!switch!reader

You pull off with a soft pop and look up at him, setting the cool, damp cloth back over his cock. His hips jerked when it made contact, the cool breeze through the window exaggerating the sensation. “How’re you feeling, baby?” you say. “Frustrated, ma’am,” Joel grunts. You smile. “Thank you for being honest. Do you need a break, or do you want a little more?” “More, please,” he says immediately, cheeks flushed. You don’t respond, running your hand across his stomach while you let him squirm from the chill. Not after long, you move it and take him back in your mouth. He gasps and moans, muscles tightening and straining against the ropes. When you shift to warm his balls with your tongue, he whimpers. You take that as a sign to pull back and replace the cold cloth.  “No,” he says, desperate and breathy. He squeezes his eyes tight against the prickling of tears. “Please.” 

soft!Jackson!Joel

Joel grimaces. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just have to figure something temporary out.” You stop and put your hands on your hips. “We? What is this we business?” “What’re you gonna do, keep wandering through the woods on your own? I’ll help you.” “Why would you want to do that?” You’re on alert again. “Didn’t you say you had to get back to your brother?” “He’s not goin’ any place. He knows I can handle myself out here. Why, you got somewhere else to go?” His eyebrow raises. It’s really infuriating. He fucking knows you don’t. “Oh, you know. So many places to go, things to do.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.” “Well, I haven’t even started my taxes this year.” You fix him with a look. Fuckin’ try me, old man.  But Joel just laughs. “You’re right. Finding somewhere safe from Infected is way less important than taxes. My bad.”  “It is. It is your bad, Joel. I could get arrested for tax evasion.”   “Right,” he shakes his head. “You’re more afraid of the IRS.”  “Yeah, we are talkin’ about the American government here. You think the fuckin’ apocalypse is gonna stop them from getting their money?” Never mind that the world ended twenty-two years ago. You know he’s letting you play up the bit because he thinks you’ll let your guard down.  You’re hoping it works in reverse.  “Alright, well, let’s find you somewhere safe to do your taxes.” “Agreed. You’ll go back to your brother and I’ll find the nearest H&R Block.” 

"the art of decay"

(a working title for the sequel to "the art of breaking"; don't hold me to it lol)

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks. You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock.  “Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.”  You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself.  “Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.” You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

no pressure tags: @kewwrites @tightjeansjavi @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @covetyou @toxicanonymity @mountainsandmayhem @alwaysmicado @ozarkthedog

[brighttears]

Dusk III

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: You and Joel start getting closer, and it scares Joel. He tries to stop before you get too close, but it only ends up drawing you farther into each other. 

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, violence, death of an animal

A/n: Okay this is one gets pretty juicy like halfway through ... is also def better than the last two. also, the song used in there is Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley

— 

“Ravens and wolves are both creatures that represent dusk, the mixture of light and dark”

—

“Come on, I wanna see what he’s got.” you lean towards Maria, hanging from the pole on her front porch. “Tommy talks him up every chance he gets.”

Maria snorts, “You got that right.” She shakes her head and starts for the stairs, “Alright fine, I’ll let him know.” 

“Wait, don’t tell him what it is. Just tell him to be at the stables at noon.”

Maria gives you a look and chuckles again. “Alright, fine, Miss.Mysterious. Just bring back a buck, please.”

“Psh, don’t worry about it babe,” you swing around to walk down with her, “you know me, straightest shooter on this goddamn commune, and now my partner’s a macho fucking cowboy.” 

— 

You’re there waiting for him, leaning against the wall dividing two stalls, legs crossed straight out and arms folded. Once Joel is in view coming down the hallway, you can’t help a grin and bite over your bottom lip. Before he can ask, you bounce off of the wall to stand and tell him, “We’re goin’ huntin’.”

— 

Outside of Jackson, there’s a comfortable silence as you lead Joel towards the river. “This morning someone on patrol said they saw a buck out here.” you inform him.

“Why didn’t they shoot it?”

“They did, they just fuckin’ missed. Alright. Our best bet is out here by the water.” You adjust the thick rope slung over your shoulder. “You ever hunt deer before?” 

“The fact that you have to ask that is kind of offensive.”

