#rap sheet fic

[transingthoseformers]

Yeahhhhh so many foolish decisions lead to this didn't they.

[golbrocklovely]

our girlfriend // sam and colby

A/N: it's my bday and i'm giving you guys a present... aren't i so nice lol i know it's been a LONG time since i posted any form of a fic, and i'm sorry about that. but hopefully this makes up for it a bit. if you squint hard enough, this could basically be a 'careful what you wish for' fic as well (but not really since the boys are just normal and not a demon or vampire). hope you enjoy and let me know what you think !

prompt: you and the boys always had your fun, but you never tried it in public. and now they want to. || fem!reader x sam and colby

trigger warning: SMUT, threesome (but no actual sex), no solby, you are sam and colby's girlfriend…. lucky you lmao, fingering, oral fixation/finger sucking, bossy!bf sam and colby, also very possessive, a wee bit of degradation, mentions of baby, darling, baby girl, love, good girl, slut, and it also takes place slightly in public (but away from everyone)

word count: 2003

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

"Guys, are you sure about this?" You questioned hurriedly as you rushed up the stairs.

Sam looked back at you, his voice loud over the thumping music of the party. "Yeah, c’mon Y/N. There’s no one up here."

"Probably for good reason." You grumbled.

"You’ve never been one to follow the rules. Don’t start now..." Colby smirked devilishly, his voice right by your ear as he passed you on the stairs.

Reaching the top and with each one of them holding a hand, Sam and Colby pulled you down the hallway. They stopped right outside a door tucked away from the stairs. If someone came up, they would see you. Your heart raced at the idea alone.

Colby leaned his back against the wall as you looked around the corner, glancing at the stairs nervously. He rolled his eyes, pulling you against him. "Baby, you have nothing to worry about. You're with us. When have we ever gotten caught?"

You glared up at him, annoyed. "You literally have a rap sheet that proves you don't know how to hide."

"Someone's feeling bratty tonight..." Sam joked playfully, leaning across from you and Colby.

You gazed at him over your shoulder, brows furrowed. "I'm just worried about someone finding out about us. God knows how the fans would react if they knew..."

Colby's finger lightly turned your chin so that you were looking at him. "Knew about what? That we both love to play with our girlfriend, and now we're trying it out in public?"

You stuttered, the lustful glint in Colby's eye making you blush. "Y-yes. Exactly that."

Colby pouted. "But I thought you loved when we both touched you."

"And tasted you..." Sam replied, sounding closer.

Colby leaned his face in, getting close to yours. "And fucked y-"

You cut him off, slapping his chest. "That's not the issue I have. It's the getting caught part. Or someone seeing us."

"But that's what's fun about this," Sam turned you around to face him, Colby's hands still resting low on your hips. "You're getting fucked as a party is being thrown downstairs in our honor. And if anyone tries to find us, they'll see us all up here... with you. So we gotta make sure we don't get caught."

"Especially since no one is allowed up here." You mentioned again.

"Well, we're allowed up here. No one else is." Colby informed.

Your face scrunched up, "I thought the owner said-"

"The owner can suck my dick. If I want to fuck my girlfriend in a house I'm renting out for a party, I'm gonna do it wherever I want to." Colby ranted.

"Excuse me." Sam raised an eyebrow, a light glare thrown at Colby.

"Right, my bad, Sam. Our girlfriend." Colby responded, smiling.

Sam sighed, "Much better."

"Speaking of...." Colby slid his hand under your skirt, pressing your damp panties against your swollen sex. "Our girlfriend is very wet."

You gasped, your body arching against Colby's. He exhaled as your ass grinded into his crotch. His breath was hot against your neck, raising goosebumps across your cool skin.

Sam's eyes danced up your body, studying it as Colby kneaded your clit slowly. Sam hummed when his gaze reached your face, his voice low, "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Kiss me." You shuddered, grabbing his shirt lightly and tugging him closer.

"She's so aggressive when she's needy." Colby chuckled darkly, applying pressure to his movements.

Sam nodded, leaning in and kissing you tenderly. You could barely breathe to begin with but having Sam's mouth on yours and Colby's fingers on your clit, you felt yourself get lightheaded. It was so overwhelming already, and they barely had done anything to you. God, or the devil himself, only knew what they had in store for you.

As Sam's tongue glided into your mouth, tangling with yours, Colby moved your panties out of the way and slid two fingers inside of you, pumping them at an achingly slow pace. Your breath hitched, a moan falling from your lips. Lucky for you, it was muffled by Sam's mouth.

"What did we say, baby girl? You can’t be too loud. And we know how loud you can get." Sam teased.

"Even with the music playing, they would be able to hear her." Colby sneered jokingly.

"Is that what you want? To get caught? To have all of our friends know you're being fucked by us? That you're needy for us?" Sam grunted, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"I think that's what she wants. She loves to pretend to be such a good girl, but in reality, she's bad." Colby snickered into your ear quietly. "She's a little slut for us."

"Our slutty little girlfriend who can't stop herself from moaning when we touch her." Sam closed the space between you two, gripping your chin so that your eyes were looking into his piercing blues. "You're so pathetic and horny, aren't you?"

You shook your head, a whimper falling from your lips as Colby slid another finger in. You bit your lip hard to not make a noise, knowing it wasn't doing much to help.

"We might have to cover her mouth, since she can't listen." Colby hissed mischievously, biting your neck softly.

"I know the perfect way to do that." Sam placed the tips of his index and middle finger against your lips, "Open." Your lips fell open instantly, and he snaked them in, resting them against your tongue. "Suck."

You immediately started sucking his fingers, whining around them and bobbing your head up and down. Sam growled lowly at the sensation of you sucking off his fingers. He pushed himself closer to you, sandwiching you in between him and Colby completely. You couldn't have escaped their hold if you wanted it, and you definitely didn't want to.

"Her mouth feels amazing, Colby. You'll have to give it a try soon." Sam closed his tightly, focusing on the feeling.

"I remember how good she feels, trust me." Colby leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear, "You always need something in your mouth, don't you darling? You can't help but want to suck on something. On one of us."

Colby's fingers sped up, a groan deep within your throat rocketed out, stifled by Sam's fingers. You kept grinding your ass against Colby, who now was hard in his leather pants. He followed your movements, his hips pressing hard into you. Your hand gripped his wrist, clinging onto the hand that was fucking you. Your other hand held Sam close as your nails dug into his back.

"Are you getting close, baby girl? Do you want to come?" Sam barked.

You mewled, nodding your head desperately. Sam tsked, leaning his forehead against yours. "Not yet, baby. I think you need a bit more help."

His other hand drifted down, stopping right above your clit. He teased you for a moment, the tip of his finger brushing across it ever so gently. Your body shook and both boys laughed.

Colby feigned concern. "Aw Sam, c’mon now. You gotta be nice to her. She's not gonna make it."

"I guess we traded places this time, since you're the one that's always so mean to her." Sam quipped sassily.

Colby faux gasped, "Me? Being mean?" He leaned into your ear, whispering, "I'm not mean, am I love? You like when I treat you rough. I know you do, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes tight, trying to hold yourself back from exploding. Both of their motions were all too much for you, but you didn't want it to end just yet. You needed it to keep going. You just loved being theirs.

Sam pushed his lower half into his hand that was rubbing your clit, both boys now grinding against you. Their cocks were hard, and they were touching you in all the right places; you could feel your orgasm building up to its breaking point. You needed them to say you could let go. You weren't sure how much longer you could last.

"Feel how hard you've made us, baby girl. You want us inside of you? Wanna get filled up by us?" Sam rasped.

You whined and nodded mindlessly. You couldn't even form words if you want to.

"She's squeezing my fingers so tight. God, I can't wait to taste you, Y/N. You're getting so close..." Colby panted. "Maybe we should let her come."

"Only if she deserves it. Do you, baby? Do you deserve to come? Have you been good for us?" Sam taunted, staring into your eyes.

You moaned around his fingers in agreement, shaking your head again.

Sam bit his lip, glancing at Colby for a moment. "She has been following our demands very well. She made me hard just by sucking my fingers."

"You've been such a needy, good girl for us, haven't you? You take our fingers so well. Do you wanna come? Say you want to." Colby lowered his voice, "Use your words, love."

You choked around Sam's fingers, a 'I wanna come' mumbled through his digits.

Colby harshly snapped in your ear, "Who owns this cunt, darling?"

You grunted out a 'You do', eyes pleading with Sam to say you could let go.

Sam smirked, an almost evil glint in his eye. "I think she can come now. What about you, Colby?"

Colby paused, his fingers still moving at their fast pace. Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your back. Your face was flushed, and you felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for Colby to say the magic phrase.

He kissed right under your ear sweetly, his lips then pressed against you. "Come for us, baby."

You cried out around their fingers, your body spasming in ecstasy. Sam finger fucked your mouth, making sure your screams weren't heard over the music as he sped up his fingers on your clit. Colby kept the pace as you exploded around him, your juices running down your thighs. He cooed in your ear, speaking softly that you were a good girl, a good slut for them, and that you were so beautiful when you come.

Your pleasure slowly subsided, Sam and Colby resting against you and their motions still. They breathed with you, kissing along your neck and face as you relaxed.

You were about to say something when all three of you could hear someone walking up the stairs. Sam backed up, removing his hands from your mouth and clit. Colby spun you both around, facing the person coming up the stairs. It was a scramble to make sure you looked okay, and you weren't even sure if you did.

A tall man in an all-black suit, one of the security guards, looked down the hallway at you all. "Excuse me, you can't be up here."

"Uh, sorry about that. My girlfriend wasn't feeling too well and the line for the bathroom was kinda long so we figured she could come up here and use this one." Colby smiled, placing you in front of him to cover up his hard on.

"Are you feeling better now, miss?" The man asked, looking at you.

Sam cut you off, thankfully; since you weren't sure if you could even speak yet. He cupped his hands in front of his body, trying to cover himself up. "Yeah, she's good. We'll make sure she feels better later tonight, though. Just to be safe."

You glanced at Sam, and he gave you a little wink.

"Please follow me back downstairs to the party." The man stated.

You trudged down the hall towards the man, Sam and Colby following close behind. Once the man turned around, you could hear Sam smack Colby's arm, saying 'She's our girlfriend' to him. They bickered back and forth until you got to the bottom of the stairs.

Colby smacked your ass playfully, his voice loud enough for only you to hear, "Don’t go too far, Y/N. We're not done with you yet."

[mydadleft471]

Envelop Me

Summary: Messmer begins to worry when he realizes he hasn't seen you at all today. Rushing to your chambers, he realizes that you're just on your period and need some comfort.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, per usual. Just my boi being soft and caring for a fem! reader on her period.

Messmer lovers, I've brought an appetizer!

This fic was requested by anonymous! The request was, "Consider: Messmer x reader on their period, he's like a very large heat pack". GENIUS IDEA. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it :D

My requests are indeed open! I'm going to get started on my next request as soon as I post this, so be on the lookout for a new fic in the next few days.

Anywho, please enjoy! Thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my works! Each and every one makes me wanna kick my feet and giggle fr.

Messmer was beginning to worry about you. Half the day had passed already and he hadn’t seen you out of your chambers. Normally, you’d make your way to him soon after you’d finished breakfast. Even if you planned on spending the day pouring over documents and books in his storehouse, you’d pay him a visit before departing. This was unusual behavior for you. Had he done something to upset you? Did you fall ill overnight? Surely not the latter; his servants would inform him right away of your state and would have taken you to the infirmary.

He decided that he couldn’t sit and wait on his throne for you anymore. He would come to your chambers himself and see what was preventing you from visiting him. Quickly making his way out of his dark chamber, he startles the Fire Knights standing guard outside his door. Taking the steps down two at a time and rushing through the hallways towards your quarters, he notices one of your usual servants standing worried outside your door. Noticing his presence, she bows and steps aside for him to enter.

“Has she come out of her chambers today?” Messmer tries to keep his voice even despite the uncertainty coursing through his veins like fire.

She shakes her head. “No, my Lord. I brought breakfast to her, per usual, and she only ate a little. I asked if she required assistance getting dressed, but she dismissed me and told me she wished to spend the day in bed.”

“And why was this not reported to me?” His eye narrows and the servant shrinks into herself. She looks like she wishes she could dissipate into thin air.

“Sincerest apologies, my Lord. I figured she simply wished to remain alone today. I asked if she was feeling ill, and she said that she was just very tired.”

He sighs. Sometimes, you would prefer to stay in bed all day, but you would come to Messmer’s chambers and you two would laze around together. He cannot recall a time where you would prefer to be alone. 

He sighs. “I understand. I will see what bothers her so.”

The servant bows and scurries off, leaving him alone before your door. Never before has he been so afraid to see you. With shaking hands, he raps on your door three times. He hears a faint shuffling of sheets coming from within the room.

“Yes?” He takes immense comfort in the fact that you are responding.

“Beloved, may I come in? I wish to see thee.”

He hears your voice quiver. “I am afraid I don’t feel very well today. I’m not sure I would make good company, My Lord.” 

“Whatever is the matter? Dost thou require a healer?” His snakes wrap themselves tighter around his frame, also worried for your wellbeing. They nose at your door, eager to see you.

“No, my love. I’m okay.” Your words come out strained, and his anxiety increases tenfold.

“I wish to see thee with my own eyes to ensure thy good health. Please, my beloved.” He would get on his knees and beg for you to let him in if he had to. He would do anything to know you were alright.

There is a beat of silence before you respond. “Come in.”

He opens the door so fast he almost twists the door off its hinges. He enters swiftly and closes the door, striding over to your side in hurried steps that echo off the marble floors. Messmer’s snakes incline themselves forward and it almost seems like they’re racing him to get to you first. When he arrives at your bedside, the sight he sees makes his heart drop.

You are wrapped in your sheets and comforter with sweat adorning your forehead. You wince in pain and he notices that you are curled in on yourself. You look at him with tired eyes and give him a small smile. His snakes flick their tongues into the air and they taste a hint of blood. Your blood. Messmer erupts in fury and his mind races a mile a minute. His serpents coil and hiss, looking around the room wildly for your attacker.

“What has happened? Who hast dared to hurt thee?!” He roars, summoning his spear. “Tell me now, beloved, and I will ensure they never cause thee pain again.” His voice bounces off the walls of your chamber and he is sure the entire keep can hear him, but he cannot bring himself to care.

You reach weakly for his hand and he immediately takes it, clutching it tightly. You feel the heat radiating off of him. You know you need to calm him down, and soon, lest he burn your favorite blanket to ash.

“No one has hurt me, my love. I’m alright.”

“My serpents smelled thy blood in the air. Who hast hurt thee so?” 

“Messmer, I’m on my period. Nobody hurt me.” You wince in pain once again.

He can’t believe he didn’t realize that sooner. In his defense, he thought someone had hurt his sweet consort.

“I see.” He gingerly sits down on the bed beside your crumpled form, still holding your hand. “I apologize if I frightened thee.” 

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You… do know what a period is, yes?”

He raises his brow. “Thou thinkest me a child?”

“No, not at all, I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, lightning licks up your spine and radiates throughout your back. You curl in on yourself tighter and breathe heavily.

Messmer’s eye flicks wildly over your covered body. “What wouldst thou have me do? I refuse to stand idly by while thou suffers.”

“Can you come lay with me, please? I just want you to hold me.” Your sweet request has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Wordlessly, he walks over to the other side of the large bed and climbs in. He doesn’t want to ask you to move when you are clearly in so much pain. He shuffles over to you and pulls the blanket up to cover you both. He hovers next to you, unsure of how to hold you. He’s terrified of hurting you on accident.

You roll over and scoot closer to him, your body protesting the sudden movement. You lay your head on his chest and try to get comfortable on your side.

