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punkshort · 5 months

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i know who you are | 6. the fight

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness

WC: 8K

Series Masterlist

The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.

For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.

You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.

It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.

No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.

And not just any woman. Angie.

It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.

And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.

That fucking asshole.

When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.

The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.

"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.

"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"

She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.

"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.

"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.

"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.

"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."

"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.

"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.

It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.

And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.

"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."

"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."

"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"

The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.

It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.

As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.

Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.

"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."

"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.

"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.

"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"

"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."

"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.

"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."

You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.

Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.

He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.

"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.

"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.

"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.

"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.

"Your pain was that bad?"

"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."

"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.

As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.

If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.

It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.

Without even thinking, you stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.

"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.

"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.

By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.

You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.

Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"

All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.

"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.

"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."

Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.

"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"

Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.

"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"

Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.

"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"

You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.

Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.

That was when Angie saw her opportunity.

She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.

Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.

Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.

"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."

Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.

With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.

You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.

"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.

Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.

"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.

"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"

"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.

"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.

"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.

"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.

"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.

"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.

"I'll clean you up."

"You don't-"

"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.

You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.

She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.

"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.

"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.

"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.

"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."

"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.

"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."

"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."

She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.

"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.

"It's complicated."

She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."

You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.

"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"

"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.

"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.

Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.

The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.

Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.

He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.

"How're you feelin'?"

"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.

"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.

"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.

"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.

"You do?"

"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."

He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.

"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.

"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"

"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."

"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.

I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.

You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.

"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.

He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.

But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.

Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.

The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.

Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.

She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.

"How're you feeling?"

You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."

"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"

With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.

"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.

Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.

"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.

He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.

The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.

"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."

"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.

"Maria home?"

"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.

"I gotta ask for a favor."

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.

"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"

"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.

"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"

"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.

"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."

"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.

"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.

"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."

"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.

Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.

Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.

"Let's hear it."

Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."

"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."

"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."

"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.

"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.

Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.

"What'dya need me to do?"

It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.

Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.

Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.

Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.

He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.

Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.

It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.

You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.

Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.

As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.

Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.

He knows why.

No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.

Joel

Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.

What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?

You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.

"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.

"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.

"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"

"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"

You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.

Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.

"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.

He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.

"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."

"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.

"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.

"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.

"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.

"What was his plan?"

"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"

"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.

"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."

Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.

"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"

They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.

"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."

"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."

"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.

"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.

Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.

"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.

"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."

Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."

You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."

"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."

"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."

"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.

Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."

Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

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runninriot · 8 months

Text

...✍️

“I want that too, y’know. The touching and kissing, everything. But the problem is, that I- I want all that from someone I can’t have. And that sucks.” Steve chuckles bitterly.

Isn’t that funny? That there he is, the wonderful man that stole Eddie’s heart, being just as miserable, just as heartbroken as Eddie is. It’s hysterical, really. Eddie wants to laugh, wants to ask who Steve is talking about. Finds it impossible to think there could be a single person in this world that would pass on the opportunity to be with Steve in all the ways Eddie would kill for.

“Guess that makes two of us,” Eddie confesses and Steve perks up at his words, opens and closes his mouth as if he, too, doesn’t know if it’s okay to dig deeper.

There’s a sadness in his eyes Eddie thinks must mirror his own; two sets of brown eyes searching for comfort in each other. Eddie feels so small, so angry for Steve and himself because love could be such a beautiful thing but isn’t when the rhythm of your heart doesn’t match the one it’s beating for. When love is a one way road with no exists.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks but Eddie just shakes his head and smiles weakly, trying to take some of the heaviness away for both their sakes.

People don’t choose to fall in love, it just happens. And when it does, there is always a fifty-fifty chance that your love is requited. That the person you fell for likes you in the same way, wants you just like you want them.

Sadly, Eddie has yet to be one of the lucky ones to experience that. The real thing. And while they are still staring at each other, each wallowing in their own sorrow because being in love hurts – he realises that this is so much more than a stupid crush. That this goes deeper than anything he’s ever felt before. That maybe for the first time in his 25 years on earth he understands what true love feels like. Feels the crushing weight of it. Knows it won’t fade so easily. But-

“You’ll always have me.”

He can pretend. He can be Steve’s friend even if it hurts. Eddie would rather pull his own heart out than not to have Steve in his life. He’d rather be Steve’s friend than nothing at all.

“What?” Steve seems confused at his statement and Eddie can’t blame him.

“I’m sorry you can’t have who you want but you’ll always have me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I mean it, Steve. No matter what, you’ll always have me. It might not be enough for you and I get that. But for me, this is everything I need even if I can’t have all I want. You wanna know why I came home so early? Because when you texted me, I realised that I don’t need to be anywhere else, with anyone else.”

I just wanna be here. With you.

Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from saying more, knows he’s already said too much. Probably shouldn’t have said any of it.

The confusion in Steve’s eyes turns into something else – anger maybe? Frustration? He pulls away from Eddie, jumps up off the sofa and walks a few steps back.

“You- you can’t just say things like that, Eddie.”

Eddie hates that there is so much space between them, so he stands too, approaches Steve like he would a scared animal, taking slow steps to close the distance between them.

“I can’t say the truth?” He doesn’t think about his own words, just lets his emotions take over his brain and mouth, doesn’t care about the consequences.

“N-no! You can’t just say it like it means more than what you’re actually saying. You’re doing this enigmatic bullshit I never understand because I’m too dumb to read between the lines!”

That causes Eddie to freeze on the spot. He’s only inches away from Steve now, could lift his arms easily to reach out for him. But Steve’s words stop him.

He’s right, isn’t he? Eddie does that a lot. Says only half of what he means or says one thing and means another entirely. He just never realised Steve knew. That he can see right through him.

“You’re right,” he agrees.

Steve huffs annoyed, rubs his hands roughly over his face.

“Then tell me what you mean. What you really mean.”

It doesn’t matter now, does it? He already said too much anyway. Steve is already onto him, knows Eddie is playing a game of hide and seek with himself – hiding the truth and seeking for an easy way out. But it’s too late to try and turn this conversation around.

“What I mean is-“ Eddie takes a deep breath, summons all the courage he can find in himself. “It makes two of us because I feel that same way you do. Wanting someone I can’t have? Because you’re my friend, Steve. I can’t have you the way I want you and that’s fine. It hurts like hell but it’s fine. I can live with that. You’ll never be alone because you’ll always have me as a friend.”

Steve stares at him with eyes full of rage.

“But I don’t want you as a friend.”

Steve’s words hit him like a fist to the face. But before Eddie can let them sink in and start spiralling about the meaning behind them – Steve not wanting to be friends anymore because of Eddie’s confession, obviously – Steve closes the distance between them in one swift motion, grabs Eddie’s face on either side, looking at him with determination in his eyes.

“I want you as more than a friend, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #idiot friends to lovers #wip

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nishimuramp4 · 5 months

Text

untitled #1

synopsis: your roommate riki is a little messy, very annoying, but relatively normal. sometimes, though, you find that he acts very strange...

content warnings: unrealistic sex, dubcon, blood, mild body horror

The faucet had been left on again, a gentle yet steady stream of water draining into the kitchen sink. You sighed, twisted the knob, and called, “Riki!” behind your shoulder.

Soon, Riki walked into the room, leaning his elbows on the counter space in front of the sink. “What is it?” he asked, feigning innocence. As if you couldn’t see the smirk twitching on the corner of his lips.

“Stop leaving the water on,” you admonished. “This is the third time this week I’ve had to tell you to turn it off after you're done with it."

Riki shrugged and reached over, twisting the knob again. You twisted it back, and he turned the water on again, snickering to himself. “You’re not funny,” you said.

Riki pointed at your lips. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m not,” you said, fighting a grin. If you didn’t put your foot down now, he would never learn. You maintained a stoic expression as best as you could. “Look, if you leave the water on, it’ll start to add up, and then we’ll have to pay more.”

“Please.” Riki waved his hand dismissively and straightened up, walking over to the bowl of lustrous fruit that tucked next to the paper towel holder. He picked up a ripe, red apple and moved to lean against the fridge, tossing the fruit from hand to hand. “You’re worrying too much. It’s just a little trickle of water, it’ll cost like five dollars extra, max.”

“Or,” you said slowly, “you could just turn the faucet off when you’re done using the sink.”

Riki rolled his eyes and took a bite out of the apple. Its juice dribbled down his lips, and he wiped it away with his thumb, sucking on the digit with an exaggerated pop. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to distract you. “Does it really bother you?”

“Wasting money bothers me,” you grumbled. “Now move. I need to get something out of the fridge.”

In true Nishimura fashion, he didn’t budge. Instead, Riki crossed his arms and grinned slightly at you before taking another bite of his apple. “I don’t wanna move,” he said, his voice taking on a childish cadence.

“Get out of the way,” you said. Riki was normally frustrating, but sometimes, he would drag a joke on for far too long. When you had first moved in together after meeting on a roommate app, he had pulled pranks on you, almost as if to set a precedent for his devilry. Riki had put spray foam on the mirror in the bathroom the two of you shared, replaced the knives you had brought with cheap plastic alternatives, and had stuck little pom-poms to the edges of all of the pieces of furniture in the home. Your kitchen table, the matching chairs, the small coffee table in your miniscule living room: all adorned with multicoloured pom-poms. You had grown accustomed to them, so you didn’t bother peeling them off.

Riki sank his teeth into his apple once more, no longer bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk. “Nope.”

Groaning, you tried to pry him off the fridge yourself. “Get off.”

Despite his lithe, skinny frame, Riki was strong and easily pulled you away. One hand held you in place. Riki lowered his head towards yours, widening his eyes. “What’s the magic word?” His tone was condescending, as though he were a teacher and you were a child.

“Fuck off?”

“That’s two words,” Riki said, using the same patronizing voice. “Come on, just one word.”

You sighed. “Please?”

Riki let go of you and stood away from the fridge, choosing to prop himself up against the kitchen counter. “Was that so hard?”

Mumbling expletives under your breath, you picked out a few vegetables. Fried rice had been on your mind for a while, and your stomach was starting to growl.

“What are you making?” Riki asked, following your movements as you procured a bamboo cutting board and one of the flimsy, hot pink plastic kitchen knives Riki had bought.

“I’m making fried rice,” you said. “You can starve, though.” Wielding the knife, you began to cut into a medium-sized carrot. Chopping vegetables was a laborious, painstakingly slow process now because of Riki. When you cut anything now, the pieces always end up jagged. You had tried to negotiate, but Riki was adamant on keeping these stupid novelty cutlery pieces. Whatever. It wasn’t the only weird trait of his that you had had to tolerate.

Through a mouthful of apple, Riki said, “You wouldn’t let me starve.”

“I would,” you said, eyebrows knitting in concentration.

“Don’t be mean,” Riki murmured. Hands hung loosely around your neck, and Riki’s scent permeated your nostrils. His chest pressed lightly against your back, startling you. The knife slipped, and you nicked your index finger.

“Ah!” You stared at the small bead of blood pooling at its tip in annoyance. “Look at what you made me do,” you began, but the look on Riki’s face was enough to stop you in your tracks. His lips were contorted into a grimace, and he had ripped his arms away from you. His eyes, too, were fixed on your finger.

“Band-aid,” he said quietly. “You need one.” With that, Riki stumbled out of the kitchen to go to the bathroom.

You shook your head and ran your fingertip under cool water from the sink, watching the redness spill into the clear liquid. It was more of a shock that you hadn’t cut yourself before, given what you had to work with.

Riki came back less than a minute later, thrusting the box of band-aids in your direction. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine,” you said. “Could you open a bandaid for me? Don’t wanna get blood everywhere.” You turned off the water and blotted your fingertip with a paper towel.

“Sure,” Riki said, his voice thin. He nearly dropped the box of bandages as he hastily tried to peel apart the strips of paper covering the bandaid. “Uh, finger. Give me your finger.”

“Weird phrasing,” you said with a slight laugh. You held your finger up and Riki hesitated to apply the bandage. A trickle of blood slipped down your pointer. “Riki? What are you doing?”

Riki’s eyes were fixed on your finger, but he blinked and pressed the bandaid unceremoniously onto the cut. “There,” he said. “Saved the day.” Riki swallowed and looked at his half-eaten apple. He washed his hands in the sink and ate his apple furiously while you cleaned up the rest of your blood.

“Maybe if you let us have regular knives, this wouldn’t have happened,” you said. The plastic knife was dotted with some of your blood, but Riki took it from you, pocketing it.

“It’s contaminated,” Riki said. “I don’t want to taste blood in my food.”

“Don’t avoid the issue,” you said, rummaging in the drawers for another stupid knife. “I want a normal knife.”

“No way,” Riki replied. “You would have cut yourself ten times worse if you had used a normal knife.”

You pulled a knife out, this one a putrid bright yellow. “No, I cut myself because I used your stupid knife,” you said. “Can’t we just g-,”

Riki’s voice rose suddenly, the first time he had ever sounded angry. “Drop it,” he said. “Please.”

You turned to gauge his body language, and Riki didn’t look mad. He looked scared, with pleading eyes. “Please,” he repeated.

“Fine,” you relented, getting to your feet.

Riki plucked the yellow knife out of your grasp and pushed you out of the way. “I’ll cut these,” he said, gesturing at the vegetables. “You go do… something else.”

“I’m not an invalid,” you said.

“It’s my apology,” Riki said. “Go lie down or read a book or something, I don’t know. I’ll make dinner tonight.”

You grimaced. “Riki…”

“Go,” he insisted sharply.

“Fine,” you said, walking towards your bedroom.

Riki was a decent roommate, but he could be ridiculously immature sometimes. The knives, the stupid decorations, and the way he avoided you when you were on your period. It was like he was a middle-schooler. He insisted that you dispose of your hygienic products as quickly as possible, citing the smell as the problem. “I wouldn’t leave my cumrags everywhere,” he had said, pointing vehemently at the small trash can in the bathroom. “So you can clean up your…shit.”

