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mphountitled · 3 months

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

#saltburn #saltburn x reader #saltburn smut #saltburn x you #farleigh start #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start smut #oliver quick x reader

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 29 days

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WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

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Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

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There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

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This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

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THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

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My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #the final #take two (SORRY)#captain wentworth #mr darcy #persuasion 1995 #pride and prejudice 1995 #ciaran hinds #colin firth #persuasion #pride and prejudice #jane austen #frederick wentworth #fitzwilliam darcy #Youtube

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bbyleiah · 8 months

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smoke you out.

| just a random cheating fic I wrote about Eren stealing Connie’s girl 🫣 |

Cw: smut, cheating, bf!Connie, lots of dirty talk (eren has a filthy mouth 🫦) dry humping, riding, biting, sorta mating press, unprotected sex, cream pie, squirting, tummy bulge, hair pulling, scratching, fluids, pet names, etc. fem! shy sub reader & dom!Eren. (pretty good amount of plot though ☝🏽) (also it may not seem like it but the reader is def black 😭)

word count : long asf 😭

sn : I don’t know a single thing abt smoking fr so my apologies if the lingo is inaccurate 😭

part 2 🤩 : breakfast <3

You tripped over your little feet as you tried to keep up with your boyfriend Connie. He didn’t pay you any mind at all as he dapped up his friends at this house party gathering. Your feet were starting to hurt in your cute Mary Jane shoes. As you tripped, Eren caught your arm before you could embarrassingly fall on your face.

You sheepishly looked up at the tall, clearly high male. “sorry..” You muttered softly. “You’re good, little one.” Eren hummed as he let you go. You blushed and scurried off, finding your boyfriend again. He was finally not moving anymore, sitting in the kitchen with all his homies, smoking and drinking.

You honestly hated when he dragged you to these parties because it really wasn’t your kind of environment, and it wasn’t like he stayed by your side or made you feel welcome at these gatherings. Honestly, sometimes it seemed like Connie could care less about you with the way he ignored you and constantly forgot about you. But it was also confusing because he was super overprotective and possessive of you at times.

You were just his obedient pretty little girlfriend that followed him around but that role was getting tiring. despite disliking these parties, all of Connie’s friends always made you feel safe and welcomed so it wasn’t too bad. You stood quietly beside Connie, drinking water and fanning second hand smoke away from your face as he enjoyed his time with his friends.

His friends acknowledged you occasionally which was nice, but everytime you tried to talk to Connie he’d dismiss you or give half ass replies. You sighed and gave up eventually until you had to use the restroom. “Con, can you walk me to the bathroom please?” You asked him sweetly as you tugged on his sleeve. “Eh, why can’t you go by yourself princess?” He asked as he directed his attention towards you.

“Because I feel uncomfortable going alone with all these people I don’t know..” You told him, you felt like your stance was valid. Connie sighed, “I get that but you should be fine baby, everyone knows you’re my girl so I doubt they’ll bother you.” Connie said as he took another hit from his blunt. You pouted, “But..” you started but Eren interjected. “I’ll walk with her.” He offered.

“Look at that sweetheart, you got yourself a volunteer. Thanks bro.” Connie chuckled. You huffed softly and rolled your eyes at Connie’s nonchalant attitude, you honestly would rather just walk alone at this point. But you made your way through the crowd of people with Eren and up the stairs.

“thank you for walking with me even though you didn’t have to.” You said gratefully to Eren with a sigh, sulking a bit still over Connie and his lack of care for you. “No problem. I know Connie can be a dickhead sometimes.” Eren shrugged honestly. Your eyes widened at his words as you stared up at him. Eren chuckled at your reaction, “What? he’s my bestfriend. I can freely insult him. Just as he’d do to me. It’s all love you know?” Eren chuckled.

“I guess..I’d never insult Connie though. He’s a great boyfriend even though he has his faults.” You defended, Eren snorted in amusement. “Whatever makes your pretty head feel better.” He shrugged. You used the restroom and to your surprise Eren waited outside the door for you the whole time. “I-..you didn’t have to wait for me.” You stammered. “What’s the point of walking you if I don’t wait on you also?. I don’t mind it.” He said.

