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kryptonitejelly · 24 days

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Grease & Tequila - a Flyboy One-shot

Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader - part of the Flyboy!Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers

Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies; alcohol; being drunk.

Length: One-shot

Summary: Set 5 months pre the Flyboy!era. The one where Jake gets the call that you and Dan have broken up and he has to be on the next plane to New York, now.

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(not fully updated as of today, but if you follow / search the tag “flyboy universe” / “flyboy” / “flyboy fic” / “flyboy!jake” on my tumblr you’ll find recent asks / headcannons / blurbs!)

A/N: It’s been a while, and this isn’t all that exciting, but I think it definitely (I hope) sets the scene for Flyboy and helps everything click into place.

DISCLAIMER: all work posted here is purely fanfiction; it does not in any way purport to be an accurate representation of real life or the general workings of any institution.

“Lieutenant,” Admiral Craig’s voice booms out as Jake opens the door to his office. The Admiral waits for Jake to shut the door completely before he starts up again, “I got your last minute absence request.”

“That is correct, Sir,” Jake nods, as he comes to a stand in front of the Admiral’s desk. He stands with his feet hip width apart, hands behind his back, eyes meeting the older man’s.

“Everything okay?” The Admiral asks, his gaze steady on Jake’s. It was rare for a last minute absence request to come across his desk, which meant that when they did - it was usually pressing.

“Just something I need to attend to, Sir.” Jake responds, his mask not slipping, but the Admiral hears the weight behind his words. There is a silence pause between the two men, before the Admiral picks up his pen, signing the bottom of the two sheets of paper before him with a flourish. He was never one to refuse these requests as long as he deemed them legitimate, but he made it a point of looking the requestor in the eye to make his own assessment of the situation before approving them. He didn’t need to know the why, unless it was volunteered by the requestor him/herself, but he needed to know that it wasn’t being abused and Jake Seresin, for all his ego and cockiness, was a dedicated solider. He wouldn’t ask, unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Approved,” the Admiral says simply before passing one of the sheets to Jake. Jake’s mask doesn’t crack, but the Admiral sees a twitch of relief as Jake remembers how to breathe, “Godspeed.”

“Thank you Sir.”

Jake shifts irritably in his seat as he waits for boarding to be complete. He had reached out to Grandma Doris’ personal assistant once he had gotten off the phone with you, even before he had submitted his flight request, his text to her was just one sentence, twelve words long - I need to be on the next flight to New York, please. He usually would not have bothered her, but this - this was a pressing situation, he just had to get on that plane. She had, the blessing that she was, gotten hold of two flight options for him, the next flight to New York, and the next next as a backup, both in first class no less, with a simple request to let her know when he needed a flight ticket back from New York.

“May I offer you a hot towel, Mr Seresin?” The stewardess stops beside his seat. Jake shakes his head, offering her a polite half smile.

“No thank you.”

“How about some nuts, or maybe a drink?” She tries again.

“How long more do you think it’ll be till take-off?” Jake’s question is abrupt and she is quiet for a second, slightly taken a back. He isn’t rude, but is, obviously antsy.

“I think another twenty minutes Mr Seresin,” she says as she follows his gaze out of the window.

“Thanks,” is all she gets from Jake as he continues to stare out of the window beside him as if willing take-off to come faster.

“Anything else?” The cashier of the fried chicken shop just around the corner from your apartment building asks Jake as he rings up the total on the till.

“That’s all, thanks.” Jake says as he slides his card out of his wallet before tapping it against the screen of the payment machine which is proffered to him.

“Here’s your receipt, please wait on the right.” Jake slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans before stepping towards the right. The tequila which he had picked up on his way out of the airport is in his backpack, the shape of the bottle pressed against his back, a reminder that he was just that much closer to what he came to New York for.

The ride up the elevators to your apartment is excruciatingly slow, and Jake taps his foot against the ground the whole way up. He hadn’t had to buzz you to let him up, managing instead to catch a couple on their way out and slip into the building - something which he made a mental note of in the back of his mind - perhaps it was time to convince you to move to somewhere with a doorman or concierge for increased safety.

The bottle of tequila is now in one of his hands, and the bag of greasy fried chicken and fries in his other - his remedy for your broken heart. Alcohol, fast food, and well, him. His eyes are fixed on the flashing red numbers as if willing the elevator to go faster. It stops with a ding, and Jake all but runs out.

He hears you before he sees you, hears faint noises and shuffling, the unlocking of a separate bolt and a lock before you pull open the door an inch to peer out past the safety chain. His eyes meet yours, and sees your eyes, glassy and red rimmed, no doubt from crying meet yours. The doors shuts fully for a second or two as you undo the safety chain before it is pulled open fully.

Jake takes you in the second the open door reveals you - the red tip of your noise, hair on top of your head in a loose, messy up do, body clad in an oversized t shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants and he feels a funny tug in his chest.

“I thought you might need this,” he says as he holds up the items in his hands. You hold his gaze for a second more, and then it happens, the glossiness in your eyes turn into tears which spill over onto your cheeks as you take a step forward, throwing your arms around Jake’s body, burying your face in his chest. Jake hears, but also feels the sobs that wrack your body against his front and he is quite sure that in that moment, the tug in his chest feels like a earth shattering crack.

“I got you,” he says gruffly, bringing both his hands down around you, while still holding onto both items. His words only intensify the sobs coming from you and all Jake can do is draw you closer.

“I’ve never liked him,” Jake snorts as he watches you down yet another shot of tequila. You are both sitting around the coffee table in the floor of your living room, greasy chicken and fries demolished, the open bottle of tequila three quarters gone - with more damage having been exacted on the bottle by you than by Jake. Jake isn’t drunk, but he definitely isn’t sober, which means that neither are you.

“He’s an asshole,” you half shout, your words slurring from the alcohol as you let your self sag backwards, leaning against the sofa before you let yourself droop sideways, your head coming to rest on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shifts, moving his arm around you. It allows you to scoot further into his side, your face turning slightly to rest against the side of his chest. You breathe in his scent, the faint smell of soap, laundry detergent and airplane along with his own natural musk, which wraps around you like home, and you feel Jake’s fingers running themselves soothingly along your arm..

“Say the word, I’ll beat him to a pulp,” Jake says, dropping the side of his cheek against the top of your head, his finger squeezing the top of your arm gently. His tone is light, joking almost - but yet not really. Nevertheless, the thought of Dan facing off against Jake makes you chuckle lowly. Dan was no slob himself, he maintained a decent level of fitness - occasional runs, regular visits to the gym, but he might as well have been one compared to Jake. Dan worked out for aesthetics, but next to Jake, who had worked out for functionality all his life, football, the Navy, Dan paled greatly in comparison.

“He’ll never stand a chance,” you say, amused as you close your eyes. Your head has started to get impossibly heavy, your tongue feels thick from the copious amounts of alcohol running through your system, and you let your head rest heavier on Jake’s chest.

“That’s the idea,” is what Jake says and it makes you giggle this time as you sink yourself further into Jake’s hold, seeking out a comforting, physical closeness. Jake can feel yourself pressing into him.

“C’mere,” he mutters, as the arm he has around you tightens. You feel movement, and Jake is reaching across your body, managing to slip an arm under your legs to pull you onto his lap.

“Jake,” your protest is weak because you don’t put up an ounce of a fight, opting instead to shift along with him so that you are comfortably nested on his lap, your ear against his shoulder, tip of your nose just about brushing the side of his neck, “I’m not a child.”

“Mmm,” Jake simply hums in agreement with your words, both his arms coming to form a loose, protective cocoon around you.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, a haze of alcohol enveloping you both. Truth to be told, the break up, the serial cheating - it all hadn’t come as a surprise to you. You had suspected on many occasions, but it had been easier to ignore and live in denial than to face the truth after 3 years of being with the same person. It had broken you for many reasons, and it still hurt like hell to lose a constant presence with which you had spent the past 3 years with, but you weren’t all that sure it had broken your heart, not when your relationship had been fizzling out for a while and you’ve suspected for months.

“He wasn’t good enough for you, you know,” Jake says as he turns his head slightly, managing to plant a half kiss on the side of your temple.

“You say that with every break up,” you laugh dismissively, “that’s what best friends are supposed to say.”

Your words make Jake frown and he moves himself to move you, making you sit up sideways on his lap so that he can look you in the eye. Your are slightly elevated from being seated on his thigh, and you find yourself staring down, holding his gaze. You slide the palms of your hands past his shoulders to steady yourself.

“They were all not good enough for you,” is what he says, unwavering as he holds your gaze. From your sideways position, you can feel one of Jake’s hands sliding around your back, and coming to rest on your waist, and the other coming to rest loosely across your lap.

“Or maybe I wasn’t good enough for them,” you say with a rueful quirk of your lips, letting yourself drown in alcohol induced post break-up self pity. Your words only make Jake’s brows furrow together, a flash of irritating passing through his eyes. It makes him move the arm hanging across your lap up to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing the space just below your eye. You let yourself luxuriate in the warm against your cheek, leaning into his hold. You see Jake’s gaze dart from your eyes to your lips, but the fuzziness of your mind doesn’t let you overthink at just how intimate the moment between you both is.

“You are too good for all of them,” is what he says. You see a flash of something in Jake’s eyes, and perhaps if you were sober, it would have been something you could more accurately place, but you can’t.

“I want to go to bed,” you say, your exhaustion suddenly hitting you and you let your eyes close, weight of your head still balancing on Jake’s hand.

“Ok,” is all he says as his thumb continues to move gently across your skin.

“Come with me?” You say, your ask clear, you didn’t want to be alone - it was simple, nothing more, no innuendo and you knew that Jake would understand.

“Ok,” he repeats as he finally drops his arm from your cheek.

Jake has a hand behind his head, eyes fixed up on the ceiling of your bedroom. You had fallen asleep the moment your head hit the pillow, no doubt attributable to all the tequila you had ingested, but also a sure sign at just how exhausted you were. He had taken a quick shower, ridding himself of whatever traces of airplane he had left on him, before tugging on the pair of shirt and shorts he had brought along with him and, true to his word - gotten into bed with you. There was no way in hell was he allowing you to wake up alone.

He lets the soft hum of your snores wash over him, and Jake tilts his head down to watch the rise and fall of your body from where it is curled up beside him in a fetal position under the covers. You look at peace, finally - but he can see the sunken skin beneath your eyes, a tell tale sign that not all was well.

“Baby,” he sighs, murmuring to himself, the term of endearment slipping too naturally from his lips, as you shift, your body finding its way a few inches closer to him. He doesn’t hesitate, removing the arm from behind his head to caress the side of your cheek. Your snores stop, turning instead to an sleep exhale of content, and in that moment, it strengthens Jake’s resolve. He feels the gears shift in his brain and chest, feelings that he had kept at bay in the recesses of his mind and heart for months, years, coming to shore. He had spent the past 3 years watching you fumble your way around with Dan, and even more before that with different men that you had dated, but it was enough - fuck that. He was sick of watching them hurt you, breaking your heart when you deserved so, much, more. Jake wasn’t going to let that happen again. The next person you dated was going to be your last, the person you dated, was going to be him.

“Text me when you land,” you twist your fingers around, interlocking them with each other as you and Jake stand on the sidewalk outside your apartment, waiting for his car to pull up.

“I will,” he says while watching you twist your fingers together. You weren’t ready for him to leave, and neither was he - ready for himself to leave, but the days since his arrival on Thursday night had blown past, and Sunday had come too soon, “text me whenever you need,” he says as he extends an arm, pulling you sideways into him. His action makes you stumble slightly, and you reach out with a hand, to grab him around his waist.

“I will,” your response is a parrot of his. It had been a great past few days, once you had gotten over the hangover that hit you both, but you harder, on Friday morning. Jake had forced you out of the house for two whole days of everything and nothing - strolls around the city all while forcing you to thread your arm through his, making sure you filled your stomach with an assortment of food, watching bad television together in your apartment. He had filled your space with laughter, familiarity, and physical touch when you needed it most and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, leaning sideways towards you to brush his lips against the top of your head. Jake lets his lips linger for a second or two, and you let your eyes close - letting yourself be vulnerable, enjoying the moment.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” you voice is soft, small almost, the truth of your words both a happy feeling for Jake, but also a stab to his heart.

“I wish I didn’t have to either,” he says gruffly, removing his lips from the top of your head to pull you into a bone crushing full frontal hug. He could see a car approaching from the end of the road, his time with you dwindling now to just mere seconds, “I’ll see you soon,” he says, a statement, not a question as you cling onto him in similar fashion.

“Soon,” you echo, a promise between you both.

“So how long are you leaving your girlfriend for?” The driver asks his question conversationally as he pulls away form the sidewalk. Jake’s gaze lingers on you as he raises a hand to wave goodbye. He sees you offer a lopsided smile and a similar wave of your hand.

“I don’t know,” he admits to the driver without much thought, not bothering to correct him. Jake keeps his gaze trained on you until he is no longer able to.

“Hopefully you’ll see her again soon,” is what the driver continues with conversationally, “she looks crushed that you’re leaving.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” is all Jake can say as he settle back into the seat of the cab, his mind far away, his heart still with you.

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doctorbitchcrxft · 10 days

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Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)

Word Count: 6125

Series Rewrite Masterlist

After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.

Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.

“What?” you whispered.

“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.

“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.

Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.

“Start what up?” you asked.

“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.

Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.

“Alright, just remember you started it.”

“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”

“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.

“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”

“Dean—!”

“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.

“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.

“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” you asked.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.

“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”

“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.

“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.

“Where’d you find those?” you asked.

The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”

“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.

“HellHoundsLair.com.”

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.

“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”

“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.

“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”

You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.

***

The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to.

“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.

“That’s the one,” answered Dean.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.

“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.

Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” you questioned.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

‘Oh, that’s just great.’

“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.

“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

***

You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.

“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”

Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”

“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door.

“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”

“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”

“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”

You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.

Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”

Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.

“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.

You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him.

He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”

Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.

Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”

A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.

“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said.

The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.

“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.

You scoffed. “Professional what?”

The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.

The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.

“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.

You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”

“Amateurs.”

You and Dean immediately lost interest.

Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”

“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.

“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.

“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.

“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.

“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.

Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”

“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—”

“By itself,” Harry finished.

“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.

“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”

He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.

“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.

“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”

A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”

***

You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town.

“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.

“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”

“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?”

His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“The Hell House.”

***

Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.

“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.

“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head.

“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.

You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”

You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.”

You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”

You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference.

“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.

You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”

“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.

“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.

“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.

“...I double dare you.”

Sam just shook his head and continued walking.

You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight.

“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”

Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”

Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.

“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother.

You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.

“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.

“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust.

“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.

You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”

He nodded. “Fine.”

“But Dean.”

“Hm.”

“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.

Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”

You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He just grunted in response.

***

The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”

“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”

Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.

“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”

“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”

***

Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.

“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.

“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.

“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”

You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter.

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea,” you responded.

***

The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.

His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”

“So?” Dean said.

“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.

“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”

Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.

“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.

“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”

“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke.

“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”

“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.

“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”

Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”

“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.

“Where we going?” Dean questioned.

“To find a copy store.”

Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”

Dean laughed and walked after you.

“You did this?!” Sam called.

The only response he got was a laugh from his brother.

“You're a friggin jerk!”

“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.

***

After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.

“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”

You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said.

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”

Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”

Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.

“Why should we trust you guys?”

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.

“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.

“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”

Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”

“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.

You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”

“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.

“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”

“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.

“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.

You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally,” Ed nodded.

Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”

“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.

Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”

Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly.

Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”

***

You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord.

You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”

Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”

“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.

“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.

You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”

Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”

Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”

“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.

“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.

Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”

Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”

Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”

You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”

“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”

“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”

Dean grunted, “Fine.”

***

Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.

You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.

“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.

“I don't know,” Sam answered.

“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.

You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.

“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.

“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up.

“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders.

He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door.

“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.

“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.

Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.

“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.

“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.

Sam and Dean appeared behind you.

“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.

“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.

The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.

“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”

Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.

“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.

“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.

You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway,

“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.

“Guys! Help!” you screamed.

Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.

“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.

“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”

Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.

“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.

“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said.

“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.

“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged.

You turned back to the house and watched it burn.

“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.

***

You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.

“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”

You cringed.

“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.

“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car.

“And create the RPG,” Harry added.

“The what?” Dean asked.

“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”

You forced a smile at him.

“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.

“What's that,” prompted Dean.

“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.

“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”

Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.

“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.