“How dost thou feel now?” He strokes your hair tentatively.

“A little better.” You continue to shift against him.

He sighs and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. It’s loving and tender. “Wouldst thou be comfortable laying on top of me?”

“I think so.”

He gently lifts your body until you are completely sprawled out on top of him on your stomach with your head in the middle of his chest. He places a large hand on your back and you feel immediate relief. Between the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his hand on your back, your muscles slowly begin to relax.

“You’re so warm…” You mumble into his chest.

“Dost thou require me to move? Have I made thee too warm?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No. It feels wonderful.” You nuzzle your head into him and sigh, content. He smiles and places a light kiss to the top of your head. His serpents nip at the blanket and pull it over you, then carefully wind over your shoulders and lie down.

“Why didst thou not send for me?” He traces small circles into your lower back. “I grew worried at your absence.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I wouldn’t be good company like this.”

“So thou would rather toil in isolation?”

“That’s very funny coming from you, my love.”

He rolls his eye. “Perhaps I am not the best example to live by when one is in such pain, but I wish to be of comfort, just as thou has been for me. I wish to care for thee, my beloved.”

You lean your head up to look at him and press a kiss to his lips. His cheeks redden from the simple gesture, as they always do. “You care for me plenty.”

“I am glad thou thinkest so.”

You shake your head and smile at him. “I know so. I refuse to hear anymore doubts from you.”

“Thou’rt demanding indeed, but I shall not stand against thy wishes, my Lady.”

You chuckle at him. “I also refuse to get up for another few hours.”

“Being late for dinner does not sound like thee.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mention of dinner, and Messmer laughs. 

“How much of the day did I spend wallowing away in misery?”

“About half. Dinner is not far away.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

A comfortable silence encompasses you both and all you can hear are your shared breaths. Messmer lazily flicks his wrist and your fireplace sparks to life. The flames hum and sway side-to-side, dancing. The black tendrils delicately wind their way up and around the flame in almost hypnotizing movements. You’ve always found Messmer’s fire to be beautiful.

You could stay here forever, wrapped in silk sheets and cozy blankets with your lover. His dominant hand caresses your back with feather-light touches and it lulls you into a drowsy haze. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Messmer?” Your voice is serene and quiet.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think we could have dinner in bed? I don’t want to get up.”

He laughs genuinely, a sound you’ve grown to love. It makes you smile to see him happy and carefree. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“You might have to wake me.”

“Though it pains me to disturb thy slumber, I shall, just for thee. Now, rest.” He brings his other hand to your hair and runs his nails across your scalp, making you shiver and relax even further into him.

“You spoil me.” 

“I know.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

[bridenore]

HD longer fics recs : 80k to 90k words

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Voldemort’s final defeat does not mean Harry Potter’s troubles are over; far from it. In the aftermath of war, he returns to a Hogwarts that is fractured and divided, but this is no break that can be fixed with a spell. New owls, fading scars, surprising alliances—and along the way, the hardest task of all, to live with it. 

The Stars Have Courage by @fantalf [85k]

Draco can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. He can’t hear anything besides the buzzing in his ears. The walls are closing in. The world becomes smaller, narrowing itself to the pain in his chest, and it becomes the only thing that makes sense. He tries to cry. Maybe he is crying, but there are no tears anymore. Luna’s words echo endlessly in his brain. Harry doesn’t remember. Harry doesn’t love Draco. Repeating ceaselessly. Infinite, Harry used to say. No. No. No. Draco can’t lose him again. But he doesn’t know who you are now. He doesn’t love you. He hates you. You are no one. His world turns into an overwhelming pain. And that pain is all that he is. — Draco waited five long years to watch his husband wake up from a coma. He’s not ready to meet a Harry with no memory of anything that happened after he died at The Battle of Hogwarts, twelve years ago.

Things That Change by eutichydes [84k]

After Hogwarts, everything changes.

This Year’s Love by trishjames [84k]

This year’s love had better last, heaven knows it’s high time when you try to make lovers from friends. But Harry Potter realises time and time again that it’s simply not possible for him. And then along comes Draco Malfoy— the ultimate foe on the mend. Whatever will become of them? A story about love.

Variation by @lower-east-side [87k]

After suffering enormous losses, Draco Malfoy must now struggle to define his place in the post-war world. Through dashed hopes and changing fortunes, Draco carves out a new niche for himself. But adapting to life with Harry Potter may be the biggest challenge of all.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[juyeonszn]

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.58k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, strangers to fwb to lovers, a few timeskips here and there, hyunjae is a manwhore but what else is new, he’s also a criminal justice major so, mentions of alcohol, mentions of roblox? idk, reader is lowkey horny as hell 😭, handjob, oral (m!receiving), mentions of sex in various places, hyunjae is an emotionally constipated idiot, juyeon appearance crowd cheered, also cha eunwoo appearance but crowd did not cheer, hyunjae goes through the five stages of grief, no foreplay but what can u do about it, marking, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap u know the drill), cowgirl position yeehaw, creampie yeehaw, little bit of cockwarming st the end ngl

SUMMARY becoming friends with lee hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. also not on your bingo card? waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

MORE bruh. first of all. i’m so sorry this is so late. 😭 second of all, NOT ONLY IS IT A DAY LATE, BUT ITS ALSO LIKE AN HOUR AND A HALF LATE 😭 my time management was not all there this past weekend, and also due to some unfortunate decisions on my part, this fic was delayed a bunch but WE ARE SO BACK pls. i hope u all enjoy this bc i kinda hate it and im sad bc i was so excited for it and its nothing like how i wanted it to be… pls rb if u liked it 😿 also this is lowkey for izzy bc we’re both going through insane hyunjae brainrot rn..

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea @from-izzy

In Hyunjae’s defense, he didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

When the two of you first met, he really was just trying to be a gentleman. He’d always been raised as someone who should do the right thing without expecting anything in return. He prided himself on sticking by his mother’s lifelong wisdom.

Okay sure, he might’ve had a few slip ups here and there in the form of random girls he’s hooked up with, but could you blame him? He was a university criminal justice major after all. There’s no harm in a little one-night-stand fun. Learning the ins and outs of the world of law and order was soul-draining enough without the freedom to stress-relieve whenever he felt fit.

Right. Back to you.

Your first encounter took place at the Tau Beta Zeta end of semester party. The fraternity had been working towards securing their victory against the KAT sorority just so they could host the damn thing. Hyunjae had yet to find a girl to entice him for the night, instead bothering some of his frat brothers. For example, Jacob Bae, who had just won the IST University boys’ volleyball team a championship title.

He could’ve gone after Lee Haeun, Jacob’s ex, but he had higher standards than that. There was also the incident earlier that day, while setting up for the party. He tried making a move on the KAT president to piss off Sangyeon, but that ended up failing. Honestly, he didn’t even care much about sleeping with anyone at these things anyways. Usually pretty girls came up to him first, but then ghosted him once they realized he wasn’t looking for anything serious. That was the only reason why his rap sheet was so long. He’d never intended on being the resident fuckboy.

Hyunjae remembers spotting you across the room during one of the numerous rounds of beer pong that night. Rather than Juyeon refereeing with Younghoon like they normally did, he stepped in to let the younger male enjoy the party with his girlfriend. The current match-up was Sunwoo versus Changmin with their respective partners. He had glanced up after witnessing the soccer prodigy miss a cup, making eye contact with you accidentally.

You tucked some hair behind your ear, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip before looking away. Your friends had sucked you back into the conversation you were having, effectively blocking Hyunjae’s chance to shoot any shots. He quickly got over it upon witnessing Changmin and Sunwoo arguing over the game, egging them on like the instigator he was.

Most people would’ve thought that was the end of it. Just a fleeting glance at each other, dozens of people standing between you. In hindsight, Hyunjae partially wishes that was where your story ended. You would’ve just been another girl to him, a stranger he saw once and never ran into again.

It’s funny how the universe works in strange ways.

By two in the morning, when over half of the partygoers had left the TBZ house, Hyunjae felt his social battery reach empty. He woke up earlier that morning to study for his Victimology final and felt drained by the time he walked out of the lecture hall. (He knew he aced it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t mentally taxing.) He was just about ready to call it a night when he saw you sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, blubbering into your phone about something.

“What do you mean you left?” You wail, cheeks stained with mascara streaks. “I don’t care about your boyfriend! I’m too drunk to drive home and you were supposed to be my D.D.”

Your words are slightly slurred, a hiccup following your last sentence. Damn, you were cute even when you were crying like a baby. Hyunjae observed as you argued with who he assumed to be your friend over the phone, exasperated by the end of it. Despite not knowing a single thing about you, not even your name, he decided to step in and offer aid.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you saying you’re too drunk to drive yourself, and as a TBZ member I just can’t let that happen,” he extended a hand to you. “I’d be more than willing to let you stay here until the morning, if you’d like. You can have my room and I’ll just crash in one of the others.”

Your lower lip quivered, as if you were on the verge of even more tears. You sniffle when you respond, eyes doe-like and glassy. “R-Really? You would do that f-for me?”

“It’s a better alternative than taking a rideshare home alone while drunk,” he nods. “And I’m definitely not letting you drive anywhere yourself.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know why he felt so protective over you. The thought of some potentially creepy man taking advantage of you because you were under the influence didn’t sit right with him. He poked his cheek with his tongue, hand still outstretched to you. You took it gently, allowing him to guide you to his bedroom. He grabbed some of his clothes so you could be comfier and gave you a washcloth so you wouldn’t go to be with your makeup on. He felt better knowing you were in the safety of his fraternity house rather than anywhere else. It kind of pissed him off that your friends would leave you to fend for yourself like that.

The next morning, you came down the stairs drowning in Hyunjae’s clothes, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You held the heel of your palm to your temple, wincing from the headache no doubtedly caused by your hangover. It was around 11 AM when you woke up and most, if not all, of his frat brothers had already left to head home for the holidays.

You found your knight in shining armor sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, a mug with the default male Roblox face in his grasp. He was scrolling through his phone mindlessly, taking sips of his coffee every now and then until he heard you. He spins around in his chair, offering you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you rest okay?” He asks, getting up to grab you your own mug.

Your cheeks burn up at the nickname. The whole situation is still a bit odd to you. You knew of Lee Hyunjae through the grapevine (every other girl at your school), yes, but you’ve never held an actual conversation with him before. And now here you are, taking shelter in his home and sleeping in his bed. It was sweet of him to be so hospitable, though. He could’ve kicked you out and pretended you didn’t exist.

“That’s probably the best I’ve ever slept in my life,” you laugh to cut through the tension. “Thank you for keeping me alive last night. I feel indebted to you forever.”

“It was no problem, at all. My pleasure, actually,” he grins, passing you a mug filled with fresh coffee. “By the way, I never got your name.”

“It’s Y/N,” you tell him, mouth pulling into a smile at the cup he just gave you, which happened to be the female adjacent to his. “Hyunjae, right?”

He doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed by the fact that you already knew his name or not, but given his previous reputation, he thinks it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. He clears his throat and nods as he drinks more of his coffee. He tries to distract himself from the weird feeling bubbling in his chest with how cute you looked in his clothes.

“Do you not have any plans for the break?” You switch the subject, noticing that the house was empty for the most part.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’m from here, so it isn’t really much of a drive to visit home. I’ll go over on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years but that’s about it. Other than that, I like to enjoy having the whole house to myself.”

“Woah, me too! My friends are all from out of town though, so I’m usually really lonely. It’s always so odd thinking about how this is just a stepping stone for people’s lives and I’ve been here all of mine.” You stir some cream and sugar into your coffee, pursing your lips. “So, I take it you’re not doing anything today?”

“Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada,” Hyunjae leans back in his chair. “I’ll probably just watch some movies and call it a day. What about you? Any plans for the break since all of your friends are gone?”

“I have just as many as you.” You sip on your beverage.

“Well, the couch space next to me will be unoccupied if you’d like to join me.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.”

You feel like maybe this was some sort of elaborate scheme to trap you. Your eyes kept flickering from the TV to his profile, entranced by the blue light illuminating his features. You wanted nothing more than to claim your seat on his lap and ride him into the sunset like a gallant steed, which was ironic considering the way the two of you met.

It’s in the middle of the third movie that you finally feel yourself grow restless. No way could you sit beside Lee Hyunjae, spend the whole day with him, and not jump his bones. It was, like, the most obvious thing to do. It was Lee Hyunjae. Did he expect you not to?

He feels you squirming next to him, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s abstained from touching you this long. From the moment he saw you in his clothes this morning, he wanted you underneath him. He doesn’t know how to initiate anything without seeming too forward though.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to make much effort on his part.

You place one of your hands on his thigh, dragging your nail along the seam of his sweatpants. He turns to you with a raised eyebrow. All you can do is bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

“You know, Hyunjae, I never got to properly thank you for your act of nobility last night,” you start, fingers creeping up higher. “And I just thought of something that I think we’ll both like.”

He doesn’t have the strength in him to restrain himself after that, pulling you into a heated kiss. He nips at your lower lip and tangles his tongue with your own, getting easily lost in the spellbinding of your touch. Your lips trail along his jaw and down his neck, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You suck deep marks into the skin of his pulse point while simultaneously palming him through his underwear.

You’re moving fast, but you’re on a mission. You’ve been waiting for this all day, you can’t imagine slowing down now. It doesn’t appear that he plans on stopping you either.

Hyunjae throws his head back, hissing when you discard his boxers. The cool air of the house hits his cock at the same time you bite down on the divot where his neck meets his shoulder. Your hand gently wraps around his length, thumb running over the slit to collect the precum that’s formed there. He watches in a trance as you go on your knees between his legs.

You press a sweet kiss to his tip before taking him into your mouth. He groans, twisting your hair around his wrist so he can control your movements. Hyunjae doesn’t think he’s ever wanted head this badly in his life. He’s always been a giving person, always providing the pleasure for the girl he was with. There were only a handful of times that he’s ever been on the receiving end and none of them were memorable. But this time is different.

For some reason, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him this riled up this quickly. You’re still relatively a stranger to him, and even though he’s had plenty of one night stands, it’s unlike any of the others.

Your throat relaxes so you can swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the tip. He’s the biggest guy you’ve ever been with, making things a little harder for you, but you were never one to back down from a challenge. And getting Lee Hyunjae to cum from the work of your mouth alone was the ultimate reward.

Hyunjae moans when your attention focuses on his sensitive slit. The sound is music to your ears, goading you into continuing your task. You gag around his dick and tears prick at your eyes when he pushes your face down further, your nose brushing the lower part of his abdomen. One of your hands wanders, tracing and scratching his abs as the other jerks him off.

He swipes away some stray tears with his thumb, bucking into your mouth and hand. “Fucking look at you, taking me like a good girl. You’re so filthy.”

You whine, squeezing your thighs together for your own friction. You can wait, though, entirely too focused on getting him to finish. You’re thankful it isn’t that much longer until he does, painting your lips and cheeks with his release when you pull off of him to press a cute kiss on the same spot. He knows he finished too fast for someone of his caliber, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

“You’re so hot,” he brings you up to connect your lips once again.

It was very easy to fall into a habit after that.

Throughout the entirety of the break, Hyunjae would call you over or vice versa and you’d rock each other’s world’s. It was practically an entire month of fucking nonstop. You’d done it in the TBZ house living room, in his bed, in the kitchen, in the shower and every other surface you could think of. Your own apartment had been christened plenty with your sexcapades also. Both of your cars had seen you naked too. But the most memorable place had to be his childhood bedroom the night of Christmas. He went to his parents’ for a couple days and hit you with that 3 AM “You up?” text when his libido couldn’t quell. That was probably the quietest you’d ever have to be.