“Well then I think I think we have a good shot. HA. Pun.” Joel can’t help but smile, thinking of Ellie. “Well, you’ve never hunted with me, so I’m gonna introduce you to my very special method. It’s not hard, you just stand next to me, we aim together, shoot together. Double our chances, you know?” you glance back at him, “My old hunting buddy and I did it all the time and it really does help.”

“Well alright then.”

It doesn't take long for you to find a male Mule Deer drinking at the edge of the river. You put a hand up to stop Joel, walking behind you, nod your head towards it, then to your side. As you line up side by side, you whisper, barely audible, “Ready cowboy?” 

Two shots ring out and then your whooping. Joel laughs; it does feel pretty damn good to know he’s the one putting food on the table tonight. “Holy shit, he’s huge!” you cry as you make your way down to it, unhooking the rope from yourself which you’ll use to drag it back to Jackson. Joel follows you down to the water, trying not to feel old as he hides a grunt getting down to sit on his haunches. You’re brushing your fingers down the deer’s fluffy white snout. As you drag them along the course of his antlers, you say quietly, “So beautiful.”

Your words spark Joel, remembering the Cordycep, and he watches you look at this dead deer the same way you did the rotting corpse of what is responsible for the end of the world. You examining death with such tenderness, he wants to understand, but he can’t. You are such a contrast. Joel bets you look pretty when you cry, hot when you’re covered in blood, and have the scream of a siren.

“I love being able to see them up close like. Wouldn't ever be able to otherwise.” you tilt your head and hum, brushing your hand down over its neck, traveling down to its side to a dark maroon hole. “One shot, almost straight to the heart.” You turn your head to Joel with a smile, “See? One shot outta two. Doubled our chances.” You’re really rocking him and he can only respond with a half hearted chuckle, his eyes glued to your lips until you turn back to the deer. “Alright. Help me hook ‘im up.” 

It’s a big buck, but not so big that you’re incapable of dragging it back to Jackson, each pulling one end of the rope wrapped around its neck. You’re both huffing and puffing as you go, leaning forward into your steps, but Joel finds time between pants to ask you, “You met Ellie yet?”

“The girl? No, not yet.”

“Well, I think you’d like each other.” “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pant for another minute before he comes to his point, “You wanna come eat with us tonight?”

“At dinner?”

“Yeah I mean, I really think you and Ellie’d like each other,” suddenly embarrassed, “and I jus’ always see you sittin’ alone, so…” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, “that’d be nice.”

“Alright then.”

— 

That night, you make your way over shyly, standing with your plate in your hands, looking at Joel wordlessly until he invites you to sit. Ellie stares shamelessly. You glance up from your food, noticing it, but act unbothered. Ellie apparently approves of this reaction, then introducing herself, and starts to grill you. The stray cat method prevails.

“Why were you sitting alone before?”

“I guess people don’t like to eat with me.”

“Why not?”

“Hm, well I was kind of overprotective of my food when I first got here.”

“Yeah, you did look kinda creepy.”

“Ellie.” Joel gives her a look, eyebrows raised, and then to you, “I’m sorry, she’s—”

“Feisty.” you finish for him, smiling, and Ellie grins back, shifting to sit a little taller in her seat. 

“Yeah Joel, I’m feisty.” she tells him, who shakes his head at his plate with a restrained chuckle. “So how long have you been here?”

“Couple months longer than you have.”

Ellie nods, chewing, as soon as she swallows, she asks, “How did you get here? Where’d you come from?” Joel tenses at her nosiness but your response is prompt. 

“I wasn’t really trying to get here, I didn’t even know this place existed, actually.” your eyes are on the food you pick at as you speak, “Then a crew of these guys on horsebacks found me, and Maria—”

“Oh, we met those guys. They’re kinda assholes.” Joel hits Ellie’s knee with his under the table.

“Well I was unconscious so I didn’t have the pleasure, but Maria convinced them to bring me back with them. Before that though,” you pause for a small bite and keep your head down. “I was with a group for a long time. It was just me and my friend at first, that was since… yeah. A long time. Anyway, it grew, the number of people kinda ebbed and flowed, you know. There were only a few that lasted that whole time. One of them was looking for her sister so that’s what we were aiming for. We traveled a good distance together. But… it was a rough fucking winter here, and we… you know, shit happens. I was the only one that” you clear your throat and pause. “I’m the only one left. And I didn’t know what to do or where I was so I just kind of… kept walking. And then I couldn’t anymore and, yeah, passed out, they found me, Maria saved my ass, and here we are.”