He had a point to be fair. “true..thanks again though.” You said. As you two began to walk again, you stumbled once more, these shoes were really starting to be your enemy. “You okay?” Eren asked you. “Yeah, these shoes are just a little uncomfortable.” You sighed as you tried to adjust the shoes.

Eren observed you before he suddenly picked you up, you yelped in shock, eyes going wide as you hit Eren’s shoulder. “Eren! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed. “Relax, I’m just tryna help” He said as he carried you back into the bathroom. He sat you down on the countertop and sat down in front of you before grabbing your foot gently.

He slipped off your shoe and that’s when you saw the bleeding bruise on the back on your heel. “Oh..” you mumbled. “You didn’t notice this until now? Wasn’t it painful?” Eren asked as he looked up at you. “It was..but I didn’t think it was that bad.” You muttered honestly. Eren sighed, “You should be more careful, or buy more comfortable shoes.” Eren said as he began to clean the blood. You hissed at the sting and kicked Eren by accident, he didn’t budge though, focused on treating you.

This was such an odd predicament you were in. Eren had paid more attention to you in a few minutes than your boyfriend did in months. You didn’t know why Eren was being so caring to you but you were soaking it up since you lacked it lately. “I would’ve worn my comfy shoes if I knew I was gonna be chasing Connie around again..” You muttered with a sigh.

Eren didn’t comment on that. You just observed Eren as he treated both of your heels. You never noticed his full appearance until now, his low bun with loose hairs framing his face, his low red eyes and sculpted nose, his black sweats and black tee combo with a small chain, the small studs in his ears. Eren was gorgeous to say the least. “Don’t look at me like that or I’ll do something bad and you’ll regret it more than me little one.” Eren said as he gently placed some bandaids he’d found on your bruises.

You were caught off guard by his words, starting to blush. “I-I didn’t mean to stare so much..I’m sorry.” You said as you hid your face in your hands out of embarrassment. Eren chuckled and pulled your hands away, “It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize to me. I don’t mind you staring, but I meant what I said. I don’t have much self control.” Eren hummed as he stared into your eyes, his hand caressing your calf making you squirm a little.

“I uhm..” You truly didn’t know how to respond, chewing on your lip as you struggled to find words. Something about Eren’s vague words and the way he looked at you made you feel weird, the energy didn’t seem appropriate. “We should get back with the others.” You managed to say. Eren chuckled, “You’re right…or we could ditch them and hang out? I prefer smoking privately anyways. I could smoke you out real good too.” Eren suggested with a sly grin.

You stared at Eren in shock again, “Connie would kill me! Also I don’t smoke much.” You blurted. “He’s not even worried about you. plus you’re with me, his bestfriend and he trusts me. You seem like you have a low tolerance so I can still smoke you out even if you don’t smoke much” Eren hummed.

You chewed on your lip again as you pondered wether to accept Eren’s offer. Everything he said was right, and you knew Connie wasn’t looking for you or even thinking about you at the moment. You also knew that you’d be miserable following Connie around more. “okay, I’ll go with you. but let Connie know, I don’t want him thinking anything weird.” You said.

Eren subtly rolled his eyes, “sure, I’ll inform your master” Eren teased. “Hey! He’s not my master!” You huffed with a pout. Eren laughed, “You follow him like a little puppy though. You know I should start calling you pup, has a nice ring to it.” Eren only teased more, laughing harder when you kicked him this time on purpose. “I’m just loyal to my boyfriend.” You muttered with another huff as you crossed your arms.

“I get it. I’ll stop teasing. Let’s go little one.” Eren chuckled as he helped you down from the countertop. You slipped your shoes back on and then you and Eren left and made your way to his car. Eren wasn’t planning on informing Connie of shit, he felt like it was none of Connie’s business what you two were up to, to be honest.

He only told a small lie so he didn’t feel too bad about it. Once y’all got into his black vintage mustang, Eren turned on the radio, rnb starting to play lowly in the background as Eren began to roll up. “You smoke papers sweetheart?” Eren asked as he grinded his weed. You stared at him completely clueless, “…I don’t know, what’s papers? I just smoke whatever Connie gives me.” You said honestly.