Hyunjae had to explain to his mom that no, he hadn’t gotten mauled by a wild animal in his sleep. It was harder coming up with another plausible lie to cover the source of the hickeys on his neck, but he’d rather tell his mother something stupid than the fact that he was an insatiable freak.

When it came time for everyone to return to school for the spring semester, you’d deluded yourself into thinking there could be something real between you and Hyunjae. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? This gorgeous man had spent almost every single day of winter break with you, even if it was mostly for the sex. That wasn’t all you did though. You shared meals together and talked about your life goals. You truly got to know him better than just the hot frat guy who’s made his rounds with girls on campus.

However, Hyunjae did not think he was ready for that level of commitment.

After spending a month with you and learning all of your little quirks, he thought he was going insane. He’d been in situationships in the past and none of them ever ended well, especially because they always caught feelings. He didn’t want the two of you to fall down the same path. But he noticed the linger of your touches and kisses and the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke. He didn’t want to be the one to break your heart.

He just couldn’t see himself getting into a serious relationship. He was preparing to apply for law schools and get his shit together. He didn’t think he couldn’t handle throwing a girlfriend into the mix. Even if it was you. Bold, pretty little you, who had Lee Hyunjae wrapped around her finger without trying.

Things come to a speeding halt for both of you halfway into the second week back.

Hyunjae was walking out of his Crime Mapping II lecture when he saw you chatting up Cha Eunwoo outside of the building, giggling and being all touchy with him. He doesn’t know why he feels so… stuffy… when he sees that. He doesn’t know why it makes him mad. He doesn’t know why it feels like his heart has just been stomped on a handful of times.

He walks over to you and clears his throat, hands shoving into his jacket pockets. He tries to ignore how cute you look in your puffer coat, nose rosy from the cold. You pause in your conversation to say hi to him before resuming whatever you were saying before. It was like he was invisible.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” You tuck some hair behind your ear, smiling at the male.

“For sure. Talk to you later, Y/N.” He says, waving as he takes off.

Hyunjae starts in the opposite direction wordlessly, leaving you to stumble behind him like a newborn deer. He looks upset about something, but you’re not sure if you should ask. When you finally match his pace, you frown, tapping his shoulder.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Since when were you friends with Cha Eunwoo?” Hyunjae blurts, tone catching you off guard. You blink at his outburst.

“For a while, I guess? We’re in the same department and we’ve had a few classes together. Why? Is that a problem?” You stop your steps, forcing him to do the same.

“No, why would it be? I’m not your boyfriend. You can talk to whoever you want.” He backtracks, realizing the connotation behind his question. Shit, why does he not think before he speaks?

“You could be,” you shrug, gaze casted downward to avoid his stare. “You could be my boyfriend.”

Again, because he’s a stupid boy, he chooses not to use his brain in such a critical situation. “I don’t want to be. You can date him for all I care.”

Hyunjae didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, but he knows he did when he sees the flame in your eyes die out. He thinks he broke his own too, chest constricting when tears well up in the corners. You wipe your runny nose with your gloved hand, sniffling with a scoff.

“Fuck you, Hyunjae,” your voice is surprisingly calm, and that scares him more. “Fuck you and your stupid fucking commitment issues and your lack of empathy. Stay away from me.”

He can’t even think of something quick enough to stop you. Of course, his mind runs at a million miles a minute when it’s the worst time. But when he needs it to work most, it fails on him. That’s exactly his luck.

He just stares as your figure gets smaller and smaller, getting further and further away from his reach. His stomach feels ugly, twisted in a way it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s because he’d considered you a close friend at this point, and now there’s no way you didn’t hate him. He told you things that he hadn’t even told his brothers, things that he hoped would never see the light of day. He’d spoken his insecurities out into the world and you were the one he let see that vulnerable side of him. He had something good going for him finally, and he went and ruined it.

Who could he be mad at but himself?

When Hyunjae sees you again, it’s been at least a week since your argument in the middle of campus.

He’d been beating himself up over the fight the entire time. Numerous what-if scenarios ran through his mind when he should’ve been sleeping. He wonders what he could’ve said to make everything turn out differently. Had he just told you what was bothering him, told you about that icky sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, perhaps you wouldn’t have walked away.

He’s pretty sure you’re doing it on purpose. You avoided him until you knew you’d definitely see him, and then you’d flaunt yourself to purposefully piss him off. Despite only knowing each other for a little over a month, you had Hyunjae read like the back of your hand. You knew he was stubborn and had to be pushed into admitting he was wrong. He’d never outright confess to his mistakes unless you backed him into a corner and forced him to.

So you can imagine his reaction when he saw you walk into that week’s TBZ party with Cha Eunwoo around your shoulders.

If Lee Hyunjae had any faults, it was that he was too prideful. He realizes this when you stroll right past him, ignoring his presence. You giggle at something Eunwoo said as you grab some drinks. There’s no way you aren’t doing this to get on his nerves. Especially not in that outfit.

His grip on his cup is not normal, he knows that. But it’s not subtle if anyone notices and when Juyeon of all people points it out, he knows it even more.

“Yo, dude. Are you good? You look like you might kill somebody if we’d let you.” The younger male pats his back.

“Honestly, no, not really. But there isn’t really anything I can do about it.” Hyunjae huffs, welcoming his defeat with open arms.

“You can talk to me about things. It’s kinda weird but I always feel like getting out your thoughts is better than internalizing and blowing up randomly.” He says after a moment.

“I guess I’m just confused why I’m so jealous of something that isn’t mine.” The heart to heart with his frat brother follows the entire five stages of grief, starting with step one; Denial. He’ll keep denying the real reason he feels the way he does.

“Are you talking about that girl you were messing around with during break?” Juyeon asks, bringing his cup to his mouth. “And the fact that she’s here with Cha Eunwoo?”

Step two; Anger. His cup snaps and the sharp edge of the plastic scratches the inside of his palm. “Why would I be jealous of her being here with him? I could give less of a fuck about that. She’s not my girlfriend, she can do whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow at how defensive his senior gets, lips quirking up. “Sure, Hyunjae. You’re not jealous. But you’re acting like it and you know you are.”

“Well,” step three; bargaining. “I’m not not jealous, I just— I don’t know. I’ve never been on this side of the situation before. Am I even allowed to be mad about it?”

“I mean, it’s a little unconventional, but yeah, I think you are. You spent the better part of a month getting to know this girl. You’ve seen her in ways other people haven’t. Even if you weren’t going into it with the intention to start something, I think it’s hard not to want anything after. Unless you’re completely heartless. But you’re not exactly The Grinch, so.” Juyeon sounds too wise for standing in the middle of a frat party.

“Nothing’s gonna happen now, though. She hates me and wants nothing to do with me because I screwed up.” Step four; Depression.

“You don’t know that unless you make an attempt to fix it,” his junior sighs. “Look, she’s gonna keep projecting how upset you made her if you aren’t gonna do something about it. But there’s a high chance that she’ll forgive you if you’re just real with her.”

And last, but not least, step five. Acceptance. Lee Hyunjae has finally accepted that he’s not an emotionless robot incapable of producing feelings for someone. He takes Juyeon’s advice right then and there, deciding that this is something he has to do immediately. (He also knows how much you can drink at these things and he preferred that you were sober when he spoke to you.)

He thanks his friend and sets off to search for you in the sea of already drunk university students. He’s anxious. He’s never been the type to have serious discussions about anything, really. He assumes that it stems from never seeing that in his own parents. They loved each other, yeah, but they never really talked about difficult topics with each other. Or, in front of him they didn’t.

Hyunjae thinks he might throw up when he finds you in the other room. Cha Eunwoo is still glued to your side, but he’s hardly paying attention to you, talking to his friends. You look bored, like you were waiting for something— or someone— to save you. This was his opportunity.

Your eyes widen when you see him heading straight for you, swallowing thickly. There wasn’t any route of escape so you were stuck having to deal with him. In all honesty, the hurt was still very fresh for you, and you weren’t sure you could handle talking to him yet.

“Can we please talk? I need to tell you something,” he yells over the loud music.

“Why should I listen to what you have to say?” Your tone is shaky, wavering slightly, but you’re grateful that he can’t hear it with how voluminous this party is.

“Y/N,” he pleads almost, eyes communicating what you needed to hear. “This is important.”

You concede, sneaking from Eunwoo and following Hyunjae blindly. You could be getting whisked away to your demise, but the former hardly even notices, too engrossed in whatever he was saying to his friends. You’re a bit apprehensive when Hyunjae takes you into his bedroom, biting your cheek when the memories of what you’ve done in here come flooding back to you.

“Okay, I don’t know how to put this into a coherent thought,” he turns his back to you.

“Can we just get this over with? You don’t want me, remember? I don’t even know why I’m giving you the time of day—“

“Of course I want you,” he exclaims, spinning around and pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, are you blind? It’s so obvious that I’ve wanted you for so long, Y/N. I’m just stupid and I fucked everything up, because I was scared that things would change and I’m afraid of change. That’s the reason why I have commitment problems. I don’t want to commit myself to something just for everything to change in the blink of an eye.”

You shut up after that, your heart skipping in your chest. This was what you wanted. You wanted a messy confession. Something that told you it wasn’t all in your head. That you weren’t making things up. That he felt the same way you did.

Your lips collide in a rough, desperate manner. Hyunjae’s never had a way with words, so kissing you with every ounce of longing in his being and holding you like you’d disappear any second was his outlet. This was how he could show you his true feelings. Your heart rate transitions from your pulse point to your ears, amplifying with each suck of your bottom lip between his teeth

You’ve done this so many times before, but it will never be the same as this one. No one could ever make you feel the way Lee Hyunjae does. It might be crazy, but it only took a month for you to realize that there will never be another for you. The conversations that trickled into early hours of the morning following going at it like jackrabbits were perfect to you. They weren’t ideal, but they were enough.

The two of you walk backwards until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, your knees on either side of his lap. You cup his jaw in your hands, grinding down on him every time your lips move together. Hyunjae’s fingers dig into your sides and push up the material of your dress. He’s moving fast, rushed like you might decide you don’t want this and walk out of his room.

You can’t really blame him, your pace disorganized with only one goal in mind. Neither of you could be bothered with the foreplay, too needy and craving the touch of one another as quickly as possible. You part from him to pull off your dress, eyes fluttering shut when he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. He doesn’t want to waste time commenting on the fact that you were braless underneath so he busies himself with pecking the tops of your tits. Your fingers card through his hair with an extended sigh, noticing how long it’s gotten since you first met.

Hyunjae pushes his pants down his legs as you yank his shirt over his head, reconnecting your lips. He uses his ring and middle fingers to shove aside your underwear, discarding his own shortly after. Your mouth nips and bites your favorite places on his neck, ensuring you mark the surface so everyone knows who he belongs to. You were the one who acquired the key to Lee Hyunjae’s heart.

Your teeth sink into his skin the moment he slips inside of you, both of you moaning when he slides right into your cunt like he was meant to be there. You whine when he bottoms out, your sensitive clit bumping into his pelvic bone. You’re so warm and inviting, Hyunjae feels like he’s falling under a spell. Just being inside of you feels like a form of hypnosis. If it was up to him, he’d stay here forever, content to sit with his cock stuffed in you without interruption. But you both yearn for more than that.

He tightens his grip on your hips, bucking upwards into you and watching with heavy eyes as a whine spills from your lips. You look so fucked out despite him doing absolutely nothing to you yet. He thrusts up again experimentally, grinning when your upper half knocks into his.

“Feel good, baby?” He coos into your ear, nipping at the lobe and the area surrounding.

You nod with a whimper when his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside your pussy. “Mhm, feels so— fuck, Jae, want it harder.”

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he smiles into your skin.

He increases the speed that he fucks into you, pinning down your hips so you can’t move and all you can do is take it. It’s like you can feel him in your abdomen, his cock plunging in you so far. You’d think after a month of fucking practically every day, you’d be used to his size by now. However, that was just not attainable. You don’t think you could ever get used to how big he was, how thick he was.

The force that he drives into you with is unmatched, miles apart from what he’s given you before. It’s like he wants to burn the shape of himself inside you, so you never forget that he’s the one making you feel like this. Nobody but Hyunjae can fuck you this well.

He moves you further up the bed, flattening his feet on the mattress and laying down so he can press deeper, a new angle that has your vision going blank. You don’t think twice about the volume of your cries, letting him know how good he’s giving it to you. You’re encouraging him, wanting him to get cockier so he can keep fucking you into oblivion. Your fingers grasp at the sheets beside his head for support.

Hyunjae’s nails impress crescent shapes into your waist, his mouth returning to your tits so he can leave his own marks all over your chest. It’s when your clit rubs against his lower stomach again that you let go, your orgasm crashing into like a train. It winds you, ripping your breath from your throat and stealing your oxygen. He’s close behind, the feeling of your walls clenching around him in rapid intervals triggering his own.

He fills you up nicely, both of you releasing guttural groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. You’re too exhausted to get up, collapsing on top of him. He doesn’t mind, more than happy to stay buried inside of you even if you didn’t do anything.

“So…” You start after a bit of silence, drawing unrecognizable shapes on his chest. “You’ve wanted me for so long, huh?”

“Shut up,” he laughs, eyes closed while he recuperates from using all of his energy on you. “This is still new for me.”

“I know, Mr. Emotionally Constipated And I Don’t Date ‘Cause I’m Going To Be A Big Fancy Hotshot Lawyer,” you tease, pecking his lips and then his nose. “I must be extremely special to be the one who changed your mind.”

“You’ll be the death of me, you know that right?” He shakes his head, brushing some of your hair from your face. You smile down at him with an unfamiliar fondness in your eyes.

“Why else do you think we’ve gotten this far?”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Prologue

Tommy offers Joel help one last time. The prologue to The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Grief. Mentions of child death. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 1.3k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Next Chapter

“If you think I’m not going to fight for what’s mine, you’re insane!” 

Joel remembered the woman on the screen. She was young, beautiful, her perfectly made up face snarled in rage. He remembered her. He always remembered her. 

He remembered the scene, too. 

Sarah had loved this show. She was obsessed, one of her friends at school put her onto it and she watched it all in a matter of weeks on Netflix. 

Joel had hated this show. There were drugs and sex and Sarah was just 13 when she watched it but he’d been such a sucker for her that he let her. He’d always been a sucker for her. He always gave her whatever she asked for. 

Maybe that had been wrong.

Maybe if he’d stood his ground more, maybe if he’d been a better father instead of just giving his daughter whatever she wanted, she wouldn’t be dead. 

“Mr. Miller?” 

Joel looked away from the television, reminded that he was in the hospital and that it must be after 3 a.m. by now. The nurse stood in the doorway, an almost pitying look on her face. 

“Your brother is here to see you.” 

Joel just went back to watching the TV. The woman he remembered was still there, beautiful face streaked with tears.

“I can’t believe you,” she whispered. She was a good actress, he thought. Convincing. She sounded like she was in pain. He doubted someone like her even knew what that would really feel like, what that would really sound like. He did. He knew. 

“Joel.” 

He looked to the door, his brother standing there, the early morning beginnings of a beard on his chin, in athletic wear instead of the suit he saw him in so often these days. He looked back to the TV. 

“You can’t keep doing this, man,” Tommy said, coming in and standing beside him. The woman on the TV raised a gun. “You can’t keep beating the shit out of people you don’t like, I can’t keep trying to buy them off, Maria can’t keep talking you out of trouble with the cops… Hell, I only really talked Maria into it this time because it’s the anniversary of the day she… we know it’s hard but you’re this close to ending up in deep shit with an actual rap sheet, man.” 

She screamed and sobbed as she pulled the trigger. 

“Joel.” 

The woman panted for breath before lifting the gun to her temple. It cut to commercial. 

“Sarah loved that show,” Joel said, looking away from the TV to see Tommy close his eyes and shake his head with a sigh. 