“Not even close to being the same thing,” you had said.

“Fine, fine, I’ll start leaving my used cumsocks everywhere, then,” he had said. Unfortunately, Riki had made good on his promise, leaving a single, worn, wet sock on the bathroom floor. Not willing to fight a war of attrition with a young adult male, you had taken to tossing out the trash every day when you were on your period.

An hour later, Riki called you into the kitchen. He had set the kitchen table for two, a spoon and a steaming bowl of fried rice on your placemat. "Done," he said, settling into his chair. He nodded at you. "Eat."

You begrudgingly ate the food. It was fine, but it was almost impossible to ruin fried rice. As you ate, you noticed that his gaze continued to flicker over to your bandaged finger.

After dinner, which has remained unusually terse, you retired to your room. Riki and you shared an amicable friendship, but you liked to have your alone time. You spent the rest of your night lounging on your bed, reading a fantasy novel that you had been putting off.

Once you noticed yourself beginning to yawn, you changed into your nightclothes and crawled into bed. Despite your fatigue, sleep refused to come. You tossed and turned, punched your pillow, and even tried slow, meditative breathing. Nothing.

As you lay there, burrowed under your blanket, you heard something from Riki's room. The apartment was laid out so that your bedrooms were on one side of the hallway and the bathroom and laundry room were on the other. You had the room closest to the living room, and your bed was pressed against the wall separating your room with Riki's.

It wasn't like Riki didn't make noise at night. Sometimes, he would wake you up while he played an online game with his friends, or you would hear his light snoring.

This wasn't like those times. Muffled sighs were emanating from his room, and you could hear his quilt rustling. As you listened, you realized that the sighs weren't sighs, but quiet moans.

You took your ear away from the wall, bristling in embarrassment. Normally, the two of you could be quiet. At the very least, Riki had never teased you about you pleasuring yourself, so you figured you were decent at hiding it. To his credit, despite his allusions to jerking off, you had never caught him either. Until now.

When you checked your phone, you saw that it was around 2 in the morning. He probably thought you were asleep, which was why his moans were growing louder. Riki almost sounded like he was in pain, and his bed creaked underneath him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your ear against the wall once more, biting your lip. You wondered who he was thinking about. Riki had started working straight out of school, but you knew he had friends. Maybe it was one of them? Or a female celebrity? A male celebrity? Your mind worked overtime, trying to figure out who Riki could be getting off to.

Riki's breathing turned into a stream of panting and moaning, unsuccessfully smothered by his hand or blanket or whatever he was using. It was dark in your room, dark enough that your imagination was quick to fill in the gaps. You imagined his hand pumping his cock, his plush lips parting as he let out desperate whimpers, the sheen of sweat that had surely formed on his forehead.

You weren't crazy. You knew that you lived with an objectively attractive man, but you refused to act on it. The living arrangement you had now suited you well, and a relationship could only complicate things. You were sure he felt the same way.

Which is why his breathy whimper of your name caught you off guard. Heat nipped at your core, and you waited for him to say it again. Instead, the shuffling of fabric stopped, Riki's breathing began to even out, and the air was once again filled with silence.

"You imagined it," you told yourself. "Freak."

You didn't fall asleep for hours, rubbing your thighs together. You refused to get off to your roommate.

In the morning, you dragged yourself out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Riki was already there, eating a piece of toast slathered with strawberry jam.

"Morning," you said.

Riki waved at you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Badly," you said, rubbing your eyes. "You?"

"Pretty well," Riki said, chewing on his breakfast as he scrolled through his phone.

You popped two pieces of bread into the toaster oven and yawned. You wanted to tell Riki that it was partially his fault you couldn't sleep, but you figured he would manage to misconstrue it into you being the weird one.

"If you stopped looking at Draco fanfiction, you'd sleep better," Riki said without looking up.

"What makes you think I read that?" you asked haltingly.

"A hunch," he replied.

"Yeah, well, maybe you'd sleep better if you..." you faltered.

"Take your time."

"Oh, fuck you, I'm too tired," you said, putting the toast on a saucer and shuffling to the kitchen table. Before you could use the plastic knife to spread the jam, Riki took your plate. He hastily spread globs of jam onto your bread before setting the plate in fromt of you.

"You take too long when you do it," Riki said, avoiding eye contact.

"Doing the cooking, helping me make breakfast, what's next for you?" You tried to lighten the mood, or you would be forced to contend with the uneasiness lining Riki's forehead.

"Don't get used to it," Riki said.

"Wasn't going to in the first place," you replied, eating your toast.

"Whatever," Riki mumbled. "Oh, I'm going to the grocery store after work. Text me if you need anything."

"Will do," you said.

"And try not to get hurt," he said, standing up. He put his plate in the dishwasher.

"No promises."

Riki groaned and left the kitchen.

You spent the day reading, studying, watching TV, and doing household chores. You always loved it when you got the house to yourself, and today was no exception. Finally, you could release some of the pent-up tension you had been carrying since last night.

You managed to get off without thinking about Riki, and afterwards you took a well-deserved, orgasm-induced nap. When you woke up, you remembered that you still hadn't unloaded the dishwasher.

The cutlery went first, and you grimaced at the sight of the various plastic knives. Then you handled the plates. You recognized one of them as the saucer that Riki had used that morning, which made you think about last night. The way he had said your name, voice muffled and hoarse. Just the thought of it shot desire throughout your body, and you banged your head into the edge of the cupboard. Luckily, you managed to put the plate on the counter before you slipped to the floor. Otherwise, you'd have a broken saucer to deal with, too.

Getting to your feet, you made your way into the bathroom. You assessed the damage in the mirror with a grimace. It would probably develop into a goose egg later on, so it was imperative that you stopped the swelling now lest you develop a garish-looking bump. You retrieved a small hand-towel from the little cupboard above the towel and mopped up some of the blood. The ice packs were all in the freezer, so you stepped out into the hallway.

There, you were greeted with Riki, who had seemingly materialized out of thin air. He was staring at you with narrowed eyes, lips pressed into a line. "You got hurt again," he said in an almost accusatory tone.

"Not like I meant to," you muttered. "Now move, I need an ice pack."

"Let me see," Riki said, and before you could protest he tore the stained towel away from your face and cast it aside. With no buffer, your blood dripped freely down your face, tickling your skin during its descent. You could see Riki's Adam apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously, eyes trained on the trickle of blood.

"How'd you do it?"

"Walked into a cupboard."

"Idiot," Riki muttered. His hands fell to your shoulders, lightly squeezing them. His gaze was starting to grow unsettling; you realized that you hadn't seen him blink once.

"Let me go," you said, squirming. "I'm gonna bleed everywhere." You could feel the blood sliding down to the tip of your nose.

"Just..." Riki leaned in and licked a stripe from the tip of your nose to its bridge. You gasped, a flurry of goosebumps painting your back. "Sorry," he whispered. Empty apology. He did it again, his tongue flicking over your face again. His grip grew tighter as he licked all the way to the scar, lapping up your blood. As he did so, he groaned softly.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

When he pulled away to look at you, his mouth was smeared with your blood and his saliva. Riki licked his lips and shivered. His hands dug into your shoulders, his nails sharp even through your shirt. Too sharp. You looked down at them and gasped once more. His hands, which were so pretty and slender, had become gnarled, his fingernails elongating and solidifying into something else. You rubbed your eyes, but the sight didn't go away.

"Sorry," Riki said again. "I'm sorry..." His tongue swirled around the wound on your forehead, and you noted that it felt different. It felt thicker, less soft, more like an appendage than a squishy piece of muscle. As he licked the scar, Riki hooked his leg behind yours and took you down to the floor of the hallway. He pressed his body weight against yours so that you were pinned underneath him.

Riki kneeled over top of you, his breathing growing laboured. He wiped his mouth with his ever-thickening hand. He parted his lips as if to say something, but all that came out was a low growling noise.

His body continued to undergo fantastical changes. Every inch of skin darkened into an inky blackness. He was already tall, but his spine cracked and groaned as Riki grew. He was now around 8 feet tall. His torso expanded, tearing through his shirt. The sinews of his shoulders became visible, and the hard outline of his abs looked embossed on his new body.

His pants were the next to be ripped to shreds, as his legs went from thin yet muscular to large and bulky. Riki's hard cock was equally as obsidian, imposing, and hopelessly inhuman as the rest of him. Besides its unnatural length and girth, the underside of it was ridged with little bumps.

You were dreaming. You had to be because this didn't make sense. Generally speaking, cute boys didn't turn into monsters.

Riki, if you could still call him that, ran one finger along your shirt, from its neck to its hem. Then he roughly dragged his claw all the way up, ripping your shirt in half. You yelped and moved to cover yourself, but Riki let out a noise that could only be described as animalistic. He shoved your hands away and tore the rest of your shirt off of you. Your bra was discarded in a similar manner, and your nipples immediately hardened from the chill.

One of his massive hands kneaded your tits, eliciting another growl from him. Just one hand was enough to cover your entire breast. The other clawed at your pants, leaving them in tatters. He stripped the fabric off of you, finally leaving you in just a thin pair of panties.

Riki dragged his claw along the waistband of your panties, then he trailed it onto your still clothed clit. You whimpered pathetically at his touch, writhing underneath him.

"Riki," you pleaded, "what are you doing?" You kept telling yourself that it was a dream, but the sulfuric scent wafting into your nostrils was all too visceral. The wetness starting to soak through your panties was also real.

He took off your panties with a bit of more delicacy, making a cut down the middle and peeling them off with a wet, sticky noise. Seemingly having his fill with your blood, Riki lowered his head to your pussy and started to lap at your clit. His dexterous, thick tongue felt amazing on the sensitive nub, and you moaned. Satisfied that you wouldn't run away, Riki moved his hands to your thighs, holding them lightly in place. His tongue, feeling twice as long with the average human's, alternated between teasing your clit and probing its way inside of your pussy. It flicked upwards just enough to reach the gummy wall of your G-spot, forcing more moans out of you.

You didn't think Riki in this form would have been particularly occupied by your pleasure, but given the way he fucked his tongue into your pussy, it was clear that he fully intended on bringing you to the brink. His hair was still normal, so you tangled your fingers inside the black locks as you enjoyed the sensations. If this were a dream, it was a pretty fun one after all.

Riki sucked and licked your clit, causing a pleasurable heat to rise within you. Your hips bucked into his mouth as you anticipated your orgasm. Then, forcefully, a wave of sheer, white-hot ecstasy washed over you, stars flashing in front of your eyes. Never had you ever had a climax so powerful, so delicious. Riki kept lapping up your juices as you came, and you tugged at his hair weakly to get him to stop. He continued, and you whined, the overstimulation growing painful.

"Riki," you said, pulling his hair again. "Stop..." You sat upright and tried to catch your breath.

He lifted his head up, and to your surprise, he was smirking. So, even as a creature, he was still an annoying brat. You rolled your eyes at him, which he responded to by pressing his moist lips against yours. Immediately, Riki's tongue shoved itself inside of your mouth, slithering down your throat; his hands continued playing with your tits. Slowly, he pushed you down once more onto the cold tile.

You could feel his stiff, barbed cock pressing against you and you grimaced. There was no way he was going to be able to fit that inside you all the way, was there?

Riki seemed intent on finding out. Parting your legs again, he jammed the tip of his cock into your pussy, working it in carefully. At the slightest bit of friction, he moaned deeply. He was thick, almost too thick. Just the tip made your toes curl. As he adjusted to your pussy, he sucked on your nipples, one after the other. He bit them and pulled at them with his abnormally sharp teeth.

He stuffed about half of his length into you before starting to move. Even half of him filled you nicely, stretching out your walls. It had been so long since you had done anything, and you welcomed the pleasure. The barbs on his cock only added to the sensation.

Riki started to ram his hips into you faster. His claws dug into your waist, and his head was thrown back as he let out guttural moans. He jammed more of his cock into you, and you screamed.

"Too much," you said. "It hurts, Riki." But it was as if he couldn't hear you anymore. Instead, he only quickened his pace. He placed one knee on the ground, balancing his other leg on the ball of his foot. He held your hands, now tiny in his grasp, and used this new position to better pound into you. Riki brought you onto his cock over and over again. Every time he went deeper, you could feel more of the barbs dragging along your sensitive walls. His balls, which were heavy and hung low, slapped against your thighs.

You cried out again, tears running down your face. It hurt so badly, but it felt so, so good. Riki was treating you like a ragdoll, pushing you around, doing whatever he wanted with you. He dropped your hands and spun you around so that your boobs pressed against the floor. Your hands splayed out onto the tile, desperately searching for purchase.

Grabbing your ass using both of his hands, he effortlessly pushed you up and down on his length yourself. Despite the pain you were already feeling from his monstrous dick, he still hadn't plunged himself all the way inside yet. His tip pressed against your cervix, threatening its narrow opening.

You hadn't realized that you had been approaching another orgasm until electric shocks ravaged your body. You bit your fist and shrieked into it as your pussy undulated against Riki's length. The different stimulations made you feel like you were touching a live wire.

This only spurred Riki on, and he drove himself even further into you. His cock breached your cervix and you screamed again. He was fucking your womb now, bulging your stomach with his long, hard cock. His claws dug so sharply into you that tears sprung to your eyes; your tits bounced painfully, and your ass hit against his groin with loud, lewd smacks. The sounds he made were like grunts, but stronger, more primordial, darker. Everything about him screamed power.

Riki pulled out of you only to slam himself back inside, tearing through your cervix with renewed vigor. He was crouched over your body, holding your legs above you. He drove himself inside of you slowly at first, then harshly. His grip around your ankles was as tight as a vice.