Eren chuckled, “These are papers, they’re white. They aren’t brown like rellos. I smoke joints, not blunts. Although I don’t mind either. Also don’t say no shit like that ever again, don’t just smoke whatever is given to you. Make sure it’s safe first and that you know exactly what it is.” Eren said seriously suddenly. You pouted, feeling like you just got scolded a little. “I trust Connie though..but I get what you mean. I’ll take your advice.” You said, understanding his point.

“Good Girl. You can watch me and see exactly what you’ll be smoking and all the steps.” Eren hummed. Your brain short-circuited a bit at the sudden praise, hearing Eren say that felt nice..really nice and it made you want to hear it more. Those feelings felt wrong though so you pushed them away. You watched Eren closely as he rolled up; placing the grinded weed into the papers, setting it straight and then running his tongue along the seams before closing the joint.

You unconsciously clenched your thighs seeing Eren lick the joint, you didn’t know why a sight you’d seen many times suddenly seemed so attractive. “You have a tongue piercing?!” You blurted after spotting the little ball. Eren chuckled, “I do, got it a few years back. You must’ve been paying real close attention to notice that” Eren teased a little.

“I wasn’t looking that hard!” You defended yourself as you blushed slightly. Eren laughed, “You’re so damn cute, fuck.” Eren said while shaking his head as he laughed. Your eyes went wide at that comment, now blushing a lot. It was extremely flattering hearing that from someone as attractive as Eren and it made you shy.

You composed yourself though, trying to act as if the small compliment didn’t effect you as much as it did. “Did it hurt when you got it?” You asked him out of curiosity, going back on topic. You watched as Eren placed the joint between his lips, lighting it with his lighter, the flame casting a glow on his face and highlighting his features.

He inhaled, holding it for a few seconds before he exhaled with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. It was honestly the most mouthwatering sight you’d ever witnessed. Suddenly you had zero thoughts, just solely focused on Eren. “Mhm, it hurt but mostly during the healing process. I like pain though so I didn’t mind it.” Eren hummed.

His words broke you out of your sudden trance. “You like pain? That’s weird.” You said, not fully understanding how someone could enjoy pain. Eren chuckled, “Eh, it feels good. To me at least.” He said as he handed the joint to you. You tried to take a hit, immediately going into an embarrassing coughing fit. “That’s not how you do it sweetheart, you’re too harsh with it, relax I’ll help you.” Eren laughed softly.

Eren then grabbed the joint from your hands and held it up to your mouth. “Open.” He instructed, humming in approval once you listened. He gently placed the joint between your lips, holding it there. “Close and inhale slowly.” He continued. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes as Eren guided you step by step. This wasn’t your first time smoking at all but you liked how attentive Eren was, you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hold it.” Eren hummed as he pulled the joint from between your lips. “Now exhale slowly.” He said, pressing his fingers into your slightly puffed out cheeks as you obediently exhaled the smoke into his face. “Good girl, such a good listener.” Eren praised again with a small grin as he gently stroked your chin, underneath your bottom lip.

You almost let out a whine at that, Eren’s words and his presence was starting to affect you more and more by the hour. You were trying your best to ignore it but you wanted him so badly that it was getting hard to contain. “What did I say about looking at me like that?. Little one..it’s like you’re trying to tempt me.” Eren said, his eyes low and holding a look that seemed as if he wanted to tear you apart.

Truth be told, Eren always wanted you. He always had his eye on you ever since Connie brought you around. He knew that he paid more attention to you than Connie ever did and that he could treat you better. But you were always glued to Connie so Eren never made any moves. He knew it was kinda fucked up to be interested in his bestfriend’s girl but he couldn’t care less. He was no better than Connie to be honest.

“I-I’m not! I don’t mean to look at you like that..I don’t even know how I’m looking at you.” You fumbled over your words as you blushed brightly. “You’re looking at me as if you want me to fuck the shit out of you. Is that what you want sweetheart? Want to feel me in your tummy?” Eren said, continuing to smoke nonchalantly as he stared at you. You whined at his lewd words, your thighs squeezing together.