“I know you’ve been strugglin’,” Tommy said, crossing his arms and looking at him again. “And I don’t blame you, alright? What you’ve been through… I’d be a wreck too. I know it ain’t the same but it killed me too, for a while, losing her that way. Can’t even imagine what it’s like for you. But Joel… it’s been three years now. You can’t keep destroying yourself like this, you just can’t. It’s killing me to watch you do it but I don’t got it in me to keep saving you. I cannot let you drag me down with you, not now, not with…” 

He clenched his jaw for a moment, looking back toward the door and back at Joel again. 

“Maria’s pregnant.” Joel’s heart clenched. “She’s my focus now. I want to be there for you, Joel. Lord knows I owe you after everything you did for me but I can’t do it at the expense of myself or my wife and my kid. You understand?” 

Joel nodded slowly, looking to his boots. There was a dark spot on the left toe, the leather never really clean from the blood. 

“Here,” Tommy held out a business card.

Joel frowned. 

“Think I know how to get ahold of my own brother.” 

“This ain’t for me,” Tommy said. “It’s my hiring manager. This is the last thing I’m doin’ for you, Joel. Come and work for me. I can help you that way, make sure you’re not out there on your own. You don’t got the formal training of the other guys but we can handle that. Christ knows you got the raw skill, just ask the asshole whose face you rearranged…” 

“He’s lucky that’s all I did,” Joel snapped. 

Tommy ignored him. 

“Once your hand heals up, we can get you started,” Tommy said, card still out. Joel took it, running his fingers over the embossed lettering. “I want to help you, Joel. I want to be there for you. This is the last way I can do that. Understand?” 

He just looked at the card, Miller Security in large letters, Military Grade Personal Protection in smaller ones below. The email address was for someone named Marlene. 

Joel had probably met her at some point but he didn’t remember her. Joel had been to a few company BBQs and happy hours for the private security company his brother had founded about six months after his daughter died. 

Tommy used to work alongside Joel, the two of them taking contracting work together. If wasn’t easy work but it was satisfying. Joel liked building things, liked working with his hands and seeing the physical manifestations of his labor. It wasn’t a bad life, in hindsight. Not since he’d blown it. 

After his daughter died, Joel couldn’t keep working. He tried, after a few weeks, to get back to it but he sometimes showed up drunk, sometimes didn’t show up at all. It wasn’t long before he was fired and word spread. Soon, he got shot down for every job he tried for. He’d screwed over not just himself but Tommy, too. 

That’s how Tommy came to create the security company to begin with. He had a few old special forces buddies move back to town looking for work and Tommy realized he had a lot of highly trained men with time on their hands at his fingertips. What better way to put them to use than to start a security company?

The business took off. Joel was proud of him. Or, as proud as he could be while the rot of guilt gnawed at him for letting down his then struggling brother so badly he needed to start his own fucking business to fix it. 

And now his brother - six years his junior, the kid he’d promised his mother he’d look after when she was on her death bed - was offering him a job after bailing him out at least a dozen times in three years. 

“I want to help, Joel,” Tommy said. “Please let me. Work with me, get back on your feet, have a support system. I want to help but you have to let yourself be helped. Please.” 

Joel tucked the card into the pocket of his shirt and looked at Tommy, a pleading look in his eyes. Eyes that reminded him of Sarah. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll email in the mornin’.” 

Tommy closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he said as a nurse came in around him. “I’ll be out here, give you a ride home…” 

“We’ll have him out quick,” the woman smiled kindly as Tommy turned to go. “I’m here to handle discharge. Can you confirm your name and birthday for me?” 

“Joel Miller,” he said. “September 26, 1982.” 

“Oh!” She looked up from the chart and smiled at Joel. “Happy birthday!” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Welcome to The Savage and the Sanctuary! I like to introduce my new fics as I'm finishing up an existing one. This likely won't get chapter one for a few weeks yet but you never know what might happen! I hope you're excited to go on this journey as Joel learns to find himself again after surviving the loss of Sarah. There's a lot of angst and excitement and smut ahead! Fingers crossed you enjoy the ride.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 1: Angst with a happy ending

,,Me too." | @tami-ryver

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1,748

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Hunt Gone Wrong, Werewolves, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Major Character Injury, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), AngstAngst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood, Fictober 2023

Summary: The silence is unbearable. Not even insects can be heard in the darkness, not even moon shines down on their path. The only source of light they have are the flashlights they took from the Impala. Armed with silver knives and the demon knife, they walk deep in the darkness of the forest, in search of the place where the massacre took place.

I Want You to Know That I'm Awake (I Hope That You're Asleep) | @starstiels

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2,192

Main Tags/Warnings: depressed!dean (heavily implied), post-canon, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, first kiss, selectively mute dean, mental health issues, panic attack

Summary: Dean Winchester wants to cry. He wants to scream and yell and sob until his lungs give out and his eyes sting like needles.

The Covert Identity (WIP) | @rowanspn

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,623 (22,561 updated)

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Florist Castiel (Supernatural), Crime Boss Lucifer (Supernatural), Kid Fic, Kid Jack Kline, Blood and Violence, Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Dean Winchester loves his job; working as a secret agent has its perks. There is nothing quite like the thrill of saving people and hunting down criminals. And with his baby brother Sammy at his side, it’s a family business. However, when he and Sam are assigned to the case of Lucien Shurley, a suspected crime lord with a rap sheet a mile long, Dean’s semi-predictable life takes a turn for the unprecedented and over complicated. He and Sam must go undercover to investigate Lucien’s own family, his brothers Gabriel and Castiel, and his young son, Jack, to find out just how involved they truly are. As the stakes rise and the body count follows, it is up to Sam and Dean to solve the greatest mystery of their careers; who is Castiel Novak and what does he know?

he's gonna take my files | @autisticandroids

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,191

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Saves Cas from the Empty, Afterlife, Triangulation of Desire, Memories, Trauma, Hurt Cas, Canon Divergent, Canon Remix, Warnings in Author's Note

Summary: Dean goes to the Empty, where Cas is floating through his memories.

when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6,821

Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel, Season/Series 09, Not Canon Compliant, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.

Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,586

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Hallucinations, Injured Castiel, Protective Dean, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Praying, Angel Grace, Humor (mostly in the epilogue)

Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.

Send Me a Postcard | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 10,387

Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, References to Depression, Bisexual Dean Winchester

Summary: Shortly after his rescue from the Empty, Cas hits the road late one night without telling anyone he's leaving. Two weeks later, a postcard arrives for Dean.

whisper your name without making a noise | @deancaskiss

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 12,577

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Muteness, Mute Dean Winchester, traumatic mutism, Mutism, Major Character Undeath, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Pining, POV Dean Winchester, Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Rough Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Drinking to Cope, Drinking Alcohol, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Getting Together, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15, Fix-It, Character Death Fix, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, The Empty (Supernatural), the handprint, Dean Winchester's Jacket

Summary: Losing Cas to the Empty felt like Dean was losing a piece of himself. I love you, Cas had said; and then he was gone before Dean got the chance to tell Cas how he felt. But Cas might have taken more than just Dean’s heart when the Empty ripped him away. Cas is gone, and so is Dean’s voice. Traumatic mutism: according to Sam and Eileen, Dean had been through a traumatic experience losing Cas and now he was mute. So, Eileen taught Dean sign language, and Sam bought notebooks for Dean to write out his thoughts. But Dean never stopped aching for Cas; praying to him every day and searching for a way to bring Cas home. When Dean finds a way into Empty, it’s a fight like he’s never fought before. Scream, Dean, scream, the Empty taunts. But Dean can’t stop until he’s rescued Cas, kissed his angel breathless, and told Cas the truth about how he feels—voice or no voice.

Taking one for the team | @artichokegarden

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16,846

Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stanford Era, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Kink Negotiation, Kink Discovery, Praise Kink, BDSM, Spanking, Whipping, Bath Sex, Hair Washing, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Abusive John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings

Summary: Cas blinked slowly. “Your father sent you to his friend’s sex club as bait for a sex monster. And you want me to find your lost memories of this for you?”

“Don’t you start, Cas. We need to find out what happened, or those women are as good as dead. If I wanted to listen to a load of crap about dad’s parenting choices, I’d have told all this to Sam in the first place, instead of biting his head off for asking. Let’s just agree he wasn’t winning father of the year for this one and let it go, okay?”

When women start going missing from sex clubs, Cas investigates Dean's memories of a Stanford-Era case and finds some secrets there that could help their relationship in the present.

this bitter nightcall | @abi-cosmos

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 32,514

Main Tags/Warnings: Djinn curse, Jealous Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Unreliable narrator, Heavy angst, Implied Castiel/Mick Davies, Inappropriate smut, Dean doesn't know what's real, Love confessions, Post-season 12, Very brief almost major character death, Hurt/Comfort, Case fic, True love's kiss

Summary: Dean gets touched by a djinn, but it's all cool. Or, is it?

Forced to confront his desires, Dean's grip on reality slips. Leaving Castiel, Sam, and Mick Davies trying to find a way to save him before it’s too late.

If only they knew that the cure is right in front of them.

Gracefully Yours, Always | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 39,815

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Episode: S09E10, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Temporary Blindness, Angelic Grace, Hurt Dean

Summary: As Dean hopelessly waits for Gadreel and Crowley to be expelled from Sam’s body, he and Castiel are unexpectedly ambushed by Malachi and the remainder of his soldiers, seeking retribution for what Castiel has done to his faction. Because Castiel gets gravely injured in the fight, Dean resists the urge to isolate himself, and instead returns to the bunker with his friend and Sam, determined to put an end to the fallen angel madness, and also, perhaps, try to understand why, after everything he’s done, Castiel still stands by his side.

Still Waters Run Deep | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 41,168

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent After s15e09 The Trap, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Castiel, Mark of Cain, Aquaphobia, Claustrophobia, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester

Summary: In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak.

It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood.

In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate.

Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

When I Knew You | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 54,272

Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Time Travel, Bartender Dean Winchester, Editor Castiel, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Incorrect Science, Social Anxiety, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Shortly after moving into his new house, Dean Winchester finds a strange, flickering light in the middle of his living room. When he touches it, he’s transported two years into the past, to the days when a man named Castiel Novak lived in the house.

Dean’s own time pulls him back eventually, but the gateway to the past keeps appearing, and Dean keeps visiting Cas — sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. They soon fall in love, but there is no possible future for them, for one simple reason: in a few weeks, Cas is supposed to die.

As the date of Cas’ death draws closer, will Dean be able to save his life? And if he does… will the two of them find a way to be together in the same time?

On the flip side | Joysprings (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 64,357

Main Tags/Warnings: Lgbtq, Polyamorous characters, Blood and Injury, Time Jumps, Neurodivergence, Autistic Castiel, Emotional Abuse, Pilot Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Grief and Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Domestic Destiel, Dean and Cas are dad's, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending I Promise,

Summary: A little over a year after airforce test pilot Dean Winchester's plane crashes and goes missing, its finally found. Castiel Winchester, Dean's widowed husband reflects on his grief and his memory re visits the most significant points of their relationship throughout their time together and how they shaped the present. The whole family is left to deal with the resurfaced trauma from the initial accident, and will finally learn about what truly happened, uncovering new and unexpected answers. This is their journey.

(Story will alternate chapters from the present to past time stamps)

the weight of your bones | Chi_Yagami (Ao3)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 66,780

Main Tags/Warnings: afterlife, soulmates (sort of), canon divergent, hunter Dean Winchester, human Castiel, kid Jack Kline, angst with a happy ending, touch-starved, flashbacks/discussions of death, panic attacks

Summary: After rescuing his brother's fiancée from a house fire he doesn't survive, Dean Winchester finds himself in Heaven. He's immediately suspicious—after all, with everything he's done during his time on Earth... there's no way he deserves to be here. He lives in a beautiful neighborhood right down the street from his parents, in an amazing house that he shares with his new soulmate, Cas—a man Dean's never even met. Despite Dean's best efforts to keep his distance, Cas seems determined to make their new relationship work in the afterlife.

However, Cas doesn't understand... he isn't aware of Dean's past. Cas doesn't know that all Dean's good for is destroying relationships and ganking monsters. Cas doesn't know that Dean once got an innocent civilian killed on a case, doesn't know of the cave that haunts Dean's dreams. People are made of memories they bury or live by, and Dean chose to bury his a long time ago.

But as Cas chips away at Dean's resistance... the once-forgotten bones begin to surface.

When Tomorow Comes | @teeparadigm67

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 78,994

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Lots of Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty (kind of), Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Saved, First Time, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, Dean Winchester in the Empty, First Kiss, The World is Saved, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester's Taste in Music, Sharing a Bed, Frottage, Men of Letters Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Happy Ending, Alternate Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15

Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they're already were too late.

Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark.

All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten.

The Unbroken | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 126,551

Main Tags/Warnings: zombie apocalypse, bed sharing, hurt and comfort, angel castiel, protective dean, soft dean, endverse, bamf castiel, bottom dean

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

Fortunate Son (WIP) | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 128,610

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Vietnam War, Character Death (but no MCD), Blood and Injury, Counterculture, Recreational Drug Use, Mutual Pining, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Coming Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Getting Back Together, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary: The year is 1966, the place is Kansas, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are falling in love. But with Castiel under the thumb of his conservative parents and Dean set to ship out to Vietnam, there is no possible future for them.

As Castiel’s life turns upside down and the hell of Vietnam threatens to swallow Dean’s soul, it will take everything they have to find their way back to each other. But some things are worth waiting — and fighting — for.

[devnmon]

Hidden Comforts (Under the Covers)

Summary: Winter in the prison keeps Daryl awake for days, and it seems his only solution for rest is seeking you out in the dead of night.

a/n: yep. it’s me, devnmon, writing yet another daryl fic after months of not writing. here’s one of my favorite trope(s), tweaked a bit for the likes of this fic: the one bed trope. lots of cute pining from both sides, shyness and uncertainty for the like of the masses. i hope u guys will survive as this is the softest shit i’ve ever fucking wrote. enjoy <3 [credit 2 cafekitsune for dividers]

warnings: none

wc: 2k

Windows froze solid shook against the wind and ice raining down from the sky, along with inches upon inches of snow to make the prison courtyard a white frontier. The only thing this kind of weather helped was depleting the amount of walkers around, ones who hadn’t frozen solid against a tree or upright in the ice.

Among the cold walls of the prison, a shiver of slight wind continuously fled through the building. There were god knows how many cracks in the foundation, windows that were void of panes, not to mention the ginormous hole in one of the halls that had been sealed off from the otherwise livable quarters. All the rebuilding of your home, yet the frigid temperatures persisted.

It was cold enough outside, your group couldn’t help the breeze finding its way in above all they’ve done to patch the place up. There was no way of setting a fire for just a smidge of warmth, either. So, the remaining members of your group were left to the clothes on their backs, and whatever they’d scavenged from the cells to help fend off the frozen temperatures.

Outside, the wind rapped against windows and a shiver ran through your body. You’d been hunched over in your cell, layers upon layers of clothing attempted to clothe yourself from the weather. It did nothing to help the cold from seeping to your core. Your teeth chittered against one another, a hand wrapping around the wool blanket from your mattress to cover your body with it.

From a distance, you heard footsteps down the hall. Probably just Rick or Daryl making their rounds in the cell blocks to see how everyone was holding up during the storm. It was hard for everyone, especially the new people taken in from Woodbury and Judith, Rick’s infant daughter, to deal with this discomfort of winter.

Thudding of feet on the stone flooring became louder minute by minute, knowing now that it had to be one of the two men, now, leaders of your group of survivors you called family. You weren’t as advanced as Daryl was with his tracking, so you really couldn’t tell which one of the men it was. Though, as the steps became louder, it came to your attention the distinct sound of heeled boots, as well as metal clinking on his belt. It was only a moment before you heard the sound of the sheet blocking your cell doorway being pulled back.