“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth

a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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sharkinthetoilet · 1 year

Note

The main 4 (without or with Cartman) + Butters and Creek (poly with those two,) x GN Reader,

Like how would they try to get their lovers attention? And reader pretends to not understand they want attention

The main trio + butters and creek, trying to get their s/o's attention

yayay, not being put thru the horrors of trying to write cartman as an appealing boyfriend

Gender: neutral

Warnings: tiny amount of paranoia

☆-stan:

Stan is that kind of person that makes weird noises to get your attention

You'd be sitting next to him, scrolling through social media and all of the sudden he meows at you

Now if you give him the attention, he wants, he'll do whatever he needed your attention for and then give you a sweet kiss on the cheek

If you don't, though, he'll keeping making the noise he's annoying you with

Louder. and. Louder. Each and every time

If you still don't give him his attention, he'll text you

"Hey babe, look @ me, thx"

if you still won't give him attention, he will ignore you for the next 20 minutes too

he acts like you betrayed him

in his eyes you did

if you want him to go back to normal, just give him a kiss or something

☆-kyle:

kyle is a very busy, so he does respect you for not always giving him attention

but if he notices, that you're purposefully ignoring you, that's a different tale

kyle is naturally hot-headed, so expect him to just blow up if you ignore him

goes to the 5 stages of grief in under 3 minutes

then he'll try everything to get your attention

would probably also do weird noises like stan, cuz stan always does it towards him

if you still won't soften up, he'll dramatically leave the room

will seriously be hurt, if you don't follow him

no, but seriously, kyle is pretty insecure, you ignoring him scares the ever living shit out of him

just give him your undivided attention for the rest of the day, please

☆-kenny:

my man needs attention all the time

definitely touches you a lot to get your attention

a biter

seriously, he'll bite you

if you ignore him, he'll slide his hands all over your body, acting all seductive

not necessarily in a sexual way, that's just how he is, touchy

he's super duper annoying, neither stan nor kyle can compare

"babe, babe, baby, bubu bunny, honey, sugar buns, babe, babyyy, love, darling, my oh so beautiful lover, dear, BABEE"

if you won't give him his 'deserved' attention, he'll sulk in the corner

the second you give him attention, he'll be at your side again, acting like nothing happened before

honestly doesn't mind you messing with him

☆-butters:

butters is such a cutie 😭

if you ignore him, he'll always be to 100% sure you're just busy

sits there patiently, waiting for you

if he feels like you ignored him have been busy to long, he'll get you some water and snacks, must be important what you are working on

will ask you, if you may want to take a break

hope you feel bad for ignoring him

please just 'take a break' and spend some time with him

he deserves it

☆-creek:

tweek and craig are polar opposites

craig actually has no problem with you ignoring him for a bit, he's quite fond of silence

sure, if he actually wants your attention, he would be a bit upset, if you ignore him

not that you could see it

but he won't be mad or anything

tweek on the other hand

he can't handle being ignored

can and will freak out

"HAVE YOU GONE DEAF?!; AM I DELUSIONAL?! ARE YOU REAL, AM I EVEN TALKING RIGHT NOW?!"

yeah no, don't ignore him

craig will be mad too

and with that you lost stripe privileges for the next 2 weeks

god they are so chaotic

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh #kyle brovlofski #kenny mccormick #butters scotch #tweek tweak #craig tucker #tweek x craig #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #butters x reader #creek #creek south park #tweek x reader #craig x reader

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lokischocolatefountain · 4 months

Text

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series

Men Like Me

Joel x virgin!Reader

Warning Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do girls like you only makes you want him more. Words: 6.2k Denial Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. Words: 10.4k

Mister Miller

Boyfriend's dad!Joel

Secret Summary: Your shameful secret you keep from your boyfriend is not such a secret after all. Your boyfriend’s dad Joel Miller knows what you do…very intimately. Words: 1.3k Picture Summary: Joel knows he shouldn’t, especially with the guilt of his shameful secret sitting heavy in his chest. But there are so many pictures of you and he is just a man. Words: 1k

Neighborly Thing to Do

Joel Miller x Reader x Javier Peña

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife. Simple rule to follow, you’d think. But it’s not so simple when your neighbor catches you coveting his girl, fucks her in front of you and tells you that you can help yourself to her anytime you want.

Yellow Bikini Summary: The new neighbors throw a pool party and Joel is invited. Words: 0.8k

Taken Care of

Predatory!Joel x Naive!Reader

You are as sheltered as can be in a world that has fallen apart. Realizing the errors of his ways, your father has his friend Joel take you outside the QZ to teach you how to survive in the real world. Unfortunately for you, Joel is interested in teaching you more than basic survival skills.

Comfort Summary: You and Joel find comfort in an unconventional way. Words: 1.8k

One-shot

Mercy

Summary: Stranded alone in the woods and left to die, all you can ask of Joel Miller is the mercy of a quick death. He is willing to give it to you, but he needs something for himself first. Words: 2.8k

Hurt and Protect

Summary: In a world where politeness wasn’t part of trade, it helped to have someone like Joel Miller as your protector. But to be his to protect also meant being his to hurt. Words: 2.3k

Our Normal

Summary: You and Joel find a new normal with touch Words: 1.8k

Purpose

Dad!Joel Miller

Summary: “I think if he (Joel) could do anything or be anything, he would be a dad, raising his daughter. Whether it’s Sarah or— he can’t quite get there yet to say it’s Ellie but that's what he was put on this Earth to do. That’s why he’s been wandering around a little like a zombie himself for 20 years. He’s trying to find his purpose because it was taken from him.” -Craig Mazin. A fic exploring Joel's journey as a dad. Words: 12.7k

not to feel the way i felt—

Joel Miller x Tess Servopolous

Summary: “I never ask you for anything, not to feel the way I felt—” Moments in their lives where Joel felt something, if not they way she felt. Words: 3.9k

255 notes · View notes

lvlyghost · 11 months

Text

Half My Soul

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: No one is supposed to be at the compound. But after a visit turns into hell, John finds you there.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tw: blood, angst, hurt with a lot of comfort. john is literally the best. description of injuries and violence. domestic abuse(? also daddy issues(??? think that's it.💫

A/N: Hmm, so this was supposed to be longer but ended up scrapping a lot of it while editing lolol. Enjoy🫡🌸🤍🩵

Masterlist✨ Part 2

It's not the physical pain what hurts the most. Not the busted lip, the purple eye or the scratches on your arms.

It's the reminder of the person who caused it. The eyes of the man who was supposed to look after you, to shield you from the bad people.

The man who was supposed to protect you. Eyes void of any kind of remorse. Hurtful words spat when you tried to help him.

You're soaking wet by the time you reach the infirmary. The whole compound is silent. Nobody's supposed to be here. The lightning illuminated the night sky through the window as you rummage around looking for bandages and painkillers, anything you can use to fix your deplorable condition. You use the sleeve of your hoodie to clean your face from your tear stained cheeks, the fabric becoming a shade of crimson red thanks to the blood sliding down from the tiny graze on your temple.

"This is what you get for trying to help him."

You scold yourself, more salty tears pricking at the side of your eyes.

You should've stayed with John when he asked you. Go to his apartment and spend the night with a nice supper and a bottle of wine. Choking down a cry you slam the cabinet door shut, wincing at the sound of glass as it almost shattered.

You swore this would be the last time you'd go. Never again will you set a foot back into that god forsaken house; your house. The place that once felt like a home when your mother was still around. Cooking breakfast for you with a weak smile, struggling to move around due to her illness. Fuck, you missed her so much it hurt. Your lips quiver at the thought of her; life would be so much better if she was here.

For all that it matters now. You have no one left. Not a single person who dreams of your success. That you will accomplish everything you once told her about when she was tucking you into bed.

"Craig said not everyone had left. Thought he was finally starting to lose his mind."

Your body freezes at the sound of a thick accent and a raspy voice. Your hands start shaking. Don't look back. Don't. Don't do it. He'll know something is wrong. "What're you doing here, love?" He asks. You can hear him shuffling his weight from one foot to another, the sound of keys jingling as he plays with them in a nervous manner. Not many people had that effect on him; making him blush and stammer, laughing like some young boy who just discovered what love is. You made him weak at the knees. When you don't answer nor turn to look at him he worries. Was he bothering you? Was he overstepping your boundaries?

"Jus' grabbing some stuff." You croak out. Hoping you don't sound as bad as you're feeling.

John hums as the silence settles in between the two again. Why weren't you looking at him?

"Are you sick?" He tries again, swallowing down saliva. He shouldn't have invited you to spend the holidays with him it was probably too much! Bloody hell. "Could you..." his mouth snaps shut. Jaw clenching and hands balling into fists, his heart begins to race when he finally sees it. The blood stained sleeve of your hoodie. That's it.

What the fuck is going on?

It takes him three long strides and he's right beside you, grabbing your arm as gently as he can. Shocked you jolt back, blue eyes meeting your scared orbs. His baby blues sparked with anger, something you had never seen before.

"John..." you gasped.

"Who did this?" He snarled. His hand go to cup your cheeks so delicately that your entire body sags. The contrast between his calloused hands and the ones that hurt you is great. "It was him, wasn't he?" He hisses. "Fuck, love why did you have to go..."

"He's my father John." You murmur, arms coming to rest on his sides. Your face is numb and it hurts.

"Don't care a single bit, sweetheart. I'll fucking kill him, you hear me? He's bloody stupid if he thinks he can lay a hand on you and not face the consequences."

"Stop, don't... just hold me." You beg, pressing your face against his hardened chest. The warmth that he exudes is calming and comforting, you inhale deeply while he murmurs sweet things in your ear.

John loathed the man with all his being. Hurting such a beautiful creature like you? How dare he? He's beyond pissed; if it weren't for you holding onto him like there was nothing else he'd be on his way to kick his arse.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?" He mumbles. "We'll go to my apartment. Bloody have that takeout and red wine I promised." You nod, letting him go although reluctantly. He hoists you up on the bed. "Now I'm not the doctor here love, guide me through it would ya'?"

A soft chuckle leaves your mouth, a sound John adores. He never wants to see you like this again. You getting hurt? He'd rather peel his skin off than to see you all beaten and hurting. He cleans your lip, gritting his teeth when you hiss at the touch.

"Don't let me sleep okay?" You ask him, when he's done an tossing everything to the trash bin.

John's brows furrow.

"You have a concussion?"

"Most likely." You stand up grabbing the painkillers. "Probably gonna have to pass with the wine this time Price." Your left eye's starting to swell. "Must look beautiful right now huh?" You joke.

"Hey." He stops you. "None of that." John is dead serious, he doesn't take any of this lightly. "Maybe you let this pass before sweetheart, but not now. Not when I'm here yeah? Not on my bloody watch. Let's get you home."

You exit the infirmary with the bear of a man guiding you outside and towards his vehicle, prompting you to get rid of the stained hoodie and taking his leather jacket instead. It smells like him. Like cigarettes and musk.

And he places a soft kiss atop of your head. God if he could make all the pain go away he'd be more than happy to do it. Whatever it took to make you feel safe.

To be safe.

Because maybe now, home would be a different place. And have a different meaning.

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sebsbarnes · 4 months

Note

Hi there!

I first of all wanted to start off by saying that I’m absolutely obsessed with your work- it’s amazing!!

Secondly, I was wondering if I could make a request?

Can I request a tangerine x reader where they’re out at a bar or something and there’s this guy being really pervy and creepy and just won’t leave her alone?

Obviously the reader can handle herself but they just got back from a long and tiring mission, and she quite honestly doesn’t have the energy.

So of course tan comes to the rescue 🤭🤭

I hope this is okay, and if not please feel free to ignore this!!

Have a wonderful day love and don’t forget to drink lots of water <33

heey!! i really appreciate the kind words, it keeps me going! i hope you've had a good day/night and if not tm will be better! and i hope u enjoy this!

bar fight || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

warnings: harassment, fighting

word count: 1.6k+

masterlist

a/n: im drawing inspo from something that happened to me one time at a bar which will be the reason tan steps in here but of course tangerine was not there to save me although that would've been lovely

"just one pint! two, two! i swear and then we all can leave," lemon pleaded, "we can leave the second i finish it. i'll even take the last sip on the way out the door," he tried enticing you, rubbing his shoulder up and down against yours.

"i reek, lemon. and tangerine looks like he nose dived into green and purple paint," you grimaced slightly at the bruises forming on tan's face.

lemon grabbed your wrist dragging you closer to the bar doors, "is it even a real bar if at least ten people don't smell awful and your shoes don't stick to the floor?"

the color of your eyes disappeared into the back of your head, "let's go."

lemon did a little victory dance before swinging the door open which tangerine held for you to walk in. the fatigue was riddled on both of your faces. the three of you had just gotten back into town after a long and very successful mission. you were all for celebrating but tonight you'd rather celebrate with a burning hot shower.

"you 'right by yourself? i'm going to head to the balcony for a few," tangerine asked, waving his pack of cigarettes in the air.

"yeah go for it, i'll manage," you replied. tangerine gave you a small nod before turning his back and sliding outside.

the inside of the bar was packed and you were shuffling around with your shoulders pulled in to try and avoid hitting people. it was loud, smelly, and yes, the floors were grossly sticky. it only annoyed you more, but, you tried having a positive attitude about it. 'two drinks' is all you kept telling yourself. after what felt like years you made it to the bar. you were sandwiched against a girl with blonde hair and a guy who weaseled his way in between you and an older gentleman. you could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of your head and the last thing you wanted to do was look over, but, it was becoming too much.

"hi!" he nearly yelled as you glanced over quickly.

"hey," you said curtly, bringing your lips into a straight line.

"i'm craig. what's your name?" he asked leaning in closer to you. you gave him your name, refusing to look back at him as you felt his eyes examine you. the drink you ordered appeared in front of you and you scribbled your name on the receipt.

"what's that you're drinking?" craig asked but you pretended not to hear him as you slinked into the crowd, hoping to lose him.

it worked for a while, you found some space near a wall to stand. there was a group of girls next to you singing loudly and dancing around. you couldn't lie and say it wasn't infectious as one of the drunk girls grabbed your hand and started dancing with you, which of course you joined in. it was fun and it kept your mind off how tired your body was.

"thought i lost you there!" you flinched away, startled, by craig's nervous laughter beside you. you looked down at the man who stood inches below you and gave him an award-winning fake smile.

"you're very pretty," he said puffing his chest out slightly.

"thanks."

"you don't talk much, eh? is it because you're nervous around me?" craig asked his eyes looking down at your legs.

"just tired!" you exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, gulping down the tequila in your cup.

"you seem a bit lonely, are you by yourself tonight?" he persisted, inching closer to you with each word despite you stepping to the side each time.

"nope!" you retorted, popping the 'p' and turning to find the bathroom.

you stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes and finished your drink. the eyebags seemed to protrude out of your face as you examined them in the mirror. now, lemon had to almost be done with his drinks. that man can pound drinks back. so, with high hopes you left the bathroom to go find a seat at the bar and wait until lemon found or texted you or hopefully tangerine was done smoking.

there was a vacant stool in the dead center which you jumped on. your elbow rested against the bar, head in hand, absentmindedly watching the tv in the corner. it was a boxing match that you had zero interest in but it provided enough entertainment. you shut your eyes tight as you felt the familiar, unwelcomed, presence over your shoulder.

"look, i think you are really pretty. hotter than anyone else here and look at me. any girl would want me and the fact you're trying to play hard to get is starting to really piss me off," craig ranted but you refused to turn your head and pretended like the noise of the bar drowned his voice out.

"you're right, i'm sorry. that was rude of me, i apologize. i just noticed you the moment you walked into the bar and i needed to talk to you. you're really beautiful and i know i'd treat you right. whoever you're dating must not be treating you right because i can feel that you want me."

tangerine blew out one last cloud of smoke and tossed his cigarette into the ashtray. it was far more peaceful outside but he knew he had to go in and find lemon, who he knew was more than two drinks in and probably friends with ten more people. tangerine opened the door back into the bar and scanned the room. that's when he saw a man with his hand on your throat.

you ignored craig's presence until you no longer could. he was silent for a few moments after his rant. suddenly, you saw a hand snake into your field of vision and you felt his hand pressing firmly against your throat. you were shocked for a moment before realizing what was going on. craig's thumb and middle finger were applying harsh pressure to your throat making it hard to breathe. then, you felt the pressure shift in his hand from choking to pushing. craig pulled you to the ground by your throat, your body flying backward off the stool and slamming into the floor.

you saw a figure jump over your body and loud commotion next to you but you were too disorientated at the moment from the wind being knocked out of you. one of the bartenders leaped over the bar and pulled you up and shielded you from the commotion. that's when you realized it was tangerine who had hopped over and started beating craig to the floor. it was like a scene straight out of the boxing match you were just watching. tangerine towered over craig in height and build and the anger in his face was terrifying.

tangerine was throwing the smaller man across the bar with punches. he'd punch craig in the face to which he stumbled and then tangerine would trip him. his body would fall to the ground and tangerine would pick him up by the shirt before launching him into the now vacant stools.