“Don’t talk like that! that’s inappropriate, and I’m with Connie.” You exclaimed. Eren rolled his eyes, “I don’t need the reminder, I know that. You say it’s inappropriate but you’re clenching your thighs and whining like a slut at the thought of me inside you. You want it so badly, don’t you?. Want me to stuff your little cunt?” Eren teased.

You let out another whine, you were honestly so wet by now at his words. You felt so ashamed that you wanted another man, especially the man that was closest to your boyfriend. “eren…we can’t..” you muttered, tears filling your eyes as you pouted up at him. “shh, it’s okay little one. don’t think about Connie just for a minute and answer me. Do you want me?” Eren asked as he cupped your face gently.

You chewed on your lip as you nodded honestly in response. “Use your words for me baby.” Eren hummed as he lightly pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb. You let out a shaky breath, “I do want you…so badly.” you finally admitted truthfully as you looked into Eren’s eyes. He grinned hearing that. “I want you too baby, more than you even know. You wanna sit on my cock?” Eren hummed.

You nodded and basically pounced on him, as if you hadn’t had any restrictions about this whole thing at all. You suddenly didn’t care anymore as you climbed onto Eren’s lap, straddling him as the two of you began to kiss messily and needily. Eren gripped your hips as you began to grind down on him like you were in heat, whining and whimpering into his mouth.

You sucked on Eren’s tongue, making him groan and buck his hips up into yours. You were so wet that a wet spot was already starting to form on Eren’s sweats. “please~” You whined as you broke the kiss, your small hands tugging at the strings to Eren’s sweatpants eagerly. “you can go ahead baby” Eren hummed as he left opened mouth kisses on your neck.

You untied his sweats and pulled them down, his hard cock coming out dribbling precum. He was so big, veins running along the sides of his cock. You wanted to drool at the sight. Eren bunched your skirt up around your waist, pushing your panties aside before he began to run his tip up and down your slit. You were a whining mess, your thighs trembling already from how sensitive and needy you were.

“so fucking whiny and wet. You’re already soaking my cock pretty baby and I’m not even inside you yet.” Eren gritted out. You only whimpered in response, your nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. Eren positioned himself and pushed the tip in, letting you sink down onto his cock as the both of you moaned in unison.

“so big…” you whined shakily as Eren bottomed out. “Mhm, you feel me in your tummy baby?” Eren asked as he placed his hand on your stomach, pressing on the bulge imprint his dick made. you moaned at the feeling and nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as your pussy gushed around Eren’s cock. “fuck..” he swore under his breath.

Once you adjusted you began to ride Eren, bouncing on his cock effortlessly as you moaned and whined nonstop. Eren was just as noisy as you were, groaning into your neck as he licked and bit at your skin. “n-no marks ‘ren” you managed to stutter out in your already fucked out state. Eren didn’t like the sound of that at all, growling in response. He understood why you said that but he just didn’t care.

“You’re mine and I’ll mark you as much as I want to. Because to be quite honest sweetheart I don’t give two fucks about your little relationship.” Eren said honestly as he began to suck harsh bruises onto your neck. You whined, Eren’s words were shocking to you but they also turned you on so much that you couldn’t even bother to fight against it. Your fingers tangled in Eren’s hair as he marked you up like he had something to prove, sinking his teeth into you and making you hiss in pain.

“hurts~” You whimpered, tears in your eyes from the intense pleasure of Eren’s dick hitting your sweet spot at just the right angle and because of the stinging pain. “I know baby” Eren hummed as he ran his tongue along the bite marks and bruises to soothe the sting. “Feel so good around me sweet girl, should’ve fucked you sooner.” Eren moaned as he fucked up into you, matching your pace.

Eren bit his lip as he looked at where your bodies connected, the white ring around his cock and the amount of slick coating his trimmed pubic hairs. “shit..I don’t think I’m ever gonna pull out.” Eren muttered, mesmerized by the sight of your cunt swallowing up his thick cock. By now the car reeked of sex and weed, the windows were all fogged up, the radio was still playing sensual rnb tunes lowly in the background but you and eren had tuned it out at this point and neither of you had a clue what time it was.