“Hey. How you holdin’ up?”

Hesitating on movement at first, you sighed, then turned toward the southern voice in the doorway. Rick stood in the hallway, hand on his hip, the other holding the curtain back.

“Hey, Rick. I’m... hanging in there… best I can. Not much I can do to change how fucking cold it is but… how’s everyone else doing?”

You hear him respond from the hall, “They’re managing. Carl was askin’ about you though, wanted to make sure you were okay. He’s spending the night with Judith.”

“Mm, okay. I’ll check in with him later… or tomorrow. Whenever I’m not freezing my ass off..” Chuckling, you shift the blanket tighter around you.

“Right, well don’t freeze to death tonight, ‘kay? We need you,” He says, beginning to drop the curtain until he pulls it back open and says, “Daryl was askin’ about you earlier.”

“Daryl was? What- what did he say?” You double blinked in surprise at such an idea.

You had just recently become close with him, but it would be a lie if you said you weren’t holding back some teeny tiny feelings for him. A teeny tiny crush that made being in the mere presence of him overwhelming. Your palms always began sweating whenever he got close to you, making your voice shake and train of thought lost in the way he held himself. Daryl was intimidating, but you knew he was kind, and even quite funny amidst the struggles he’s been through.

“Somethin’ about him not being able to sleep in this cold. Was wondering the same about you. He’ll probably be up all night...” Rick scratched the back of his head.

“Poor guy... I mean I thought he was a night owl, but I couldn’t imagine not being able to sleep at all.” You stated, concern for him growing.

“He’s had it rough. But I don’t think he’ll put his head down even if he got within an inch of being tired. Would you check on him if you get the chance?”

“Sure. You should go get some rest yourself. You definitely need it.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Have a good night.” You smile at him this time as he drops the sheet fully this time, the clicking of his heeled boots drifting away.

What kept you awake for the next half hour was the thought of what went on behind those pretty eyes of his, always considering everyone around him while not thinking of himself at all. You sigh, I wish I could make things better for you. Show you how much love you deserve. Fuck…

You drift off after that, succumbing to fatigue that had your eyelids feeling a hundred pounds heavy.

A couple hours pass before slight stirring outside your small room catches your observant ear. It was far past midnight yet, late enough for everyone with a normal sleep schedule to be out like a light.

You lay in bed, eyes still closed, thinking, who the hell is up at this hour?

The footsteps fade to nothing, thinking whoever it was went back to sleep, perhaps to use the bathroom or something. Then you heard someone clear their throat from the hall, sounding right outside your sheet. It’s then your eyes shot open, peering over to the entrance of the room. You’re about to call out, but remember the dozens of sleeping individuals in the other cells. So you wait.

Sure enough, you hear a sigh still outside of your room, patiently waiting for some, if any, response.

You hear a faint call out of your name, given by someone with a low, surly voice. It takes a minute to register in your head as to who it was, and then you remember what Rick told you earlier.

“Daryl? That you?” Rubbing your eyes from sleep, you sit up.

“Yeah, ‘s me.” You hear his faint footsteps approach slowly, his silhouette painting a dark figure against the white of your sheet. His hand lifts it, peering in with curiosity.

“Come- come in. You don’t have to stay out there.” You state, waving him into the cell, noticing his poncho thrown over his usual leather jacket and shirt. When he’s fully in the room, you notice the dark circles lingering under his blues, proving Rick’s knowledge of the man was true.

“I didn’t wake ya, did I? Shit- couldn’t sleep. Been up forever.”

Shaking your head, you give a small smile, “No, don’t worry. I got some sleep but the cold wasn’t really helping.”

He nods, chewing the inner side of his lip.

“What’s up, Daryl?”

“I just- Ya know this weather, there ain’t a smidge of heat in this damn prison. No matter how many blankets I got.” He half chuckles, but you can tell it’s more of a scoff. Daryl’s wringing his hands within each other and pacing across the floor.

“I know, feels like I’m wearing ten layers of clothes just to not freeze to death. It’s fucking awful. Like I’ve never seen…” You stop for a moment, taking in his stressed state before he glances at you, “Uh.. never seen Georgia of all places have harsh snow like this. Lived here all my life and it’s never been this bad.”

“Yeah, me too. Except that was when we had electricity, and fuckin- road pavers or some shit. I don’t fuckin’ know.” Daryl picks up the chuckle you let out at his words, and you’re nodding when he looks over again.

“Hey, listen. It’s late and I know you didn’t come all the way from the perch to talk to me about the weather.. so really, what’s on your mind?”

Daryl’s pacing halts abruptly, knowing you can read him like a book. It feels as though his stomach turns inside out when he thinks about what he really wants to say. “I uh… I’ve been up for probably two, no, three days now, haven’t been able to sleep since the cold. And… fuck.“

“You know you can tell me anything.” He huffs out a breath and nods to himself, almost like he’d been trying to hype himself up for wanted, no, needed to say. His hesitation had already made you anxious and you wanted to pick his brain to ease all his worries. But you stayed silent and let him speak.

“Okay, listen. I’m damn freezing… and uh, I know you run warm. Like a damn furnace in the summer. But I was wonderin’ if… You wouldn’t mind if I… um, lay with ya?”

You hold off on responding for a moment as his words turn the gears in your head. Daryl wanted to… lay in bed? With you? Just the idea of his body that close to you made your hands sweat. Your eyes darted around swiftly, before you responded.

“Like, in- in my bed? With me?”

“Uh, yeah. Feels like that’s the only way I’m gonna be able to get some shuteye.” His eyebrows furrowed, and you noticed his fidgeting hands. Your silence made him immediately think it was a shit idea and he should’ve just kept it to himself. Should’ve just suffered through the fatigue and gone back to his perch. He began to realize you were about to deny him. What was he thinking?

“Daryl, this bed is not big enough for the two of us.” You chuckled playfully and watched his stern face drop.

“Oh, alrigh’. Sorry t’bother ya.” He began to turn his broad shoulders toward the door.

“But…”

He froze in his steps, turning back.

“Your warmth and rest is more important to me. So, get your ass over here.” A small smile formed on your tired face, painting the tips of his ears red. Daryl kicked off his shoes by the doorway and padded over to your bed. Once you moved to lay down on your side, you lay your head on the edge of your pillow, inviting him to share the blanket with you, your arm out in a welcoming embrace.

Daryl, still caught off guard with the fact that you were letting him be this close to you, kept his poncho on and crawled in next to you on the creaky mattress. He wasn’t surprised at the warmth radiating off you once he fully laid down next to you. The second he looked up at your face, the realization that your faces were inches away made his eyes widen.

“Glad you’re not one to shy away in close quarters..” You giggle, gazing at his facial features for the first time, and this is as close as the two of you have ever been. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards, the smallest inkling of a smile on his face.

“This tiny ass bed is somehow more comfy than mine. Maybe ‘cause you’re here..” You could tell Daryl’s fatigue was catching up with him, as his words slurred, and his eyes began to flutter closed. A piece of his hair falls in front of his eyes, and you move your hand up to move it from covering his eyelids. Once your fingertip ghosts over his face, he flinched, only slightly for a moment and remembered you’re there. He knows you’d never hurt him, leaning into your movement, his shoulders easing up their tightness.

“Shh.. get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Your voice is low and soft, it right about lulls him to sleep.

“M’kay, sunshine.” Daryl scoots in, pressing an inch or so closer to you. You don’t realize at first, but his right hand lays directly on top of yours. His warm hand caresses your palm, slightly moving your fingers to intertwine in his. You cup his cheek, and lightly press a kiss to his forehead. He grumbles to himself a bit more, till you sense he’s fallen asleep, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as well.

He's warm and familiar, safe and closer than ever. You wanted to breathe in the scent of his leather jacket and never let go.

Seems like you were just what he needed for a good night’s rest.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: eddie takes a drive down memory lane, a situationship is revealed, clove finds herself in some harrowing situations in a feeble attempt to cope with eddie’s return.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark! fic, dark themes, ddlg type of relationship but not what you would think, controlling behavior in a relationship, controlling finances type of abuse, narcissist behavior, emotional abuse, hint at sex trafficking/ trading sex for business 18+. drug use/addiction etc.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

That night Eddie didn’t sleep. 

He watched your figure bounce to what he assumed was the dressing room as he sat in solemn silence for what felt like a decade, your eyes engraved into his. 

Jeff understood, or rather wasn’t too upset when Eddie called it a night, dropping off the beers you had poured. He was preoccupied with one of the girls, twirling her pigtails as she sat in his lap, crimson lip stains on his deep cheeks. 

The sweet dew of spring night air met him as he pushed the door to the club open, letting the night’s darkness swallow him as he crunched through the gravel to his motorcycle. 

Turning the opposite direction from where he should have been heading, Eddie cranks the handlebars to head downtown. The lonely hotel mattress could wait another hour before he slipped his body into the pilling worn sheets. 

The steady rap of his bike hammered into his chest as he drove down the broken unwelcoming streets of Hawkins. Down town was desolate, the Radio shack was boarded up and closed, graffiti tagged and windows shattered. Melvald’s windows showed handwritten posters for heavily discounted items. Newspapers tumbled along and caught on light poles, Hawkins resembled a town post apocalypse. 

He couldn’t remember what it used to look like. 

Back then his biggest worry was leaving and taking you with him. For all he knew, Hawkins could have always looked like this. Getting you away from here, that was the only thing on his mind. 

Pushing the thoughts away he cranked the throttle and sped through the streets, unconsciously driving further, his memory taking over. 

He drove past Hawkins High, vague memories formed like wisps of smoke around the parking lot. A younger version of him and you sitting in his van listening to his new Motörhead cassette before Higgins would eventually stroll the parking lot and hand out each of you detentions. 

Hawkins Middle School where he doodled in the margins of his composition book and passed you notes about Mr. Walter’s toupee. Your giggle hidden behind chipped fingernails and a fresh tattoo, eyes squeezed tight to stop from laughing. The memory burned a hole in his heart.

The familiarity drove him on, leading the path down to where you and him used to call home. 

The dust kicked up when his tires wove around the gaping holes of the driveway to Forest Hills Trailer Park. His chest was tight, all air punched from his lungs at what lay before him. 

The trailer he once called home was standing like a decrepit omen. The tires it rested on were flat, wires bulging from the rotting rubber. The entire trailer had sunk into the soft earth beneath it, creating a funhouse effect to the back side, putting it on a tilt. 

The windows that weren’t busted out by rocks were covered with foil, a cheap attempt to keep the sun out. 

What was left of the aluminum siding glistened in the moonlight, taunting him. 

From the way the door stood wide open, and the accumulation of last falls foliage littering the entryway, he guessed that no one lived here anymore—save for the fat mice that kept the trailer cats fed. 

Years of decay and neglect replaced any sort of nostalgia he would have felt being back here. The bad memories came easy, it was the happy ones that he had to dig for. 

Glancing behind him he didn’t notice it at first. The frail frame of a burnt trailer. The roof was swallowed in on itself, charred and soot surrounding the dead grass. Whatever caused this fire had taken the trailer fast, engulfing its matchbox body like kindling. 

His one tiny flicker of hope that maybe you still lived here, maybe he could catch you when you weren’t working, was put out like this fire surely wasn’t. 

Ghost flames danced in his eyes as he blinked back tears. The agony of years away filled him with grief. He didn’t grieve for his loss. He had no reason to. Al Munson was the last person he needed closure from. He hoped for his death. Wished for it. Hoping that some inner dimensional being would crush him like a coke can. But he’d never get that lucky. 

People like his dad, and yours, seemed to live forever. Cockroach luck with bodies that were pickled by alcoholism— they’d roam until they saw ninety, tainting everyone they got close to, poisoning their veins and stealing their dreams.

As he rode away, tears spilled down his face, not for him and his misfortunes. But for you. A little girl lost. A girl he had failed. 

—

1974

ping, clink

You could hear the radio through his bedroom window, the new * tape he had bought  crooning out in muffled tones. 

clink, ping, clink

“c’mon!” you muttered under your breath. The rough cinder block you were balancing on was starting to dig into your bare feet, jagged rocks and concrete stuck out every which way. 

She hadn’t come back. 

Hours had passed and she said she was going to the store with the baby, getting some milk and cigarettes. You watched as the short hand on the clock moved from 3 then 4, 5 to 6, and now it was at 11, moving closer to 12 with each tick that went by. 

Dad wasn’t home, spending the night with friends in Indianapolis looking for “fresh meat” whatever that meant. 

You were left home alone. Not a first time occurrence, but definitely not on a night when the wind was howling like a wolf. 

The trailer groaned, shadows appeared in all shapes over your shared empty room. Scary faces with pointy teeth. Long witch-like arms that scratched against the aluminum siding, the air vent whistling against the tin roof had you yelping, hiding beneath your covers. 

When the power went out, it took the tiny brightness from the shell nightlight with it, leaving you in an eerie darkness, and you had enough for one night.  

Eddie’s trailer was one down from yours, a quick 15 second run through the tall weeds would get you there in no time. Tucking the oversized shirt you wore as pajamas into the waistband of a pair of cotton shorts, you opened the trailer door, your blankie tucked safe into the crook of your arm. 

The screen door was ripped from your hand by a large gust of wind, but you couldn’t be bothered with that upon realizing that the entire trailer park was cast into darkness, not a single stitch of light to be seen. 

Your feet found the familiar path from Eddie’s trailer to yours with ease as you raced past the Peterson’s chained up rottweiler. His bark loud enough to scare a grown man into hiding. 

Racing up the front steps you knocked quietly, not wanting to wake up Eddie’s dad and deal with his wrath, his fuse shorter than your own fathers. Wiggling the handle you realized it was locked, which was strange considering that the Munson’s didn’t even own a house key. 

And that was what led you here, knocking on Eddie’s window at 11 o’clock at night, standing on tiptoes on the cinder block used as a step ladder. 

“Eddie!” you whisper yelled into the night, your voice traveling away with the wind, “Eddie! P-please, it’s me!” 

Giving up on silent little knocks of your knuckles against the glass, you hit the window hard with a fist and an open palm, tears flowing down your cheeks in desperation. 

The sheet covering his window that served as a curtain, moved back quickly the same time a round orb of light shined in your eyes. 

His hair was a god awful mess, smushed to his head from sleep, curls limp and frizzy. He mouths your name in a question, tucking the flashlight under his chin, his fingers work to lift the window up the broken track. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, like I was…hey are you okay?”

The tears slip down your face faster than you could stop them, and you wipe them away hastily with the corner of your blankie. 

Eddie moves stuff from his dresser, sliding books into a milk crate and plastic army guys to the floor. 

“Put your foot there,” he instructed, pointing to the siding of the trailer, “like if you were climbing a tree or something.” 

You do as your told, and Eddie leans through the window, grabbing your hands and hoisting you into his room. 

When your feet are on the warm carpet you take a shuddering breath, “thanks, the wind is—”

“Scary, I know, that’s why I have the stereo on… makes it hard to hear it.” 

You stand there for a few seconds, fingers fiddling around the hem of your blankie, embarrassed, not sure what your plans were after making it inside. “Your door’s locked.” 

“Oh, my uncle Wayne is here, he must’ve done it, I dunno.” 

Your face stays puzzled, “your uncle?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie chirps almost gleefully, “Took me to supper and then we went bowling! I’ve met him once or twice, seems cool.” 

“Cool.”

Eddie whispers loud, “Hey! I know some good ghost stories if you wanna have a sleepover?” 

“Um sure, okay.” 

You help Eddie arrange his room, placing the flash light on his bed and angling it towards the closet so he can find an afghan he swore was in there. 