The three of you eat quietly for an awkward minute before Ellie speaks. “I’m sorry, about your friends.”

“Thanks.” you shove a fork full of food into your mouth. 

There are a few more minutes of awkward silence until Ellie pipes back up and then starts relentlessly jabbering into your fresh ears. Joel tries to get her to restrain herself, mind her manners, but you converse fluidly with her. The way you interact with Ellie impresses him—it’s smooth, casual, and you don’t treat her like a child, but as an equal. Ellie is practically drooling over it.

—

Many nights, Joel and Tommy will stay behind after dinner to talk and have a drink at the empty bar. Maria will take Ellie home, but tonight, Ellie literally begs you to walk home with them, and you readily comply, giving Joel a wave and a smile over your shoulder on your way out. 

“Okay, Joel, you’re killin’ me here.”

Joel looks at his brother quizzically, spinning his glass of whisky on the rocks, condensation wetting the smooth, dark wood of the bar.

“You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Joel chuckles, not expecting the assumption. 

“Is this a friends with benefits kinda thing?”

“No,” Joel laughs. 

“What, she’s just your new best friend?”Joel takes a sip of his whiskey instead of answering. “Come on, you gotta give me something’. I promise I won’t say a word to Maria.”

“It’s nothin’ like that. I don’t know… but… shit, it’s somethin’, y’know?” he smiles at his brother, “I mean she’s great. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. She’s funny, Ellie already loves her. She’s great with her, I mean, she talks to her with respect, like an equal. She’s real good with a gun,” Joel throws some whisky back, the rock of ice clinking. “n’ it’s like she sees what I don’t. She knows more than me. She doesn’t make me feel stupid, just like I’m better when she’s there.” he shakes his head, “I feel like such a fuckin’ fool sayin’ this but, it just feels right when I'm with her. It’s like she’s this piece I didn’t know I was missin’.” he takes another sip, “You know, I ignored her for two weeks.” Joel nods to himself, “Longest fuckin’ two weeks of my life, I swear.” he bursts out a chuckle. “I don’t know what it is, Tommy, it’s crazy, but I just couldn’t stay away from her, I mean I couldn’t. There’s just somethin’ ‘bout her.” he pauses, watching the last of the amber at the bottom of his glass blend around the ice. “It fuckin’ scares me. How much I need her. Shit. I just don’t wanna hurt’er.” Joel adds quietly.

“Ah, Joel…” Tommy shakes his head lightly at his last words. “Don’t do that.”

Joel looks up at him, “Do what?”

“You just got through every reason that she’s a great girl, how much you like her, and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Whad’you mean shoot myself in the foot?”

“You get scared! Too scared!” he chuckles lightly, “Just go! Be with her!”

“But Tommy—” 

“I don’t wanna hear it. Don’t let her slip through your fingers, now. Hey, Ellie’ll never forgive you for that.” Tommy means it as a joke, but it pricks Joel. “Just be fuckin’ happy. Appreciate it. Findin’ love during the apocalypse is a beautiful thing.” he smiles brightly. 

“Sure, ok,” he gives him a fake glare and smirk, “it’s gettin’ late. I’m fuckin tired ‘n we’ve both got someone waitin’ up on us.”

That night, once again, Joel finds himself losing sleep over you. He chews on Tommy’s words. He hadn’t thought about it like that and he isn’t sure where you lie. You haven’t even touched, you are not his girlfriend, that doesn’t sound right even if it was like that, and you are friends, but it has to be more than that—friendship doesn’t smolder like this. While he walks around in the idea, opening different doors, one of them is to the thought of kissing you, and even though he’s alone, Joel blushes. He sits up on his bed, swears, and rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes. 

“…and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.” 

Another thing Joel had never thought about. Tommy said he got scared, and he’s right, why wouldn’t he be scared? When has loving someone ever worked out? He’s not shooting himself in the foot because it isn’t about him. He should be scared for you. If no one else knows to protect you from men like him, he’ll do it himself. He groans and swears again when he feels that pull, his heart trying to tear through the line tying it to his brain. It hurts to even think about having you gone now that he knows the way it feels when you’re here. What hurts more though is the thought of you dead. Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Fuck this, I’m tired, I’ll deal with it tomorrow. He thinks, pulling his boots off and getting under the covers.