"please!" craig pleaded, blood running from his eyebrow. tangerine grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face into the bar.

"you like hurting women? huh?" he screamed, "you think you're so tough, look at you now! fuckin' pathetic piece of shit. what? it's not fun being picked on and harassed?"

tangerine was raging. his face and chest were red with anger and the vein in his forehead pulsated. he had wild eyes similar to when he was on a mission. you watched as he slipped his hand into his pants pocket, slipping on his brass knuckles. before he was able to crush the bastard's nose lemon swooped in from behind and grabbed tangerine's bicep. the bouncers from outside grabbed craig by the neck of his shirt and kicked his bloody body out of the bar. lemon's hands were on tangerine's shoulders trying to calm his brother down. finally, tangerine's chest rose and fell at a normal pace and he turned his head and noticed you. lemon released his shoulders letting him walk to you.

tangerine cupped your face and craned his neck down a bit, "are you alright love?"

you laughed slightly uncomfortable that a big scene was made because of you, "yeah... just shocked really."

"did he hurt you in any other way?" he asked with softness.

"no. no... i didn't think it would turn into that. he had been bothering me the whole time i should've been more forceful but i was just too tired to really care," you sighed.

"no," tangerine said sternly, now eye level with you, "none of this is your fault, okay? that prick should know better than to continue to harass someone who is clearly not accepting their advances. and the fact he fuckin' put his hands on you. fuck i'll..." tangerine gritted his teeth now standing upright and looking towards the door craig was kicked out of.

"tan! no. you getting arrested is not worth it. i'm okay, okay? he got what he deserved and i really don't want to be here any longer," you pleaded, grabbing onto his forearm to force him to look at you.

tangerine caressed your head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. tangerine guided you outside and when the door shut he pulled you into a tight but gentle hug, mindful of your back.

"i'm so fuckin' sorry love. i should've stayed with you the whole night," he whispered into your hair.

you pulled back from the hug, "mmm no, hey, hey- that's not what we are going to do. you have nothing to be sorry for and i'm thankful for you and not just now when you beat dickheads up for me, but always."

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!eddie x fem!reader x biker!Steve

Chapter 15: Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck

summary: tensions are high as the last few chapters come to a head. Now that Craig has you, and none of the gang knows where you are, panic ensues. Eddie has to deal with an unwanted interaction with an ex, while Steve finds out the truth about Charlene. Astrid gets a bad feeling and thinks Steve might be hurt, meanwhile you decide to take matters into your own hands and deal with Craig in order to escape. wc: 10.7k

masterlist playlist

WARNINGS: 18+ONLY, angst, a gun, typical series violence, gunshots, reader being held against her will, abusive ex, stabbing, hand to hand combat, some violence toward women (which I do not condone under any circumstances), manipulation, dark themes, reader fights back, revenge, hurt and comfort, sex with someone other than reader (not Eddie), premonitions, murder, being chased, aggression. protective!eddie, protective!steve, slightly gigolo!steve. Header photo is not meant to be reader.

author's note: In this chapter, I'm making up for the fact that 90's tow truck driver Eddie and the rest of the MC would've had beepers, but, alas, I failed to mention them before. I've been staring at this for so long now, I need to post it. Really hope you enjoy, and I look forward to hearing what you all think.

"It ought to be easy, ought to be simple enough Man meets a woman and they fall in love But this house is haunted and the ride gets rough you’ve got to learn to live with what you can’t rise above If you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love."

Tunnel of Love, Bruce Springsteen

-------

(This chapter starts of exactly where part 14 ended)

Just as Robin was about to reach out and catch Steve’s elbow, the bride, Daphne, jumped in front of her.

“You made it! I’m so happy I could cry!” Daphne hugged her tight and, over her shoulder, Robin watched Steve and Charlene disappear into the crowd, helplessly. The wedding was packed, but she was sure she could find him as soon as she was done with a polite chat.

She figured there wasn’t anything too bad that could happen in five minutes.

A minute or two into acting interested in the conversation Daphne and one of her bridesmaids was having, Robin turned around to gesture at you—to make the introductions—-but you were nowhere to be found. Daphne talked for a bit longer and Robin pretended to listen, but she was distracted, and the bad feeling in her gut was making her fidgety.

Good Vibrations by Marky Mark and The Funky Bunch ended, quickly to be replaced by What I Am by Edie Brickell, and Robin excused herself to go and look for you, apologizing to the bride profusely. Telling Steve that Charlene was an obsessive psycho didn’t feel as important in that moment—-she knew Steve could handle himself. But you? You were being stalked by a notoriously abusive ex and now Robin had no idea where you were. She should not have run off like that without you, and now she was kicking herself.

As Robin turned on her heel trying to spot you in the crowded lobby, Steve and Charlene were about to bypass the people on the dancefloor and make their way up to the hotel room. Steve didn’t know what was happening, at first, when she made the bold move of grabbing his hand in the crowd and pulling him closer.

“Hey, hey now,” he said in her ear over the twang of the music. “Should we be doing that where people can see us?”

Charlene sent her hand down to massage his cock, and then she leaned in and licked his earlobe. “I don’t care anymore,” she replied, leading him out of the low-lit reception hall and down the hallway.

Steve didn’t really know what that meant, and he hoped she wasn’t getting the wrong idea. If she wanted to flush her marriage down the toilet—-awesome—-but Steve didn’t want to be the reason. He had no intention to continue to see her after that evening, unless she was paying him, and he had every intention of making that clear in the elevator, but then she was on her knees with his cock in her mouth and he forgot what he was going to say.

—----------

Eddie rumbled into the parking lot on his chopper, ignoring the valet as he tried to tell him which way to go. He parked as close as he could to the building, sliding in next to a limousine, even though there was no parking space there, and gave a blank stare to the guys who were about to try and ask him to move it.

He yanked the main door open, eyes darting around the people in the lobby. He had no idea where to start looking for you, and that filled him with a frustration that made a growl escape his chest. The crease in his forehead softened when he felt two arms go around him from behind, but then one glance down at the hands, and he knew it wasn’t you.

“What the—” the relief he felt at the idea of turning around to kiss you was abruptly stifled.

“Hey baby,” Melanie cooed. She reached up to brush his bangs off his forehead like she used to in the old days, but Eddie moved his head away and blocked her hand.

He looked around before leaning forward to whisper curtly, “you just can’t take a hint, can you?”

Melanie settled back, bracketing her hands on either side of her hips. She had on an impossibly short, sequined lime green dress with dark red lipstick and it looked like she should’ve been on a stripper pole, not at a wedding. “Why do you hate me so much, Eddie? I gave you the best years of my life, the least you could do is be civil with me.”

Eddie frowned, moving to walk by her.

“Please, Eddie!” She screamed it, catching his arm.

Eddie hitched his shoulders up to his ears in frustration, cringing at the way so many people turned to stare at him. He moved in a circle, checking the crowd for you as he went, and then came back to face Melanie with weary reluctance.

“What do you want from me, Mel?” He asked, hoping it would be a quick fix so he could continue on with his night.

Melanie slid the tip of her tongue along her top lip. “Listen, I know I hurt you, okay? I know it was bad. But I’m a totally different person now, I’ve changed.”

Eddie cocked his head. “Good for you. What does that have to do with me?”

“Let me prove it to you,” she reached for his arm again and he let her hold it this time, hoping to speed things along. “Have a drink with me and let’s talk. I really miss you, Eddie,” she could tell he was about to interrupt and she put her hand up to stop him. “You told me once that I was the love of your life, that you’d never love anyone more than me, and I know a part of you meant it.”

Eddie cringed at the memory of the young, impressionable boy he was back then, so pussy drunk that he didn’t know which end was up. Did he mean it when he said it back then? Yes, from the bottom of his horny soul. Did a part of him still feel the same way? Not a single drop. What he’d felt for Melanie all those years ago paled in comparison to the level of devotion he had for you. He was a man now, determined not to make the same mistakes that plagued him in his boyhood.

Eddie took a deep breath, eyeballing the crowd again. “Okay, listen to me,” he took hold of Melanie’s bare arm, holding her firmly, and tilted his chin down to look her directly in the eye. “What we had has been long over for years now. I don’t know what I’ve done to possibly lead you on to believe there could ever be anything between us ever again, but I need you to get it through your fucking head that I don’t love you anymore. Things will never be like they were. I wish you well, but I don’t want you in my life, even as a friend. I need you to respect this. Nod if you understand.”

“Do you not want me in your life because your new girlfriend will get jealous?” Her mouth fixed in a mischievous grin, as if she’d completely missed the point of everything he just said.

“Fucking, goddamn it Melanie,” Eddie hissed, and then he ran both of his hands through his hair and gripped his fingers in at the roots, snapping his eyes shut to try and calm his frustration. “I can’t do this right now, I’ve got more important shit going on,” he shook his head and dropped his hands, turning to head in the opposite direction. “We’re done, totally done. Forever. I don’t want to ever see you again, Mel. Don’t call, don’t show up. Just go back to wherever and stay there. Have a nice life.”

He was a few steps away when she shouted to get his attention again. “I know where your girl is, if that’s who you’re looking for,” she had her arms crossed and a bored expression on her face when he turned to regard her again. “She left with some dude, if that means anything to you. They were holding each other pretty close and if you ask me—-”

But the last word got caught in her throat as Eddie barreled down on her, gripping her arms so tight, his rings pinched her flesh. He shook her a few times, making her eyes go wide. “You’re hurting me!” She balked.

“Tell me where they went,” he spoke with so much force, he accidentally spit on her.

—----

Robin caught sight of Eddie and started to make her way to the other side of the lobby, relieved, but then she saw who Eddie was talking to.

She made a face and stopped in her tracks for a beat. “Melanie?” She asked it to herself, under her breath. Robin knew she was the last person on earth Eddie would want to see, let alone be standing in such close proximity to. Eddie started to walk away, but then he turned back around and grabbed Melanie with a force that made Robin gasp. He could be a violent person, sure, but never with women, and it worried her to think of what she might’ve said to him.

Everyone was getting drunker and more oblivious to the people around them, so she worked hard to maneuver her way through the clueless party goers as What is Love by Haddaway jolted from the dance hall.

“Hey, Eddie!” She cupped her hand over one side of her mouth to shout it, but then she watched helplessly from a distance as Eddie and Melanie went down the hall and disappeared from view. What the hell was he doing with her—where the fuck were they going?

—-----

Craig had a room in the hotel, and that is where he took you.

As much as you were afraid of Craig, you also knew how to handle him in situations like this. To fight him, to argue with him, would only make things worse. He wasn’t the type to feel much empathy for any of the pain others felt; his pain and emotional distress were the only things that mattered. If you fought him, or if you tried to run, he wouldn’t hesitate to terrorize your friends. The thought made you shiver—you couldn’t let him get his hands on anyone else. He could take whatever he wanted from you in exchange for their peace.

Craig was also extremely stupid, and as long as you placated and went along with him—you’d have more time to think about your next move instead of struggling and wasting your energy. You didn’t put it past him to drug you and throw you in the back of his SUV, so you put on your Academy Award winning “this is fine” face while your mind raced for a plan.

Once he closed the door to his hotel room and put the deadbolt on, he took you in his arms, pulling you in for an embrace. “Ahh, now–isn’t this nice?”

You nodded against his shoulder as your eyes darted around for something sharp. “It really is. I’m glad you came to find me.”

He pulled away to smile down at you; thin lips stretching to expose perfectly white teeth. “See, now, there’s my girl,” he tipped your chin with the crook of his finger and then planted a kiss on your forehead.

You were sure he brought you up there to have sex with you, and the thought made your stomach churn—-you were prepared to rip his balls off before that happened. Craig was really strong though, and he could kill a man twice your size with his bare hands, so you had to find a way to battle with your wits.

“Have a seat,” he motioned to the bed in front of the TV, and then he grabbed the remote. “You wanna check and see what is on pay per view? We can order room service. Are you hungry?”

Such normal questions for such an abnormal and unfortunate situation.

You sat down cautiously, keeping your back stiff and straight. You noticed a huge black duffel bag sitting on the floor, and it looked like the type of thing he usually carried all of his weapons in.

“This is okay,” you gestured to the episode of Three’s Company that popped on.

He handed you the remote as he bent down to kiss your temple. “I’m going to wash my hands. Stay here, alright?”

You gave him a wink. “Of course I’ll stay here, sugar plum. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He sighed, offering a dreaming expression. “I’ve missed you so much, it hurts.”

“That’s sweet,” you offered, turning your attention back to the tv as he went around the corner to the bathroom. You got up and walked slowly to the window to see what you could see, talking to him all the while to keep him satiated. “I could definitely eat. Maybe room service wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

You held the rod and slid the curtain open a few inches, realizing you were above the middle section of the parking lot. Could you see your car from there? You didn’t have time to check; it was too dark and you heard the water shut off in the bathroom.

“Tsk, tsk,” he said, stepping back out into the hall so he could see you as he dried his hands off. “Step back from the window, honey, I don’t want you to ruin our fun with one of your clever ideas.”

“Oh I was just curious,” you were casual about it, making a point to leave the curtain open a bit. “If any of my friends were looking for me.”

“Oh they might try,” he undid the buttons on the cuffs of his white dress shirt and rolled up each sleeve, exposing faded military tattoos on his forearms. “But I booked this room under an alias. Plus, no one saw us leave, so your friends will be scrambling around like chickens with their heads cut off.” He emphasized the word “friends” in a sarcastic way, as if they weren’t that at all.

“I’m sure they’ll just think I went home,” you said, which was the furthest from the truth. You thought about Robin going crazy trying to find you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she worked her way up every floor, knocking on every door.

He sat down on the bed next to you with a bounce and took your hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you are tonight?”

“A few times,” you couldn’t help but lean away when he came in closer. “You told me downstairs and in the elevator.”

He wrapped his arm around the side of your hip and pulled you to him. “C’mon now, give daddy some sugar,” he cooed, diving his lips in for another attempt.

But you dodged him again. You could feel yourself blowing it, and you knew you needed to comply in order to find a way out of this, but the thought of being intimate with him made you want to dig your own eyes out with a spoon.

“I don’t know if I’m ready…for that,” you managed. “Too soon, I think. Just give me a little time…to get used to you again.”

Craig grabbed your jaw, squeezing your mouth together so tight, your lips puckered, yanking your head to make you look at him. His eyes were dark now, narrowing on you. His tone was ice cold, “Oh but you’ll kiss him won’t you? That filthy dirty biker? You make me sick.”

You swallowed hard, and in your mind, you considered the ballpoint pen next to the pad of paper on the desk. If you could get a hold of it, you could stab him in the side of the throat.

But, if you made the decision to wound Craig, you had to be willing to go all-in.

You had to be willing to end him.

—-------

Steve waited to cum until he was back in the hotel suite. Charlene got on the bed and sucked him off the rest of the way while she came using the vibrator she carried around in her handbag. It turned Steve on to know that she always had it with her—he’d never been with a woman who was so incredibly sexually charged before.

He came on her face, and then she licked it up and rubbed it down her breasts. They got in the shower together after that, and the thought crossed his mind that he should go down and have a drink with you and Robin, but then his dick took over again and he forgot.

The suite was huge, and while Steve lounged on the sofa in one of their complimentary robes looking over the room service menu, Charlene sat down on the bed to rub lotion on her legs.

She smiled over at him. “The life of leisure looks good on you.”

Steve lifted his arms up and glanced down at himself. “You think? Yeah, I could definitely do with some more of this.” The fridge was fully stocked with booze and sparkling water and other goodies, and Steve had raided it like a little kid at Charlene’s urging. He was on his second fancy beer and third bag of pretzels.

“You should come with me to Greece this winter,” she worked the lotion down around her manicured feet, feeling suddenly too shy to look at him. “My friend has a house there, and we could charter a yacht, play on the beach, eat and fuck until we pass out. And then do it all over again the next day.”

Steve flipped the page on the menu, eyes glancing over the seafood section as he plucked at his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Sounds good. I’ll have my secretary clear my schedule.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed, rolling over onto her stomach to face him, kicking her feet up behind her. “Wouldn’t you like to spend more time with me?”