When all was said and done his bed held a thin sheet and a frumpy couch pillow. A smile on his face as you sat side by side, backs pressed into the thin walls.  

Your voice was small when Eddie placed the flashlight under his chin, illuminating his face and casting shadows against the walls, your blankie tucked beneath your nose.  

 “Eddie, I—I changed my mind, don’t wanna hear any scary stories tonight.” 

“Yeah, ’course,” the flashlight falls between you to shine lazily on his dresser, and he hesitates a question that had been burning since you crawled through his window. 

“Clove, where's your mom? Didn’t see her car when we left, or when we got back.” 

Tears squish against your eyelashes as you try to stop them from falling, and your chin quivers. “Th—the store.” 

His voice is soft, “Is your dad home?”

You shake your head, pressing your face into the worn comfort of the thread bared blankie. A hand lays consciously on your back rubbing in a little circle between your shoulder blades. 

Eddie hadn’t had to comfort someone before he wasn’t even sure he was doing it right but he just kept trying. Hoping whatever he was doing would make it better. 

After a few minutes you perked your head up, wiping the wet from your eyes and looking at your friend with swollen eyelids.

“Do you know any happy stories?” 

Eddie’s lips stretched into a small smile as he leaned partly off his bed to find a cream paperback from his nightstand, “The Fellowship Of The Ring” written on the cover. 

He holds it towards you, “Wayne gave me this… I haven’t read it yet but he said it was good.” 

You nod your head, “okay.”

He wiggles his hips down into the blanket, and hands you the flashlight, clearing his throat he begins. 

“When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton…..”

—

1989

“…wake up..”  

Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and unexpected return. 

“fuck, did you hear me?”

…The riches he had brought back from his travels had now become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might say…

The young boy’s reassuring voice morphs into a woman's panicked squeak. The warm arm that was buddied next to yours, the soft lumpy texture of your blankie, the Pert shampoo smell of the percale pillowcase drifted away like smoke from a fire. Traveling higher and higher into the sky until it blended with the atmosphere, weaving and connecting until it was nothing more than a euphoric elevated induced memory. 

You close your eyes to try to find your way back to Eddie. To hear him, see him, feel his voice booming in theatrics as he changed characters. The solace he brought you just by being him. 

A splash of something cold and wet hits your face causing you to gasp, sputtering from the passed out dream land you were in. 

“Oh my God! Shit, Clove! I almost called 9-1-1!” 

Veronica was standing before you with a glass in her hand, water dripping from the mouth of it, falling in unison with the ones from your chin, your hair. 

Her eyes were larger than the moon, staring down at you like she was looking at a ghost, a hand pressed to her chest in relief. 

“Cold,” you muttered, wrapping your fingers around your arms, teeth chattering. Looking out from the confined corner of the cooler, sheltered by cases of beer and an empty keg.  

“What are you even doing in here, thought you left already.” Veronica asked, lending a hand down to help you up. 

“Inventory,” you say motioning around you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and she was being ridiculous for even asking. 

“Oh..” Veronica’s voice goes small, “you looked… dead.”

You chuckle to hide the shake in your voice, straightening your wet shirt. 

“Never heard of throwing water on the dead, but you’re into that weird voodoo shit so it makes sense.” 

Your joke falls flat. 

Her green emerald eyes let on that she's not stupid enough to think that you had just fallen asleep. Her eyes stare back at you and you roll yours, “swear I just got a little tired and sat down for only a minute, haven’t been sleeping much lately.” 

Veronica knew better than to challenge you. She was your friend, and like Jolene had done with you, you’d  taken Veronica in like a school pet, teaching her the do’s and dont’s of the industry. 

“Okay.” she says in defeat, and you lower your shoulders a bit to look relaxed.  “I thought you’d left already, Rick’s looking for you, he’s called twice.”

Shit.

—

Hawkins was quiet this late. And the drive to Rick’s house gave you just enough time to get your shit together. 

Eddie always came to you in your dreams but never that vividly before. It was almost as if it were real. Just two kids, finding solace in one another. 

God you’d give anything to go back to those simple days.

When the solution to being scared was just a few steps from your trailer found between the pages of a paperback book and the heart of a best friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. 

Books were a luxury, an easy way to escape reality when things were worse than they’d ever been. Outside of a car magazine in the bathroom and the black book that held numbers, dates and dollar amounts, your parents didn’t keep anything like that around, not even a cookbook. 

But the fantasies kept you company, kept you safe, and Eddie’s voice was like a lullaby, always keeping you grounded. 

It was simple when your demons weren’t fought alone. The armor Eddie wore then was scuffed and scarred by countless swords, its job of keeping you safe accomplished. 

But the armor was tossed aside and you had to put it on yourself—finding it heavy, digging at your shoulders, metal pinching your skin, bruising your body in places. The armor wasn’t made for you, it was made for him, the gaps between you bared yourself to the danger, and before long— the strength of the armor was challenged, broken down. 

Did he know? That you were defenseless? That the armor didn’t fit you? 

Rick’s house was dark when your headlights shone against the cedar plank siding. Steering wheel cranking to straighten your tires, rocks crushing against the concrete. 

Grabbing the nightly ledger and the tin lock box from the passenger seat, your door swings open with a grinding thud, and clanks back into place when you slam it shut. 

A single table lamp was glowing when you knocked with a tight grip on the front door. A cleared throat and the burning end of a cigar meet you on the porch, lounging in a wicker chaise. 

“I don’t like tardiness young lady.” leaning forward into the moonlight, Rick finally showed his face. 

The breath you were holding goes out in a shudder, but you plant one of your famous smiles on your lips and twist your body towards him, landing softly between his legs on the corner of the lounge chair. 

“I’m hardly younger than you are,” you tease, offering up the deposits like you’re bestowing him a gift. “b’sides, I’m not that late anyway.” 

“Tardiness and back talk?” He questions bitterly, “surely this won’t be a habit for you?” 

Grabbing the tin from you, his cologne burns your nose, a minty scent you’ve always hated. “You have enough little habits the way it is, niñita.” 

His thick fingers rattle a pill bottle out from his pocket, but keep it just out of your reach, as he counts the intake from the night. You waited silently as he thumbed through the large stack of money, looking over the ledger and ensuring that everything was all there and accounted for. 

The girls were allowed to keep their tips from the stage, but anything more than that.. other services that kept the laundromat in business with bedsheets, went to Rick. 

He leans back against the lounger when he’s satisfied,  setting the tin box down and carding fingers through his short brown hair. “Tommy stopped by tonight, had a lot to say about your little attitude problem.” 

fuck, Tommy has had it out for you since high school… but that’s a story for another day. 

“I guess I’m confused on who you think you are, Clove.” 

Cocking an eyebrow you shift your shoulders, “I know who I am.”

“You’re late, mouthing off, do you not remember the things I’ve done for you?” 

Of course you remembered, it wasn’t that long ago when you were made into his. Traded like a baseball card. One good for another. 

“Such a shy little thing when you came to me, but I taught you well bunny..” 

In all the time you had known him, Rick never raised his voice, and he didn’t now. His tone was almost formal, and he spoke with sophistication licked with malice that made your blood run cold. 

“…I-I know.”

His head cocks, and he leans forward, peering down at you. “You forget so easily how your life was before me…��� he coos, running a finger along your jaw. “Would you like to go back to that?”

Not answering, Rick continues, “sharing a room with whatever loose pussy your daddy was fuckin’?” 

You shake your head, remembering countless times how your stuff would be ransacked with each new “talent” that had the misfortune of crossing paths with your old man. 

“Fending for yourself and your sister for weeks on end?” 

His fingers dig into the skin on your neck, pressing harder with each reminder, and you suck a breath through your teeth.

“Crying yourself to sleep hoping your whore mama would come back home…” his voice drops an octave and he whispers into your ear, the heat of his words itching your skin, “..or maybe you’re still waiting for that Munson loser to show up?” 

“Quit it,” the tears were welling in your eyes now.

“Aww, did I strike a nerve?” he holds your cheek, “that deal was the best thing to ever happen to you, but I'm afraid you’re starting to forget who you belong to.” 

“I’m not,” you blink, “I promise.” 

Rick’s eyes watch as the tear travels down your cheek.

“Maybe you have too much freedom, living in the apartment complex with the other girls?… Do you need to come back here? Have me treat you like you’re insubordinate and reckless?”

“N-no, plea—”

“Then why do I have to listen to that inbred spit complaints about you? Do you think I want people coming to my home?”

You shake your head, fingers working the hem of your skirt. He hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

“I thought my expectations were clear… or am I deceived?” 

Rick liked power, he got off on the idea of submissive relationships. Dominating weak and frail women was his main job, drug smuggling was a hobby. You’d been playing his game for years now, and you knew what he wanted to hear. 

Your hand skirts up his thigh and rests daintily, “I’m sorry, I understand my place…always have.”

Like any other dick driven man, Rick was easy to please. 

“Good,” his lips close around yours and your stomach rolls, the sickly sweet cigar he was smoking lingered and surrounded you in a clutch you couldn’t get away from. 

“Stay tonight,” a command not a question, “my flight leaves in the morning.” 

Looking in the window you notice his house is still dark, “what about Karen?” 

Rick places his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the front door, “she's with her husband tonight, graduation party.” 

The pills rattle in his robe pocket, and the sound of them sets your teeth on edge, aching for the high. Rick’s hand engulfs the knob and he swings the door handle open, holding up a baggie filled with white powder, “what do you think little rabbit?” 

—

The highway was anything but quiet behind the rickety bricks of the motel walls. Semi engines braked loudly adjusting to the sudden speed limit change, teenagers squealing their tires out of town to impress their girlfriends. 

It was a mistake going to Forest Hills, what did he expect would come from it? You haunted him wherever he went, but being back home was a deeper kind of pain he hadn’t felt in years. 

A cricket played a lonely song in the corner of the outdated room, teasing him by being just out of reach, hidden away.

Watermarked ceiling tiles and a countless number of sheep later, the clock still hadn’t seemed to move. His eyelids showed him your face, the horror of realization when you recognized who he was. 

Pillow pressed into his eyes he couldn’t see anything else, and maybe he didn’t want to. 

He laid there motionless, bare chested in the chilled room, air conditioner broken on the coolest setting. Regret looming around him. 

Back then it was life or death. He didn’t have a choice, he wondered if you ever figured that out. He couldn’t tell you that then… probably not even now. 

He was a coward then. 

Sitting up he tossed the pillow across the room, folding his knees up to rest his forearms against them. Sleep wouldn’t come, not when your eyes were playing in his head whether he was awake or asleep. 

Your face. 

Something else was written between your brow when you saw him tonight, just a small flicker, a ripple to your eyes, but it was there— plain as day. 

Fear. 

—-

Rick had passed out next to you, his naked body slung over yours in some lame attempt of cuddling. You didn’t know how many lines you had done, or the number of shots you took, before stumbling in here. 

Didn’t remember the lick of his tongue in your mouth, the feel of his hands on your curves, your was body numb from the drugs and to him. All you remember is right now, waking in a puddle of tears, the taste of blood on your lips, your nose full of it. 

Peeling Rick’s limp form from you, you make for the bathroom connected to his master bedroom. Your reflection was horrific. blood dripped from your nostrils and coated your teeth, eyeliner dragged down your face like a halloween mask gone wrong. Your body, stark naked except for a purpling hickey on your collar bone, and white residue between your cleavage. 

You look away in disgust, hatred for the eyes that stared back from the mirror.  

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up like this. Having spent the better half of every night for the last seven years the same way. Reaching for his hand, watching him slip through your fingers. Voice hoarse from crying, yelling, screaming his name. 

Reaching for the plush hand towel Karen kept, you plop it into the sink and turn the faucet to hot, wetting it completely. 

“So I'm a stranger now huh?” 

Eddie’s words from early stuck with you long after you had left. Eddie fucking Munson. Seven years…No high or amount of time could ever make you forget his face. 

The pain was always there. You were only able to paint over it with each new high you could conjure. But no matter the number of brush strokes, no matter the opaqueness of the paint color, Eddie always showed through. Like a ghost in the background of a photo. 

The sink was nearly overflowing before you pulled the towel covering the drain, wringing the scalding water from it as you sat on the toilet lid and draped it over your face. The heated temperature having your skin raw and burning, a welcomed kind of pain.

Seven years and here he was, waltzing back into town like he hadn’t left you in shambles. Although him being back brought forth memories you wished would stop, seeing him alive and in the flesh settled a sore in your soul. 

It also dug up anger. And under the wet towel you saw red. 

Answers. That’s what you needed from him. You were just a kid then, you couldn’t understand, and maybe you still didn’t want to know why. But you craved to know, your mind gnawing at your skull to make sense of why he would decide to leave. 

You had adapted to your surroundings, learned how to survive. He couldn’t. He was weak and spineless, that’s what everyone had said, and after a while you believed it too.

Stronger than Eddie Munson had ever been, you kept going. Living this god forsaken life because you didn’t have a choice. 

You had your own place, a cute little two bedroom apartment. One you decorated to your liking. You had a job that paid your bills. You had someone that loved…someone that took care of you in ways you didn’t know were possible. 

You were different, and so was he. What did he have? Nothing. No one.

The towel dripped water onto your bare thighs, and you concentrated on that little tick rhythm until it picked up, sending water down in almost a wave. 

Maybe that’s how he wanted his life to be, maybe that was why he left in the first place. Maybe you were standing in his way the whole time like a roadblock.

You didn’t realize the heave of your chest, how your breathing was uneven and shallow, choking off. 

Then you heard it. The gut wrenching sobs coming from yourself. 

It didn’t work anymore. Quite frankly you wondered if it ever had. 

Pretending Eddie was an asshole and that you were better without him was the only way for you to deal with him leaving in ‘82. 

The lies you continued to tell yourself about Eddie were falling flat. Your brain could be fooled, but the space he lived in your chest couldn’t be coerced that easily. He was inescapable, nightmares or not, you yearned for the hours when he would visit you. 

In your dreams he was real. Still in Hawkins. 

Your sobs turned hysteric. Lungs burning with no reprieve as you felt the same loss and emptiness that burrowed in your chest seven years ago. 

Why? How could he leave without you? 

The towel fell with a slap to the floor. Your body slinked alongside it like a doll falling from a child’s fist. Hugging your naked body, you wept on the cold tile for an unknown amount of time. It wasn’t until dawn broke through the window and Rick’s alarm clock went off that your cheeks were finally dry. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

[charybdiaa]

Concept sketches, reference sheet, and a painting for the V in my new cyberpunk fic :3

hes kind of an oc? not really. I just took the base male v and made him latino. he's the equivalent of a hipster who likes 1920s swing but it's for 90s rap. I thought that premise was funny.

Commissions and kofi here! :D

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Poly omegaverse for poly 141. Ghost is Price's beta; there to mediate between the natural ferocity of the omega and the over exuberance of alphas looking to mate and serve. When Price begins to go into heat, Ghost makes the necessary arrangements.

CW: the start of the fic 'In Service', poly 141, omegaverse. No actual sex yet. Non-traditional dynamics. Omega Price, beta Ghost, alphas Soap and Gaz.

Ghost knew before even Price himself. It came with a beta’s territory and he was the only beta in Price’s life, which, he reckoned, was one of the reasons they had mated in the first place. There were other reasons, ones he didn't like to ruminate on too much because there were certain old wounds that were scarring over quite fucking nicely, but either way he took his role seriously.

It was a subtle change in Price’s sweat at first, a shift towards sweetness over the usual musk. The change in appetite followed. Price loaded his plate with protein and sweet treats, almost doubling his calories on some days, and his energy spiked to match it to the detriment of his health. Six hours sleep became four, and the bags under his eyes grew a little darker.