“you gonna let me cum inside you baby?” Eren asked as he began to rub circles into your clit making you cry out in pleasure, your seamless bouncing stuttering a bit. “you shouldn’t..” You whined as you finally opened and focused your glazed over eyes enough to look at Eren. He looked delicious, his hair damp and the strands sticking to his forehead, his bun a complete mess from your constant tugging.

His lips swollen and red from the kissing and his work of marking you, your nails marks on his neck and shoulder blades, his pupils dilated and his eyes dazed. You couldn’t look away from him. “Mm, I shouldn’t but I want to so so badly. Wanna fill you up so good princess. You want that don’t you?” Eren said as he kissed your cheeks and pecked your lips. His sweet gentle kisses and tone of voice was such a contrast to how his dick was abusing your cervix and how his hands were gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

It was making your mind all hazy and it wasn’t helping that your orgasm was approaching, that coil in your stomach tightening as Eren played with your clit. “I do wan’ it, want you to fill me up. Please~” You whined, your words slurring as you rocked your hips and clutched Eren’s shirt between your hands. The lewd wet sound of skin slapping and your combined moans filled the car. You looked even more fucked out than Eren did.

Thighs coated in both of your fluids, drool at the corner of your lips, eyes rolled and fluttering, head titled back with your hair sticking to you, hickies and bites covering your neck and collarbone, dried tears on your cheeks, clothes disheveled. Eren thought you looked beautiful and he was completely enamored by you. “fuck, you’re perfect. I’m gonna fill you up so full baby and I’m gonna make you mine. Fuck Connie.” Eren rambled as he fucked up into you.

Eren repositioned his arms underneath your knees, holding you up and sitting himself up further as he folded your legs up and pressed you against the steering wheel. the steering wheel pressing into your back was a bit uncomfy but the new angle Eren was fucking you in was heavenly, had you seeing stars. You don’t think you had ever been fucked this good, not even by your own boyfriend.

“m’ gonna cum~” You whined out, sobbing in pleasure and scratching down Eren’s back underneath his shirt as you felt your orgasm about to burst. “you can cum sweet girl, make a big mess for me.” Eren hummed as he placed kisses on your chest and boobs. Eren’s own orgasm was approaching too, his thrusts getting more uncoordinated and rougher as he chased it.

After a few more thrusts of Eren hitting that spot that made your toes curl, and the friction of his pubic hairs rubbing up against your clit you came with a loud moan of Eren’s name. Squirted all over him as your pussy clenched and unclenched around Eren’s cock. Eren groaned at the feeling, his eyes rolling back as he fucked you through your orgasm. “shitt sweetheart. so fucking messy, fuck!” Eren moaned as you soaked him in your climax.

It didn’t take long after for Eren to cum after you, whimpering into your neck as he filled you up with ropes and ropes of his cum. Eren hadn’t cum this much in his life, stuffing you to the brim as some of it poured out the seams. Eren’s thrusts slowed and he eased back into a proper seating position with you still sitting on his dick, twitching and whining as you were completely fucked out.

Eren took a moment to breathe and process the situation and you had dozed off, completely exhausted as you fell into a deep sleep on top of Eren. You looked so peaceful and cute it made Eren grin and he couldn’t help but to sneakily snap a picture of you before pecking your forehead. Eren checked the time and realized you two had been at it for almost three hours. It was 4 in the morning now.

“Jesus..you milked me dry little one.” Eren muttered while shaking his head. Eren started the car back up and began to drive, not bothering to move you or to pull out since he didn’t want to wake you. Eren knew he fucked up by sleeping with Connie’s girl but he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single second of it.

#eren x reader #connie x you #eren #fanfic #eren smut #pwp fics #aot fanfiction #aot #aot x you #x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #eren aot #smut #eren x black reader smut #aot x black reader #Connie #connie x black reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

Text

shrine of your lights

🍯 honey flavour: edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one?

🐝 the bees: FWB!Eddie x reader

wc: 4.8k

content warnings: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all.

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing.

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out.

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath.

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin.

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance.

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears.

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts.

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera.

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place.

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson.

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him.

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business.

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention.

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard.

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby.

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.”

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache.

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons).

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass.

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look.