Steve shut the menu and met her eyes. “Well, sure, I mean, but I can’t just take off for a week to wherever, sweetheart. This man of leisure is living paycheck to paycheck over here.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that,” she assured him, resting her chin in her palm. “I’ll pay your rent and whatever else you need. Give you some spending money. You won’t have to pay for anything, unless you want to buy me something pretty.”

“Yeah?” Steve smirked. “What’s the catch, angel? You gonna sell me to the highest bidder for some black-market organ donation once we get there?”

“No catch,” she shook her head. “It’s just hard to find good companionship these days.”

He sucked his bottom lip through his teeth. It all sounded a little too good to be true, but he would be lying if he said the offer wasn’t tempting. Fucking Greece? He’d only been out of the state a few times in his whole life, and it had all been for MC related stuff.

“You could even bring Oliver,” she continued, looking down at the bedspread. “I could pay for a nanny to travel with us, so we could have time alone.”

That made Steve frown, and he searched his mind for how she would know that he had a son, but then the moment passed. He must’ve mentioned him at some point, accidentally.

But Charlene seemed harmless enough. Just a bored housewife with a smoking hot body.

She got off the bed and slinked over to stand next to him. He ran his hand up her leg under her robe until he was able to grab the apple of her ass, and then he spanked it.

“Did you decide what you want from the menu?” She asked, mussing up his hair. “Or we can still go out to dinner if you want.”

Steve tilted his head all the way back to look up at her, letting the menu slip to the ground. “Are you on the menu?” He asked, moving his hand around under the robe until his fingers found where they could sink in.

“For you? Always,” she said, and then she bent down to catch his mouth with hers.

—-------

Eddie had Melanie by the arm, and she tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he was way too strong---way too pissed off.

“And then where did they go?” Eddie was scowling at the numbers on the three different elevators. “Which floor?”

“I SAID I DON’T KNOW,” Melanie hissed, finally wiggling her arm away. “Jesus. I never saw you worry about me like this before.”

“Fuck,” Eddie started to pace. He was losing it, and he didn’t know where to start looking or how to find you. He wanted to rip the whole building down with his bare hands.

Another man’s voice stepped into the equation. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing to her? Leave her alone, you freak.”

Eddie spun around, eyes like daggers. It was some douchebag he didn’t recognize in a tux, even taller than Eddie, with a lime green bow tie and cummerbund, clearly there for the wedding. From the looks the guy was sharing with Melanie, it was probably her date.

“Just stay the fuck out of it, whoever you are,” Eddie warned.

Melanie stepped back with a little smile on her face, enjoying the tension over her that was building.

“I asked you a question, man,” the guy in the tux with the short blonde hair said as he came up behind Eddie to jab his palm into the back of his shoulder.

Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Eddie turned and swung on the guy.

Robin came into view and screamed, covering her mouth with her hands.

Eddie’s fist was like a brick, and the guy went down hard. The elevator opened and the four people inside yelped as he crashed in, with Eddie in hot pursuit.

Two people rushed out of the elevator, but another couple stood huddled in the back corner, afraid to move. Eddie lurched forward to grab the guy by the front of his coat and yanked him to his feet to pull him out of the compartment just long enough to send a jab to his ribs that made him double over, and then he pushed him down.

The elevator closed again with the frightened passengers still inside. The rest was a blur for Eddie as he got on top of the guy and started wailing on his face.

“Eddie, stop!” Robin tried to grab his arm on the back swing and the force almost knocked her over, but she did not relent. “DINGUS STOP!”

Somehow, the nickname seemed to snap him out of it, and, with a few sharp intakes of breath, Eddie got to his feet, panting, standing over the guy. The dude on the floor was somehow still conscious, but he probably wished he wasn’t one side of his face was mangled where Eddie’s rings broke the skin and there was blood dribbling from his mouth.

There were people gathered at the mouth of the hallway now, watching with slack jaws, and Robin was worried someone had already called the police. “Nothing to see here, people!” She called out, waving her hand, begging them to disperse.

Eddie was about to drop down and punch the guy again—just because—but Robin used all of her strength to forcefully push him back.

Eddie snapped his attention to Melanie and pointed at the guy on the ground. “Is this yours? Both of you get the fuck out of here before I—-”

Robin had only ever seen Steve like this—never Eddie. Normally, he possessed the most patience and composure out of everyone in their friend group.

She slapped him softly on his cheek to get his attention. “Hey, listen to me. I need you to fucking focus right now,” and then she snapped her fingers in the air in front of his face.

Eddie huffed a few heavy breaths out his nose and adjusted his Coffin Kings leather over his white tee. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and a few pieces of his hair clung to his cheek and forehead. Melanie was able to help her date to his feet, and Eddie watched them go with hard eyes and flared nostrils, silently begging the guy to throw him a dirty look or say something stupid. Thankfully, for Robin’s sake, the guy wobbled away with his arm over Melanie’s shoulder without a single glance back.

“Focus,” Robin repeated, snatching his chin. “Your girl is here somewhere, and I can’t find her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie jerked his head to evade her grasp. “She’s with that fucking psycho and I have no idea where to start looking.” He shut his eyes tight and winced. “I fucked up, Rob. I should’ve killed that guy when I had the chance. Now he has her. If he hurts her, Rob….”

“Hold on,” Robin frowned as she took in the information, her body flushing with guilt. “You know she’s with that Craig creep? How do you know?”

Eddie didn’t want to talk—he wanted to move.

Outside, through the glass front of the building, he watched a police cruiser pull up through the crowd. It did have its lights on, and whoever was driving didn’t seem to be in a hurry, but all the same, he hit a button on the panel and took hold of Robin’s arm, ready to pull her in when the doors slid open. She followed his gaze to the two cops that were now heading into the building, and panic seized her.

It was taking too long for the elevator to come, so when the one across the way opened, they darted there instead.

A woman got out of the elevator as they stepped in and quickly hit the button for one of the higher floors. A delivery driver carrying Chinese food was about to get in with them but decided against it at the last moment.

Once they were alone, Eddie answered her question. “Melanie saw them,” he breathed, falling back against the wall. “The description fits, and she said he had his arm around her,” Eddie cringed. The thought of him touching you made him want to punch something.

“Shit,” Robin said under her breath, feeling the thick weight of uncertainty hang in the confined space around them. “You don’t think he’d actually do anything to her, do you?”

Eddie eyes glazed over and shook his head, concentrating, unable to form words.

“Nice dress, by the way,” he said, referring to the strapless blue number that she now regretted ever buying, let alone wearing.

“Shut up.” She returned.

The doors opened at a floor that wasn’t theirs and Eddie told the two people waiting there to take the next one before he slammed the button again with the side of his fist.

Robin started to gnaw at her thumbnail. “Steve’s here somewhere too,” she let him know. “He came with that Charlene woman, the one you used to bone.”

Eddie froze, giving her an incredulous look. “And you let him?”

She held her arms out, raising her voice. “I just realized who she was a little bit ago. What am I, his fucking keeper? Besides, she offered him so much money to take her to this stupid thing, I don’t think he would’ve cared.”

Oh, Steve would care if he knew the whole story, Eddie thought to himself. And he’d really care if Charlene started targeting his family when he tried to end things with her or move on with someone else.

When the elevator finally dinged and opened at the floor they chose, there stood Steve.

In a white bathrobe carrying a bucket of ice.

With his sunglasses on.

—--------

After being scolded by Craig, you disarmed the situation by pressing your lips to the side of his mouth. “Baby, why don’t you get comfortable so we can snuggle? Like we used to.”

He crawled on top so that you were both on the mattress. You needed to build a decent level of trust with him in a small amount of time and letting him have some intimacy was the quickest way to do that.

He got on his back, with his head on the pillow, and pulled you up alongside him so that your cheek was on his shoulder. He lifted your chin to give you another kiss. “Isn’t this nice?” He asked, rubbing his nose on yours.

“It really is,” you lied.

It took a lot not to try and scratch his face and knee him in the groin right then for what he’d done to you, for what he’d done to Jester. For the pain that Eddie would go through when he couldn’t find you.

But you found your center and took a cleansing breath.

You had formulated a part of a plan, but you had to be patient.

Soon.

—---------

When Steve came back into the penthouse with the extra ice, he didn’t have the patience to wait for room service to bring, he was different, and Charlene noticed it right away.

She could see it in his face, the way he refused to make eye contact with her when she dropped her magazine to her lap to greet him and tell him their dinner was on the way.

Without a word, he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom.

“Stevie?” She called out to him, anxiety tightening in her chest. “What took you so long? Is everything alright?”

Steve shut the bathroom door first, and then he mumbled, “yeah, I’ll be right out. Just need a second.”

He let his robe fall to the floor and braced his hands on the edge of the sink, naked, letting the information Eddie had just shared with him in the hall absorb. He tossed his sunglasses on the counter, so they skid across and landed against a hand towel folded in the shape of a swan.

He ran the sink and splashed some water on his face, letting himself peek in the mirror at his reflection over the tips of his fingers.

As close as he was with Eddie, they weren’t in the habit of swapping partners, and if Steve had known that Charlene was that “rich, older woman he hung out with once in a while” a few months ago, he never would have gone that far with her in the first place.

Water dripped cool down his tattooed chest as he looked down at his cock, lolling out at the triangle base of the muscular indents at his hips. He patted a finger on the shaft so that it bounced. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he whispered to his dick.

Not only was Charlene someone that Eddie had fucked, but she’d also tried to make Eddie’s life a living hell when he tried to move on with you. She’d paid a private investigator to stalk Eddie, tried to break the two of you up, and was the reason you got fired. Eddie warned him not to trust her, and to not let her sink her claws in and try to keep him like a pet.

He put his pants on and wet his fingers to run them through his hair, squaring his shoulders at his reflection, wondering how he’d get the rest of his money out of her. She’d paid half up front, but now he needed the rest, and then he wanted to get the fuck out of there. Eddie and Robin were headed to do some investigating, and he said he’d meet them in the stairwell in about 20 minutes.

Charlene was hovering near the bathroom door when he opened it, and she searched his face for a trace of the person he was before he went to get ice—but it was no longer there.

Her Stevie was gone.

“Hey,” he said as he brushed by her to put his shirt on. He left it unbuttoned as he turned, fixing the collar. “It’s late, I need to get going.”

“But,” Charlene looked around, her mind racing with ways to keep him there. “The food will be here soon.”

He’d been trying not to meet her eyes, but when he did, his stare was frigid. “I’m not hungry anymore. I just need you to pay me the rest of my fee, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He went to the couch to put his shoes on.

“Steve, please tell me what is going on? I thought we were having a good time, I thought—”

“You thought what?” He asked snidely. “That I’d do all this for free? Out of the goodness of my heart?”

He was about to be a real asshole, but then he remembered that he had enjoyed his time with her, and under different circumstances, he would’ve stayed to fuck her all night even if he wasn’t getting paid. But he had to end it—he needed to cut ties before things turned into a shitshow like they had for you and Eddie. He couldn’t afford that level of drama in his life, not with Robin and Oliver at risk.

She rushed up to him and started kissing his chest. “Can you just stay a few more hours? I don’t know what is bothering you, but I know I can take your mind off of it,” she sank lower, kissing his stomach, about to get on her knees.

“I said no,” he repeated, grabbing her arm to pull her back up to face him.

“But, why—”

“Why didn’t you tell me you used to fuck Eddie?” He blurted, scowling at he ground.

A hard swallow clicked in her throat as she searched his eyes. “I-I didn’t think it would matter. Eddie and I aren’t—”

“Is that why you bailed me out of jail? Was it all part of your maniacal plan to get back at him or some shit?”

“Absolutely not. Steve, I really care about y—” she reached out to touch his face, but he moved away, stepping further back. He looked hurt and confused and disgusted all at once.

“Don’t act like you give a shit about me,” he warned. “I don’t think you’re even capable of caring about other people.”

At that, she bristled, and her cheeks burned red. She froze so still that, if not for her blinking, one might have thought she’d turned to stone.

“You know what? Forget the rest of the fucking money,” he walked to the nightstand and put his wallet in his back pocket. “It’s not worth it to me anymore. I’ll chalk it up to a couple orgasms and a free meal.”

Charlene did not respond, she only wet her lips as her eyes stayed fixed on one spot on the carpet.

He went over and paused his hand on his jacket that was hanging over the back of the couch. “Actually, I could probably sell this suit and makeup the difference so yeah—we’re even.”

When Charlene finally spoke up, her voice was different; it had an edge to it. “You’re awfully ungrateful for someone who should be on their knees thanking me.”

Steve chuckled a low laugh. “Listen, baby, the sex was great, I’ll give you that, but it wasn’t that great.”

“I’m not talking about the sex,” she turned and tilted her chin up at him. “I’m talking about how you still have custody of your son and he’s not several states away with Tina right now.”

Now, it was Steve’s time to turn to stone.

When he finally blinked, he made a face like he was staring into the sun. “What the fuck did you just say? How do you know about my son? About Tina?”

Charlene would’ve said anything to make him stay, and she was oddly pleased that this did the trick.

She shrugged. “I know that it didn’t take much money at all to get Tina to come here and cause some trouble. Shame she signed her parental rights away, but there are always ways around that, considering how much blood you have on your hands.”

Steve reeled back, almost knocked off his feet at the weight of the confession. He had to grab onto the back of the chair at the writing desk to steady himself as his head swam. Bile rose in his throat as if we were about to puke.

“You’re the reason I almost lost my son?” He whispered it, overwhelmed with the realization that Charlene was to blame for all of it: Every disaster that had befallen them since the day Eddie met you. All of the pain, all of the worry, all of the sleepless nights.

Charlene folded her arms over her chest. “If you think I can’t prove you have blood on your hands, try me.” Her eyebrows darted up a few times. “Eddie too. He left a bloody fingerprint at the crime scene when he killed a man in my driveway. All I ever do is try to keep the two of you safe, and this is the thanks I get?”

Steve’s mind barely had time to register that his body was moving—-he knocked the chair to the ground and lunged after Charlene.

His hands were around her throat so fast she could barely take a gasp of air at the end of her sentence. He took her to the ground, slamming her into the floor. She coughed and her eyes bulged.

“You tried to take my son away from me?” He was shaking; his eyes bloodshot with rage, but also wet with emotions. His lower lip trembled, and his face was beet red.

She held onto his wrists where he was choking her, sputtering, trying to catch air. She squirmed underneath him, but if her knees made contact with his stomach or groin, he couldn’t feel it.

"Kill me," she gasped, and Steve released his grip a little but did not relent.

“I should kill you,” He hissed, searching her face. He realized then that she had her hands locked on his wrists to keep him there, not to push him away.

“Please,” she wheezed. “Please…kill me.”

With a string of curses, Steve pushed off of her and jumped back, planting his arm on the edge of the coffee table to steady himself as he tried to collect himself.

Charlene sucked in a few gulps of air and stayed on the floor where she was.

Steve wobbled and stumbled a bit as he stood, trying to catch his footing. He looked down at his trembling hands, and then over at Charlene.

“I'm sorry,” he breathed. It took a few sold moment to find his composure. “Listen, stay away from me, stay away from my family. Stay away from my friends. I won't tell you again.”

It had taken all of his strength to not crush her windpipe just then, and he hated that about himself. He hated that, on top of everything else, Charlene was the reason he’d laid hands on a woman in anger for the first time in his life. Wayne and Robin would be very disappointed in him, no matter the circumstances.

His son would be disappointed in him.

“Steve,” Charlene rolled over onto her side. “Please don't go."

He fixed his collar again and left the jacket. He grabbed his smokes, and fumbled the lighter, trying to compose himself. The thought occurred to him that he should go over and help her up and make sure she was okay, but then he remembered…then he remembered all of it.

Without another word, he left. Once he was out, and the door clicked shut behind him, she continued to shout his name and tell him she was sorry. He could hear things being thrown around the room; the sound of glass breaking as it hit the wall. Steve kept a quick pace, only faltering once to shoulder check his balance against the wall, dizzy, but was already in the stairwell as her declarations of remorse echoed down the hall.

—----

Craig ordered Chinese food from the restaurant up the street and had it delivered. For a second you thought you might be able to get word to the delivery driver that you were being kept there against your will, but what would the delivery driver do? Get himself killed, probably, or pretend like he never saw you because who in their right mind would want to get mixed up in that?

It may have taken 20 minutes to eat your meal, but for you it might as well have been hours. He liked to coach you on how big your bites should be and how long you should chew your food. If you chewed too loudly or too fast, it would agitate him, and he’d stop you to make you start over.