Then came the attitude problem.

The captain became harsher with the recruits; gone were the amusing rituals, flipping off Gaz’s company on recces or asking them to fetch him headlight fluid for the jeeps. It was all business, every little slip up identified and sanctioned accordingly. It was as Simon watched Price beast his third cowering rookie of the day that he decided it was time.

The captain's heats weren't regular - body fat percentage too low, life too stressful - but when they hit, they lasted a day or two, and there were two plucky alpha sergeants on hand to make sure he was well satisfied. Simon’s role was to make it happen without casualties and ensure his mate was cared for in the aftermath.

Paperwork finished for the day, Simon tidied up his quarters, avoiding heavy bleach and ensuring there were some used blankets in amongst the fresh sheets. They never did this in Price's territory. It was too risky; the older an omega got, the more territorial they became when they felt vulnerable in heat. An omega with Price's strength and training would tear an alpha to pieces if provoked.

It was traditional to use a beta’s nest for the fun part anyway, and Simon liked the opportunity to flex on it. When all three of them were fucked out, it was on his pillows they slept, and in his hoodies they curled.

The last bit of prep was the leather harness with its metal rings and thick cuffs. Price took no prisoners before his first knot, and even after that Simon needed to be nearby to make sure he didn't sink his teeth in too hard as he used his willing alphas. Speaking of…

“Book leave,” Simon said to Johnny and Gaz over a game of pool. “Captain’s in heat.”

Johnny’s cheeks flushed and Gaz smiled that sweet, lopsided way he did when he was feeling bashful. “Aye, sir, thought he was gettin’ a bit feistier,” Johnny said, nudging a red ball into the far right pocket with an impressive little trick shot.

“How long? Same as?” Gaz asked, considering a handful of options across the table.

“Three days should do it. Two for the heat, one for recovery.”

“Fuck, last time…” Johnny’s eyes took on what Simon could only describe as a dreamy little glint.

“Make sure you're fighting fit, Johnny. I'll sort food and everythin’ else. Report to my room at 2100 tomorrow night.”

Simon left them to finish their game and took a deep breath through his nose. That was the easy part out the way. He enjoyed the next part, because he knew Price would always give in to him eventually, but it was a difficult code switch, from subordinate to beta mate. It required a delicate balance of respect and dominance, because Price had always struggled accepting the help and he bristled at the idea he might be losing any form of control, even if he had no such struggle with his affection for Ghost.

Simon rapped his knuckles twice on the office door. “C’min,” came the tired reply.

“Sir,” Simon greeted as he stepped across the threshold.

“I don't know who filled out these bloody requisitions, but I'm gonna shove my boot up their arse,” Price growled. “What do you need? Double time, this shit is gonna take me hours.”

Simon sat on the edge of the desk, hands folded on one leg. “You.”

The scratch of Price's pen stopped. He glanced up at the tacky calendar on his wall first, open to some scene from a 90s action movie Simon didn't recognise, and then briefly looked up at Simon. It was a furtive glance, like he was checking he'd understood correctly; denial was always the first step. “Can't be. My last one was only–”

“Six months ago. You're overdue.”

A healthy, young omega would go through a heat every two months. Price was healthy enough for the work he did and Simon had no reason to doubt that, should he retire now to the comfort of a civilian life, his body would return to its normal ebb and flow. But then, they would lose what they had now, and Simon couldn't really picture a life beyond the living-by-the-skin-of-their teeth present.

Price growled. “You're mistaken…”

Simon hummed noncommittally but reached for Price anyway. There was a scent gland on his wrist, one which had little impact day to day, but to an omega on the cusp of heat it would make them feel suddenly weaker; nothing too heavy, just enough to make their knees shake and their lips quiver. As his fingers brushed through Price’s beard, the scent on his skin was potent enough to make his omega's eyes flicker. Price had a lot of self discipline, came with the territory, but Simon knew every single one of his tells. “Don't think so, sir.”

“Fuck.” Price’s fists clenched, his teeth gritting, and he turned his face from Simon’s arm. The silence that followed was heavy and Simon watched as the man he respected more than any other in the world fought a private internal battle with himself. Sometimes it took a few hours and Simon would drift away, come back later to insist, but the last few weeks had contained a high level of fuckery of the unfun kind, and it had worn much of Price's stubbornness away. “How long do I have?”

“Tonight, tomorrow morning, by your scent, you'll be ready to drop by the afternoon.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed whatever knot of misery had formed in his throat. He didn't like it, the giving in, but once he was in the throes of heat, with his beta nearby and two energetic alphas fawning over him, he relaxed and enjoyed himself. Simon made sure of it.

“Fine,” Price said tightly, and then he shuffled some papers, before saying, “Fine,” one more time. Resignation. Price was a pragmatic man; it wasn't logical to try and struggle through a heat, longing it out for a week with a fuzzy head and your boxers soaked through. Simon had always admired that strict sense of perspective.

“Have dinner at 1800 tomorrow, somethin’ light, and head over.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Price said quietly. “Dismissed.”

Simon nodded and left without ceremony. Another beta might have stayed to try and reassure their omega that everything was going to be fine, fawn a little, but Simon knew that Price would be rankled by such overbearing fuss. It was a waste of time when what was about to happen had to happen either way, so Simon left him alone and didn't concern himself when the captain took his dinner back to his quarters. He was self-conscious, even though an alpha wouldn’t be able to smell it on him until the heat had well and truly started. It was just the way of things.

The following day ticked over much the same. Simon ran drills with Bravo Company in Price’s stead, and took a small amount of pleasure in giving a recruit a smooth pebble as an inspectable item within his kit. They outpaced Johnny’s Delta Company on the hills and they hit the showers with hours to spare. Simon scrubbed up, grabbing the non fragranced shampoos and soap from his shelf, and checked his stores. Grenade bars and red bull for Johnny, the blue Powerade and Doritos for Gaz, and for Price it was chocolate protein shakes from Optimum Nutrition and Space Raiders. Pain in the arse to find these days, those.

He checked the harness next, the bedsheets and pillows, and the soft sweatpants and shirt he kept for Price because the stubborn git would absolutely arrive in his usual kit. Once he was sure everything was in order, Simon finally sat down to leaf through an old paperback he’d been chewing through for a few months on and off. Isaac Asimov, meant to be a classic, but Simon wasn't too invested in it.

He'd just turned over to a new chapter when Price knocked at his door. He knew it was Price from the sound; side of the fist, just twice. As predicted, his heat sat on the cusp. His eyes were hazy as he walked into Ghost’s room, his scent sweeter and more potent than before.

“Top marks, Lieutenant. Not a dust particle out of place,” Price said, his eyes sweeping around the room to avoid settling on the bed.

“Thanks, sir.” Simon closed the door carefully at Price’s back, watching his bearing as he approached. Omegas could be unpredictable at every point, even onesyou knew every inch of. Simon approached carefully, leading with his hands first, brushing them over Price’s shoulders and down his biceps. The responding shiver was reassuring.

“MacTavish and Garrick… they agreed to…?” Price asked, trailing off as his mind struggled to cling onto the thought. He was naturally relaxing with his beta and a nest near, which made it harder to maintain his composure.

“Yeah. They'll be here in a bit.” Simon rolled his mask up to above his nose. Price still hadn't looked at him, but was gazing now at the bed like it was a live mortar.

“And you'll… Simon, you'll make sure I don't…”

“Mmhm.” Simon drew in close, placing an arm over Price’s chest as his other hand stroked around to his belly. “You know I have your back.”

“Yeah…” Price croaked, his head lowering as Simon nosed across the back of his neck. His hands were shaking by his sides, muscles relaxing and tensing in fits and starts, like he was fighting for control.

“Le’s get this off,” Simon said, grabbing the bottom of Price's shirt. He shed his own at the same time, drawing his captain back to his chest so that warm skin could meet. The first rumble of pleasure vibrated through the broad chest in his arms and Simon hummed back, rubbing his chin into Price's shoulder.

[whirlybirbs]

About "Bruised Ego"

If I may ask how long has Toshinori been attracted to Derecho? Has it been one of those "for a villain, i'd tap that." Or more of a developed after the rehab? Has there been moments of where they go out to eat and Derecho or All Might get hit on leading to the other person to get a little jealous.

But honestly amazing writing as always, I've been following since the ben solo days and still go back to read them every now and then!!

it's complicated.

truthfully, pre-villain rehab derecho is dangerous.

you're some old money, long standing yakuza's prized guard dog, constantly amped up on quirk enhancers — a drug i personally consider the biggest, baddest stimulant crossed with an immediate performance enhancer. it's essentially like feeding you a live wire.

all might's agency has a task force dedicated to arresting derecho — or, well you. before you had a hero name. before you were anything short of a frenzied, violent enforcer on a short leash. back when you were a grinning mugshot and an extensive rap sheet.

you were different, then.

toshinori knows it's the drugs — he knows that's how you came close to nearly killing him that one night. it's how he learned not to go toe-to-toe with you in the rain. water is a conductor and all that.

you are beautiful — and you were back then, too. scarier. tougher. less of a light in your eyes and more of a blood thirst that earned you title of most wanted. it's almost like a knife's edge. get too close and you'll get cut.

toshinori likes strong women. strong men, too.

but back then, he hated you.

there was a sliver of him that knew you were a victim of your circumstances — but all the playful rivalry went out the window that night in april when your fists cracked across his face in the pouring rain and you swore you'd kill him and everyone he ever loved.

I LOVE MAKING YOU BLEED.

it's the night you almost flatlined back in that disgusting, cold yakuza safe-house. it's a wake-up call. you flew too close to the sun. one breath away from an overdose you wouldn't come back from.

he arrests you the next time you go head to head, after a botched robbery downtown. you... you just can't keep doing it anymore.

it's that image that winds up on the front page of every newspaper in japan — the one with your chest slammed down against the hood of a detectives car, your legs spread, and all might gripping the cuffs behind your back to tightly you had bruises for weeks.

they muzzle you.

it's... poetic, really.

truth be told, prison is the best thing that ever happens to you.

the villain rehab program is second.

it takes toshinori a long time to agree — with a lot of bargaining and parol restrictions placed on your head. but the hero commission are different sort of vile ilk. the kind you don't argue with.

it takes toshinori a long time to even loosen up around you, too. truth be told, he regrets to admit he was convinced you would end up back behind bars — this time in tartarus.

you're irritable, short-tempered, violent, and often times cruel.

but you're smart. and, despite your circumstances, you do have a good heart. slowly, toshinori can see the fear melt away and you're less like a cornered dog snapping its jaw.

you take praise well. you enjoy routine. you begin to attend those meetings gran torino recommended — after all, it's not just villains who struggle with quirk enhancer addiction. there are plenty of heroes who have wandered down that path, seeking greatness at the cost of their sobriety.

it's slow. a new sort of dangerous. over time, you become enmeshed in his life in a different way than years ago. now, it's through text typos and late night patrols. it's you letting toshinori hitch a ride on the back of your yamaha ninja. it's comfortable silence in the agency's infirmary after a long mission.

and when you smile. well, shit.

yea, he's always liked strong women.

and you're dangerous.

— a reference to this fic here ;

[doodle-pops]

Bet On It

Elrohir x reader

Request: Elrohir, id love a friend's to lovers trope fic. reader can be also arwen or glorfindel's friend and they keep telling both them and elrohir to fucking confess to eachother but they refuse to because of the classic "I don't want to ruin our friendship,I can't lose them." They think they're subtle with pinning after one another but like everyone can tell they're in love. Casual physical affection, spending way too much time with eachother, "subtle" acts of service, etc. Idiots in love literally. One of them end up confessing after like a sweet moment, just a quiet whisper or a small kiss but it's enough for the other to finally confess too. Just a super fluff moment of them finally freely loving one another! - Anon

Warnings: fluff, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, confession, kissing

Words: 1.9k

Synopsis: You and Elrohir muster the courage to break old ties while recreating new ones as you begin a future together.

Walking up the familiar winding pathway that to the private getaway pavilion at the top, your feet softly padded against the steps until you made three raps to the wooden pillar. Somewhere, you heard the noticeable airy thuds of Elrohir’s feet coming your way eagerly, easily hiding a bag of jittery nerves. Casually the makeshift curtain drew back and revealed his evening radiance, attired in light blues and greys, a single braid to the right and his ebony hair loosely cascading down his back. Such was the simplicity of your dear friend, whom you cherished more than anything else in the world.

Through the momentary welcoming, your eyes dropped from his face to meet his chest, too fearful of giving away too many emotions already. Memories of Lady Arwen’s conversation replayed in your head about making a move otherwise it would be a great loss on your behalf, not before reminding you of her brother’s whereabouts.

Heart beating rapidly in your throat, you curled your toes against your sandals and exhaled. “Elrohir.”

“Y/N,” he greeted just as breathlessly as you. “Please come in. It is a wonderful surprise to have you visit.”

Gingerly you brushed past his shoulders, head dipping and eye falling to the floor as you entered his space. It was, and still is a haven of comfort and peace of mind for you when the world was hard on your shoulders. Now, it felt foreign with the looming messages of what you had planned to execute tonight…hopefully. Taking your time to observe the interior, not much had changed since your last visit, and nor had he finished the upturned book lying haphazardly on his bed.

“You still haven’t finished the Utopia Trilogy?” you laughed as you walked over and flipped the book over, scanning the page. “I thought you were a master at reading.”

Unbeknownst to you, your choice of conversational starter was an ice breaker for Elrohir, for even he was skittish and unsure of how to approach. Thankfully, luck was in the air.

Giving a lazy scratch to the back of his head, he made a guttural sound, almost like a deep whine and stomped over to pry the book gently out of your hands. Placing it back on the shelf, he spun around to purse his lips. “What did I tell you about judging my reading abilities? One does not rush a book, but timelessly enjoy it.”

“If timeless enjoying it means over a year, then by all means, continue,” you snickered and plopped onto his bed, shuffling your sandals off and making yourself comfortable. As easily as the conversation started, the rest flowed once Elrohir noticed the tension dissipating. Following suit, he climbed on the bed, sitting at the foot with his legs crossed and hands in his lap.

His honey-brown eyes flickered from the rumpled bed sheets to your feet to your face and then back at the sheets. “So,” he began quietly, “it’s been a while since we last spoke. How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing new with me. Just wandering Imladris like a ghost, visiting the gardens and robbing all the local merchants,” you shrugged, your fingers idly found themselves tracing the mahogany armrest of the chair beside the bed. You were desperately fighting to keep your tone light. “And you? Last I heard, you all went as far as Forodwaith?”

Elrohir nodded with a tight-lip smile as he rocked back and forth. “Sort of. We met with the Dúnedain on the way and hunted some orcs all the way to the borders before turning back to come home—didn’t want to be away for too long. I tend to miss all my favourite people back home,” he explained, leading to you feeling a flush of warmth from his words, your heart beating a little faster prompting you to lift your head and lock eyes with him in the instant. A silent understanding passed between you two, then, with a small almost shy smile, he reached out and gently touched the back of your hand. “I’ve missed our conversations.”

You felt a shiver run through you at the contact, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body. Wanting to duck your head or cover your face, you mustered the courage to withhold eye contact. “It’s good to be here,” you murmured lightly.

“It’s good to have you here,” he corrected.

For a while, the two of you engaged in effortless conversations, your body language morphing from tense to relaxed as your bodies shifted about the bed, slowly getting closer and closer. Discussing a myriad of topics that ranged from his adventures with his brothers and others to his daily duties and past, you covered the profound to the mundane. Topics of books, to your imagination, tales of old, uncharted dreams and future adventures beyond the lands of Middle Earth were thrown around gracefully and turned the evening into nightfall easily. The fullness of the moon rose from behind the clouds, shining glittering strands of light upon you both through the vine-covered canopy, aiding with the ambience.