— 

That next day, Joel is taking an afternoon nap, one of his absolute favorite activities, when Ellie’s feet bounding down the steps wakes him. He almost falls down the stairs, chasing after her and hollering her name, eyes still blurry with sleep. When his eyes focus, you’re at the bottom with Ellie grinning wildly next to you.

“Hi, Joel.” you wave.

“She’s gonna teach me how to ride a horse.”

“Ellie you already know how to ride a horse—”

“I know how to sit on a horse, not how to ride one.”

“I’ll have her home before dark, we’re just going to be at the stables.” You tell him, then look down at Ellie, only half seriously stern, “I thought she told you already.” 

“Soorryy. Okay come on let’s go.” Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you outside. 

“We’ll be safe I promise!” you call out over your shoulder before the door shuts behind you.

Joel sighs and presses the knuckle of his thumb into his forehead, “Christ.”

—

Joel waited up. Several times, he got up from the chair he waited in and grabbed his coat, but made it at most a few feet down the road before stopping himself. He needs to learn how to trust Ellie a little, let her have some freedom. He trusts you, too. It doesn’t eliminate his stress, though.

His foot taps on the floor, watching the sky fade into sunset through the front window. When he hears two steps from the front, rushes to the door, swinging it open before you and Ellie are even actually in front of it.

“Hey,” he says, breathlessly, quickly scanning Ellie to make sure she’s ok.

“Hi,” she says back, raising her eyebrows at him and smiling, “don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in a chair waiting for me all day.”

“No, I w—well I—how was it?”

“Sooooo fun!”

“She’s great at it.” Ellie beams at your side, soaking up your praise. “Alright well, goodnight then,” you start to turn but Joel interrupts you. 

“Uh—you w—wanna come in? Warm up just for a second? If you want.”

“Sure.”

Ellie gives Joel a mischievous grin, raising her eyebrows up and down at him as she passes through the doorway and calls out as she bounds up the creaky stairs, “I’ll just be in my room!” 

You take a few steps in and look around. “It’s really not much,” Joel says, watching you turn around to take in your surroundings. He had never tried to clean, or furnish anymore than Maria had made him, because he never considered that he’d have guests over. 

A smile spreads over your face when your eyes land on the guitar leaning against a corner of the front bay window. You point and look back at him, “Who plays?” 

“Uhh… I do. I’m tryna teach Ellie but I haven’t gotten her to sit down so that I can.” he chuckles sheepishly and rubs a nervous hand on the back of his neck.

“Okay you have to play me something.”

“Aaah, nnaah, I haven’t played in years, I’m outta practice. It’ll sound like shit.”

“Come one, it’s been forever since I’ve heard someone play. You gotta, Joel. Please!”

As soon as you say ‘please’ Joel goes for the guitar. “Alright, fine. I warned you, though.”

You beam, immediately going to plop on the couch facing the front windows. Joel picks up their guitar by its neck and sits in the wooden chair facing you from the other corner of the bay windows. The chair creaks under his weight and the strings softly squeak as he runs a hand up and down the neck. You move to the corner of the couch, tucking one leg underneath you and supporting the side of your head on your hand with an elbow on the arm of the couch. 

He stares at the strings under his fingers while he racks his brain for a song that he even remembers how to play, trying to focus on this instead of his nerves. It takes him a long time. When he does start, his strums are graceful and his voice, gentle and low. Goosebumps prickle your skin.  

I lost myself on a cool, damp night

I gave myself in that misty light

Was hypnotized by a strange delight

Under a lilac tree

The quiet vibrato he ends the first verse with dazes you. 

I made wine from the lilac tree

Put my heart in its recipe

Makes me see what I want to see

And be what I want to be

He keeps his tone low, quiet and all so gentle.

When I think more than I wanna think

I do things I never should do

I drink much more that I oughta drink

Because it brings me back you

Another drawn out vibrato literally makes you dizzy and everything else falls away. 

​​Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love

Listen to me, I cannot see clearly

Isn't that she coming to me? Nearly here

As he’s progressed through the song, his confidence is rising; he must be lost in it. You find yourself misty eyed.

Lilac wine is sweet and heady, where's my love?

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, where's my love?

Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?

Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?

You tighten your throat to keep tears down. You knew he’d be good—he’s too modest—but you weren’t expecting him to hit you with this. 

Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love

Feel unready for my love

After his last strum, it stays silent for a few long moments. You’re still trying to reel back tears. Your heartbeat is steady but you feel it bumping out of your chest and warmth blooms from it out to your shoulders. You slip your hand from supporting your temple to your cheek, holding your fingers over your mouth as a wild grin overwhelms it. 

Joel can’t take his eyes off the floor. Now that the music has fallen away, thoughts and fears buzz in his head, and all he wants is for you not to be laughing. His cheeks are red. When he finally gets himself to tentatively raise his head, he does only the least he can to see you.

Eyes glistening, you tell him softly, almost through your hand, “That was beautiful, Joel.” a wide smile plastered on your face. 

Looking up farther at you, his lungs release and his head calms, making him almost sleepy in relief, and warmth spreads through his entire body. He can’t help but smile and looks back to the floor. “Thank you.”

You hum and it’s quiet for a little longer. Joel is the one to break it, standing with a restrained groan and setting the guitar back in the corner. “It’s gettin’ late, lemme walk you home.” he says without looking at you, making his way towards the door with a stiff knee.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you want him to.

“Nah, it’s alright. Wouldn’t feel right havin’ you walk all alone in the dark. I could use some air anyway.” he says, back still to you as he slides on his coat.

The sound of packed snow under your feet is surrounded by a comfortable silence on the way to your house. It’s not a long walk in reality, but sort of is in Jackson, and by the time you’re there you can see clearly on Joel’s face how cold he is.

“Okay, your turn, come in for a sec. Just to warm up. You’re all rosy.”

“Oh I don’t wanna intrude—”

“I’m the only one that lives here and I’m inviting you in.” you smile lightly at him, opening the door. He happily follows. 

“Not much more than yours,” you tell him as he does just what you did at his house. “All my stuff’s upstairs.”

“You have stuff?”

You laugh, “I mean not really, I have a few things. I just—I don’t know, I still like having things.” 

Joel thinks of the photograph you’d slipped into your pocket on your first patrol together. “Can—can I see?” 

You hesitate, only for a moment and only because of your own nervousness, but it kills Joel. “Yeah, sure,” you lead him upstairs. It’s weird living alone in such a big house, but there aren’t any small houses in Jackson. It can get lonely sometimes, you still aren’t used to not being in a group of friends. 

Your bedroom is the first, right by the stairs, and the gold metal knob squeaks when you turn it. Walking in, Joel is confused, the room being just as barren as downstairs with only a few sad pieces of furniture. But then you click on a light, bringing his attention to his right, where your bed is as well a small, dark wood dresser, ending around chest height so that you have to bend a little to see yourself in the rectangular mirror that rests right up against the wall. Dirt and dust thinly films it and the border and corners blemished yellow with age. 

“Well, this is it.” you say, taking your coat off to hang over your bedpost. Joel is immediately drawn to the dresser where you’ve artfully set up everything you own that isn’t survival gear. Having Joel there makes you suddenly remember the photograph of the woman you’d found, and you slip your hand into your coat pocket to retrieve it. You sit on the edge of your bed, next to Joel at your dresser, and slide your finger along the side of it. The border has turned yellow and the rest of the colors have faded so that it’s just that milk yellow contrasting brown-black. The woman’s light, curly, mussy hair partly obstructs her face, but she gleams a toothy smile thrown over her shoulder. Her back to the back camera, it looks candid. On the upper edge of the thick bottom border, characteristic of a polaroid, scratches, only barely still marked by pen, of very small, close together letters say ‘i love you’ with a tiny heart next to them. You rub your thumb over it to feel the grooves. After flipping it back to front a couple times, studying the details, you take it to the dresser to slip into a vignetted corner of the mirror. 

Soft yellow light sheds over the few other miscellaneous items you’d acquired along your journey, one of which is a sizable pearl necklace. It spills out of the fittingly shell shaped, old and worn silver ashtray which you never properly cleaned. 

“What’s all this for?”

“I just like collecting stuff.” You answer as he ghosts a line over the surfaces of the objects on the dresser, “All sorts of treasures out there. I pick things up, keep them with me until I run out of room, and then I just leave them behind somewhere. It’s like there’s a trail behind me made of other people’s lives.” coming up next to Joel, you continue, “We made a game out of it, so when I found something we’d all make up stories about who left it behind.” you watch his face as he examines the pearls and bite your lip. The light shows off the rich brown of his eyes and there's a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. “This is my favorite.” you use both hands to pick up the heavy pearls, holding them up for Joel to see, “They’re real. Look. See how they’re not really white?” you take a pearl to twirl between your fingers, showing off its silvery pink and blue with the white, watching Joel’s focused eyes.