It was all you could do to muscle down each bite when you weren’t even hungry, and it took every ounce of your willpower not to scream.

The fortune cookies were interesting because the paper inside yours said “this too shall pass”, while Craig’s was blank.

“I’ve never seen a blank one before,” you said nonchalantly, closing the lid on your take-out container. You could see the inconsistency was bothering him; he kept turning the paper over as if he’d missed it somehow. With his obsessive personality, you expected him to call up the restaurant and ask for another cookie.

But, he decided to let that one go and tossed the blank fortune into the pastick sack that the food came in.

You knew he’d want to clean up the area right away and sanitize the table again, so you took your opportunity.

“Can I use the bathroom?” You stood up, picking a piece of sticky rice off of your dress.

“May I,” he corrected, pushing his chair back exactly where it had been before he sat down. He lifted his eyebrow at you. “May I use the bathroom is the proper way to ask that.”

Your throat was tight as you swallowed, biting back a rage that was surely bubbling in your eyes. You forced a smile that cracked your cheeks. “May I?”

“Of course you may, silly goose,” he walked over to brush his finger along your cheek just before he leaned in, and your nostrils flared at the unwanted touch. “Don’t take too long. I’ll miss you,” he cooed after he pecked you on the lips.

Safely in the privacy of the bathroom, you locked the door quietly and gave a long, silent scream into your palms. Tears jerked at your eyes and mouth, but you sucked them back, squaring your shoulders.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, wondering if you had the guts to do what needed to be done.

If you didn’t already have the guts, you needed to find them—fast.

You’d asked Craig earlier what the plan was, and he’d made it very clear that he was taking you back to your place the next day so that you could pack your things and then return with him to Michigan. He casually mentioned that he knew where Oliver was spending the night—-just throwing out small details he thought you should know. In case you fought or refused to leave with him.

You realized now that he would never stop coming for you, not while he was alive.

You turned the faucet on so that the noises you were making wouldn’t be so obvious as you went to work unwrapping the soaps and scattering things around the countertop. You flipped all of the towels on the wrack around and unfolded them, making them as messy as possible. You got the bottoms of your shoes wet and made a bunch of dirty footprints around the floor tile. You relieved yourself quickly on the toilet, but then yanked some off the toilet paper down so that it pooled on the floor.

“Hey, pumpkin?” You called out to him over the sound of the toilet flushing. “Do you have some toothpaste I can borrow?”

He came over to the door and tried the handle. “There’s some in that black bag by the sink. Why is this door locked? Please put the cap back on properly when you are finished.”

You waited a few beats before unzipping the small, black bag, quickly eyeing for anything else you could use but, toenails clippers and a toothbrush weren’t great weapons. Unless you had time to widdle the end of the toothbrush into a shank like they do in prison. You put the cap of the toothpaste back on, but you left everything on the counter.

Before you opened the door, you moved the bathmat so it was crooked as it hung over the side of the tub, and you unhooked the shower curtain from two of the rings.

“Ahh,” you said as you exited, looking refreshed. “Much better.”

He was just walking to put the trash outside in the hall when you took the initiative to hug him. “I think I made a bit of a mess in there, baby. Sorry about that.”

When he shut the hallway door again, he came to flick the light on in the bathroom and his shoulders fell, his face pinching tight. “This is unexceptable,” he mumbled.

You took note that he forgot to dead bolt the front door in his haste.

You could hear him cursing you under his breath, but also knew that he wouldn’t be unable to function until he tidied up that room and put everything back exactly the way it was.

“Sorry lover,” you yelled, sweetly, turning the sound on the tv up. It was an episode of Golden Girls this time. “I was going to take a shower but decided not to.”

He had to shut the bathroom door in order to fix the shower curtain, and that was when you hurried to grab the red lipstick out of your purse. With your heart racing so fast you thought it might explode, you eased back the curtain to the window over the parking lot and wrote on the glass with the lipstick, and then you gently pulled the cream colored curtain back in place so that it didn’t make any sound as it skidded along the rod.

Craig opened the bathroom door again, but he would be cleaning and organizing for a while—so you forced a fake laugh over something that happened in the show, to make him believe you were just chilling, and then you grabbed the ball point pen you’d noticed earlier and put it in your back pocket. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. You made a mental note to always carry at least a pocket knife or pepper spray with you at all times.

Wait….

You suddenly remembered the travel-size can of aerosol deodorant you’d put in your clutch for Robin because it wouldn’t fit in hers.

You took that out, and tucked it under the covers.

At the last second, Craig stuck his head out to see where you were, and you just happened to be relaxing on the bed with your head cradled in your hand, face lit up with amusement at the screen.

—------

Alone at her place, on the way from the kitchen to the living room with a mug of tea in her hand, Astrid felt a pain shoot through her heart that was so sudden, she dropped the mug and it shattered to pieces on the laminate floor. She clutched her chest and swallowed back the taste of bile, trying to steady herself, bracing her hand on the stove.

After a few deep breaths, the flash of agony subsided, and a glance up at the clock told her that Steve was probably still at the wedding.

Her head swam, and her ears went blind as if her head was submerged in water.

A gun shot?

The thought occurred to her, but then it passed.

Was she experiencing another one of the symptoms of the strange connection she had with Steve ever since they were kids? Or was she having a panic attack of her own? She’d been thinking about the tarot reading she’d done for him; the warnings she’d been moved to share with him.

And then that charming, goofy grin he’d flashed her as he came in for a kiss, making light of her sudden and deep concern.

Driven by some type of inexplicable instinct, she stepped over the broken ceramic, toed into her shoes, and grabbed the keys to her old truck, hoping the engine didn’t fail her this time.

She also hoped, for some unspecified reason, that she wasn’t too late.

Too late for what, she wasn’t sure.

—-------

“First things first,” Robin paced in the stairwell between the 3 and 4th floors while Eddie gnawed at his lip, his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. “I’ll go down and see if I can find out from the front desk which room Craig is staying in.”

“They’re not just gonna hand that information over to you, Rob,” Eddie bit, trying not to take his frustration out on her. His own mind was racing, not only because of you, but also at the thought that Charlene had crossed yet another line and was trying to fuck with his friend. He couldn’t worry about Steve though—he had to trust that he would take the information he’d given him and do what needed to be done for that situation.

It was then that Eddie’s beeper went off, echoing off the walls.

He unclipped it from his belt to check it and found that it was from Wayne.

Alerts on his beeper from Wayne that were not during business hours always made his heart stop for a second.

“Shit, I gotta find a phone,” he mumbled.

Robin started taking the stairs down, motioning for him to follow. “We can sneak around to the payphones in the lobby. This way.”

Turns out, the cops weren’t there for Eddie, they had just been strolling by to check on the event. Robin batted her eyes at the guy at the front desk and asked for a peppermint while Eddie checked out the scene.

Wayne wanted to let him know that Bones and the rest of the Coffin Kings were on their way.

Eddie leaned against the payphone as Wayne advised him to wait for the rest of the MC before he made a move; it wasn’t safe to go up against a guy like Craig alone.

“Be careful, son,” Wayne told him.

“Take your meds and get some rest,” Eddie returned, which was just another way to say ‘I love you’.

“You need me there?” Wayne asked. “You need me to go and check on the boy?”

Eddie looked across the lobby at Robin who was on her way back with a handful of red and white peppermints wrapped in plastic and her tongue out in a goofy expression.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Eddie murmured. “Check on Oliver just in case. He’s with his friend Paul at Raina’s.”

He also knew that Wayne was much like him, and in a situation like this—he needed something to occupy himself so that he didn’t go mad.

He hung the black phone back onto the receiver and let Robin feed a round candy into his mouth; he started chewing right away instead of sucking on it, crunching down so hard his jaw clicked. He didn’t want to think what Craig was capable of now that he had you all alone, all to himself.

What if he put his hands on you? What if he….what if….

Eddie growled in frustration and punched the cement wall.

He hissed in pain, knuckles zinging, and then flapped his hand in the air.

“I need to go slash that fuckers tires so he can’t go anywhere,” Eddie told Robin, and she nodded; agreeing.

They told Steve to meet them down in the parking lot, and now they’d have more muscle as the rest of the kings rolled in.

But Eddie was losing patience, and—even worse—he worried he was losing you.

—------

Craig was in a bad mood when he was done cleaning the bathroom, and you knew he would be—but it was a price you were willing to pay.

He turned the TV off and stood in front of him, glaring down his nose at you.

“What have you been up to while I’ve been busy cleaning up your mess?”

You sat up and batted your eyelashes a few times. “I’ve just been missing you, that’s all.”

His open hand slap came hard and fast across your face and it stung like hell.

Your eyes were watering as you slowly brought your head back to face him again.

“Are you done being a little pig?”

You sucked in your bottom lip, nodding. “Yes.”

You winced, because you thought he was going to slap you again, but he grabbed your chin like he’d done before and squeezed, making your mouth pucker. “Say you promise.”

“I promise, baby. I promise.”

“Good,” he released you. “Now we can finally enjoy our evening.”

You sank from the bed and got to your knees in front of him, and his hooded eyes followed your every move.

“If I can’t be a pig, can I be a whore?” You purred, moving to unfasten his belt buckle.

“You are such a fucking whore,” he hissed. “And you know how much I hate whores.”

You undid the button and pulled down the zipper. He groaned a little as he watched you reach inside his boxers to pull his cock out. He tilted his head back, feeling your warm breath on the tip as you stroked him and he pushed his pants further.

“Fuck yeah,” he said to the ceiling. “Suck me dry like the whore that you are.”

You spit on the tip and jerked him a few more times, unwilling to touch him with your mouth, as you reached around for the pen in your back pocket and clicked the point out.

“Yes, baby,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

On the next breath, you jabbed the pen up into his balls as fast and as hard as you could.

In that first second or two, while he was still in shock, wailing, you stabbed him with it a few more times.

Jab jab jab

Blood gushed out and he fell to the ground whimpering screams that could not be fully formed inside the crushing pain.

He clutched his wound and rolled over, giving you enough time to scamper away. He lurched for you as you darted across the bed, thinking you wanted to grab for the deodorant spray, but then you just said fuck it and let out a feral yell as you dropped down with your knee in his face, and then you brought the pen down again....

You were aiming for his eyeball--hopefully his brain---but it stabbed into his cheek instead.

His scream was so piercing, you thought it might break the window

Was he dead or going to die? Probably not, but this was your only chance to get away and you had to take it. You ran as fast as you could, fumbling at the handle of the door as you heard his shrill, gurgled moans behind you.

—------

Steve found his way down the stairwell and stopped to take a breather. He’d been walking awhile, and his adrenaline was through the roof, so he paused to lean against the railing and light a cigarette.

“Son of a bitch,” he said on the exhale as smoke billowed out, and then he wet his lips. The worst part about finding out what Charlene did, was that Steve had honestly started to like her. He felt like he’d been tricked into dubious consent because he never would’ve let himself have any feelings if he’d known even half of the truth. He put two fingers to his throat to check his pulse, certain that he was in the middle of a panic attack. The nicotine did its job to calm him down, it also got him to slow down and breathe, if only to support his habit.

His attention perked up again when he heard a scream and a thump coming from the floor above, and then more screaming, as if some dude was being murdered.

—-----

On the highway, Astrid struggled to catch her breath, and the constriction in her chest made her swerve into the gravel and fishtail before she righted the truck again while the duet Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash played through static on the radio.

She could see the lights of the hotel up ahead through the trees.

—-----

Eddie found Craig’s SUV in the parking lot and stabbed its tires with his utility knife, thinking he should have one of the guys bring the tow truck around and impound the fucker. Robin tried to open the doors and cupped her hands around her eyes to see what was inside.

Behind them, a car was pulling in off the highway; the headlights behind them cast their shadows over the pavement.

they heard the brakes squeal to a halt and a woman yelped.

Eddie’s attention went to the side of the building and he caught sight of something scrawled in red on one of the windows.

—-----

You turned a corner at the end of the hall and ran like the devil was on your heels, passed several vending machines and a pool, until you broke through into a dark stairwell and made your way down on foot.

You were afraid to look back.

The fear of hearing him enter the stairwell behind you had you in such a hurry that you tripped twice and caught yourself. You were barefoot, and you were pretty sure you’d stepped on a thumbtack or some glass because the pad of your left foot stung like hell, but it did not slow you down.

You wiped something wet out of your eye with your arm, assuming it was blood, and regretted that you didn't stay to make sure you killed him like you knew you should have.

In that moment, as you stumbled down the stairs afraid for your life, you felt like going to prison for such a thing would've been worth it.

You finally shot out into the night air and took a deep breath.

You came out around the backside of the hotel, where there wasn’t much illumination but for three lights up high on a ledge. You only paused for a second, but kept going, passing dumpsters and an employee entrance before you caught sight of the highway and headlights making their way onto the property.

—-------

Charlene darted from the hotel and out into the street, desperate to find Steve to explain, to let him know she regretted all of it, without looking where she was going. Before one of the valets could stop her, she almost got hit by an old truck cruising in at twice the speed it should have.

Only a hair away from the grille, she turned to throw the driver a dirty look.

Astrid was startled as well, but with her foot on the brake, and her eyes locked on Charene, she revved the engine.

—-------

When Craig stumbled into the elevator with a dark stain seeping through the crotch of his denim and a punctured face oozing blood, everyone in the compartment cleared out, muffling their screams as they went.

He heaved and grunted and thumbed the button for the lobby as he scowled down the hall at nothing while the doors slid shut.

He had two loaded guns shoved in the waistband of his jeans and he intended to use them.

—-----

Eddie stepped closer to read what it said on the window with a tilt of his head. It read: “Eddie I love u” and it was written backwards so that it could be legible from out where he was, not inside the room.

“Baby,” he whispered with a catch in his throat.

Forgetting about everything else he was doing, and the chaos that was going on, he took note of which floor that was and started to book it back inside, but then that was when you came into sight, limping around the shadowy corner.

You had blood spatter on your face, and your dress was ripped. It also looked like you hurt your foot somehow and your face broke into a sob the moment you saw him.

—------

Astrid parked her truck right where it was, with the headlights still on as she got out to find out where the boys were. She grabbed a shovel out of the bed in case she needed to use it as a weapon.

She was about to say something to Charlene when they heard the gunshot and both women ducked down, shoulders pressed together behind the side of the truck.

—-----

Craig exited the building on a rampage—not caring who saw him or what it looked like as he shot a bullet into the air.

He stepped out between you and Eddie, and you called out to him.

“I’m right here, Craig,” you said, stepping further into the light from the shadows. “Please just, leave them be. I’ll go with you wherever.”

Craig turned to give you a sneer of a grin, his white teeth now pink from all of the blood in his mouth.

“Oh, honey, it’s too late for that.”

You locked eyes with Eddie across the way and he started towards you, ready to breech the gap, regardless of the consequences as Craig turned the gun on him.

Eddie kept his pace, getting closer. “You better be ready to use that, man, before I get my hands on you.”

With Craigs finger hot on the trigger, there was a sudden yell from somewhere in the bushes as Steve flew out of nowhere and tackled Craig to the ground. Eddie took that split second to get over to you, to hold your face and make sure you were okay.

The gun went off again, but the two were a tangled mess on the ground. Steve beat Craig’s skull into the pavement a few times, and jammed his thumb into the once good eye, but Craig clocked him with the butt of the gun and it stunned him for a second.

It all happened so fast.

Steve was able to crack Craig’s hand against the ground and he lost his grip on the gun, and it skidded away, out of reach.

There were motorcycles thundering near in the distance as Craig yanked the other gun from his waistband and shuffled back to take aim.

Eddie spread his arms out and moved in front of you to act as a shield..

And then there was a gunshot from somewhere else, but the bullet only skimmed Craig’s shoulder. He yowled, but he did not faulter.

Charlene tried to aim at his skull for a second one with trembling hands, but Craig turned the gun on her and Astrid before she could, and he got a shot it, just before Steve reared up to take him to the ground again. The struggle turned them over several times, but then in a blink, Steve was on his back again, but he was able to wrestle the other weapon from Craig.

Craig reared up to bring his fist down into Steve’s face just as Astrid was about to bring the business end of the shovel down on his head---

but then there was a shotgun blast from out of the dark.

Blast…click…Blast…click…Blast

You ran up behind Eddie and put your arms around him.

Craig’s body spasmed in the air where he knelt above Steve as the power of the shots knocked him back.

There were smoking holes blown through his head and his chest.