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes.

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack.

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up.

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot.

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space.

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side.

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm.

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks.

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #weed mention #tw weed

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velvetures · 9 months

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could i request a ghost x “strawberry/cutecore/hello kitty” reader?! basically just everything is pink and they are super bubbly :>

pls and ty 🙏🏻

Simon "Ghost" Riley & Cutecore/Hyperfeminine Aesthetic

a/n: I loved this request... but it was my first attempt at the aesthetic/vibe as a whole and I'm not sure if I hit the mark. I used this pic as my inspo. ):( Summary: What it's like for Ghost to have an "everything in pink, please." gf, and what kind of feelings go along with it. TW's: suggestive content 18+ ONLY, established relationship, possessiveness?, def not proofread (the usual), fem!reader.

Of all the women that Simon ever entertained the thought of being, one like you didn’t initially even present itself as a remotely interesting option. The idea of someone such much different from himself sounded like nothing less than a good way of fucking up someone else’s -otherwise- normal life by inserting himself into it. You just always seemed so damn happy and excited about even the smallest of things; Practically amplifying the good feelings floating around in the air and blasting them right back at him. Never without something pink on and dressed up like you were minutes away from attending some kind of fairy party literally scared Ghost away from having anything to do with you.

You on the other hand, weren’t exactly sure what it was that made Ghost so averse to speaking to you more than a few words at a time. Yet made it your very private little mission of sorts to snoop and poke around until you found some kind of answer as to why such a massive and expertly lethal man couldn’t bear to stand within arms reach of you. He just intrigued you for some reason or another. Only getting glimpses of the man’s real self in his eyes -the only visible part of him- and having to make your next moves based off of nothing more than gut-feelings and the hope that you were reading his signals correctly.

At first, it crossed your mind that your preferred aesthetic of sorts could be a bit of the problem. For most people it might appear a bit too much, and when looking at Ghost dressed almost head to to in black with a skull painted on his masked face… there was good reason to assume it in the first place. What you didn’t know was that it was so much deeper than your affinity for lace-trimmed socks, Mary Jane’s, pearls, and practically anything hyper-feminine and in a shade of pink. Ghost didn’t believe you were weak or predisposed to acting childish. You held a massively significant job in journalism and worked harder than most people he knew at what you did. You just happened to enjoy everything around you looking like some damn cotton-candy tea party.

What bothered him was your sweet personality and an intrinsic value he held for just how fucking innocent you were towards him and everyone else around you. People could be utterly horrible right to your face, and you’d silently keep the hurt to yourself and never fight back against what they’d done. Revenge wasn’t something you cared for, while it was essential to Ghost’s motivation in his work and private life. For a long time he couldn’t balance his morals of being involved with you at all with the thoughts in the back of his mind about how much he might twist and form you into something unrecognizable. Something a lot less… pink. A person that didn’t enjoy such small little things like how a skirt had small pink flowers embroidered on it, or if the little bows you’d stick in your hair had a lace fringe on the edges.

Oh but how things changed when Ghost finally couldn’t stand looking at you without thinking about how nice it would be to have his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tight up against him to keep everyone from staring. The Lieutenant always had a weak spot for you and your sugar-sweet personality and looks. But goddamn did he start loving the color pink more than a professional murderer should. All the hues and tones of that fucking color began reminding him of you no matter where he was, or what he was doing. For the longest time, he’d been worried that he would be the one that changed you, all the while he was too deep inside his own mind to recognize that you were the one controlling the direction things were headed.

Just looking at you made him shudder with feelings of possessiveness and adoration. Standing there happy as could be with thigh-high white socks and a fluffy pink skirt, all dressed up just to go out to eat at a little late-night pub because he couldn’t stand the idea of having to show his face in the bright daylight. You knew to a certain extent that Ghost appreciated the way you lived your life just a bit more feminine than average… but the depths of his thoughts and ideas about you were surface level to say the least. He just knew what you looked like clinging to his arm walking down the street; His polar opposite and yet so happy to be close to him. A darling smile… pretty and glossed lips… frilly things on almost every piece of clothing you wore and just utterly adorable to him.

Knowing that gave him… fantasies.