“Never seen a real one.”

“Here.” you stand behind him, turning him to face the mirror, and slip the necklace around his neck.

“What’re you—” he chuckles. 

You hum, “Look at you.” you look at him smiling in the mirror. “So fancy.” laughing, you come around from behind him and he turns to face you. You pick the pearls up to hold just off of his chest so you can twirl one and watch it in the light. “This is one of the first things I ever picked up, and the only one I’ve kept all this time.” the pearl glints, “I got it from a rich person’s house and the whole room was full of stuff like this, diamonds, jewels… I always like to imagine the woman who lived there wearing them all at once and standing out in the sun.”

You and Joel are in a bubble. Watching these pearls in the light never gets old, and Joel warms you without you even touching. You can hear his breaths and smell his natural scent. He looks even more fucking solid this close up. Joel is the epitome of safe. 

He watches your eyes focus on your heavy pearls around his neck, your face tranquil, and you subliminally relax him. It takes everything in him to not press every part of his body against you, wrap you up tight and keep you there, safe in his arms. 

Scared, Joel breaks the silence, almost at a whisper, “I should be gettin’ back. It’s late, Ellie’s probably waitin’ up.” 

Popped, you nod, taking your hands off the pearls, stepping back and clasping them behind your back, pursing your lips. Joel stays frozen, looking at you. “Here, I’ll get those off for you.”

“Oh, yeah.” he turns around for you to unhook the necklace and it clatters melodically as you lower it back into its shell. 

“Let me lead you out.” Neither of you look at each other until he’s on your front porch steps. Then, he turns to you, says goodnight, and is on his way home. 

You watch him walk off from the doorway until a cold breeze brings you back in. Inside, you close the door and press your back against it, close your eyes, curse, and bump the back of your head on it. You weren’t trying to do anything, but anxiety suddenly falls like acid rain over you that he might think that you were by inviting him in. The whole time, you were barely thinking, you were just… there with him. You blame unlearned social skills and bump your head against the door again. Fuck, you might have just scared him away. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes and head back upstairs. 

In your room, you stop at the dresser, running a finger along the bumps of the necklace. Leaning in a little, you look at yourself in the mirror. Then you make a face to yourself, click the light off, and jump into bed. Joel’s quiet vibratos crawl in to lull you to sleep.

— 

Joel almost walks past his own house, head swimming. Once he’s back inside, Ellie calls from her room, “Joel?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where’d you go? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I was just walkin’ her home.”

“Oh, okay.”

As he climbs the stairs, Joel tells Ellie’s closed door, “It’s late, you should be asleep.”

“Okay.” she replies. Light still emanates from the bottom crack of the door but Joel reminds himself that Ellie prefers to keep the light on while she sleeps. 

In his room, Joel blows a deep breath out as he slips off his coat and boots. All he seems to do in his bed is sleep and think about you. Added to his collection is the image of your soft eyes focused on shiny pearls you hold from his chest, and your face, poking out from the side of him, smiling at him in a mirror. 

Gentle, gentle, gentle, full of grace and love, and good with a gun. He feels blessed and cursed to have you, because you are you, but, he is him. Tonight only brought you closer and he wants only more, but the softness he witnessed made him want to run, because if you come any closer you’ll be walking into the sharp stake protruding from his heart.

Joel wants to cry as he comes to a decision. 

— 

You’re patrolling together the next day and Joel decides to take you back to the house you found on your first patrol. 

“C’mon.” His voice is gentle, nodding his head back towards the hill and already pulling his horse back. Despite his tone, the air around you is immediately dark and heavy. Joel looks completely calm. Your rapid heartbeat thrums in your ears. 

In the house, he steps into the living room on your right. The dark red carpet is filthy, the walls are thick wood panels, DIY 70’s style. The room is lit by clouded sunlight from three dirty front windows. A dirty old newspaper crinkles under your foot and Joel lightly kicks a pastel pink shard from the broken lamp. In front of him is a dark brown brick fireplace, sooty black logs spilling out over the ledge and onto the carpet. Joel’s hands are on his hips and his head is bowed as he leads you in. You breathe to calm your heart as you follow him in.