With one final, open-mouthed pause against the beam of the headlights, and a choked gurgle, Craig’s dead body slumped to the ground.

Panting, Steve unsheathed his knife and got to his knees; ready for more just in case.

Everyone’s eyes followed the line of fire to the source.

And there was Wayne.

He stepped out of the shadows in his Coffin King's denim kutte with “Uncle” on the front pocket, lowering the double barrel. He tipped his chin to both of the boys and squared his shoulders.

A crowd had gathered from inside, including the bride, and the woman who had just caught the bouquet, and Melanie. Even Erika was there as someone’s date. They whispered to each other as Craig’s blood pooled into a little river on the uneven pavement and made its way to the gutter.

From inside Astrid’s truck, the chorus to the song I’m on Fire by Bruce Springsteen was eventually drowned out by the fierce rumble of motorcycles as the entire MC entered the parking lot and flanked the scene.

Part 16

----

whoa, who knew this would be such a family affair when this fic first started? This world has come to mean so much to me, and I'm so grateful to those of you still riding along.

As always, your comments mean the world, and, if you enjoyed it---reblog it---because it's the only way this fic will ever be seen by anyone but us 🧡

----

Taglist: @notsobubblybaby @eighty6babyyy @unfocused81 @aysheashea @etherealglimmer@manicmagicmayhem @dream-a-little-nightmare@chaoticgood-munson @ms1oftheboys @emxcast @rhirojo@bexreadstoomuch @micheledawn1975@falling-solar-system @secretdryrose@kurdtbean @whatwedontdointheshadows @miarosso @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @lofaewrites @goldyghoul @chloe-6123 @kelsiegrin @chelebelletx @stylesxmunson @dandelionnfluff @lilpotatobean2-deactivated20230 @clincallyonline17 @tlclick73 @eddiemunson95 @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @truffleshuffle12 @tenthmoon @texasblues@emilyslutface@mmunson86@onegirlmanytales@layla-loves-ed @dashingdeb16 @eddiiiieeee @michellecrusher

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson series #I'm on Fire #Eddie Munson fic #biker!Eddie #biker!steve #coparents!stobin #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #biker fic #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson drama #Steve Harrington #90's au #biker Eddie Munson #biker Steve Harrington #Spotify

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glittergoblinzz · 3 months

Text

Can't help but think about cbf!Simon x Reader.....

(Cbf = Childhood bestfriend)

Pairing - cbf!Simon x Reader

(TWs - Mentions of abuse, torture, SA, and death; Angst, no comfort ending)

• Cbf!Simon who you met shortly after moving across the street from him at an early age, maybe at 7 or 8.....

• Cbf!Simon who would spend a lot of his nights over at your house because he genuinely felt safe with you, something he didn't feel in his own home....

• Cbf!Simon who you would sneak out a lot with starting when you two were 14....you two would sneak out into Mr. Craig's field and just lay out under the lone tree at night, completely forgetting about all the problems back home....

• Cbf!Simon who would be your first kiss during one of these nights after opening up to you about his home life and how you made him feel safe and wanted for once in his life....

• Cbf!Simon who would tell you he's leaving to join the military the moment he's old enough to sign up and promise you he'd return safely.....

• Cbf!Simon who, after the incident in Mexico with Roba, is a lot more distant, more closed off and won't explain why.....

• Cbf!Simon who eventually opens up about what happened....who eventually opens up about the betrayal from his CO, the torture and sexual abuse he suffered at Roba and his men's hands, about his family's death....this man never broke down, even when he opened up about the abuse he suffered from his dad all those years ago

• Cbf!Simon who, despite loving you deeply, doesn't confess his feelings or make any moves on you due to being too scared to put you in danger and lose you like how he lost his mother, brother and nephew....

• Cbf!Simon who's absolutely devastated when he comes home from a multi-year deployment to find you're engaged to someone else....but he sucks up his feelings and supports you anyways despite the person he loves the most is marrying someone who isn't him....

• Cbf!Simon who still always comes back to you after coming home from deployments, despite you being married to someone else and even having children now.....

• Cbf!Simon who's the 'cool uncle' and spoils your kids rotten, something he never got to do with his own nephew Joseph....

• Cbf!Simon who always keeps a picture of the two of you from your childhood on him, even while he's deployed overseas and on missions with the task force....

• Cbf!Simon who lays on the ground, slowly dying after being betrayed yet again by someone he thought he could trust....his last thoughts of you, wishing things had turned out different and that he had the balls to confess his feelings years ago when he had the chance....

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #afab reader #male reader #gender nuetral reader #angst

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shhh-secret-time · 4 months

Note

Hi hi!

I’m super in love with your writing. The Craig and Tweek fic you just posted was 🫠🫠 SO GOOD

If it’s alright, I’d love to request a spicy Kenny or Stan fic 💙🧡 Or maybe one with both of them?! 🤭

Thank you so much!! Looking forward to more of your writing 🩷🩷

Why have one bitch when you can have two?! Why have two normal bitches when you can have 'em superhero flavored?!

Warning: Violence, Blood, Inappropriate Touching, Dirty Talk, Strong Language, Threesome, Oral, NSFW! Kenny also might be a little OOC

Pairing: Stan x Fem!Reader x Kenny

Click

"Come on..."

Click

You cursed under your breath for the fourth time as you tried to twist the dull key back and forth. The chipped jagged metal slipped into the lock but every time you twisted the key it would get stuck on the old lock and reject the motion. With a groan you pulled the key back out and glared down at the door; the stupid iron doorknob mocked you. You could hear it, cackling at you. That or the lack of sleep was finally starting to get to you.

It was bad enough your boss made you stay behind at the office while everyone else got to go home, but having you lock up this late by yourself was just icing on the shit cake. Of course, you agreed to do it, you didn't want to get fired, but this was ridiculous. If he was going to make you lock up for the night, the least he could do was give you a key that works. The low whine and flickering lamppost behind you was your only source of light before you had to resort to your phone light. The city lights weren't enough to illuminate the small lock making your eyes narrow down, adding to the frustration.

Sh-nk

"Fucking finally." The sound of the door finally locking was music to your ears, you jiggled the key out of the lock and stuffed it into your bag.

Now it was time for the walk home, despite being forced to put in extra hours and how annoying the whole situation was; you couldn't deny how great it was that you lived so close. Well, usually it was great that you lived so close because you would normally be walking home during the evening, when there was still light. You took a deep breath and turned to walk down the little stairs going up to the back door of the office, clutching your bag close to your chest. Scanning the dark alleyway, you stepped into, your knew this was a bad idea but you'd be damned if you had to fight with that door again.

The sound of your shoes clicking against the broken stone echoed into the night, carefully walking around the bags of garbage leaning against the brick wall and the trash littering the dirty alley. Faded and wet newspaper clinging to the ground, the smell of wet garbage assaulted your senses. Your nose crinkled as you shook your head at the sight, it was hard to see your city like this. Even harder when you realized how many times you passed through this very alleyway without giving it a second thought, but now because you had to be more aware of everything around you it was hard to ignore.

At least you thought you were more aware, your mind so focused on trying not to step in the mysterious puke looking stain on the ground you didn't hear the sounds of footsteps following you. It wasn't until you felt a warm puff of air on the back of your neck did you realize someone was that close to you, the smell of alcohol strong on their breath. A large hand came down to cup your face before you could turn and face the stranger, dirty nails digging into your lower jaw to keep you facing forward and your mouth covered. Your eyes widened in realization at what was happening, your body jerking violently against his hold. You just had to free your mouth and you could scream. Scream for someone to hear but the hold was too strong.

Barely able to make out the outline of your attacker, it looked like heavy set man with oily looking hair. When your eyes met with his it sent a shiver down your spine, your blood running cold at the lack of light in them. Dark orbs watching your every move, keeping you from moving against his hold. Before he could act, before you could bite down on his disgusting hands or stomp on his foot with your heels; a purple shadow wrapped around his body engulfing his large frame. The shadow swirled until it pulled taught around his heels, forcing his feet together. The large man's eyes widened like yours had done when he grabbed you. His hands let you go leaving behind dark bruises on your arms, but you could care less. Now that you were free there was only one thing on your mind. Violence.

The metal pipe that rest near your foot would do nicely, you scooped up the cold rusty pipe in your hands. With a firm swing you brought the pipe down on your attacker, the metal coming in contact with his skull causing an echoing sound to ring out. Maybe his skull cracked but underneath the sound of the metal ringing it was hard to tell, it was hard to care. All you knew was that you needed this man to stop moving, to stop moving away from the beckoning shadows that threatened to pull him into the dark.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa hey! He's out!" A thick gloved hand caught your wrist stopping you from slamming the pipe down again.

The hold on your wrist was gentle compared to the man bleeding out at your feet, it was enough to snap you out of the battle mode you were in. It was then you realized your hand was covered in blood, the broken pipe had cut your palm leaving a dark gash. A part of you was thankful that you hadn't beaten the man enough that it was his blood, the other part of you was disappointed. You should have swung harder. Your eyes dart from the blood on your hand to the man holding your wrist, his eyes are much softer filled with concern. Soft blues masquerading behind the pale-yellow visor around his eyes.

Your mind was still trying to catch up to everything happening. In just a few moments you went from fighting a door to fighting a grown man, to now staring into the face of one of the city’s most famous vigilantes, Toolshed. When he sees you've calmed down, he lets your wrist go, slowly moving his hand up to yours to inspect your palm. His brows furrowed at the deep cut, dark red blood seeping out of the wound. Panic was starting to catch up to you, your legs threatened to give out under you as the adrenaline leaves your body.

Another pair of arms holds you up before you hit the ground, another pair of gloved hands cupping your hips to steady you. Your back hit the front of the cloaked figures chest. A dull green glow covered by your body, but you didn't need to see the question mark on his chest to know who this was. Lavender purple eyes look down at you, and despite the piercing look his eyes held the same look of concern for you. There was no mistaking it, this was Mysterion.

"Careful. Let Toolshed get a look at that cut." His voice, that deep gravel, rumbled throughout his chest sending a different kind of shiver down your spine.

"O-oh um, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just...still-" You were cut off by a small squeeze on your hips, it was firm but not too rough just enough to reassure you.

"You don't need to apologize; you were the one that was attacked." There was a hint of amusement behind his tone and in his eyes, until he saw Toolshed examine your bruised arm.

Toolshed looked up at him with his lips pressed together in a thin line. Reaching down towards his toolbelt, he grabbed the crystal blue spray bottle. He attaches the small nozzle with quick movements, you could barely follow along with his movements. And you struggled to lock a door.

"This is going to sting a little but it's going to heal that wound, okay?" Toolshed shoots you a quick smile as he pulls the trigger down, a thin mist speaks across the palm of your hand.

You let out a small hiss and stomp your feet when the medicine takes to your hand. The burning is only temporary as it begins to numb the area and coats the gash. Your eyes crack open from squeezing shut watching the medicine work its magic, and it really was like magic. The skin begins to pull together, stitching like it was being sewn shut.

"W... wow that's amazing. What is that?" You ask with awe in your voice.

Toolshed only chuckles, looking up at you through his visors. That's twice now you've made these famous superheroes chuckle and it sent a giddy feeling through your body.

"Just a concoction Mysterion helped me put together. Can't go into too much detail, ruins the mystery." There's a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he looks past you towards Mysterion.

"Nailed that pun Toolshed." You could feel Mysterion's smirk in his reply.

Their lighthearted joking made you feel a little better. You smiled up at the two heroes and once you found the strength to come back to your legs you went to pull away from the hooded vigilante. He looks down at you when you move, his arms going back behind the long purple cloak around his body.

"Well, whatever it is it works wonders. Thank you, Toolshed." You paused and looked back towards Mysterion. "And I take it the shadow thing, was you? Thank you as well Mysterion."

"You don't need to thank us for doing our job. Besides I think you did most of the work. Do you know him?" Toolshed walked towards the man in question as he flipped open one of the pouches on the harness across his chest.

You watched as he pulled out ratchet straps, wrapping the thick material around the man. It wasn't likely that he'd wake up but too many close calls left Toolshed paranoid, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"No. I-...I don't think so. I think it was just a case of bad luck. I was working late so I had to close up the office."

"Alone?" It was Mysterion's turn to ask, his eyes scanning your form almost like he was still trying to make sure you were okay.

"Yeah. I live close so I thought I'd be okay." You click your tongue in annoyance because you couldn't be mad at your boss for this, but this never would have happened if he hadn't asked you to stay late.

Mysterion's eyes narrowed past you towards the office door. He scanned the area like you had done moments ago, the green question mark glowing on his chest lit up the purple in his eyes and the strands of blond hair poking out from under his hood. "Do you have a friend’s house to stay at tonight?" His voice snaps you out of your little trance.

"Uh yeah, my friend Stan is kind of close. I can ask him if I can stay with him and his partner." You eye Mysterion for a while trying not to question why he would ask something like that.

Mysterion's eyes widened as you pulled out your phone, darting over to Toolshed who shot him the same worried look. They knew revealing themselves to you would be dangerous, but they couldn't just sit back and watch as you got attacked.

Oh yes, Toolshed and Mysterion knew you were working late tonight. After all you told them you were. Well...you told Stan and Kenny you'd be working late at the office, but that was neither here nor there. Now here they were backing themselves into a corner as you tap away on your phone. Toolshed holds his breath, trying to remember if he put his phone on silent.

"I hope they're awake, they're usually asleep by now." You hum out as you finish the text.

Toolshed's phone dings and Mysterion feels his soul leave his body when he watches you look up from your phone. Slowly you turn to face the man, still crouched over the knocked-out man refusing to look at you.

Silence falls over the three of you. Mysterion goes to say something, to take the attention away from his partner.

"Um...how did you guys know I was here and that I needed help?" When you don't put your phone away Toolshed feels his heart hammering against his chest.

"Patrol." Mysterion answers you quickly, too quickly.

You narrow your eyes up at him like you're scrutinizing him. It was hard to read him past the hood and the shadows that were cast around him but that doesn't mean you wouldn't try. You took a few steps forward towards the man which only made him step away from you. The irony of someone like you making someone like him back away was not lost on him. A civilian making a vigilante back down. Not just any vigilante either, he was fucking Mysterion.

"Patrol huh?" You don't buy it. Tapping away on your phone you send Stan another text, nothing really of note, and when Toolshed's phone pings again you got what you were looking for. "I fucking knew it!"

"God damn it Toolshed!"

"Oh, don't give me that shit Kenny- fuck!"

"Dude!"

"Kenny?!" You're whirling, spiraling even.

Two of your closest friends standing in a dark alley with you, having saved you in said alley, were actually two of the most famous superheroes in the city. A city that needed a superhero group because the police couldn't be fucked to do anything about the crime rate. Running your fingers through your hair, you couldn't believe this.

"How was I supposed to know she would drop your name?" As you tune back into the conversation you hear Kenny's voice as he argues with Stan.

"I don't know! Why not just escort her back home?!" Stan is arguing back with a grown man thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Does he even weigh anything to him?

"I didn't want her to be alone tonight after what she went through!"

".... that makes sense, but still!"

"Guys!" You cut them off in a hushed whisper, you look back over your shoulder to make sure no one is watching. Their voices were picking up and if someone called the police now it would mean trouble. "Look can we talk about this later? Let's drop this guy off and...and head back to your place? Because you are right, I don't wanna be alone tonight."

Kenny and Stan exchange looks and then nod. You were right, they still had a job to do. So once the creep was dropped off on the stairs of the police station and their calling cards were dropped beside him, the three of you made your way back to their shared home. It was a lot easier to get around the city with Toolshed carrying you across the city buildings. Who would have thought zipwires made for such easy travel. That didn't stop you from clinging to him for dear life, even though his hold was firm and made you feel secure that deep seeded fear of falling was still there.

"Okay. So... first of all I've got to be the biggest idiot to not realize it was you the whole time Stan. Second if all, what the fuck guys?" You were now pacing back and forth in their living room; they hadn't even had time to change our of their superhero gear.

"There's a reason I work at night." Stan shrugged on the comment about his costume.

"It's a shame really, I keep telling you the public would love you." Kenny shoots him a smirk and runs his fingers through the fluffy black hair of his partner.

"Then who would keep you outta trouble?" Stan shoots back with his own playful smirk.

"No one! You're both in trouble right now! And really? Flirting right now?!" You couldn't believe these two, your frustration was boiling up to the surface. A combination of all this bullshit was starting to get to you, you were tense.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what you want us to tell you." Kenny's nickname for you rolling off his tongue casually. "Stan and I have been doing this for years now. We had to keep it a secret from you."