Throughout your dialoguing, subtle gestures conveyed what words could not. Elrohir’s hand would brush lightly against yours as he passed you a cup of tea, a simple act imbued with unspoken affection. Your fingers would linger on his arm, savouring the warmth and closeness as you shared a moment of laughter over a shared memory. Each touch, though fleeting was charged with meaning, speaking of a connection that ran deeper than a mere friendship. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a dance of intimacy and restraint, each gesture a silent confession of feelings that lay just beneath the surface.

As the evening wore on, the moon dipping behind a cloud and hiding its light, a comfortable silence settles between you. Elrohir glanced at you, his expression contemplative. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.

You couldn’t resist looking at him surprised by the question. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “What brought this on, may I ask?”

He hesitated, his left shoulder bumping against your knees as he looked up from his lying position. The proximity was enough for you to catch a whiff of the mint of his tongue. “I was on a ride this morning with Lord Glorfindel, and he left me questioning myself and other things with his…choice of word,” he breathed and reached out to hold your hand and give it a small swing. “I just wondered what the future would hold for us. You and I, specifically.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the implication of them making your breath catch. Furthermore, the fiddling of his hand with yours increased your heart rate, leaving you occasionally needing to inhale.

The tension that was in the air now, a charged energy which made the room feel smaller and more intimate was sluggishly bringing your heads closer. Elrohir looked up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. With bated breath, his voice dipped as his fingers intertwined with the hand he was playing with. “There is something I need to tell you, and I hope it doesn’t push you away or ruin things between us,” he said earnestly. “I care about you…more than a friend. I have for a long time.”

You stared at him for a long while, your heart pounding like a thunderous stampede of wild beasts. Lady Arwen’s words and teasing replayed in your mind as she told you about her brother crushing you for a long time. It was hard to see when all you saw was friendship and didn’t want to ruin the good you had. Opening your mouth to respond, no sound exited, so you closed it and remained breathless while he nervously held your hand, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of your hand repeatedly. His touch sent shivers down your spine. “I know it might come as a surprise, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

His confession hung in the air between you, the declaration that seemed to make time stand still. For a moment, you could only bashfully stare at him, the enormity of his words setting over you like a warm embrace. You didn’t know how to explain the urge that came over you when you licked your lips and darted your eyes to his, something he noticed and apprehensively craned his neck upwards to bridge the gap, his eyes closing briefly as if to savour the upcoming moment. In return, you closed your eyes when you felt his other hand slide around your neck to cup your nape and pull you closer.

With deliberate anticipation, Elrohir took his time to bridge the gap until his very own teasing antagonised him, forcing him to exhale before his lips collided with yours. A muffled groan from him turned into a grunt when he felt your hands reach out to cradle his neck, fingers scraping against his scalp leaving him shivering. Elrohir felt greedy in the moment as the first continued; years of silently loving you came pouring out in waves of passion and tenderness.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, the world around you seeming to shimmer with newfound brightness. Elrohir’s eyes were soft, filled with a deep, abiding tenderness. “I can’t believe I was a fool for not believing Lord Glorfindel’s words at first,” he muttered, shaking his head with a smile. “I thought you wouldn’t feel the same because we’re just friends.”

“That makes to both of us,” you softly laughed. “I too didn’t believe your sister, but when she told me that both she and Elladan were betting on it, I had to do something about it.”

“Wait,” he cautioned as he sat upright, “my siblings conspired through betting. Come to think of it, Glorfindel did mention something about not wanting to lose a bet…of course.”

Sliding your hand off his neck to return to cradling his hands and playing with his fingers, rocked back and forth due to the overwhelming excitement in your chest. Finally, all your emotions came pouring out and the doubt you both feared was proven wrong. Roaming your eyes over his face, you leaned in, catching him off-guard, to kiss his lips once more, loving the sensation of his soft lips on yours. Fortunately, Elrohir did not mind the distraction you provided, reducing his plotting to deal with his siblings to focus on you before him.

“I’m glad I took the leap of faith and told you my heart,” he whispered through the kiss, cradling your cheeks and leaning in for another.

The two of you sat there for a while, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of your newfound happiness. Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself lying side by side on his bed with his arms wrapped protectively, yet lovingly around you as your conversation about the future returned in delight. There was a sense of peace, a feeling that everything was right with the world now that you had finally confessed your love. All the weight was off your shoulders and replaced with bliss.

“I never want to be apart from you,” he said. “I want to spend every moment with you, to share my life with you.”

Your heart swelled as you looked up at him, your eyes softening. “I would like that as well.”

Leaning in, pleased at your response, his nose bumped against yours as he pecked your lips. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

[sitp-recs]

Do you have any fic recommendations where Draco very desperately loves Harry? To the point of wanting to take care of everything for him?

Thank you for all your suggestions i really love reading through them :)

Hi anon! Thank you, I’m happy to know you enjoy the recs 💜 here are some fics with a “hopelessly in love” Draco for you:

And I Know the Spark by firethesound (E, 15k)

All Draco cares about is keeping Potter alive, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

The Green Vial by eidheann (E, 31k)

After months of seeing Harry Potter walk into his Apothecary disappointed and hopeless, Draco offers to carry the baby that Harry can't. Now he's just got to hide the fact that he's been half in love with Harry for years.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered (E, 54k)

Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Criminal by The_Sinking_Ship (E, 83k)

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Turning Leaves by Kbrick (E, 112k)

Draco and Harry have a one-night stand that ends in disaster after Harry tells Draco he's unable to move beyond their poisonous past. So when Draco finds an unusual Time-Turner in the Department of Mysteries, he seizes the opportunity to start fresh with Harry. Only instead of fixing things, he keeps making them worse.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

By the Grace by lettered (E, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

Shelter From the Storm Preview

Hey all! I have a new jazzprowl longish fic in the works and I'm super excited about it, so here! Have a preview!

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“Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

Prowl and Bumblebee stand at the top of the steps leading up to the front entrance of the Iacon Police Department. Below them, sprawled over the middle three steps, is the greyed-out frame of another dead mech.

“Ooh, Prowl’s got another present?” Cliffjumper comes up next to them, energon cube in hand. “Good money says it’s a rapist.”

“I say murderer,” Bee contends. “Anyways, I’m more interested in what the note says this time.”

Prowl sighs. “This is highly inappropriate.”

“What, the murder-flirting?” Bee asks.

“It’s not— The betting. Don’t bet on dead bodies.” He descends the steps to kneel next to the body. “Let CSI know we have another one.”

“Yessir.” Cliffjumper turns and heads back inside, but Bee stays.

Prowl sets about examining the body. He takes three-dimensional image captures of the scene from six angles, then runs a detailed scan. According to the IPD’s database, the body used to be an Iaconian native named Jump Up, a yellow and orange speedster with a taste for cheap engex and a penchant for beating his partners. Not quite as lengthy or intense a rap sheet as Prowl had been expecting, but known crimes rarely tell the full story. It’s likely, considering the previous victims, that this mech has done worse.

He kneels next to the body and pops open the wrist port, unspooling a jack from his own wrist and plugging in. As expected, the victim’s processor has been tampered with. Plugging into a dead mech without the specialized tools used by medical examiners should yield nothing but static, but just like with the last eleven bodies, a small file pops up in Prowl’s HUD. He opens it.

Prowler! Hope you like this one. You’ve been looking a little stressed lately, and Jump Up here seems to be good at staying under the radar, so I figured you could use some help with him. You should be able to close cases 28573-HT and 57493-HT now. Anyways, how’s Blue doing? His graduation speech was great; you must be so proud. Tell him I said congrats! Kisses, JJ

Prowl disconnects so quickly he nearly crashes his own processor. As soon as the static clears from his vision, he’s up and running.

[paperclipped-mongoose]

Convincing Enough For You?

Pairing: Angus Macgyver x F! Reader

Summary: An important mission came up, and during the briefing it became clear that Mac didn't think you were the right fit for the flirtatious role.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Use of Y/N (not excessive), First Person, Fight Flirting, Arguing, A malfunctioning MacGyver, A villain who likes to take advantage of women, Couple Arguments. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey Guys! This my first MacGyver Fanfiction, I love writing the series and characters so let me know if you guys like it! Comments and messages mean the world to me! If you've got any ideas for future fic's my idea box is open! ENJOY!

“I’m not sure if this is the best idea, Matty. You know how they feel about each other.” Riley trailed after her boss as they made their way down the hall to the war room. She had been let in on the game plan for the next mission early because Matty needed her input.

“They’re adults. They can put their feelings, undefined they are, away in order to do their job professionally.” Matty could hope. Ever since you joined the Phoenix Foundation there had been a certain animosity between you and a certain human encyclopedia. You were never sure if it was flirting or trying to get on each other’s nerves. 

Matty could hear the sounds of shouting from the war room down the hall. “Oh, get your head out of the clouds! You know all too well that if it wasn’t for Bozer and Jack you would have blown yourself up, gotten shot, or made some kinda poisonous gas to kill yourself. You think you’re way more aware than you are. But newsflash: you’re not!” You paused to take a breath, you had made sure to choose your words carefully, they were nothing if not the truth. Mac could make a plane out of a recycling bin and some potatoes, but he routinely got his ass saved by Jack in the field, and Bozer in his own home. 

Mac stood in front of the coffee table, his arms crossed tight across his chest. “At least I actually do things to save our asses on missions. Or were you the one who made infrared glasses so we could see the cameras when Riley couldn’t access the system?”

Something about Mac’s defensiveness made you want to egg him on continually. Maybe it was because you liked to hear him talk, even when it wasn’t in a positive way. There were days where the two of you were civil and even friendly, but those days were boring. No conversations would be had, and the day inevitably turned into awkward silence and stares. 

Neither you nor Mac liked it that way. 

So you picked on each other. It was clear there were never any ill intentions, but sometimes it rode the line and, you were sure, made your coworkers wonder if you and Mac were actually mad. To be fair, it was a question that rarely had a simple answer. But that was just the way the two of you were. Complicated. And you wouldn’t have taken it any other way. 

“Can we go one meeting without you two saying something distasteful to each other? One meeting. That’s all I’m asking.” Matty pulled up her screen on the wall before shooting a pointed look at those who stood around the room. Jack observed the screens as they came up, and Riley sat on one of the chairs doing her best to ignore you and Mac, knowing how this would go, and something told her Matty wouldn’t get her wish for peace.

“This is Bryan Snyder.” A rather unpleasant-looking man was pulled up on the full screen along with his Phoenix records. “Hacker extraordinaire with a rap sheet a mile long of gambling offenses.” Matty flashed a couple photos across the screen of Bryan surrounded by presumable winnings and women. 

Riley finally took a cue from Matty and spoke up. "He's had incidents filed with multiple casinos, all stemming from his pension for picking up women who've just fought with their partners, while the partner is around."

Jack scoffed as he found his way to the empty seat next to Riley. “Sounds like he's made a game out of picking up girls on the rebound."

Jack’s comment earned a grin from Riley, who added: "At least he looks like he tips well."

Your leg bounced involuntarily as you fiddled with the few paperclips in your hand—not bending them, just linking them together one after the other to make a chain. It drove Mac mad, and you knew it. He was one who did things with purpose, so idly fiddling with some paperclips without reshaping or bending them clawed at him internally. “So what is our position in this?” you finally spoke up. “I didn’t know the Phoenix Foundation did personal vendetta work for ex-girlfriends.” 

Matty shook her head watching Mac who silently but unsubtly stared you down as you wrapped the paperclip chain around your wrist to make a bracelet. “Not a vendetta. A prevention service for the Parisian government. Snyder holds a virus on his laptop that, if released onto the broadband servers of France, would cause nationwide blackouts and hold millions of people’s information hostage.”

Jack’s face soured at the thought. “Oooh, okay, yeah, so not an angry ex-girlfriend. Got it.”

“We’ve had Riley coding a USB drive that, once plugged in, can give her access to the computer’s system. That way she can corrupt the virus so that when he tries to open it, none of the code will be salvageable. The only thing our team needs to worry about is getting that drive plugged into Snyder’s computer for 8 minutes without him noticing.” 

Another scoff came from Jack. “No offense, Matty, but this guy seems like the kinda nerd to be obsessed with his computer. He’s probably one of those weirdos who treats it like his baby or something.” He immediately turned to Riley who had her computer in her lap. He pressed his lips together and stood up, walking towards the other wall to get as far away from Riley as possible. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”

“Yeah, smart choice.”

“The plan, if you guys will ever let me get to it, is this: Is to send in (Y/N) with a partner to pose as our unhappy couple, Bryan has a stay booked with a casino in Monaco this weekend. It’s his last stop on the way into France. A messy breakup in the middle of the casino should be enough to pique Snyder’s interest, and from there all (Y/N) has to do is get him to take her to his hotel room so she can connect the USB to his laptop, which shouldn’t be so hard given his M.O. After 8 minutes, once Riley’s USB has done its job, (Y/N) will take it out and destroy it so it’s not traceable.” Matty pressed her lips together firmly when she noticed Mac shifting his stance and uncrossing his arms, which normally meant that he had something to say. “Can I help you Blondie?”

Mac took the opportunity and stepped forward. “Why don’t we just send in Riley? If the USB doesn’t work, she’ll be able to disable the virus manually. Plus,” a strong look of disdain settled on his face, “I don’t think (Y/N) can flirt convincingly enough to get him to take her back to his room. It’s dangerous to put the weight of a mission on it without a backup.” 

That got you mad. You stood and eyed Mac in his stupid power stance. His hands on his hips while he stared at the screen as if he was avoiding eye contact with you. You wondered where all of his confidence had suddenly gone.

“Oh? You don’t think I can handle it?” You took a confident couple steps towards Mac. A well-placed hand on his forearm brought his big blue eyes back to you, somewhat confused as to what you were doing but it didn’t seem as if he was going to stop you. 

You took his silence as permission to continue and slid your hand down his arm, bringing your free hand up to play with the suede lapel of his jacket near his chest. You lifted your eyes to meet his for a single, shy moment and couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed. Who thought it was a good idea to give a man with such a perfect face those baby blues? Fuck.

Mac was malfunctioning, his jaw slack as he tried to focus on anything other than how close you were to him. Or the fact he could feel your breath on his neck, or the way your hands held him. Tantalizing and unobtainable. He was sure if either of you did anything in the oncoming moments he’d find himself too deep to back out. 

You slid the fingers fiddling with his jacket past his chest to his abdomen, felt the shiver run up his spine even though he tried his best to hide it. Your fingers reached his beltline with more confidence than you felt, and…there was a undeniable tension. One that left you wondering if perhaps you should excuse yourself and drag Mac into some unoccupied office down the hall. 

A quick smack below the belt and Mac was half-keeled over, gasping for air as you stepped aside with a prideful smirk. “That convincing enough for you?” 

The rest of the team broke into laughter, the sexual and uncalled for tension that was in the room had gone.

“The Macbook needed to reboot there for a moment huh,” Jack said patting your shoulder. “You’ll do just fine, and your mission partner will be there as your backup, you can trust them 

Matty just pulled on that subtle smirk she wore when she knew something was bound to be entertaining. “Well, glad you’re working on your chemistry, because Mac is your mission partner. Try not to cause a scene before the target gets there, though. Wheels up in 2 hours.”

Mac had finally been able to gather himself and recover from the unexpected tap. “Let’s just hope you’re ready for 2 to be playing that game.”

A/N: Thank You guys for reading! I am thinking about making another part about the actual mission or what the aftermath would look like for your and Mac's relationship.

A/N: Remember I'm always open to talk to people (18+) about MacGyver! I love the fandom and want to interact as much as possible. If your interested don't be afraid to shoot me a message!