When his thrusts became erratic, you figured that he was close. With a final, primal cry, Riki came, pumping your womb full of his seed. He pulled out of you with a gasp and rolled onto his back. You were left to lie down your stomach, hyperventilating as you tried to regain your senses.

Curiously, you reached a finger down into the liquid pooling between your legs and examined it. It was black, much less viscous than regular cum, and it smelled of sulfur. You took a lick and spit it out immediately, as it tasted exactly how it smelled.

You glanced back at Riki, who was returning to normal. The blackness of his face faded to his usual, fleshy tone, although he was flushed all over. His body became wiry again, and the claws rescinded into his regular, short nails. His eyes had been squeezed shut, but when Riki opened them and looked at you, he winced.

"Sorry," he said apologetically. He pulled you over to him, resting your head on his chest. He sighed and rubbed your scalp. "I honestly am sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, do all that..."

"I'll consider forgiving you if you explain yourself," you said.

"Ugh, it's so cringe," Riki said. "I feel lame as shit talking about it. Fine. I'm a half demon on my dad's side."

You looked up at him, and he offered you a weak smile. "I know," he said, "it's stupid. But that's what I am. Normally, I can control my human form, but when demons become of age, and they uh, see or smell blood, it makes them, uh..."

"Horny?" you offered.

"Hungry," Riki said. "It makes us go kinda crazy."

"Is that why you replaced all the knives with fake ones?"

Riki nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. And why I can't be around you when you're on your period."

"Well, what would happen if you were?"

Riki screwed his mouth up as he thought. "I'd probably fuck you until you were passed out and while you were passed out and we'd have period sex for a week straight."

You shrugged. "I don't see a problem with this."

Riki snickered and kissed the top of your head. "Gross bitch."

"You're literally a creature."

Riki mock-gasped. "That's a slur." He tried to maintain a poker face for added effect but failed, laughing loudly. His laughter was always contagious, so you did the same.

Maybe, just maybe, being roommates with Riki wouldn't be so bad.

#riki nishimura smut #ni-ki smut #niki smut #niki enhypen smut

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bratzkoo · 18 days

Text

positions | wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: wonwoo x nurse! reader Genre: fluff, more fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 1.3k Warnings/note: first wonwoo fic and it's inspired by ariana's song positions and my Anna, my best friend and the best nurse in the world. Written in Third person and Wonwoo's POV.

summary: it’s a matter of time before you tell your boyfriend that as long as he’s down for you, you’re down too.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The scent of sautéing garlic and ginger wafted through Wonwoo's apartment as he carefully stirred the contents of a sizzling pan. His brow furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between the stove and his phone propped up on the counter, displaying a cooking tutorial video. The sound of keys jingling outside the door made him look up, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N breezed in, her presence immediately filling the space with a vibrant energy that Wonwoo had grown to love over the past seven months. "Hey, you," she called out, kicking off her shoes and padding towards the kitchen. "Something smells amazing in here."

Wonwoo's smile widened as he turned to face her. "Welcome back. How was your shift at the hospital?"

Y/N groaned dramatically, draping herself over the kitchen island. "Exhausting. But rewarding. We had a patient recover from a difficult surgery today." She perked up, sniffing the air curiously. "What are you making? It doesn't smell like your usual kimchi jjigae."

"Ah, well," Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice. "I thought I'd try something new. It's supposed to be mapo tofu, but..." He gestured vaguely at the pan, where the sauce was a shade darker than the video suggested it should be.

Y/N's eyes softened as she rounded the island to peer into the pan. "Wonwoo, that's so sweet. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"It's no trouble," he murmured, his ears turning slightly pink. "I know you've been working hard lately. I wanted to do something nice for you."

Y/N reached up, cupping his cheek gently. "You're always doing nice things for me," she said softly, before a mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Even if some of them are potential fire hazards."

Wonwoo huffed out a laugh, gently bumping her with his hip. "Very funny. Why don't you set the table while I finish up here? I promise not to burn the place down in the next five minutes."

As they settled into dinner, Wonwoo couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable this all felt. Seven months ago, he never would have imagined himself here, sharing a meal he cooked (albeit imperfectly) with a woman who had somehow managed to slip past all his carefully constructed walls.

"So," Y/N said around a mouthful of tofu, "tell me about your day. How was practice?"

Wonwoo launched into a recap of SEVENTEEN's latest choreography session, complete with dramatic reenactments of Seungkwan's latest aegyo attempts and Mingyu's clumsy mishaps. Y/N listened attentively, laughing at all the right moments and asking questions that showed she genuinely cared about his work and his members.

As their laughter subsided, a comfortable silence fell over them. Wonwoo found himself staring at Y/N, taking in the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the little dimple that appeared on her left cheek. A warmth bloomed in his chest, a feeling he'd been experiencing more and more lately but hadn't quite put a name to yet.

"Oh!" Y/N exclaimed suddenly, breaking Wonwoo out of his reverie. "I almost forgot to tell you. You know my friend Alexys? She called me today, all excited because her boyfriend finally said 'I love you' to her."

Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat. "Oh?" he managed, trying to keep his voice neutral. "That's... nice."

Y/N nodded, seemingly oblivious to Wonwoo's sudden tension. "Yeah, they've been together for about as long as we have. Can you believe it's been almost seven months already?"

"Time flies," Wonwoo murmured, his mind racing. Were they at that point? Should he have said it already? Did Y/N expect him to say it? The thought of those three little words suddenly felt monumental, and he found himself at a loss.

If Y/N noticed his internal struggle, she didn't show it. Instead, she stood up, gathering their empty plates. "Come on, let's clean up. I'll wash, you dry?"

Grateful for the distraction, Wonwoo nodded, following her to the sink. They fell into an easy rhythm, Y/N washing and rinsing while Wonwoo dried and put away. It struck him how well they moved together, anticipating each other's movements without a word.

As Y/N handed him the last plate, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through Wonwoo. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged with unspoken words.

The moment was broken by the sudden blare of music from Wonwoo's phone. He had forgotten he'd set it to play his evening playlist. The opening notes of Ariana Grande's "Positions" filled the apartment.

Y/N's face lit up. "Oh, I love this song!" Without warning, she grabbed Wonwoo's hand, pulling him into the living room. "Dance with me!"

Wonwoo stumbled after her, laughing despite his initial reluctance. "Y/N, you know I'm not much of a dancer outside of work."

"Nonsense," she retorted, already swaying to the beat. "I've seen your performances. Now come on, show me those moves, Mr. Pop star."

As they danced, Wonwoo found himself relaxing, letting the music guide his movements. He spun Y/N around, delighting in her laughter. When she pressed close to him during the chorus, singing along softly, Wonwoo felt that warmth in his chest expand, threatening to overwhelm him.

In that moment, watching Y/N move with abandon, her eyes sparkling with joy, Wonwoo realized something. This feeling, this warmth that had been growing for months – it was love. He was in love with Y/N.

The realization should have terrified him. Wonwoo had always been cautious with his heart, keeping people at arm's length. But as Y/N looked up at him, her smile radiant, he found that he wasn't scared at all. This felt right. It felt like coming home.

As the song slowed for the bridge, Y/N's movements became more languid. She draped her arms around Wonwoo's neck, swaying gently. "You know," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his, "as long as you're down for me, I'm down too."

Wonwoo's breath caught in his throat. He recognized the weight behind her words, the echo of the song's lyrics carrying a deeper meaning. This was Y/N, brave and beautiful Y/N, putting her heart on the line.

Time seemed to stand still as Wonwoo gazed into Y/N's eyes. He saw hope there, and vulnerability, and something else – something that mirrored the feeling in his own chest.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you."

Y/N's eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. For a heart-stopping moment, Wonwoo feared he had misread the situation. But then Y/N's face broke into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

"I love you too, Wonwoo," she breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears of joy.

Wonwoo pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. They stayed like that, swaying gently as the song played on, both marveling at the newfound depth of their connection.

As the final chorus swelled, Wonwoo, feeling bold, attempted to dip Y/N. He miscalculated slightly, nearly dropping her, but managed to catch her at the last second. They froze for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Maybe stick to the choreography your team gives you," Y/N giggled as Wonwoo pulled her upright.

"Noted," Wonwoo chuckled, cupping her face gently. "But I think I'll keep improvising with you."

As their laughter faded, Wonwoo leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The song came to an end, but they barely noticed, lost in their own world of newfound love and endless possibilities.

In that moment, as they held each other close in the middle of Wonwoo's living room, both knew that whatever positions life might put them in, they'd face them together, always down for each other, always in love.

#wonwoo #wonwoo fic #svt #seventeen fics #wonwoo fics #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo fic #wonu #seventeen wonwoo

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tinykonig · 2 years

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𝔠'𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔪𝔢

könig has really pretty hands... you think he deserves to know {reader has a major hand kink- don't we all-, könig has a praise kink and is absolutely obsessed with reader. this is very obviously nsfw 18+ only please and thank you ~this will also be cross-posted to ao3} intentionally lower-case

he is just so intrinsically captivating- everything about him. you never stop noticing him.

the second he walked into base, your throat ran dry when you realized the sheer size of the man. he could swallow you whole. you wanted him to.

you don't wanna say you had ulterior motives when you befriended him- you truly like the guy. he's funny and extremely sweet, and hanging around könig had other benefits. no one dared to mess with you when he was around. the usual chatter of men hitting you up or questioning your position melted into peaceful quiet and the soft sound of könig's voice.

like right now.

"did you hear me?" his voice comes from the edge of your mattress where he has perched himself, undoing the laces on his boots.

you are sitting at the chair to your desk and watching his long, strong fingers work around the dark strings to loosen them from the complicated knots. his hood was flipped back over his helmet revealing his concerned expression

your head snaps up, "no, sorry, big guy. zoned out," you respond, and you hope to god it sounds casual.

"oh, okay." he says awkwardly, pausing his movements to look at your face- slightly rosy and pupils blown- but if he notices he doesn't say anything. "i said i got something for you while i was gone."

your face brightens and you grin at him, his expression quickly mimicking your newly excited one.

he reaches into a pocket on his vest and pulls out something small, then he encases it in his large fist and holds it out in your direction.

“i actually made it,” he clarifies, chuckling at you as you begin to make grabby hands towards him, like an excited child.

you have to hold back a gasp when both of his hands wrap around your much smaller ones. it felt like pure electricity surging from his palms straight to your core.

he drops the object in your open hand and draws away, suddenly looking shy again.

it’s a tiny wooden figurine of your favorite animal. incredibly detailed and tiny and you turn in over in your hands in awe. a lump takes root in the base of your throat. könig never fails to take you by surprise with his thoughtfulness.

“könig i love it,” you whisper, not quite trusting your voice not to break at a normal volume, “it’s so fucking cute.”

“you like it?” you can hear the smile in his voice as he fully takes off his helmet and hood and sets it on your nightstand. he must have worked on taking off his boots fully along with his tac vest because they are now sitting in a neat pile beside the foot of your bed, left now in only his long sleeve black shirt and combat pants. he is visibly more relaxed now as he leans against the headboard.

“of course i do. how did you even make it? its so detailed.”

you love the proud grin that adorns his face.

“i was on night watch. cut out a chunk of wood from the windowsill, and carved using one of my knives. it took like 8 hours.”

you find an empty space on your desk and set the figurine there, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to look at könig again.

“i accidentally cut my finger when i was carving the eyes,” he said, holding out a hand to you and showing you a superficial nick on his ring finger.

you scoot your chair closer to the bed so you can take his hand into yours and examine the tiny cut. you pout up at him and coo, “awww~ poor baby,”

and then without thinking you raised the finger to your lips and press a soft kiss to the cut. könig’s eyes are open wide and his breathing picked up considerably.

“all better now, right?” you ask teasingly, gaining confidence based off his reaction.

you carded your fingers through his and wait for his response. he surrenders his other hand into your lap as well, almost like he was in a trance

“yes,” he answers breathily.

you hum in response, still toying with the hand you hold in your possession. his hands were warm, you trace some of the scars that litter on his knuckles.

“sorry,” you mumble out the apology, “your hands are just really pretty.” you feel a little embarrassed, but not enough to let go of his hands.

könig makes a noise like he was stifling a cough and shakes his head, “ don’t apologize.” it sounds like a plead, and he makes no moves to remove his hands from your possession.

you make eye contact and recognize the want that pools in his light eyes. you are sure he sees it mirrored in yours as well. it gives you the courage to continue on the precarious path you found yourself walking.

“very pretty hands,” you murmur, “and they are so big,” holding his hand up to yours to display the ridiculous difference in size. he groans ever so lightly, his eyes now hooded under your gaze.

you knew he would never make the first move. it had to be you, and it had to be now.

“i think about your hands a lot, könig.”

your confession hangs in the air like a raincloud before a storm. filled with the promise of something more.

“tell me,” he whimpers lightly, tightening his grip on your hands for the first time this entire time you were holding them.

this is gonna be fun, you thought, grinning while you maneuvered yourself to sit on top of his thighs. you see his adam’s apple bop as he gulps in surprise.

you are still toying with his hands when you glance up at his eyes, “i think about how they would feel when they touch me,” you whisper, knowing he could hear you. he is hanging on to every word.

“touch you…” he breathes in deep, “where?”

you bring his hands under your loose t-shirt and rest them on the bare skin of your waist, keeping your hands on top of his- like you were scared he would move if you didn’t.

“here, for starters,” you respond, and you laugh a little when he presses his fingers into your skin there harder.

“are you ticklish?” he asks, smiling softly.

“just a bit,” you say, moving your hands to bring your shirt up over your head and you throw it on the floor next to the bed, messily in contrast to his perfectly folded pile of gear.

he is trying not to stare, and he is failing miserably. his hands seem to move of their own accord as they trail up your body to your bra-covered breasts.