He takes a deep breath, facing the fireplace, and then turns to you. It takes him a moment to flick his eyes up to you, and when he does, he’s glaring. Your heart sinks and fear falls from a bucket over your head, running thick down your entire body. You’re not scared of him, but of whatever he’s about to say. You have no clue what to expect. 

He bites his lower lip, looking at you for a long moment before he speaks. “We can’t—we can’t do this.”

“…What?”

He breathes deeply out of his nose. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

You are physically taken aback, “Are you serious?” 

“Do I look serious?” he replies, voice grim, fiercely glaring. 

You almost roll your eyes. “Okay, I know what this is.” You snap, “You know, you can be so self centered.” 

“The fuck I am—I’m doin’ this for you,” his shout bites, “to protect you.” 

“Joel I am not going to play this fucking game with you.”

“What fuckin’ game?” 

You raise your tone to match his, “This game where you come and you’re with me, you tell me you want me here, and then you decide you’re bad for me, whatever the fuck that means, and then you leave and I don’t know if you’re gonna come back, and then you do and then you’ll leave again and then come back and you can’t keep doing that because then I can’t fucking trust you and that WILL. Ruin. Everything. I’m not fucking doing that.”

“I’m not comin’ back,” he yells, his face severe, “that’s the damn point. An’ it’s for your own good. The world that I live in ain’t no life for you.”

You scoff, “Where the fuck do you think I’ve been living?” You march right into his face, almost nose to nose, glaring straight back into him, “I’ve been through hell, Joel. You have no fucking clue. I am not fucking weak, Joel. Fuck you. Fuck you for that.”

Joel barely lets himself blink, challenged by your gaze, “You’re right, you’re not weak. Fragile is what you are.” he brings a hand up, palm out, and points at it, without breaking, “You see this? You see these hands? I’ve beaten people to death. I’m dangerous.” he hisses, “You should be afraid of me. You’d be stupid not to be. I could kill you.” 

You take his hand and wrap it around your throat. “Do it then.” your eyes stay locked, your breathing even. “Kill me. I know you can. It’d be so easy, Joel.” you whisper, angling your mouth to bare your teeth at him. Joel's breaths are heavy and his eyes widen, brow still hanging dourly. He rips himself away from you and takes a few steps back. “‘Dangerous’.” you continue, “Like that’s special. Here, let me show you something.” you stride back up to him and raise a hand to point at your other, shoving it in his face, “See that knuckle? How it’s curved and flat? That’s called a boxer’s fracture. Someone killed my friend so I beat him to death and it broke my fucking knuckle.” Then you press your thumb into the center of his collarbone, just enough for him to feel his airway constrict until he swats your hand away. “You ever learn that trick? Makes choking someone to death go a lot faster. I know my fucking way around this shit. Scared of you,” you scoff, “Who can’t kill me? You’re not special.” 

Joel lets a solid five silent, tense seconds pass and then he grabs for his gun, making your heart flutter, but then it hits the floor, followed by the thump of his knife. He reaches for your gun and yanks it out of its holster to drop, then around you, without breaking eye contact, to remove both the gun and knife stuffed between your back and belt, hitting the carpet with thuds. 

Suddenly, the idea of you that he had created—someone innocent, clean, pure, someone unlike him, opposite, a good for his bad, yin for his yang—falls away. 

“Hit me.” Joel tells you stonily. 

You smack him and his head jerks with it. 

After that, he kisses you hard, crashing your mouths together so it almost hurts. You reciprocate instantaneously. His hands inch up the sides of your neck, thumbs almost meeting together as they slide up your throat—showing that if he squeezed, just a little, his hands could completely enclose your neck—but he only brings them up to hold your jaw to kiss you. When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

Interrupting your fervent eye gaze is a bang at the glass window, which reminds you that all of your weapons are on the floor, but seeing the wing defining the mark on the dirty window, you both let out a breath of relief. You collect yourselves and follow it outside. Stepping over the weedy, dead flower beds, you find a still crow, blood seeping to puddle around it.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this WIP weekend post!!

you guys overwhelmingly voted for more of the rockstar!eddie x sailor!steve full fic(let)/oneshot so here are the 42(!!!) sentences i ended up writing for it! (and seriously, thank you @thisapplepielife for tagging me!! this is the most i've gotten done on a lot of these wips in a while!)