"What if you got hurt because of us? You would have stressed endlessly about this. We couldn't do that to you...not you." Stan's follows Kenny's lead in the conversation, his tone is so soft and gentle as he speaks.

The way they were are looking at you now, Kenny having removed his mask and Stan his glasses, made you calm down a little. Uncrossing your arms from your chest you let out a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck.

"I guess that explains why you guys go to bed so early. You guys are dicks."

The comment pulls a few chuckles from the guys. It's Stan who makes the first move towards you, taking your hand into his. He guides you closer towards them until you're standing between both men.

"Look, we're sorry we lied to you for so long. I know it doesn't make things better but you're one of the reasons we do what we do." His voice dips into a soft whisper near the end. The tone deepens as he gives your hand a little squeeze.

"He's right sweetheart. You're on our minds every time we put on the mask...or shades in Stan's case." Kenny leans forward taking your other hand in his as he speaks.

"Safety goggles."

"Whatever."

Your heart skips a beat at your two best friends saying the sweetest things like it was something so casual. The effect the men had on you made you blush and look away trying to hide it. But Kenny caught on, he always was the more observant of the two. A smirk tugged up on the corner of his lips as his hand slid from yours towards your hips again. The green gloves from his costume long discarded off to the side, now you could feel his calloused hand through your clothes.

"Angel. Is there something on your mind? You were so vocal a second ago. I thought Stan and I were in trouble?" Kenny's tone dips from that soft reassuring to a deep teasing one.

"You guys are! Don't think you're gonna smooth talk your way out of this one McCormick." You glare down at him, the blush creeping across your face towards your ears deepening into a darker red.

"Then say what's on your mind~. I think you're so cute when you're trying to stay mad."

Stan let's out a little chuckle at that, watching as your mouth falls open but nothing comes out. His own smirk comes up to his lips as he finally catches onto where Kenny is taking the conversation. Their secret identities were not the only thing the two men harbored. No, in fact their attraction and care for you went past a platonic level. The two shared many nights of talking about adding you into their relationship, the only thing really stopping them was the double lives they lived. But now that you knew, there was nothing really to hold them back.

"Kenny stop teasing her. She's pouting now. Our girls had a rough day, you can't blame her for getting mad." Stan brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss into the stitched up wound on your palm.

His words echo in your mind. Our girl? All you could do is stand there dumbfounded, slowly blinking at them. There was no way you were reading too much into this, not this time. Sure, there were the times you caught Stan's eyes on you longer than they should have been, or the times Kenny would boldly flirt with you; showering you with compliments that were just tasteful enough. Or how their hugs would last a little longer each time and their hands would linger on your skin.

"Guys...I-I uh... I don't remember what I was going to say. Stop trying to distract me!" What was supposed to be a stern scolding turned into a small whine.

Kenny couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips, you were just too adorable. The pads of his thumb rubs circles against your hip, the digit slipping under the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, honey if we were trying to distract you, you'd know. In fact, why don't we show her Stan?" Kenny couldn't have emphasized the word trying harder, practically purring out the word.

"Best idea you've had all night babe." Stan's eyelids drop as he stands up from the cream-colored couch.

He does an amazing job distracting you with that lustful look in his eyes, circling around you slowly, you almost don't hear Kenny. "Tell us if you want us to stop at any point and we will Angel. You want us to stop?"

Stan hums in agreement, his hand still clasping yours. Your eyes bounce between both men as your mind scrambles to come up with an answer. "N-no. No I don't but uh... since when did you guys- I mean like is this just a one-time thing? I-I just wanna clear the room."

"Not if you don't want it to be." Stan's voice dipped into a husky whisper, his breath fanning the shell of your ear. "All cards on the table? We've thought about making you ours for years."

Your mouth falls open as a soft gasp spill from your lips again. Hearing that come from Stan of all people was a shock, you expected this from maybe Kenny, but Stan too? Without putting much thought into it, your hand came up to grip the collar of his hero outfit; pulling away from Kenny's grip to bring Stan towards you as you crashed your lips onto his.

His fingers intertwined with the one holding yours, changing the gentle hold into something much firmer. He brings your hand up to rest against his chest all the while his lips match the passion behind yours. The sound of your lips coming together and breaking apart for quick gasps of air had Kenny leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees. Kenny's tongue traced his lower lip watching you two in your heated battle. It wasn't until you felt Kenny tug you forward by your hips that you broke your kiss with Stan.

Kenny couldn't help but admire Stan's work, in just a few short moments he turned you into a flush panting mess. It was almost a shame he was about to do the same. While Stan's kisses were desperate, trying to take every ounce of you, Kenny's were slow and confident. It was like he knew exactly when to let you come up for air, only to bring you back down with soft gentle kisses to the corner of your mouth.

Now that you were pulled from Stan, he took the opportunity to take both your hands by the wrist. His face nuzzling down into the crook of your neck, continuing his assault on your soft skin. You could feel Kenny's smirk against your lips every time Stan pulled a soft gasp or whimper from you.

"Stan baby, move her to the couch. We gotta get this train rolling for my sake." Kenny finally lets out a growl, showing you just how much of an effect you were having on him.

You feel Stan's hands drop down to your waist and scoop you up with ease just like he did on the way here. The veins in his arms pulsed out as his muscles flexed under his skin.

Now that your hands were free you grabbed at the edges of the couch cushions, letting Stan lay you down on your back. He slots himself between your legs, pulling your knees up to rest on his hips; his tool belt thrown over the back of the couch.

"Fuck you're gorgeous. I gotta be real with you baby, when you beat the shit out of that creep I was so turned on." Kenny's voice has you looking back and up at him. Deft fingers finally pulling up your shirt, only to toss it somewhere on the living room floor.

"Kenny y-you can't say things like that" You whisper as you help Stan remove your pants.

"I can't? I can't tell you how both Stan and I were ready to rip that guy’s throat out for touching our girl?" He smirks down at you, his fingers tracing down your neck towards your bra strap where he slipped it down off your shoulders.

Quickly replacing his fingers with his lips, Kenny trailed a line of kisses up your neck making sure to leave marks where Stan hadn't. Meanwhile Stan worked his lips down the inside of your thighs, his head moving up and down the flesh to leave love bites. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning if you wanted to, their movements felt calculated. When one left a mark the other would leave another, it was driving you crazy.

"St-stop leaving so many marks! I-I don't have anything to hide those!"

"Good." Stan snickers as he leaves a rather sharp nip through your clothed clit. "How do we wanna do this Ken?"

"Kinda wanna watch you fuck her to be honest. That sound good to you sweetheart? Wanna let Stan fuck you?"

"O-oh fuck.... b-but what about you?" You tried to focus on Kenny but the metal jingling from Stan's belt made it hard.

"Oh, baby I was hoping you'd ask. Think you could let me use that pretty mouth of yours?" He asks, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips.

You didn't know how to verbally answer that without letting out a pathetic moan, so you press a kiss into his thumb and nod. His breath hitches and he smirks down at you.

"God damn you're perfect. Stan go ahead, I wanna hear her a little."

Stan slides his cock in between your already soaked folds, gliding the tip of his cock against your clit. The friction sends your back arching off the couch, your hips desperately trying to grind up against his to chase that pleasure. Kenny chuckles and his hand comes down to cup your exposed breasts. His larger hand digging into your flesh just enough where his fingers dip into your skin. Using just a little force he pushes you back down onto the couch, you don't even have time to protest when his fingers find your nipples, giving them a firm pinch.

"Ah~ none of that. Let us take care of you, you just sit back and relax." That bastard and his dumb smug smirk, if the way he looked at you with those beautiful purple eyes wasn't the most attractive thing you'd be fighting back.

But you couldn't. Not when Stan finally slipped his cock on your tight little hole. Not when fucking Toolshed let out the most delicious moan you think you've ever heard, one that mixed with yours so well. Stan's eyes find yours again, letting a moment pass giving you plenty of time to adjust before he starts a slow pace. From the way he pulled his cock along your walls, slipping out until only the tip remained, it was like he was trying to get your body to memorize every vein on his cock. Stan's hands come up to cup underneath your knees, guiding your leg up to his shoulder. The new angle is enough to have you seeing stars and your nails digging into their nice sofa.

"That's it, let it out. How is she baby? She feel good?"

"Fuck Kenny she- she's so good. So, fucking tight, it's like she's choking me." Stan has to catch his breath in between moaning, his breathing getting heavier, and his hips begin snapping forward in a much more consistent pace.

His partner didn't respond but from the way you watched the two men kiss you could tell he was pleased with the response. Kenny's tongue shoved into Stan's mouth intertwining in their own little battle. Stan's mouth lulling open to let out the softest whimpers.

"Fu-fuck don't clench like that I'm not gonna last!" Stan growls when your walls flutter around him, having to break the kiss so he could focus on slamming up into you.

"Not yet Stan, we gotta cum together. You're doing so good baby, just hold on." You couldn't tell if Kenny was praising you or Stan, or both of you, but either way it made you both moan.

You watched as his hands worked his own pants, shoving them down to his thighs as he let his cock free. Pre-cum already dripping down his shaft, which made the most lewd noises when he pumped his fist around his cock. He leans forward to trace the tip around your lips a few times, silently begging you to open your mouth wider. Which you're more than happy to comply, the poor man looked like he was about to burst; the hero suit obviously not helping from how tight it was. That doesn't stop him from teasing you a bit, slapping the underside of his shaft against your tongue a few times.

He waits. Waits until Stan's thrusts push you up against the couch before he finally shoves his cock in your mouth. You can tell from the way he holds the side of your face that he wants to be careful with you, Kenny tries so to hold himself back. To not slam back into your throat but he takes a deep breath and tightens his jaw.

You would roll your eyes if they weren't rolled back up into the back of your head. Who did he think he was dealing with? Flicking your tongue against his head, you heard him hiss and tense up. His strong thigh muscles flexing from just a little move of your tongue. Between that and the way you moaned around his cock, sending vibrations up into him, he snapped. He didn't have a lot of will going into this, not when you looked so beautiful marked up. Not when Stan looked so sexy as he tried to keep himself from climaxing.

Kenny rocks forward, pushing down your throat causing you to gag. His thrusts send your body back against Stan's who eagerly meets your body with his own. The back-and-forth sensation sent waves of pleasure making the knot in your stomach tighten. Kenny's head lulls back in bliss as your throat continues to work his cock, the warm walls of your throat felt so good. From the way his thrust begin to stutter and his breathing gets more ragged you knew he was getting closer to his own climax. Watching Stan fuck your brains out apparently did more for him than you thought.

"Kenny I-I can't- I need to cum." Stan lets out a loud moan next to your ear as he presses his forehead against yours.

"I know baby, but we gotta- oh fuck your mouth feels so good. We gotta ask first. Angel, you gonna let Stan cum in you? Let him fill you up yeah?" Kenny pulls his throbbing member for your mouth watching as you tried to catch your breath.

"Please!"

There it was your begging was exactly what Stan needed. The way your voice pitched in desperation for him, and Kenny made him feel like he was floating on cloud nine. The choked moan he lets out next to your ear makes your walls clench around him, your warm soft walls milking him for everything he could give. Stan doesn't have much time to enjoy the afterglow of his climax as Kenny's hand runs through his shaggy dark locks. You watch as Kenny yanks Stan's head back causing him to hiss and lulls his mouth open. A few sloppy thrusts into the man's throat and Kenny's climax follows. Stans lips wrapped around the base of his cock as Kenny shoots thick ropes of cum into his mouth spilling down onto your chest. The hot sticky white cream slipping between the valleys of your breasts.

"Aaaaand I can officially...check that off the bucket list." Kenny coos softly as he gently brushes back Stan's hair, cupping the side of his face.

Stan pulls back away from Kenny slowly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before responding to his lover. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"I've been wanting to fuck in the Mysterion outfit forever now! And I got to do it with you both?! I'm in heaven~" He helps Stan clean you up, carefully moving you up on the couch his tone so carefree.

You let out a happy little hum when they wrap you up in the softest blanket you think you've ever felt on your skin. Their hands begin to work on messaging out any kinks you might have from the position they had you in, how they weren't as exhausted as you were was shocking. You lay your head on Stan's shoulder and your legs up on Kenny's lap, your eyelids getting heavier by the second as you listened to the two talk for a while.

"I think our girl's asleep."

"Let her sleep, she's had one hell of a day."

".... Hey do you think she has work tomorrow?"

"Her boss can shove it, she's gonna take a sick day."

".... Can we take a sick day?"

"Hell yeah!"

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hugheses · 2 months

Note

love your scholarship 🥸

do you know anything about their school/college days - ie if they liked school/had favourite subjects/took particular classes? if Quinn and Luke declared majors at mich?

also if they’ve ever said what they read? think I read that Jack says he likes to read (sports books maybe?) in his spare time and one in of Ellen’s interviews she talks about reading (to them?) and somewhere else about how she was super involved in their academics

The teacher in me is fascinated!

quinn was enrolled in the school of kinesiology and majoring in sports management.

in 2021 he said

If you weren’t a hockey player, what else might you be doing? — Veronica X. I don’t know, I love golf. I’d probably be golfing a lot. I’d be in school somewhere … I’d be a senior right now so I’d probably be getting my degree in the next couple of weeks. Maybe business or sport management? That’s what I was looking at at Michigan for two years.

luke's intended major was also sports management. he was taking a business management class and fumbled his part on a group project when he signed with the devils. he took a greek sports history class and talked about how he doesn't love school but he likes history here (worth listening to imo) and he also enjoyed history of college athletics. luke actually took an online college class before officially starting at umich

"I'm taking an online chemistry class to get it off my plate. I wake-up and do two hours of that and then I go and work out with [trainer] Brian Gallivan and then I skate and then just chill by the pool and hang out. It's been nice."

here's a snippet from quinn about books

Hughes has become an avid reader to expand his knowledge and make better use of downtime. He recently completed “The Boys in the Boat” historical epic that was made into a movie directed by George Clooney. “I buried it, it’s done,” Hughes proudly stated Tuesday after practice. “I finished it three weeks ago. Great book. Page turner. I’m reading ‘Moneyball’ now.” “Boys in the Boat” is a riveting and true account of how the Depression-era University of Washington junior varsity rowing team stunned the world by overcoming immense odds to capture gold at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin. Joe Rantz was a driving force for the eight-man crew. A strong rower with an unshakeable disposition sounds a lot like the driven Hughes. “I thought Joe was just a hard worker who did his job and was a quiet guy,” said Hughes. “He appreciated everything that came his way. He pretty much raised himself from the age of 10 and was a very outdoors person.”

he apparently is "reading a book almost weekly to try to improve his brain" and he also was spotted reading Stay Sane in an Insane World: How to Control the Controllables and Thrive

jack likes reading sports books as said here, specifically Eleven Rings: The Soul of Success and Three-Ring Circus: Kobe, Shaq, Phil, and the Crazy Years of the Lakers Dynasty. The Mamba Mentality: How I Play was on his reading list in high school. he also talks about books here

Craig: The other thing that (Williams) said was reading. He said you’re asking for book recs. We’re looking for book recs. We’re big readers. Jack: Yeah, you guys got any? I dunno. (I’m tired of) everything on my phone, social media, things like that — and I never went to college, so you gotta get smarter somehow. Craig: Are you a fiction guy? Are you a self-improvement guy? What do you find yourself gravitating towards? Jack: I read a lot of sports books. “Eleven Rings,” by Phil Jackson. Also, “Greenlights” by Matthew McConaughey. Those are my favorite ones I’ve read recently. It’s important. We’ve got a lot of down time on the road, so it’s good stuff.

as for ellen, she said this in the cammi & aj podcast

So for me, you do things that you enjoy or you- you teach them things that you feel like you can teach them, Right. So it's kind of a slight on me that I wasn't more worldly and wanting to take them to museums. Or maybe like I felt like I had do those things because like, ‘Oh my God, what am I teaching them?’ But you tend to do the things that you - you're trying to find activities. Jimmy was off coaching a lot, I had three young boys that were really close in age. So what do I know? What can I do to pass time and keep them active? It was kicking a soccer ball. It was throwing a ball, it was doing rollerblading, it was passing the puck, it was taking them skating. So for me, those were mommy and me activities, right? And then every once in a while I'd be like, you know, I'd be like, ‘uh, we got to do Kumon, we gotta do like - we gotta read.’ You know, academics was really important to me because I felt like I was so driven the other way that like, I didn’t want to miss out on the other. So for us, it was never this grandiose plan, and I'm sure you guys were the same way. It was more like, ‘be the best at whatever it is you're doing, work your hardest at whatever it is you're doing.’ Working the hardest didn't mean scoring the most goals. It was playing the right way, whatever it is, being a great teammate and working really, really hard and we always felt like the other would come.

other potentially interesting notes, jack was an honor roll student in 8th grade, and quinn agreed he was the best at school when they were younger, so it's funny he's the one who didn't end up going to college. ellen's brother is actually the president of denison university and they have some pretty academic cousins also.