“mmm,” you hum contentedly, “yes, i think about them touching there too,” reaching up to gently rake your fingers through his slightly shaggy hair. “although im not usually wearing this when i imagine it.”

“can i take it off?” he asks, doe eyes looking to yours for explicit permission.

now you stroke his cheekbone, along a very faint and fading scar. you grant him a nod.

quicker than you expected, he was sliding the straps down your arms and the back was unhooked. you were suddenly feeling extremely exposed, given he was still fully dressed. you tug twice on the front of his own shirt and he pauses his movements on your body to reach for his own shirt.

his torso is so long and sculpted, littered with raised pink scars, a few deeper white ones too that had healed for longer. the freckles on his face continued down his chest and arms you note, extremely pleased with that fact. he was so, so pretty. you wonder if he knows.

while you admire him, he raises his hands back to your now bare breasts and softly cups them. his touch is so gentle, and you can see in his eyes an expression of pure awe and trust.

tentatively you arch into his touch, just to have him press into your skin more. he comes out of his trance and desperation starts to take over. he tweaks a nipple between his two fingers and you moan at the unexpectedness of the action.

“that feels good, könig,” you whimper out, and he does it again. it’s so lovely to see him gain confidence from your words and your reactions. you decide to test something else out, “thats my good boy.”

the reaction is immediate. one of his arms moves to hook around your middle and pull you fully flush to his hips. you gasp at the feeling of him hot and hard under your clothed center.

“can i put my mouth on you?” he asks, and his voice still sounds so innocent and unsure but theres a hint of need creeping in as well.

“you can do anything you want,” you answer, loosing all composure and control you previously had.

he keeps his one hand on your waist, the other playing with your nipple. he brings his mouth to the other one, and you throw your head back and groan at how warm and wet it feels. he gently rolls his tongue around the nipple, biting lightly every few seconds. you’ve never felt so close to cumming from nipple play before, but with könig? everything was heightened.

you grip his hair harder and pull his mouth off you, looking into his eyes and breathily saying, “i haven’t told you where i think about your hands being the most.”

he groans. it’s a sinfully wonderful little noise.

“please,” he chokes out, “please, please tell me,”

you conjure up all the confidence left in your body under his gaze, and stand up and unbutton your pants. his eyes are heavy on your body as you slide them down your legs, and it’s like he cant help himself when he reaches out and runs his hands up and down one of your thighs.

“so soft,” he says, in complete reverence.

you almost feel bad for him when you see how painfully hard he is in his pants. you wonder for a second if his hands were so big, how big could he be there, too…

before sitting back down in his lap, you reach for his own pants to let him know that you wanted those off as well. he obeys you so easily, so eagerly.

he almost looks like he’s been hypnotized when you take your seat back on his lap, less barriers separating you two now. you are sure he can feel how wet you are, its soaked through your thin panties.

he just whimpers, and waits. waiting for you to tell him, like he so kindly asked you to.

so you do.

you grab one of his hands again, and he watches intently as you bring two of his long, thick fingers into your mouth. his jaw goes slack as you slide your tongue over his digits, coating them with your saliva. he lightly thrusts up, like he can’t control himself but he’s trying.

you hum again and release his fingers from your mouth and guide them down to your heat hovering over his clothed dick.

when he slipped past the band of your panties, he broke free of his trance. feeling your wet, throbbing pussy broke something in him and he was on a mission to make you feel as good as he possibly can. he slid his fingers back and forth over your clit and drank in your moans as his kissed you for the first time.

you whisper praises against his mouth, telling him how good he was doing. “better than i could have ever imagined,” you manage to breath out as he strokes you towards your orgasm just by massaging your clit.

every word you said went straight to his core, and it was a need- an absolutely feral need- to feel you cum on his hand.

“inside me,” you moan out, “please, put them inside me.”

his chest and face are burning red with want, and you start to feel bad that you’re the only one being pleasured as he slips two fingers into your pussy. through a bubbling moan in your chest you manage to ask him, “can i touch you, too?”

he looks at you like you just gave him his own personal star from the sky, “god, please” he says, his accent growing even thicker in want.

you pull him out of his boxers and gasp. if you thought his hands were big- this was just unfair. his cock stands tall against his stomach, pale pink and leaking. he is the most beautiful man in your universe, and you tell him.

he moans at your words and bucks his hips into the air. having mercy on him you wrap your hand around him. he rewards you by stroking the spongy part inside you with his two fingers. you start to roll your hips into his hand, and that spurs him on even further.

“c’mon, use me,” he mutters into your ear, “use my hand to make yourself cum. please, i need it so bad.”

you were already embarrassingly close, and his desperate words brought your orgasm crashing over you. your hand strokes his harder and you vaguely register his free hand grabbing your throat to pull your forehead to rest against his as he cums all over your hand and his stomach. you ride out your release on his hand until you can’t take it anymore and stop your movements.

the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. you whine as he removes his hand from you, which makes him chuckle a little. you open your eyes to meet his and he looks so blissful.

you smile back at him tiredly, “later, i’ll have to tell you about how i think about your mouth,” and he laughs his regular, loud laugh that you love. he pulls you into his chest to lay down fully.

“yes, i think you should.” he agrees.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #könig #könig x reader #konig #konig x reader #this is. bad im sorry i hyped it up

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tempe-brennans · 9 months

Text

and i'd come back if you'd just call

author's note: soulmate au + apocalypse

summary: you show up in jackson and turn joel's life upside down

warnings: implied smut and handsy touching

word count: 2.7k

There’s gray in his hair. He’s sure he should feel grateful for that–especially now–and some part of him does, he supposes.

He has people.

There’s Ellie and Tommy and Maria. You.

He’s not sure exactly what to do about you.

Besides, he’s more concerned about the ache in his back and the knots in his muscles–much more important problems than the love he’s beginning to think he still feels for you or the sunflower burning on his wrist.

There’s heating pads for his muscles and pain pills for his back–concrete solutions.

You, on the other hand, you’re young and fun and something he can’t quite get his fingers around.

And, you had left him–a fact he can’t quite forget. No matter how much he’d like to.

His throat is sore, scratchy in the way that tells him he spent last night snoring. Sighing as he sits up in bed, he cracks one shoulder and then the other.

His feet don’t want to find the floor. His body doesn’t want to hide behind the curtains in his own home because he can never be sure if you can see him.

Tommy thought he was so funny, making you two neighbors.

Joel does turn, eventually, let his feet land on the too cold floor. Toes slip into slippers he’d left in reach when he’d gotten into bed last night. He reaches blindly for the faded flannel robe that’s draped over the chair in the corner of his room.

He hasn’t had time for such indulgences, too busy running–from life, monsters. Anything. Before, he simply hadn’t wanted them.

But, Ellie had presented them both–a set, though the patterns didn’t match at all–as a gift and he hadn’t been able to say no.

He’s tired of being so sharp, so tough. In his own home, at least, maybe he can rest.

Home.

The thought brings his mind back to you, against his will, and as he pours his coffee he tries to see if your lights are on.

He can’t tell. The sun is working against him. He resolves himself to the fact that he’ll run into you at some point in town, so, really, what does it matter if you see each other sooner rather than later?

Besides, he’s almost positive you aren’t sitting in windowsills, pining after him.

He sits in the recliner Tommy had insisted he just had to have and welcomes the ability to put his feet up. It’s a relic–a handle raises and lowers the foot rest–but, somehow, it still works.

Taking a drink of his coffee, he thinks.

There’s no sound in the house, something Joel still hasn’t gotten used to since Ellie moved out.

I’m 20, she had said when Joel had asked if she was sure she wanted to leave, as if that was an explanation. Besides, don’t you want your own space?

He didn’t, if she wanted to know the truth. He wanted to hear her downstairs cooking breakfast or the sound of her snoring through the crack in her bedroom door.

He knew why she had gone, though. It was the same reason he had left home the moment he turned 18.

Freedom.

So, he could understand it, even if he wasn’t entirely fond of it.

He sees her every few days anyway.

Coffee now gone, he knows his day has to start, even if the town now feels like a loaded gun is waiting around every corner. He dresses–a flannel still happily coasting between cozy and too threadbare and jeans. He cracks his front door, feels the bite of the winter wind, and shuts it firmly.

An extra jacket wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m telling you,” Joel mumbles, “she probably doesn’t even remember.”

Tommy quirks a brow. “Are you kidding?” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You spent the better half of a year together. The tattoos–”

“I don’t wanna talk about the tattoos,” Joel dismisses. “Besides,” he mutters, “it was eleven months.”

“Oh,” Tommy hums. “My mistake.”

Silence and then, “You know someone will notice, right?”

Joel tilts his head. “You see me wearing a lot of short sleeves in the winter?”

“You can’t use the weather to hide forever, bro. The minute Ellie–hell, anybody–notices the two identical sunflowers on your arms?” He shakes his head. “Secrets out.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks. “What secret is that?”

His little brother leans in, whispers, “You can still find your soulmate after the apocalypse.”

“She’s the one that left.” Joel sighs. “Obviously, she didn’t care that we were soulmates.”

“You don’t even know why she left!” Tommy exclaims, exasperated.

Joel quirks a brow. “Somehow I haven’t had a lot of time, what with the apocalypse and all.”

His brother claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing but time now.”

Joel walks the streets of Jackson, spitting snow beginning to fall around him.

Maybe Tommy is right. It’s not like Joel doesn’t have some extra time on his hands, a strange concept after the last twenty years, he has to admit.

Maybe he should take advantage of it.

It’s that thought that’s rattling around in his brain when he collides with someone else.

“Sorry!” He reaches out, blindly, tries to catch the person or their belongings–something. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” a voice says. It’s a voice he’s never forgotten–couldn’t forget, even if he wanted to–and he kicks himself that this is the way he’d run into you again.

Literally.

“It was really,” you stand, catch sight of his face for the first time, “my fault.”

He’s older now, grayer and a little softer around the edges, but, still, he can see the moment recognition lights on your features.

“Joel?”

He nods, suddenly sheepish. For once, his mind is completely blank. It can’t begin to come up with an adequate greeting for an old flame that, maybe, still burns somewhere behind his rib cage. He settles on an all too casual, “Hi.”

You smile, a soft thing. “Hi.”

On instinct it seems, you take a step closer and hug him. Though it’s been years, the feeling of you pressed against him, your arms around him, it’s familiar.

He wants to hate it, but he doesn’t. Not even a little.

He barely resists the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, take a minute to inhale your scent, before you pull away.

“S’nice to see you.”

Joel nods. “You, too.” Somewhere between the truth and a lie.

“Your hair, it’s…softer,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” Joel reaches up, runs an idle hand through it. “Haven’t had a lot of time for haircuts, I guess.” He shrugs. “I kinda got used to it.”

You nod. “It’s been a long time.”

Joel quirks a brow. “Whose fault was that?”

It’s too sharp, too biting, and he can see the results flash across your face.

Shaking your head, you glare at him, blow out a breath. “I should have known you hadn’t changed.”

You turn on your heel, away from him, and he wants to reach out, tell you he’s sorry, but something won’t let him.

He thinks it’s his heart.

“I’ve changed plenty!” He calls after your shrinking form. “Changed enough to know I should stay away from you.”

You look over your shoulder–just for a second–long enough to cut him to the core. “The feeling is mutual!”

He sighs and continues on his own path, towards his own lonely house, entirely too close to you for comfort.

“So.” Ellie sighs. “That went well.”

Joel chuckles, rolls his eyes. “You think?”

“We can fix it,” she says, sitting on the couch closest to him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure about that?,” he asks. “It’s not a leaky sink, you know.”

Her eyes light up in the very particular way that tells Joel she’s had an idea he won’t be fond of.

He’s suddenly nervous.

“That’s it,” she exclaims.

“What’s it?”

Ellie leaves the room, obviously in search of something, and ignores him.

“Ellie,” he calls after her. “Ellie, what’s it?”

It’s her scheming that puts him on your porch, in fact, toolbox in hand and looking for something to fix.

Real or fake, it hadn’t really mattered to Ellie.

He should never have told her he had been a contractor.

The door opens and you glare at him, unsurprisingly.

“What do you want?”

He spits it out, before he can change his mind, run back home and hide.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” He shakes his head. “You left…before. And, I was angry and seeing you again…” He trails off, settles on simplicity. “I’m sorry.”

Something in your face softens as you step aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry for leaving, you know.”

You take him off guard, turn his pulse to a gallop.

“I was…I was afraid,” you murmur, skipping over his own apology in a way that’s entirely you.

Of course it’s the way you’d let him know things are okay.

“I should have told you that, though, instead of disappearing.”

He nods, swallows down a memory he doesn’t exactly want to relive right now, whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod, smile at him. “You want a drink? Some food?”

He nods, places the toolbox in the floor next to your couch.

“That’d be nice.”

Joel isn’t sure how long the two of you have been talking–minutes or hours. Maybe days. Easy familiarity settles over the pair of you, and things are like they used to be.

He’s glad for it.

“Were there others?” Joel asks, words slipping out before he can stop them.

It’s the question that he somehow desperately wants the answer to and also never wants to hear.

You nod. “A few.” But, then, “None like you.”

It’s more honest than he expected, like your heart has opened to him once again.

You’re vulnerable. He knows you hate that.

“That makes sense.” He nods, rising to his feet, hand curling around the handle of his toolbox, imagining you want him to take his leave. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

You laugh, look at him with something he would have called affection, once upon a time. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Something buzzes inside of him at the knowledge he can still make you laugh, even after everything, and he ducks his head, starts to head for the door.

“Joel?”

He turns, finds apprehension on your features.

He aches to set you at ease.

“Yeah?”

“Could you…would it…” You shake your head, shoulders squaring like you’re heading into a fight. “Would you want to stay? The night? With…with me.”