“Was hard enough driving it around these skinny-ass roads.” Eddie snorts as that, “Don’t think I didn’t feel the scrape you gave that Beetle back there, Earl.” “It’s not my fault! These roads are tiny and there’s people parked everywhere!” “I’m just fuckin’ with you, man,” Eddie chuckles, shuffling out after the other boys, “Don’t fall in.”

They head toward the little gatehouse at the front of the pier where their manager, Chrissy, is standing beside a sailor in the Navy’s digital blue camo uniform. The girl in uniform looks particularly baby-faced (given she must be at least old enough to enlist), and the bright white “U.S. NAVY” stamped across the front of her bulletproof vest matches Chrissy’s pantsuit. It makes Eddie sweat just looking at her, even with how pleasant the weather actually is.

“You not coming with us, Chris?” Gareth asks. “Nah, I’m going to sit and wait in the car, I have quite a few calls to make anyhow.” she waves him off, “Maybe I can convince Earl to take me up to the food court. I could really go for some ice cream.” She waves them off, shooing them towards the sailor waiting on them, and marches off back across the narrow road to their car. “Okay, listen up.” Erica calls out to the four of them, pulling their attention to her easily. “I am going to escort you down the pier and you will both stay out of others’ way, and watch your step.” She beckons them through the tall turnstile gate as she speaks, following close behind. “There shouldn’t be anything laying out on the deck, as a rule, but watch it regardless.” As promised, she escorts them down the flat concrete pier, herding them with short warnings as they go, for whatever hazard may be in their way.  Despite the watching where he’s going he should be doing, Eddie can’t help but gawk up at the huge ships on either side of the wide spanse of concrete. They tower protectively over the sailors throwing heavy ropes around like they’re nothing, the ones helping unload cargo vans of their equipment, and those that seem to just be having fun laughing and fucking around. The ship on their left (with the matching hull number as on Erica’s ballcap) is onloading supplies from the pier in systematic line over the deceptively narrow strip of water between it and the vessel, each of the wildly different people in the line swinging box after box between them up the steep steel ramp and out of sight onto the deck. The ship on their right is only two numbers above the Berthold, and is the one they will be touring. The USS William B. Franke (DDG-63). There’s less happening on it's side of the pier, only a few folks coming and going. There’s a small group of four standing at the bottom of the Franke's ramp, a pair in street clothes that look to be heading off for the day, and there’s a taller sailor with a long ponytail who’s just hefted a heavy-looking piece of equipment onto their shoulder and is climbing across the bridge to the ship.

They troop along behind the commander, following him up and around a couple bends in the halls to his office. “Come on in, gentlemen; have a seat, please.” Brenner gestures them inside past a wooden desk to a low L-shaped couch fixated in the far corner of the office. They plop down onto the squeaky brown pleather, Chief Bonne taking up another chair in a corner, Master Chief Williams sinks down into the seat at the end of the couch, and the captain wheels his desk chair to the other side of the small round coffee table, sitting opposite the group. MAC Hopper stands against the door, out of the way. “Apologies, gentlemen," Brenner begins, "My Executive Officer is out of country at the moment, so he’s unable to meet with you today, but he’ll be back by time we get underway again.” “Of course, no worries here, sir.” Jeff waves him off, unnecessarily, “When are you setting sail?” “We’ll be taking off in a week.” “Only about half our sailors’ families are coming along,” Master Chief cuts in, “So we’ll have the room for you all to stay aboard while we’re underway, but you’ll have to have a skeleton crew to film.” The wheels in Eddie’s head are already turning, “How skeleton are we talking?”

“Oh, of course.” He says, visibly relieved, “Let me track down Lieutenant Creel; He’s a great kid, been a friend of the family since he was in diapers.”  Eddie’s already shaking his head. "No sir, I said your most competent." The captain's smile turns sour, so Eddie continues. "Someone point me to THE second class. You know the one, does it a little bit of everything, doesn’t slow down, probably salty as hell… Where are they? I need an enlisted person…No offense to your Lieutenant, sir.”

you also voted a handful or more for each other idea so i will link below each of the other posts for each other set of votes/sentences of the other options below!

casper | destiel pt. 6 | idiot | date pt. 2 | vamp