Wanting to see all of the things he could buy for you to wear for him. Dress you up almost like his own little doll and get to show you off to anyone who’d look, only to have the pleasure of threatening them to do more than take one good glance. So delectable, squeezable; but for him and him alone. You were the princess Simon didn’t realize he wanted and unlocked this strange and insatiable urge to spoil the fuck out of you with every pretty pink or glittery thing you could wish for, just so he could take you home and watch you try it all on for him while sipping a bourbon on the couch.

Fuck… There wasn’t a better way to spend an evening. Well, almost.

Perfect didn’t count unless he got to see you under him, laying back on pink silk sheets you’d been adamant about buying for his house, watching your eyes roll back with every moment he made. Damn if he couldn’t make it more than fifteen minutes without needing to calm himself down, before needing to put you on your hands and knees so those pretty little fucking faces you made wouldn’t make him finish before he got started. If he was lucky he could leave hot and pink handprints on your ass for making him feel so good. Simon knew you weren’t sheltered. But to him you were still innocent. Kind in so many ways he didn’t comprehend or believe was humanly possible. For fuck’s sake, you allowed him to come into your life.

Him with his scarred hands, bullet holes, shitty disposition. A man who preferred destruction and death for it’s permanence and certainty. Simon, with his need to hide his own face and go by a name that lacked humanity. All of him starkly contrasted you in so many ways it made him spin with confusion and oftentimes guilt. Questioning why he’d been so weak as to touch you in the first place. Allow himself the chance at someone so full of life who could see the world -literally- through rose-colored lenses.

Yet you brought forth happiness and fulfillment that the soldier hadn’t found in his years of searching desperately for a purpose. He found someone he could visually see, and palpably touch who hadn’t been torn down or beaten into submission in one way or another. Sweet and innocent you had found such a simple yet powerful way of living life the way you wanted to. Ghost felt like he could protect you. Not only in the genuine aspect of loving you so much that he got physically ill at the thought of losing you to anything; but also because you were so full of life and love to give to everyone around you. He needed you. Selfishly. Then again, there needed to be more softness and genuine innocence and happiness too. And so long as he was alive and breathing, he’d always make sure you were safe.

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon answered #anon <3 #anon ask

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theartofangirling · 7 months

Text

part 2 of the 2023 version of this post: young adult books!

part 1: middle grade books | part 3: adult books

this is a very incomplete list, as these are only books I've read and enjoyed. not all books are going to be for all readers, so I'd recommend looking up synopses and content warnings. feel free to message me with any questions about specific representation!

list of books under the cut ⬇️

aces wild by amanda dewitt

the chandler legacies by abdi nazemian

bruised by tanya boteju

juliet takes a breath by gabby rivera

picture us in the light by kelly loy gilbert

when we were magic by sarah gailey

iron widow by xiran jay zhao

the rise of kyoshi by f.c. yee

jane unlimited by kristin cashore

summer of salt by katrina leno

the wicker king by k. ancrum

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

wilder girls by rory power

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

her royal highness by rachel hawkins

tell me how you really feel by aminah mae safi

the weight of the stars by k. ancrum

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson

last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo

the grief keeper by alexandra villasante

crier's war by nina varela

how to excavate a heart by jake maia arlow

imogen, obviously by becky albertalli

in other lands by sarah rees brennan

carry on by rainbow rowell

cemetery boys by aiden thomas

felix ever after by kacen callendar

i wish you all the best by mason deaver

little thieves by margaret owen

technically you started it by lana wood johnson

the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue by mackenzi lee

the infinite noise by lauren shippen

bonds of brass by emily skrutskie

the darkness outside us by eliot schrefer

simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda by becky albertalli

what if it's us by becky albertalli and adam silvera

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz

like a love story by abdi nazemian

different for boys by patrick ness

history is all you left me by adam silvera

twelfth grade night by molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, and jamie green

across a field of starlight by blue delliquanti

heartstopper by alice oseman

check, please! by ngozi ukazu

bloom by kevin panetta and savanna ganucheau

laura dean keeps breaking up with me by mariko tamaki and rosemary valero-o'connell