In a minute, he forgets it all. The pain and heartache and anger disappears with one look at your eyes.

“Yes.”

Simple–the way it’s always been between the two of you.

You crawl on top of him in a way he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined over the years.

His hands find a resting place on either of your hips, squeeze the flesh there lightly.

“Hi,” you murmur, grin on your face.

“Hi.” He smiles.

It’s different when you’re with your soulmate.

Joel had been with others, sure.

Tess comes to mind, but he quickly shakes the thought away–along with the memory of her death.

But, every time, even when stars popped up behind his eyelids and warmth erupted through his every limb, it wasn’t what it had been with you.

The best way he could think to describe it was…more.

As you lean down, press a kiss to his lips, he finally admits to himself how much he’d missed it. You.

Joel feels you pull away and squeezes you closer. “Where you goin’?,” he mumbles, already half asleep.

“Shirt,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, nuzzles his nose into the hollow of your throat.

Chuckling softly, you say, “S’winter, Joel.”

He holds you even closer–if that’s possible. “I’ll keep you warm.” Then, just to tease, fingers dance over your hip bone, inches from the crux of your thighs. “Any way you want.”

“Joel…”

“Or, are you too old for this game?” He hums, getting a rise out of you too tempting to ignore. “You get soft on me while you were away?”

Your own hand–cold from it’s trip beyond the faded quilt that covers you both–dances along the soft skin of his stomach, curls around his still too sensitive length. He jumps, hisses out a breath, interest already simmering at the base of his spine.

“I can still play,” you purr. “Can you?”

Your hand works him over, languid strokes finding a pattern that makes his skin buzz.

Joel rises, mouth desperate to find yours.

He’s always liked to be kissed–especially by you, especially when you’re touching him the way you are.

You indulge him, lips parting to let his tongue tangle with your own. He can’t help but grin into the kiss.

In the morning, he wakes alone. Part of him isn’t shocked. Part of him is heartbroken all over again.

Quickly, he gets dressed–avoiding mirrors with the hopes of missing any evidence you’d left behind of the night before.

He goes to Tommy’s, doesn’t even look towards your house as he walks down the street.

“You’ve been in love before.” Tommy shrugs. “Maybe it could happen again. Nothing says you have to be with your soulmate.”

Joel hadn’t thought about it when he’d fallen in love with Sarah’s mother.

He hadn’t had much choice, if he’s honest. One look at her and he had been done for.

So, the fact she didn’t have a sunflower on the soft skin of her forearm wasn’t of much consequence. The fact she had her own tattoo–purple dahlia petals curling around her own wrist–had never mattered to her either.

They had shared a life and love and had turned that love into something that lived outside of them.

Sarah.

It was only a few months after she was born that Joel had woken up alone to the sound of Sarah’s crying.

He had adjusted, though. The two of them had made a team and found happiness all on their own.

Until…well, Joel didn’t really like to think about that day–that last day. He preferred to imagine her laughing, head thrown back in joy.

“I know,” he murmurs. He adds, almost under his breath, “I don’t think I want to fall in love. Not if it’s not with her.”

Tommy ducks his head, sheepish all of a sudden.

“What is it?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you.”

He leans forward, insistent. “Tommy, what is it?”

“She told Maria that she was…thinking of leaving Jackson.”

Joel is off Tommy’s couch and out the door before Tommy can ask where he’s going.

Joel suspects he knows.

His knocks are incessant, barely a pause between them.

“C’mon,” he murmurs to himself. “Please don’t be gone.”

The door opens, shocking Joel, and he almost falls through it.

“You can’t leave Jackson,” he pants. There’s an ache in his side, a pulling at muscles that scream with use more often than they don’t these days. He’s certain he shouldn’t have run to make sure he caught you.

You shake your head, hands coming to rest on either side of his face.

It’s a gesture full of affection and hope ignites in his gut.

“I’m not leaving,” you murmur.

Joel’s tongue is heavy, suddenly too thick to form a reply. “You…you’re not?”

“No.” Gently, your thumb rubs back and forth over his cheekbone. “I thought of something to stick around for.”

“Yeah?” Joel hums. “What’s that?”

“You.”

Joel feels the heat flush his cheeks. The emotions he really feels are too much–too real–so, he settles for a joke.

“That makes sense.” He nods. “I’m pretty unforgettable.”

“Yeah.” You laugh, duck your head for a minute before your eyes meet his again. “Yeah, you are, Miller.”

Later that night, with most of your closet mingled with his own, he pulls you close to him in bed. His lips ghost over your forehead and an arm wraps around your side.

He glances down at his wrist, takes in the bright yellows of the sunflower petals. With gentle fingers, he finds your wrist, brings it to his mouth and kisses the yellow of your own petals.

There’s gray in his hair, but, right now, he couldn’t feel more grateful for it.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #rebeccawrites

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Note

Hello! I don’t know if this space has already been requested, but could I please request #18 with the Cowboy Space with Ethan Landry from Scream VI? For the overview is that Chad basically convinces Ethan to dress up like a shirtless cowboy like him to show off his muscles to impress the girl Ethan has been crushing/in love with.

The girl can be either friends with the Woodsboro group or just a random girl from one of Ethan’s classes. But the girl has also been crushing on Ethan.

Thank you so much for doing the bingo! I love your writing!

—𓆩[save a horse, ride a cowboy]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Ethan Landry x Fem! Crush! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.8K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - NON GHOSTFACE AU Ethan had been crushing on you since the first day of college. Now, three years in and finally getting the courage thanks to his best friend Chad, he dresses up for the Halloween party as something much more… suggestive. He truly didn’t expect you to show up in an exposed Halloween outfit dressed up as a classic horror character, ready to tease him all night long.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - again, NON GHOSTFACE AU!!! || porn with a plot || but the ghostface character still exists yk || aged up some more, again like 3 years into college || partying || body shots || drinking alcohol (legally, mostly) || mentions of drugs || intoxicated sex but fully consensual || slight gxg relations with reader ig? (tara) || party is set in like a bigger area if that makes sense? || tara and chad are already together || altered timeline slightly? || Ethan and Chad are actually best friends because again, not in like the movie’s universe? || the entire group are actually really good friends (Sam, Tara, Chad, Mindy, Anika – i didn't include Quinn) || everyone’s more lighthearted cuz no trauma || you have a high alcohol tolerance now || kind of public sex || moved to sex in another person’s bathroom || blowjob || self fingering || then moving to a random room || unprotected sex || riding || cumming inside || slight tit worship || mentions of smoking ||

Ethan didn’t think he could go through with this. He stared at himself in the mirror, and though he didn’t dislike what he was seeing, he just didn’t know if he was comfortable.

“Heyo, E, what’s taking so long? We gotta see you!” Chad knocked on the door as Ethan fixed the ascot looking thing around his neck and the cowboy hat he accidentally spent way too much money on. "Ethan, come out here and show us!”

Ethan groaned as he walked out, Chad whistling as he sat next to Tara with his arm around her shoulders. “Look at you! Looking great, Ethan! You’re a lot more muscular than I thought.”

He ignored Chad’s words as Anika giggled slightly, making him look at her. “What’s so funny?”

“You look like you’re about to go into a porno,” she laughed, making Mindy giggle. “A really, really weird porno, but a good one!”

Her words make Ethan groan, pointing at Chad. “He’s wearing the same thing! For fucks sake, I feel like I look so fucking stupid-”

Chad quickly shakes his head. “Come on man, you look great!”

Tara giggled slightly, everyone looking at her. “What’s so funny?” Ethan said again, crossing his arms which made his biceps bulge.

“Texting Y/N,” she said, smiling. “She’s going as Ghostface. A slutty Ghostface, and I told her you’re going as a shirtless cowboy, so you kind of have to wear that now.”

Ethan groaned, face palming. “Promise I don’t look stupid?”

“You look amazing, dude!” Chad.

“You look fucking stupid.” Sam.

“Just don’t star in a porno!” Anika.

“Can we go already? We’re going to be late.” Mindy.

“Yeah, Y/N’s already there, she’s doing body shots. I wanna do body shots with her, it sounds fun!” Tara.

Only Tara’s words stuck with him, because just like her, he really wanted to do body shots with you. Normally, you were part of this mini gang that they had, but you had gone with your two best friends that you had known since high school, especially because it was a frat party.

It wasn’t long until everyone left, leaving the dorms with Ethan and Chad shirtless as they walked to the frat party. “She’s not gonna think I’m weird, right?”

“Nah, man! She’s gonna think you’re hot, coke on! Besides, slutty Ghostface? It pairs up great,” Chad said, shrugging as he held Tara close. “You’re gonna take body shots with Y/N, right?”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Oh definitely!”

Ethan and Tara both spoke at the same time, Tara clapping her hands. “Hell yeah! Ethan’s getting bold, whoop whoop! I go first though.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m still deciding if I’m even gonna go.”

“You better go!” Tara said, nodding. “I have a bet y’all are going to fuck tonight! Don’t make me lose!”

When they got there, they immediately knew where you were since they could see you standing in front of the ping pong table playing beer pong. He smiled as you bit your lips, bouncing the small plastic ball and landing it perfectly on one of the cups, everyone yelling out as you jumped up with a cheer. “Whoo!”

“Y/N!” Tara yelled as she ran over, Chad slapping Ethan’s back.

“Go get her, man!”

Oh, but then he saw you.

You looked fucking perfect in the fishnet body suit that covered your entire body, a mere leather tube top and a leather mini skirt covering your more intimate parts. He could barely talk as you spoke with Tara, laughing and giggling before you grabbed a die.

“Here, I’ll finish this game, and then we can start body shots again!” You smiled, giggling as you jumped up and down slightly. “Oh, Chad, Ethan! Hey guys!”

He smiled slightly, waving as he walked over. “Hey… Hey, you look so nice.”

You giggle, looking down at your outfit. “I tried! Do you think it pulled together well?”

“Uhm… so, so well,” Ethan smiled as you giggled. “You look amazing.”

“Oh, thank you!” You giggled, shaking your head. “So… wanna do some body shots?”

Ethan blushed as Tara nodded vigorously behind you, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Let’s do some shots?”

It wasn’t until it was actually about to happen did Ethan regret wanting to do shots.

There was dice, terrifying dice that you both had to roll to see where you had to take the shot off the other person’s body. Tara had gotten your tits and you had gotten her stomach, so here you were, bending over the ping pong table as Tara lifted her hips and you tilt your head back and you grabbed the shot with your teeth and tilt your head back, easily swallowing the liquor with your hands pushing up.

Everyone cheered as you grabbed the shot glass, pointing at Ethan. “You’re turn, cowboy!”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You laughed as you walked forward and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the ping pong table and putting both dice in his hand and giggling. “Roll for me?” He swallowed, nodding slightly as you hold his wrist, everyone letting out loud wolf whistles as you tilted your head up at him. “Want me to blow on them for you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“He wants you to blow on a lot more than that, Y/N!” Anika yelled out, laughing as you giggled.

“Roll ‘em.”

Ethan rolled the dice, unable to see what they landed on before Tara cheered. “Crotch and same as partner!”

You giggled, taking the shots that Tara had given to you. “You’re going to take your first shot of the night.”

He basically gulped as you gave him both shots, laying back against the ping pong table and fixing your skirt. You take the shot, carefully setting the shot on your skirt and lifting your hips with your legs spread. “What are you waiting for?”

Everyone started shouting out ‘Shots!’ as Ethan tried to avoid getting between your legs until you roll your eyes, pulling him between your legs to where the shot was. “Y-You’re sure this is okay?”

“Of course,” you twirl one of his curls around your finger, smiling. “Get to it.”

He’s careful as he looked down, slowly wrapping his lips around the shots before you thrust your hips up and he tilted his head back, swallowing it easily. You giggle as he threw his head back, giggling. “Ethan took the shot!”

Everyone cheered as you sat up, Ethan’s face right in front of yours before you grabbed his ascot like thing. “My turn.”

Ethan quickly switched with you, watching as you got between his legs and patted his thighs. “Can I unzip your pants?”

Everyone whistled again as Ethan nods nervously, watching you unzip his jeans and slide the shot over the bulge of his cock that was slowly getting bigger, even though he hoped you didn't see it. He watched as you hummed, watching as Tara stepped forward and gave Ethan the lime wedge. “Put it in your mouth.”

“Wh-What-?” He basically choked as she stuffed it in his mouth, the rind facing the back of his throat before she poured out some salt on his hip bone.

You giggle as you lean forward and down, your ass up as you licked his hip, taking all of the salt before moving to the shot on his dick, his hips bucking automatically into your mouth making you gag slightly before throwing your head back and swallowing the shot. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, taking the lime from his mouth and biting into the flesh before taking it out of your mouth and kissing him firmly.

He can taste the pods of the sour lime and bitter tequila, grains of salt still on your tongue brushing against his as you sit in his lap. His hands go to your waist almost immediately, smiling against your lips as you giggle and laugh against his own.

Someone groaned as your hands “God dammit, get off the table!”

Ethan tried to pull back, eyes open as he was about to pull away and help you get off the table before you pulled him closer, not letting him pull back as you flipped your middle finger up in the direction of the voice. He could hear Chad yell something out as you hummed against his lips, your nose bumping against his as you tilted your head making Ethan laugh slightly, smiling as you pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

“We should go back to my apartment.”

Ethan rushes to nod as you quickly stand up, dragging him off the table and down the hall.

“Fuck yeah! Ethan’s gonna get laid!” Chad.

Ethan blushed madly as you laughed, walking backwards to pull him into the entrance hall and press your back against the wall before flipping you both for Ethan to be pressed against the wall instead. “Are you a virgin?”

He swallowed, his mouth dry as he shook his head, then nodded. A quickie with some random girl where he didn’t cum didn’t count, right?