#also thank u for saying u love my scholarship 🥹#answered

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 10 months

Text

close to home | chapter forty

plot: the reader joins Abraham and Eugene on a run, and they find themselves surrounded by saviors

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,603 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! Let me know what ya'll think so far? Sorry updates have been slow; I've been so busy! I'll try to update as much as I can this week, but I'll be in Boston for a long weekend :) so updates will be slow this weekend (if any at all, tbh)

It was nearing dawn; you probably only had another forty minutes before sunrise. You knew the plan, and you knew exactly what to do. Daryl had tried to talk to you about staying home, but this time you refused, and he didn’t ask a second time.

You were against the compound’s wall with Michonne and Daryl, waiting for one of the saviors to bring out Craig. The other savior was already killed by Daryl.

As soon as Michonne found her moment, her katana pierced through the savior, and everyone swarmed in. You followed Daryl and Rick into the building, walking swiftly with your AK-47 raised. Your heart was pounding, and your stomach was a knot. You hadn’t been able to eat anything the past day.

“Check the doors, find the arsenal,” Rick whispered.

Everyone was in pairs for the mission, and everyone had a job to do. Naturally, you were paired with Daryl, and your job was to cover while certain groups went into the rooms and took care of the problems.

You glanced at Daryl, who looked like he was entirely in control. You knew he was worried because he had asked you to stay behind, but he seemed fine now. In fact, he seemed capable. You felt safe with him by your side.

The group slowly worked from room to room until the fire alarm blasted. You swore silently to yourself as Rick led you, Daryl, and Michonne down the hallway.

You were in some corridors and heard machine guns echoing down the long hallways. When bullets hit the wall closest to you, Daryl pulled you backward, and you all ducked for cover.

Somehow, you and Daryl got split from Rick and Michonne, and he pushed you forward. You could hear him yelling at you to run, but you kept looking back to back, sure no one was gaining on you.

You checked your left before hesitantly turning the corner when someone grabbed you. You brought your elbow back hard, and the man dropped you. Your knees hit the ground, and you swung around, aiming your gun.

But Daryl beat you to it. He hit the guy in the face with the butt of his gun and continued the assault after the man fell. “Don’ ya ever touch her!” He yelled, mercilessly caving the man’s face in.

“Daryl, (Y/N)!” You heard Michonne yelling.

You stood and grabbed his arm, pulling him. “We gotta keep going!”

At the end of the hallway, Rick and Michonne stood above a few dead bodies. You and Daryl ran over, and followed them to further push into the building.

***

The sun was up when you stepped outside. You were dripping with blood and sweat and breathing heavily. But you did what you came here to do. The group quickly scoped out the area, checking out the cars before you started to breathe easily.

Tara and Heath decided to leave for their two-week run, and after a quick goodbye and good luck, they were gone.

You were leaning against one of the cars with Glenn, sitting silently and taking a moment to collect your thoughts when you heard an engine rumble.

You and Rosita opened fire when you saw a man on a motorcycle taking off and then quickly getting shot off. You and Glenn joined everyone else in running and watched as Daryl tackled the man and punched him a few times.

“Where’d ya get the bike?” He asked.

When you looked at the bike, you realized it was the bike Daryl had lost, but you weren't know how the saviors got it or how he even lost it to begin with. You were so focused on that that it took you a second to realize a woman was speaking over a walkie-talkie.

“Fuck,” You muttered, feeling your stomach tighten when you heard who she had captive. You closed your eyes briefly to control yourself and glanced at Glenn, who looked like he would lose it.

Rick attempted to make a deal with her, but it didn’t work, and when she stopped answering, both Daryl and Rick tried to get the answers from the man on the ground.

“Guys, guys!” You yelled, “Stop it. There was no static on the walkie, meaning they were close. If they had taken a car, we would’ve heard it. That means they’re on foot in the woods. Daryl and I can track them,”

“Good idea,” Rick said, “It’s gonna take us a while to find it, though.”

“Then we better get moving,”

***

You were the first to find the trail. You almost didn’t believe it after nearly an hour of searching. But everything Daryl taught you was right in front of you. The trail was human, and you counted six different footprints.

So you and Daryl led the group while tracking. It was almost two miles before you found an old slaughterhouse, and the irony of it didn’t escape you.

There was a small argument about what to do, you and Glenn being at the forefront of going in. Eventually, you won over and were about to open the door when it opened itself, revealing Maggie and Carol.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw them, and after Glenn hugged his wife, you wrapped your arms around her. You could tell something was wrong, so you didn’t say anything to her. You cupped her face for a moment before letting her hug Glenn again and going over to hug Carol--who seemed much worse.

“Your friends are dead, all of them. So you might as well talk,” Rick said to the savior.

“Let him burn,” Daryl said.

You watched Rick interrogate the man as you grabbed Daryl’s arm. He glanced at you, at your pale face, and gave you a nod. You knew he was asking if you were okay, so you gave him a nod.

“I’m Negan, shithead,” The man said.

You flinched when you heard the gunshot and the man’s body drop to the floor, but you knew it was over. It was over; you would get the rest of the food from Hilltop, and everything would be okay.

***

You didn’t return to Alexandria until after dark. You had to go back to the outpost, scavenge everything you could, and then drive home. You were exhausted as you and your family walked up to your house.

Michonne cooked a speedy dinner while a few of you cleaned yourselves up, yourself included. Carol chose not to eat and instead tucked herself into her room.

Michonne and Rick ate upstairs, so you ate in the kitchen alone. Although Tora joined you, and you shared your food with her. She had put on all the weight she had lost, and you knew it was because a lot of the neighbors fed her too.

After eating, you were about to go upstairs before you paused, hand on the railing and one foot on the first step. Your mind consumed you with images of the day and the people you murdered. You shivered and turned around, headed to see Daryl.

By the time you reached his door, you were crying, and when he answered your knock, you managed to choke out. “Can I sleep with you?”

“C’mere,” Daryl said, pulling you into a hug.

You cried harder at the contact and hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your cheek against the center of his chest. His hand pressed against the back of your head, and you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of him.

The two of you stood there for a few minutes as you calmed down, and when you finally pulled away to brush away your tears, you lightly laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m okay…”

“No, ya ain’t, that’s okay,”

You nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Daryl.”

He led you over to the bed before turning off the lights. The bed was cold as you climbed in, and you didn’t waste a moment before cuddling up next to him when he laid down. He didn’t flinch once, and he didn’t seem to tense up at your touch.

“I didn’t like it.” You quietly said. “I know we had to, and I know I made my own decision. But I didn’t like it.”

You felt him nod. “I know, ya shouldn’ like it. It’s good that ya don’.”

You looked up at him, his soft shirt against your cheek. Aside from the soft glow of a clock radio on his desk, you couldn't make out his features in the dark. Daryl turned to look at you and then leaned forward, kissing your lips quickly.

You smiled when he pulled away; he’s only initiated a few of a few kisses you’ve shared, and each one was sweet. It was like he knew when you needed it most, and that’s when he gave it to you.

Daryl kissed you again before letting his head fall back against the pillow, and you made yourself comfortable in his arms.

***

The following days after the outpost was quiet. Life continued on in Alexandria, with a bit more food to go around. You could sense that everyone’s energy was picking up at that, and more run groups were going out to bring stuff in. You went on a few of them but mostly stayed in the community.

Carol was going through something, and you tried to be there for her. She told you she was sick of the killing, and you agreed with her but didn’t know how to stop. You didn’t know if you could stop. Because you didn’t have the choice to.

You spent each night with Daryl, quickly becoming your favorite thing in the world. After the night you shared, you asked for one more. And then the night after that, he asked you where you were going when you tried to go to your bedroom. After that, you followed him down there each night. Now Tora followed you down and slept with you at the foot of the bed. Michonne noticed your absence and only teased you a little.

It was comfortable. You loved it. And it meant your relationship with the man was growing, which was all you wanted. You weren’t sure what the two of you were. You didn’t even think you’d ever have a title for it. You just wanted to be with him.

Unfortunately, that day wasn’t today. You were going out with Abraham and Eugene, and you were running late. You were supposed to meet them at the gate ten minutes ago.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you jogged down the porch steps. Daryl was sitting out there, working on the motorcycle he had received.

“Hey,” You smiled at him. Daryl looked up at you and, in his own way, smiled back. You laughed. “I’m going out with Abraham and Eugene, so I won’t be back for a while.”

“Why they ask you again anyway?”

You shrugged your shoulders, knowing he didn’t mean it offensively. He was worried about you. “I guess 'cause I wasn’t going out on the run today, and Abraham wanted another person with him. You know how Eugene is.”

“Yeah, well, Eugene likes to stare at ya legs, so if he starts make sure ya smack him,”

“I know. Why do you think I wore these jeans today?” You sarcastically asked. "Figured I'd give him something to look at."

Daryl looked up at you with a glare, and you started laughing. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

You were smiling as you left and chucked when you heard him yelling at you to be safe. Your heart fluttered as you picked your speed up to a jog and rounded the street to the gate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You told them as you approached.

“With the community having power, I assume it’s safe to say that each house comes equipped with a clock. Both digital and analog. I know you to be a smart woman, so I know you know how to reach them. We were supposed to meet when the big hand was at the twelve, not the three.” Eugene told you.

“Oh, shove it, you wanna do this or not?”

***

About an hour later, you walked a few paces behind Abraham and Eugene. Your gun swung slowly as you walked, and you kept your eyes open. It always felt good coming out here after being locked up in Alexandria for so long. You didn’t like it, but you felt more in control when you were. You knew it was because you were so used to fighting to survive that this is what you were now.

And besides, the two of them have had tension for weeks now, and you didn’t want to be there when the hammer dropped.

Unfortunately, you were, and you tried to get Abraham from leaving after Eugene said he didn’t need him anymore.

“Real nice,” You said to Eugene. “I’ll keep watch; you look around for what you need to, okay?”

You ignored the response he gave you as you walked around the ground level of the building. After ensuring you and him were safe, you sat at one of the bench tables and dug through your bag for the food you’d packed.

Eugene took forever looking at the area and rattled off things about the equipment that you vaguely understood from chemistry class in college. Still, it had been a lifetime ago, so you didn’t pay much attention.

Finally, he ate, and you thought he was done, but he continued for another hour before he was ready to go. You locked up the place tight before heading back to Alexandria.

It was at least a few miles, but you’d make it before sunset.

You were about a mile into your journey when you started to feel odd. You couldn’t place it, and Eugene didn’t notice anything.

You heard someone whistle and you both froze. You grabbed your gun and brought it to eye level, scanning the surrounding area. A few more whistles sounded and then a group of people appeared from the woods off the road, all with guns pointed at you.

“Put the gun down, baby girl,” One of the men said, approaching you with a gun that was much more powerful than yours.

You dropped the gun to the ground.

“The other one,”

You gave the man a look before taking your pistol out of the holster and putting it on the ground. The same man came to you, took your machete, put it in his belt loop, and then patted you down. His hands lingered too long on your ass, and you bit your lip to keep yourself from doing something stupid.

Eugene was shaking next to you as he was searched, and you could already see him sweating.

A different man approached you with shoulder-length blond hair. Half his face was a burn scar. You would’ve focused on that if you didn’t recognize the crossbow he had. You recognized it immediately, of course. Which meant that the people in front of you were saviors.

“Well, we were tracking somebody else but look at this,” The blond said as he circled the two of you. “Where are you guys heading?”

Neither of you said anything. You were still as ice while Eugene was shaking.

“That’s okay; we know who you guys are,” The man said. “This is actually perfect; I’m so glad we found you guys.”

He approached you first and grabbed your arm. “Let’s go, move.”

His grip on you was so tight that it hurt, and he pushed you forward. Eugene was a few feet behind you, and when you looked back, he pushed you forward so hard you fell. You felt your knees sting against the asphalt and knew it was scraped pretty well.

“Jesus,” The man mumbled, dragging you to your feet and pushing you forward again.

“You’re confusing us with someone else,” You tried. “I don’t know who you’re looking for.” That part was true. The run group went in the opposite direction, and no other groups were scheduled to go out today.

“We’re not,” The man said. “Unless you’d rather just take us back to your camp. Seems like you guys are doing pretty well.”

“Bite me,” You said, pulling your arm away from his grip as you walked.

The saviors led you off the road and into the woods, where they picked up the pace. You could hear Eugene struggling behind you, and nearly whimpering when he was pushed forward. If he weren’t such a coward… but that wouldn’t matter. There were only two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, there they are,” The man said. He grabbed your arm and dragged you down. “You know them, right?” He nodded his head.

You looked at the train tracks, and your stomach dropped when you saw Daryl, Rosita, and Denise. What were they doing here?

“No, I don’t, go to hell,” You spat at him.

The man turned, pulling a gun out and pressing it against Eugene’s head. “Do you know them?” He asked him.

“Yes, yes, we do.”

You sighed as Eugene folded, but you didn’t exactly expect anything better. The man chucked and grabbed Daryl’s crossbow, standing up to aim.

You moved to stop him, but another one of the guys grabbed you and pushed you onto the ground. You groaned against the ground, dirt caking your face. He was putting pressure on your spine and face, and you couldn’t fight him off.

You heard the arrow fly and closed your eyes, hoping someone missed. But you knew it was a direct hit. You knew the sound of the weapon too well.

The blond man grabbed you by your braid and pulled you up, holding a knife against your throat. He walked directly behind you, using you as a human shield to climb the small grassy hill. The other men had already made themselves known, and the one beside you had Eugene with a gun to his head.

Your eyes met Daryl’s, and you shook your head slowly, trying not to tell him to do anything stupid. God, he looked pissed. You could see him fisting his hands repeatedly and his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Drop the guns, now!” The man holding you said. “Now!” He kicked the back of your knee, and you dropped. You felt the tip of an arrow against the back of your head, but you didn’t close your eyes.

You’d never seen that look on Daryl's face before, and it scared you. He reacted off his anger so much, and you prayed that he wouldn’t do that now. You would be dead before you knew the man fired the crossbow.

The man holding Eugene had him kneel next to you.

Daryl was visibly shaking with anger, and it only worsened when the man started speaking again.

“You got something to say to me? You gonna clear the air? Step up on that high horse? No. You don’t talk much.” The man said.

You curled your hands into a fist and closed your eyes momentarily, willing yourself to breathe. Two men collected their weapons as the man talked about the crossbow.

“I should’ve done it,” Daryl said.

“Oh, what’s that? Seriously, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I should’ve killed ya,”

The man pushed the crossbow into your head a bit and you winced at the sharp point of the arrow. “Yeah, you probably should’ve.” The man said.

He continued, taunting the two of them about who he was aiming at and something about business arrangements. The only thing you registered was that the man holding you hostage was named Dwight. You could only stare at Daryl. You were always safe with him. He wouldn’t fail you. And neither would Rosita.

Dwight threatened to kill Eugene if Rosita and Daryl didn’t comply, and you looked over to watch as he began to freak out.

“You wanna kill someone, start with our companion hiding over there behind the oil barrels. He’s a first-class a-hole and he deserves it so much more than us three.” Eugene said.

Your first thought was Abraham, and you wanted to scream at Eugene for being such a coward. And as Dwight sent a few men to check it out, you couldn’t believe your eyes when Eugene bit down on Dwight’s dick.

As Dwight started screaming, bullets fired, and you ducked, rolling down the hill. You landed next to someone who’d been shot and quickly grabbed the gun. Your body shook as you pressed the trigger, firing at the saviors around you and breaking towards the tree to cover.

Once hidden, you looked back and watched Daryl slit a man's throat to get a gun, and Rosita took down another savior.

“Daryl!” You screamed. He wasn’t taking cover.

You angrily shot at more saviors, who’d also taken cover. Walkers were drawn out by the sound, and you turned, firing at a few that got too close for your liking. When the gun clicked empty, you swore and reached for your machete before you realized it had been taken.

You turned to look behind the tree to see where your family was when you felt the presence of someone behind you and felt something hard hit the back of your head before it went black.

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