You laughed, shaking your head as you started to rub against his chiseled abdomen. “Well? What is it, yes or no? If you are, I can make this special and we can go back to my apartment quickly. If not, then you’ve had a quickie, right?”

Ethan nodded his head quickly, swallowing as you rubbed against his crotch area. “Y-Yeah, I have.”

“Do you mind if I suck your dick here?” You asked it as though you were asking to take a lollipop from a doctor’s office, your eyes shining with lust as your nails trail over the v that led down. “A quick blowjob, then we can fuck at my apartment.”

Ethan gasped as someone walked past, but of course, you didn't seem to care as you kissed against the bulge. “D-Don’t you think we should go somewhere more private?”

You paused, looking up at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Y-You… Why don’t we go somewhere where no one can see how good you feel?” He tilted his head down at you, a giggle falling from your lips as you stood.

“Okay,” you dragged him farther down the hall into an actually clean bathroom that he didn’t expect to be as clean as it was before you kneeled down on the rug. “So, can I suck your dick now?”

He laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Y-You’re sure you want to do this?”

“That I want to suck your dick?” You rubbed your nose against the zipper, tilting your head slightly. “Is that okay?”

“Y-Yeah, you can… you can suck m-my dick-” Ethan let out a loud groan as you finished unzipping his pants and pulled out his perfect cock, his length practically dripping with precum and the veins on the underside already bulging. “Fuck, darling, you’re that greedy?”

You hummed as you nodded, wrapping your lips around his tip carefully before your other hand started to push down your exposed stomach and under your skirt. He watched your hand slowly swipe up and down your cunt, rolling your clit between your fingers and pumping his cock at the same time.

He stared at you, groaning as you pumped and gagged on his cock, pulling away to spit on his tip and pump the saliva up to his base. You hummed, staring up at him as you continued to pump his shaft, pulling his cock down your throat and gagging on it. He threw his head back, groaning as he tried to hold back the thrusts of his hips, but for fucks sake your mouth felt so good around his cock and your hand pumping the area that you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your fist as you groaned.

“F-Fuck, cowgirl,” he groaned loudly, head tilted back as you pulled away to giggle, humming as you move your head to the side and lick up the side of his pretty cock. “You suck my cock so perfectly, cowgirl,” he grinned as you pulled away, groaning loudly. He finally noticed your hand as you fingered yourself, hips rutting forward into your hand. “Doing so good.”

You giggled, groaning as you rode your hand and continued to spit on his cock, getting his shaft all wet as you wiped the spit from your chin with the back of your forearm. You hummed as you tilted your head up at him. “Want you to use my mouth,” you whisper, pulling his cock down your throat for a few seconds before gasping as you pull away. “Use my mouth like I’m a little whore, and make cum and spit run down my chin like those pornos, that way I have both of my hands to get off. Fingering myself as you use my throat.”

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered as you both slowly turned around, Ethan watching as you leaned back against the cabinets and wiped your mouth with your other hand before pushing them both between your legs.

“You won’t hurt me,” you whisper, shaking your head as you groan loudly, your hands quickening against your cunt. “Fuck my mouth. Please, need you to use my mouth.”

Ethan groaned as you lifted your mouth up to lick carefully against his balls, Ethan taking his cock and softly pumping his length. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” you hum an agreement, sighing as you bumped your nose against his tip. “Want to feel it.”

Slowly, he pushed his cock into your mouth, groaning as you leaned forward, his eyes quickly flickering down to your hands in a place that he couldn’t see, rubbing vigorously as you bob your head up and down his shaft. Your eyes rolled back as you relax your jaw, doing the same to your throat as Ethan reached down and held the sides of your head.

Just like you said, he couldn’t stop himself, using your mouth and thrusting down your throat with a groan. “Come on, cowgirl, you’re doing so good… so so good, cowgirl, your throat is fucking perfect.”

You groaned, nodding around his cock as you continued to rut into your hands, your throat perfect and warm around his shaft as he shallowly thrusted down your throat. He let out a loud groan before someone opened the door, his hand quickly going to close it. “Got dammit, busy!”

You giggled as you wiped your throat, leaving the globs of cum and spit on your chin. “Love my throat that much, don’t you?”

“I love you that much,” he whispers, staring at his bright red cock and your hands quickening once again. “I love you so much.”

Your stomach was tight and twisting, the feeling of a hard orgasm settling in your stomach as you moved one of your hands to rub your clit between your thumb and middle finger. You groaned around his cock, bobbing your head even harder around his cock, his hips rutting faster and rougher. You gagged around his cock, the fingers inside of you thrusting faster as you felt drool and cum run down your chin. To be honest, you didn’t register him cumming the first time, and to be honest, neither did he besides the tightness of his stomach.

It was probably when the person almost walked in, because for fucks sake did that turn him on.

Oh, but his stomach was twisting just like yours, tightening as he groaned, the sight of your eyes crossing as they rolled back and mixed globs of cum and saliva ran down your chin.

You groaned loudly as he thrusted his hips forward, groaning loudly as he cradled the back of your head so it wouldn’t hit the counter as his hips started to stutter. If you could have smiled, you would have, even as he softly stroked your hair and you could taste the hot ropes of his salty cum.

You hummed in pleasure as your stomach finally clenched and you came, your hands pushing around his slightly soft cock, pumping him with your cum covered hands as you kissed his tip before swallowing. It makes him gasp as you stand, wiping your mouth and licking your fingers as he stares at the white dripping down your fishnets. “You wish this was your cum, don’t you cowboy?”

“I do,” he whispers, softly grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a firm kiss. “I do… I wish it was my cum dripping down your thighs right now.”

“It can be,” you whisper back, pulling him down for a firm kiss. “There’s a room down the hall no one knows about. We could go there, that way we don’t waste time going to my apartment.”

He smiled slightly, bumping his nose to yours. “How do you know about it then?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “I know because I was able to finish a blunt there without no one interrupting me.”

He shook his head with a laugh as you slowly pushed him back. “Well, lead the way.”

You turned around as you pulled him down the hall, urgently pulling him down for more kisses, desperately wanting his lips on your own. Your lips were still slightly salty as his tongue dragged along your lips, his hands holding your cheeks delicately before you reached up and took his black hat, putting it on your head with a giggle. “Save a horse,”

“Ride a cowboy.”

You both laughed as you kept the hat on, his hands pushing down between your thighs and undoing the zipper down the center all while your hand searched for the doorknob. He laughed as he held your skirt in hand and you finally open the door, his hands doing the same to your top with the zipper in the back and putting it in the same hand together as you quickly got the door open and he pushed you back.

Ethan smiled as he kicked the door closed, kicking off his boots and his jeans before laying back on the bed and watching you slowly crawl above him. “I want to ride you,” you whisper, already pumping his cock as he reaches down and finishes ripping a slit on the fishnet stockings. “Please?”

He groaned as you forced his cock up, the already hard length needing little to no help to stay up straight as you forced yourself up by your knees. “Why are you always asking, cowgirl? For fucks sake, just do what you want to me, I’ll never complain if it’s you.”

You giggle as you finally push his tip into you, throwing your head back with a loud groan. You truly didn’t expect his cock, especially his pretty tip, to be this fucking big. Slowly, you sink down onto his length, watching his face pinch up as he groans loudly and holds your hips tightly.

Ethan let out a loud groan as you started to roll your hips, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you leaned onto his chest for support, leaning down before he shook his head. “W-Wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Wanna see your tits.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pausing the movements of your hips before leaning down and stealing a quick kiss as you held his face. “You are so a virgin.”

He laughed as his hands moved up your sides, groaning as his hands go from your sides to your poorly covered tits, thumbs swiping over your hard nipples that were poking through one of the holes of the fishnets, his thumb easily pushing inside of the holes before ripping the fabric. You gasped, the sight turning you on more than it should’ve before his hands grope and cup your tits.

The added stimulation made your stomach clench as you desperately alternated between bouncing on his cock to rolling your hips, desperate to hit that perfect spot inside of you. You were whining and letting out broken moans above him, every sporadic, unhinged and unexpected thrusts of his hips making you scream out and fly forward, a groan falling from his lips.

“Come on cowgirl,” he whispers, a grin on his face as his hand swipes over your nipple again. “You’re doing so good, cum on my cock.”

You nodded, mind blurred as you tilted your head back, pushing your hips forward before lifting yourself slightly to feel his cock slide in and out of you.

Ethan groaned loudly as your walls fluttered and clenched around his cock, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back and your thrusts got rougher, a scream of his name falling from your lips before your cunt clenched around his cock and you were about to fall forward before he caught you.

He let out a loud moan as he carefully laid you against his chest, rolling his hips into yours to cum and ride out his high inside of you, stroking your back as you pant above him. “You did so good, cowgirl.”

You hummed, nodding into his neck as you softly rubbed up and down his chest, the hat on your head bumping into his nose as he tried to kiss your head. “You don’t think we’re done yet, do you cowboy? You gotta see your cowgirl ride you backwards.”

Ethan groaned as you sat back up, fixing the hat on your head as he choked. “Now, what kind of cowboy would I be if I didn’t?”

And this... was the last post for our bingo event. I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!! OMG, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED IT!!! MY REQUESTS ARE AGAIN CLOSED, BUT THEY WILL BE OPEN SOON WITH MORE PROMPTS FOR MY NEXT EVENT. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH, THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT!

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#asterias-record-shop #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #scream #scream fanfic #scream six #scream vi #scream movies #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x fem!reader smut

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steviewashere · 7 months

Text

Perfect Timing

Rating: General CW: References to Sex Tags: Established Relationship, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Marriage Proposals, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Dialogue Heavy

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is having hope for the future together."

💕—————💕

Steve was sitting at the dining table, hands spread out on the surface, staring down at a piece of mail when he heard Eddie clamber through the front door. Based on the string of things being dropped and Eddie not reacting negatively, just sighing a little bit and picking things up, must mean he was having a good day.

It’s funny, Steve thinks, that he knows the way in which Eddie’s emotions express when he comes through the front door of their shared space. They began renting an apartment in Chicago just a year or so after getting together. Tail end of 1986 meant sharing a bed and house by August of 1987. And it’s theirs. Filled with miscellaneous clutter—a bookshelf brimmed with books, coffee table layered with Sports Illustrated and Heavy Metal magazines, dice and keys and Topps baseball cards, and picture frames they dust and drawings from Eddie’s sketchbooks and ‘failed’ art projects of Steve’s that Eddie thought were masterpieces. Point is, they’ve made it their home. And they started their lives with a breath of fresh air.

And now it’s 1995, depending on one another’s reactions, this all may just crumble at their feet.

See, Eddie was out playing a demo tape for a small record company based here in Chicago. A little indie place that’s been looking to expand their music catalogue from contemporary to a broader lick of alternative genres. Which, it turns out, includes thrash and heavy metal. Which, Steve adores, Eddie is amazing at performing.

But, Steve? He’s been anxiously waiting all day for the mail to arrive. Biting down on his fingernails, chewing them up so much they bleed and he has to run his fingertips under lukewarm water. Pacing the carpet of the living room. Pushing down and peering through the eggshell blinds. Biting his fingernails, again. And then it came and now he’s at their dining table and now he’s waiting for Eddie to careen around the corner and kiss his hair and ask in his greeting Steve voice, “What’s this, baby?”

“What’s this, baby?” Steve hears from above him. He jumps a little bit. Maybe he should have put on music or something, try to get himself to stay grounded in the present. “Stevie?” Eddie calls.

“Oh, uh,” Steve stutters. “It’s a letter I got in the mail, but I—I wanna hear about your demo tape.” Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. A little furrow to his eyebrows, a frown. “The letter isn’t anything bad, I read it already. But I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Eddie hums, nodding in slow understanding. He slides into the dining seat across from Steve. Mirroring his position. Then, he realizes, based on whatever face Steve makes, that it’s only anxiety inducing. He sets his chin in his right palm, stretching the other onto the table for Steve to take. Waiting patiently. And says, when Steve actually grabs back, “It went really well, sweetheart. They offered me a contract.”

“That’s great news, Eds! What did—Did you sign it? Please tell me you signed it.”

Then, Eddie sighs. And Steve shrinks a little. “I did,” he tells slowly, as if testing the words for the first time. “I signed it. They’re keeping me based here. I’ll start recording next Saturday.” He squeezes at Steve’s hand.

“What’s the long face for, then?”

“I’m not making a face,” Eddie feebly argues.

“You are!” And Steve mocks him. Frowning, eyes distant to the surface of the table, bunching his eyebrows impossibly farther down his face. His shoulders slump. “That’s what you did! What happened? Were they pieces of shit to you or something? Did they like—Are they underselling your music prowess or something? Do I need to kick their—“

Eddie chuckles. His laughter like honey. “Babe, breathe for me,” he whispers. “My only issue is that—“ But he cuts himself off there. He leans in across the table. Eyes down at the letter in front of Steve. “That’s a letter from the community college, isn’t it?”

Steve pulls his hands back, laying them palm down on the paper. He swallows thickly. “It is. Why?”

“Did you get in?”

“I’m not telling you until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You telling me determines whether or not I have a genuine problem. So…Did you get into the college that you’ve been looking at forlorn every time we drive by it? Or did you not and I need to go kick some old people ass?” His eyes are large in earnest. Grinning like the Cheshire Cat. His hair curtaining his face, making his facial features impossibly darker, shadowed by something tricky.

Steve chews on his lip. “I got in,” he mutters. “I got into their English literature program. And once I’m done with that, I transfer. And once I transfer, I start classes at a four year. I’ll be studying English literature and secondary education,” he rambles. His fingers tap over the letter. “Is that…Does that ruin your whole music dream? I don’t want to be the reason that you chase something else.”

For a moment, the room goes scary still and silent. Eddie’s facial features soften. And Steve’s heart rabbits against his ribcage. Hard enough that he slides a palm over his t-shirt, massaging at the rapid beating, hoping that he doesn’t have a heart attack on the third floor of their complex. That would suck, he thinks bitterly. And my future would be done for.

He sits back in his chair. Anxiety thrumming under his skin when Eddie still doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at him like he’s…Like he’s planning an entire five lifetimes with Steve. Like he’s about to sweep Steve off his feet, chuck him over the side of their mattress, give him hickeys until he’s a mottled lovesick mess, and then get down on one knee and surrender his heart to Steve’s hands. Like he’s gonna propose something wonderful like marriage. And, maybe, Steve lets himself believe something crazy like that.

“Remember when I told you that I consider marriage as a possibility?” Eddie asks abruptly.

And, goddamnit, if Eddie does something crazy and stupid like propose right now, Steve may just throw up out of excitement. How embarrassing, he thinks. And he chuckles despite that.

“I do,” he finds himself whispering. “What does this—“

“And I considered it with you. And I held you close and you cried against my lips and we made love like we were the only people in the universe? Remember all the times that you’d lay on top of me out of contentment? All the times I’d hold you close to my chest? All the times you kissed over my heart, like it was the only thing keeping us tethered to the moment?”

Nervously, Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, I remember all that. What is your point with—“

“Fucking margarita nights. You’re a sweet drunk, d’you know that? Like almost unbearably sweet.” Eddie scoots his chair around the table. Setting it next to Steve, on his left. And his hands come into Steve’s field of view. Gathering Steve’s palms in his, squeezing and caressing the skin. “All the times in which we thought that this apartment was all that we had.” He shakes his head, smirking, snickering like this intense reaction he’s having is something funny to Steve.

Fact of the matter, Steve is scared shitless right now. What if this is his way of breaking up, he can’t help himself from wondering. Cruel. He swallows against the lump in his throat. Words escaping him.

“I want to marry you so bad,” Eddie swears. “Wanna do the whole ceremony. And the paper signing. And the honeymoon, but in some little cabin on a mountain. Where we load the fireplace with wood and we huddle in for warmth and we sip at rich cups of Uncle Wayne’s hot chocolate. And then, in a few years time, when we’ve financially recovered from the wedding, we’ll buy a house.

“We’ll buy a house and paint it yellow,” he promises. Steve begins to cry, something silent, but can’t pinch his nose to stop himself. “It’ll be yellow because that’s your favorite color. With white shutters. And a big backyard for a dog or two. Wrap around porch so that we can sit and watch the sunrises and sunsets.” He takes a deep breath that sounds a little nasally. “I’ll make you breakfast every morning,” he continues, “serve you a fresh bowl of strawberries, ones that you grow under the big front window of our house. I’ll kiss you all over the face, like I do now, and you’ll grumble that it’s too early and then you’ll smell the bacon and you’ll give me your stupid sleepy smile that makes my heart do funny little flips and you’ll kiss me on the mouth and it’ll be disgusting because you haven’t brushed your teeth.

“And I’ll be a very happy man.” Eddie’s breath trembles in his chest. He swallows hard. Steve wonders if he can hear his own shaky breath. Or if he’s too involved in whatever this is. “I’ll be so happy,” he whispers, “And I’ll find myself thinking, how did I ever get so lucky? But it isn’t luck. And it isn’t fate. It was trauma that forced us together and I’ll laugh about it. But then I’ll sigh because who the fuck cares how we started all of this?

“You’ll be a funky middle school English teacher. With your nicely done hair and a sweater vest and some khakis. I’ll be a musician, hopefully. But, every day you’ll have a small lunch; an orange that I made you peel but I removed the pulp from, a tuna salad sandwich because you’re my fish loving dork, and a bottle of water. I’ll leave you a note everyday telling you how proud I am because I’ve never stopped being proud of you.

“I’m proud of you, Steve, d’you know that? So much.” He laughs wetly. His eyes staring down at their interlocked hands. “All this to say that I’m proud of you. That I’m happy. We’ve got a future, sweetheart. And I want to be your husband. Will you—“ He swallows once more, thick and heavy and almost painful looking. Can love hurt when it’s this sweet?

Eddie finally looks up. His eyes glistening and his cheeks wet and his skin tinted pink. His eyelashes stuck together. Nose dripping only slightly. He’s a messy crier, but Steve doesn’t fare any better. “Will you marry me, Steve? Stay by my side and we’ll accomplish our dreams together?” His voice is soft. Enamored.

Unbelievable, Steve swallows back. Because how did he get somebody like Eddie in his life? How did he manage to find love and have it promised back at him?

“Yes, Eddie,” he gasps out. “God, holy shit.” He drops his hands from Eddie’s hold, instead wrapping them around his torso. Muffled into Eddie’s shoulder, “All this just because I’m finally figuring my shit out? God.”

Eddie cackles, burying his own face in Steve’s hair. They sway a little. “I just—“ Eddie begins whispering. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Every time seemed right, but this one? Baby, this one was perfect.”

Steve sighs into the embrace. Content to not say anything else. Except, “I’m proud of you, too, honey. I love you so much and I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you too, love bug. God, Steve, I love you, too.”

For the first time since 1983, Steve allows himself to truly settle in for a future. A future, he knows, he’ll be especially proud of.

💕—————💕 Fun fact, I accidentally deleted this whole ficlet when I was copying and pasting. Hit the spacebar and watched it disappear in front of my eyes. But I figured out how to get it back, not before almost throwing up on myself out of anger. Love y'all <3

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 12 #fluff #domestic fluff #domestic steddie #<3

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lewkwoodnco · 7 months

Text

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day."

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes.

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?"

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face.

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that."

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.”

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope.

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #valentines day #fluff

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rrenzwrld · 11 months

Text

secreto de amor III

chapter 3! chapter 2 here, chapter 1 here

this connie dude barely knew you and was acting weird. but weirdly enough, you were beginning to constantly think about him. whenever you were working, your daydreaming would be interrupted by thoughts of him and you didn’t even know basic information about him. maybe you would build the courage to attempt to get that information and maybe it would stop his hostility towards you. maybe.

“y/n.” your thoughts were interrupted by your brother trying to get your attention over facetime for the umptenth time.

“hm?”

“you didn’t hear me calling you?”

“no, i was..”

“zoning out. you do that a lot now, wanna tell me why?~” if you told jean, you were sure he’d ask tons of questions that you didn’t know the answer to.

“no.”

“and why not? you used to tell me everything but now you’re so secretive. i know you’re older now but you can still talk to me.”

“i’m fine, i promise.” you smiled to give jean some reassurance.

“whatever you say. anyways, connie is coming over later today, is that okay with you?”

“does he have to come over everyday? don’t you have other friends?”

“yeah but i like him more. why? you don’t want him around or something?” its not that you didn’t want him around, you were just starting to feel things that you didn’t want to feel so you just wanted to avoid them.

“he’s cool, i guess.” you didn’t know him enough to think that he was cool. you just though he was mean now, atleast to you.

“are you sure? because i’ll set him straight if he’s acting weird–”

“no its cool, he’s cool.”

connie did come over later on that day and you were glad jean told you beforehand so you can stay in your room until he left. but your mission to avoid him didn’t stop him from finding a way to bother you still.

you were vibing out in your room listening to music while doing work for online classes when your door opened, you thought it was just jean so you didn’t stop doing what you were doing until you realized it was connie’s head peeking through the cracked door instead.

“um,” you grabbed your roku remote and paused your music. “can you leave?”

“oh i thought this was the bathroom, my bad.” he smirked. you know connie has been there enough to know where the bathroom was.

“well, it’s not so can you leave me alone?” he ignored you and came all the way inside your room, closing the door shut behind him.

“whatcha doin?” he walked over to you and looked at what your laptop. you slid over away from him and he sat in the space on your bed.

“i’m not in the mood for you today, leave me alone connie.”

“i wanna apologize.” you ears perked up and you looked up at him to make sure he was legit about what he wanted to say.

“really?”

“yeah, i’m sorry for being an ass. i don’t know why i thought it was okay to treat you like that especially when we literally just met.” he laughed. you were quiet for a minute before you responded.

“do you treat every new person you meet like that?”

“probably. but it ends with you. i’m sorry, y/n.”

“did my brother make you apologize?”

“did you tell him anything?” you shook your head. “then no. i’m a grown man, i know how to hold myself accountable.”

“sure.” you mumbled and rolled your eyes as connie got up and left.

when connie left your room, jean saw that and had questions.

“what the fuck con.”

“i was looking for the bathroom.”

“i’m not stupid. why were you in y/n’s room?”

“i had to talk to her about something. get off my dick johnny boy.” connie plopped onto the couch and pulled out his lighter and a blunt he had in his pocket.

“you better not be doing no funny shit with my sister man. she’s a baby.”

“i thought you said she was 18.” jean mentally face-palmed.

“she is. she’s a baby, and i don’t need you trying to dog her out like you do your other hoes.”

“you didn’t even need to say all that. it’s not like we fucking or anything, we literally just met.”

“that’s never stopped you.” connie may have thought jean was playing with him but he was serious. one thing jean didn’t play about was you so he wanted to make sure nothing happened to you especially at the hands of his promiscuous best friend.

“you’re overreacting.”

“that’s my sister—“

“i got it.”

when connie left, jean went to your room to talk to you about why connie came to your room and to see if he was really overreacting.

“hey~” jean entered your room

“wassup.” you were done with your work and was watching a movie.

“why was connie leaving your room earlier?”

“he wanted to talk.”

jean crossed his arms. “about?”

“he wanted to apologize for being an ass.”

“you didn’t tell me that—“

“because you’d overreact and do the whole overprotective brother thing. i’m not a child, y’know.”

“i know. but i just want to make sure your okay at all times.”

“i’m okay, jean.”

“are you sure?” you were silent and all you gave him was a look, which told him to stop talking and leave. although you and connie both agreed to dead the issue, jean still felt in his gut that something more was going on. if it hasn’t happened yet, he knew it would happen soon and that scared him.

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #connie springer #aot connie #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x y/n #connie x black reader

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bella-rose29 · 1 year

Text

Puppy

Request from anon:

hiiiii, first I wanna say that I enjoy reading your works, they're wonderful. <3

Now, I've seen you post about wanting Lockwood requests and I might have an idea. Lockwood and reader are in long-term relationship (they know each other since childhood, the reader is talentless but Lockwood comes to her when he need to relax/help with a plan/whatever), and no-one knows about the relationship besides them. And after some rough case when kipss crew had to help out, Lockwood and co and kipss crew are drinking in a bar to ease up (the reader works in the bar as part-time job) and in the drunken state Lockwood is even more confident than normally so someone makes a bet with him that he won be able to get a kiss out of the bartender (the reader) by the end of the night... I don't really know what after but maybe you'll be able to find a fluffy/funny ending to it?

I hope I'm making sense.

Have a nice day! :)))

First of all, thank you for the love anon, and I hope you have a nice day too!! <3

Second, I am completely in love with this idea (it's totally something Lockwood would do let's face it) and I had so much fun writing this!!!

Hopefully this lives up to expectations my lovely <3

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: descriptions of injury, fight scenes (with dead people), swearing, suggestive comments, drunken activities (mostly Lockwood), everybody is over 18 so they can legally drink in the pub

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know here <3

(not my gif <3)

Lockwood was tired.

He'd barely slept the night before, despite not having a case, and he'd barely eaten the whole day. It was nearing 7pm now, the sun having set over an hour ago and leaving the city in almost darkness. There would be no sleeping tonight, either, since he and his company had to tackle a Type One in an old lady's house. All Lockwood really wanted was to see her, and have her tell him stories about her day until he fell asleep in her arms, but he couldn't do that right now. Hopefully this would be done quickly, this job, so that he could get to hers before she went to sleep.

Lockwood and Co had been in the kitchen of Mrs Lovey's house for a while now, cups of tea left empty on the counter and the packet of biscuits finished off. Initial readings had been low, giving Lockwood hope that they really would be done quickly, and they'd made note of the likely places for the Source.

"Lockwood? You're staring into space again. You alright?"

He blinked back into reality, pulling himself out of his thoughts of warm rooms and soft kisses.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I'm alright. Just surprised this Visitor hasn't turned up yet." He checked his watch. "Time for another reading in the living room?"

George nodded. "I'll go first."

The three of them headed in, rapiers at the ready.

"One degree. And a feeling of unease. It's definitely getting close to being here."

"Never mind close, I can see it," Lockwood whispered, taking up a defensive position.

"Yeah, I can hear it, too. Sounds like someone crying. I don't think this is a Type One either," Lucy added, and Lockwood couldn't help but agree.

"Any murders or anything happen here, George?"

"Not that I'm aware of, and I researched for days for this one. Didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

"Male or female, Luce? The voice."

"Uh, hang on, shut up a minute." She closed her eyes, focusing her efforts on Listening. "Male. Definitely. Sounds older, and like he's got some sort of trauma."

"Right. George, you figure out where the Source is. Lucy and I will watch it, make sure it doesn't go for you. Can either of you see it yet?"

"Not really. There's a sort of shiny mist over by that armchair, though," George said, pointing in the direction of the ratty old seat.

"Yeah, okay. That's where it is. Lucy?"

"Same as George. Getting stronger though. Maybe the chair is the Source?"

"Could be. George?"

"You're sure you've got my back, yeah? Because I really can't see it that well right now and I'd rather not die tonight."

"We're sure. Go on, have a poke around."

George did so, hesitantly getting closer to the chair and holding the scanner up. "Yeah, the Source is here somewhere." He prodded the side, and Lockwood saw Lucy flinch.

"It didn't like that at all. God, that was awful. Wait, George, don't-"

She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the scream that even Lockwood could hear now.

"George, get the net," he cried out, rapier moving swiftly as the Visitor grew brighter and aimed for the head of the company.

"Incredibly clear visual, Lockwood! Lucy was right, it's definitely a Type Two!"

"GET THE NET, GEORGE!"

Lockwood had been backed into a corner, arm starting to ache from the continuous motion of the rapier holding off the ghost in front of him. Lucy had recovered (just about), and was picking up her rapier to help him. Sensing a second opponent, the ghost turned, and targeted Lockwood's coworker. The two of them spent the next few minutes sending the Visitor between them while George repeatedly chucked the net over various parts of the chair, expression growing more frantic each time.

"George, what's going on?!" Lucy shouted.

"It's not working! I don't think the chair is the Source! Or if it is, it's inside the chair!"

"Then get searching! Rip the whole bloody thing apart if you have to! But get on with it!" Lockwood gritted his teeth, fighting off the cold unease he felt flooding through his body. He thought of her, and her smile, and her laugh, and pushed back twice as hard against the Visitor. At some point he'd injured himself, the cut on his upper left arm bleeding slightly, but he couldn't think about that until the ghost was dealt with.

"GOT IT!" George shouted, voice triumphant. He slung the net around the object he'd found, and all at once the living room went silent apart from the heavy breaths of the three agents. The ghost disappeared, and the temperature started rising. George sat back on his knees and held the swaddled object up, bits of foam stuffing caught in his curls. "Knife, it's got blood on it. I'd wager she killed her husband. There was a cut already made in the back, made it easier to find." He looked vaguely manic, what with his wide grin and foam-covered hair, but Lockwood couldn't deny his gratitude for his weird friend.

"I reckon we need to have a chat with DEPRAC, then. Mrs. Lovey clearly doesn't live up to her name," he replied, smile matching George's.

~~~

Half an hour later, Lockwood was on his way to hers. He'd left George and Lucy in the taxi, telling them he had something to sort out and he'd be back later, and to not wait up for him, and had caught his own cab to his destination.

He dragged himself up the front steps, knocking on the front door, and couldn't help the smile that appeared when it swung open to reveal his girlfriend.

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit."

"Charming as ever, love. Can I come in?"

Y/n stepped to the side, giving him a peck on the lips as he went past. "Shoes off, then up to my room. I'll be there in a sec. Gimme your coat, I'll hang it up for you."

He pulled himself up to her room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her siblings, and collapsed on her bed.

"Look at you. You're like a puppy, all cute and cuddly."

He lifted his head as Y/n walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click as she balanced a tray in her hands.

"Jacket off. And shirt."

"If you wanted me naked you could have just said so, darling." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in her blush.

"Shut up and strip, Anthony," she mumbled.

He complied, smirk turning into smile as he saw the medical supplies on the tray, right next to a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"What even happened?"

"Honestly? No clue. Type One turned out to be a Type Two murder victim though, so that was fun."

"You know, there are times I wish I had Talent. Then you come here looking like this and saying things like that and I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place. Easy on the shirt, I think it's stuck." He'd winced trying to peel the fabric away from the wound, and Y/n immediately replaced his fingers with hers, touch gentle as she attempted to prise his shirt off. Sucking in air through her teeth as she got it off, Lockwood knew it was bad. It had been a dull throb the whole time he'd been travelling over, too exhausted to think about it more, but now that he had nothing else to think about the pain sharpened.

"This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm just gonna sterilise it, so try not to move. Three, two..." He waited for one, but before she got there, Y/n had placed the cotton wool on his arm, dabbing the alcohol on the wound. He gritted his teeth, asking her about her day. She spoke while she worked, cleaning it out and covering it in protective wrapping. Her voice distracted him, letting him lose himself in her words, and she was done before he knew it, pouring a cup of tea and offering it out to him. "Put this on," she said, passing over an old shirt of his that he left at hers specifically for times like this.

"Do you really want me to?"

"No, but if it means that when my parents inevitably walk in they don't kick you out forever, I'll live with it." He laughed slightly, placing the tea down and pulling the top on, careful not to disturb his wound.

"You know you don't have to do that, right? I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own injuries."

"I know," she shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "But I don't mind. Just another excuse to be close to you, I guess."

"You don't need an excuse for that, love. You know I'll happily give you anything you like."

"Anything?"

He nodded.

"Alright," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips, breaking away when their smiles got too wide.

"I thought you were going to make me dance naked in the street or something." Her eyes went wide as she took in his words.

"Oh my god, I am totally making you do that sometime."

He groaned, unable to fight the smile on his face as she peppered his cheeks with kisses, finally pressing one to his mouth.

"Remind me why I love you?"

"Because I'm amazing, and the most incredible person ever?"

He chuckled, kissing her again. "Yeah. You are."

~~~

"Where the hell have you been, Tony? We've been waiting for you!"

"Just had some last minute things to sort out, don't get your knickers in a twist, Kipps. Oh, thanks Luce," he said, smiling at the girl as she handed him a flask of tea. He'd actually been at Y/n's, spending time with her before her shift at the pub. He'd almost been late, her parents wanting him to stay for dinner (he had politely declined, reminding them that he had a job to go to as well as their daughter), and her younger siblings wanting him to play with them. Lockwood and Y/n's parents had been friends since before either of them were born, at one point the two families living next to each other on Portland Row, and it was only the arrival of the fourth baby five years ago that had made the L/n family move. It had only been natural that Anthony and Y/n started dating, having been childhood friends, and her parents were delighted at the pairing. Unfortunately that now meant that they wanted him to spend every spare minute at their house, which more often than not made him slightly late for work.

"I'm not wearing knickers," the older boy muttered indignantly, clearly unable to come up with a good enough retort.

"Oh, are these the files? Thanks George."

"Wait, have you not even read these?" Kipps said, eyebrows rising.

"Of course I have, just not the whole compiled thing. I'm not stupid." Kipps scoffed at that.

"Yeah, sure you're not, Tony. C'mon. Hurry up and read, we're late because of you and we need to set everything up before it gets dark."

~~~

Three hours later, the two teams were close to death.

Both in the sense that they were run ragged, energy severely depleted and bodies aching, and also in that they were completely surrounded by ghosts, Type Ones and Types Twos blocking every exit. The report had said that there were only meant to be two Spectres in the whole abandoned department store, but before it had even been properly dark Lucy had heard voices crying out and shouting, and Lockwood had seen death glows so bright he'd needed his sunglasses.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?!"

He was taking a break, eyes aching from the brightness surrounding them and arm protesting the weight of his rapier. He scanned the area, sure that Lucy would have his back for a moment, and spotted something through a gap in the Visitors.

"Lucy?"

"What?!"

"I need you to not kill me and cover me with flares."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to run through the ghosts."

"You're WHAT?!"

"What? What's he saying?" Kipps was trying to get closer to them, rapier cutting arcs into the air and not giving him much headway.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Lucy glared at him, grabbing some flares from her belt.

"Yep. Ready?" She threw, the magnesium creating a break in the swarm of ghosts large enough for Lockwood to cut through. He made it to the other side (although a near miss from a badly aimed flare made him think that Lucy was trying to hit him and not the Visitors), trying to block out the sounds of his team mates yelling as they fought swathes of the undead. He ducked under a chair that a poltergeist had thrown, dodging the knives hurled afterwards. Skidding to a halt in front of a large iron box filled with objects, the lid hanging open, Lockwood slammed it shut, throwing a net over the top for good measure and securing the edges. Within seconds the majority of the Visitors disappeared. A few still remained, including the two poltergeists, but the number was much better.

The two teams spent the next thirty minutes finding the various Sources of the remaining ghosts, all the while trying to not get hit by the items the poltergeists were throwing, and by the end of it when Kipps suggested going to the pub, nobody disagreed.

~~~

Lockwood and Co were in the taxi on their way to the pub when George piped up.

"Why'd you agree to going to the pub with Kipps? I would have thought you'd rather eat your own foot than spend more time with him."

"I need a drink, and he said he'd buy the first round. If it's free, I'll take it. I don't really care who's buying it, even if it's Kipps."

They clambered out the taxi, Lockwood paying the driver and jogging to catch up with the other two just as they entered the pub. Spotting Kipps' team already sat down, the three of them headed over, taking seats and giving their order to the older agent. Lockwood looked around, certain he recognised the building but unsure why, when his gaze caught on the girl behind the bar.

Ah.

Of course the pub Kipps picked was the one that Y/n worked at. Lockwood had been here before, which is why he thought it was familiar, but nobody knew about his relationship with the bartender. Kipps came back with the drinks then, one of the other servers following with the rest and asking for ID. Taking his first sip, Lockwood felt himself relax a little more, happy to not be going anywhere for a while after the gruelling job earlier.

~~~

"You," Lucy pointed at him, "are so drunk right now."

"Seriously, you cannot hold your alcohol, can you Tony?"

"Don't call me Tony, you prick." It was true that Lockwood was a lightweight, and he knew it, but he grumbled about the accusation anyway. Kipps only laughed, not doing much better than his rival in terms of handling alcohol, and took another swig of his beer.

"You're probably rubbish at picking up girls, too. Y'know, you're probably rubbish at every normal guy thing."

"Shut up, I can so pick up girls." He wasn't going to let Kipps tell him he was bad at anything.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Amazing at it."

"Bet you can't get a kiss out the bartender though."

"Which one," he said, hoping Kipps would pick the right one.

"The one in the blue top, about your age. In fact, I am so confident you'll be shit at this, I'll bet ten quid you can't do it."

"Oh you're on," Lockwood said, knowing already he'd win the bet. Kipps had unknowingly picked Lockwood's girlfriend, and this would be the easiest ten pounds of his life.

"I'll bet a tenner too. I'm looking forward to watching you fail dramatically," Kat Godwin added, smirk on her face. Bobby placed his own bet, and soon enough there was fifty quid on the line, with George and Lucy agreeing with Kipps.

"Off you go, Lockwood," Lucy smiled, giving him a pat on the back. "Try not to traumatise the poor girl."

"Oh, just you all wait," he slurred, pointing a finger at them. "This is gonna be easyyyy." He headed for the bar, confidence filling him and giving him the ability to walk a lot straighter than he would otherwise have. He leaned forward on the wooden surface, fingers drumming against it. "Heyyy," he said, smiling up at his girlfriend as he slid (unsuccessfully) onto a stool.

"Hi... you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm great, and you," he wagged his finger at her, pausing for effect, "are gorgeous." He winked, and she suppressed a laugh, making him pout. "Why're you laughing? It's true!"

"Ant, honey, you are very drunk right now. Please go home," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles bursting out.

"But I can't go home," he said, suddenly very serious.

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Because I need a kiss if I'm gonna go home." He puckered up immediately, leaning forward over the bar and closing his eyes.

"Oh my god, Anthony, stop it!"

"Aw, do you not wanna kiss me?" He pouted again, and Y/n couldn't stop her laughter anymore. Lockwood sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Well, I'm not going away until I get a kiss from the prettiest bartender person lady that I've ever seen, so you'll have to get used to me being here."

"Okay, alright! Lemme serve this customer, yeah?" She turned away, leaving Lockwood to stew in his seat at her lack of kisses. Waiting for her to come back to him felt like an eternity, and when she came around the bar to stand next to him, he perked up, half launching himself at her. "Woah! Hold on, Ant! Jesus!" He was still sat on the stool, Y/n being only slightly taller than him despite being stood up, and he pulled her between his legs, arms wrapping around her waist. "Wait, what about your friends? I thought they didn't know?"

"Don't care, jus' wanna kiss you. There's a share of fifty pounds in it for you," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like he had a few weeks ago when she'd patched him up.

"Oh wow, you really love me, huh? Kissing me for money?" she asked sarcastically, but her eyes were warm. He nodded, dopey look on his face.

"Please? 'Cause Kipps said I can't pick up girls, and he bet money that I couldn't get a kiss out of you, and then the others bet money too, and mostly I wanna prove him wrong, but also I want the money so I can take you on the most amazing date in your life and get you ice cream."

"You are such a golden retriever puppy of a boyfriend, aren't you? Come here." She took his face in her hands, placing a few soft kisses on his mouth. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her closer to him, and Y/n had to brace a hand on the bar so that she didn't fall over from the awkward angle. When she pulled back, he chased her lips for a moment, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was full of love, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

"Love you too, Ant. Now get your fifty pounds and drink some water."

"Ugh, but water's boringgg," he complained, frown forming on his face. Y/n chuckled, kissing the crease between his eyebrows.

"I'll give you more than kisses when you come over on Saturday if you sober up." Lockwood stopped frowning immediately, and Y/n could practically feel the happiness radiating off of him.

"Where's the water?"

~~~

"Shit, how'd you do that, Tony?"

Lockwood shrugged. "I'm just really good at picking up girls."

"Sure, is that vodka?"

"Nope, water."

"Why have you got that?" Kipps wrinkled his nose, handing over his portion of Lockwood's winnings.

"Because she told me to drink it," he said, sipping the liquid through the straw he'd asked for (it made drinking boring things more fun, he'd told Y/n).

"Uh... okay?"

"Yeah. I feel like- hang on, Lucy, where's your tenner? Thanks. I feel like it's a little bit unfair, the bet, 'cause she is actually my girlfriend, but- no, you can't take the money back! You made a bet! No take-backs! But thanks anyway."

"So you can't pick up girls!" Kipps shouted, thinking he'd finally found something Anthony Lockwood couldn't do.

"Well technically I can, 'cause I had to pick her up in the first place to get her to be my girlfriend, and also she's not that heavy, so I can definitely pick her up if she doesn't wriggle too much. I know 'cause I've done it before."

Kipps groaned. "Wait... she just told you to drink water, so you are?"

"Yep. She's very persuasive. Basically said that if I drink it all then when I go to her house on Saturday we're gonna have sex," he said casually.

Everybody around the table choked on their drinks.

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