the princess and the grilled cheese sandwich by deya muniz

if you'll have me by eunnie

on a sunbeam by tillie walden

the girl from the sea by molly knox ostertag

always human by ari north

rust in the root by justina ireland

dread nation by justina ireland

pet by awkwaeke emezi

the darkest part of the forest by holly black

elatsoe by darcie little badger

i was born for this by alice oseman

loveless by alice oseman

i hate everyone but you by gaby dunn and allison raskin

you know me well by nina lacour and david levithan

the black flamingo by dean atta

spinning by tillie walden

dreadnought by april daniels

a lesson in vengeance by victoria lee

all the bad apples by moira fowley-doyle

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

summer bird blue by akemi dawn bowman

the miseducation of cameron post by emily m. danforth

we are okay by nina lacour

radio silence by alice oseman

we used to be friends by amy spalding

a neon darkness by lauren shippen

i hope you get this message by farah naz rishi

are you listening? by tillie walden

alone in space by tillie walden

all out edited by saundra mitchell

out now edited by saundra mitchell

out there edited by saundra mitchell

#lgbtq+ books #queer books #book recommendations #gay books #ya books #lgbtq+ ya books #book flow chart #part 2 of 3!#dear god this almost twice as many books as the previous flow chart. and it's JUST YA.#mp

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softlyspector · 6 months

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birds of a feather

Summary: Sarah is going to kindergarten. Joel is forced to reckon with his differences with the other parents.

Word count: ~3k

Relationship: Joel & Sarah

Warnings: minor mentions of anxiety, a whole lot of love from one man about his daughter

A/N: I so hope you enjoy this 💕 Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! If you happen to read this please leave some feedback, this is my first lil Joel & Sarah fic 💕 As mentioned when the snippet was posted Sarah's braids were inspired by @pomegranatevampire's lovely art, which everyone should check out if you haven't already.

He’s younger than the other parents by years.

It’s the first thing he notices when he and Sarah shuffle into the classroom and take their places along the back wall with the other parents and students. She stands beside him, and slightly in front of his legs, her hand tangled up in his. Her hair is that bright yellow that reminds him of cat’s clover and sunshine and lemon drop candy.

The whole of her is bright. A bright purple dress that his mother had taken her to the thrift store to pick out, matching mary janes, and tights with cartoonish flowers on them.

It’s not often Joel feels self-conscious, about anything, but especially about Sarah. He’s proud of the kid in front of him. He does the best that he can with her, and most days he figures he does pretty well, all things considered.

Considering he’d grown up mainly around other men, considering he’d been so young, and so very alone, and that he’d never really had anything to do with a baby before.

He barely remembers when Tommy had been that small, just a blip in his memory, a blur, a smear of a blink of time.

When she had been born, it felt as though she fit in the palm of his hand. She was so tiny, and he felt so very big and clumsy. A giant really, not fit for such a small world, such a tiny life.

Wrong, too. Because he was just a kid, not yet twenty, and sometimes he cried right along with her.

Those long, impossible nights.

The first few months, awful.

Full of restless, aching nights, with a learning curve that felt like failure. There’s an indescribable kind of pain that comes with hearing your kid cry, and not know how to help, how to fix it. But he got the hang of the late nights and long days. He found out that singing, playing the guitar soothed her more than anything else he could do, anything those baby books recommended. He learned that she liked to be held best, tight against his chest, the smell of her sweet in his nose.

He hadn’t known babies smelled like that. Pleasant, like a slightly milky vanilla.

Those days had been awful, too, because he had known. Joel knew her mother was going to leave. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, and they really both knew it was for the best in the end. They weren’t meant to be married, anyhow. Circumstance and doing the right thing after gettin’ that damn girl pregnant had been the main factors and motivations of that union, rushed at the courthouse, before she started to show, to try to preserve the illusion that things had happened in reverse of the order that they really had.

Shame had been the prevailing feeling that day; sunny and warm and uncomfortable on the courthouse steps, tie too tight around his throat.

Joel was better suited to it anyway. It was natural for him, once he got the hang of it, easy as breathing. It hadn’t been for Sarah’s mother. It was hard, like pulling teeth without novocaine, no matter how much residual love she might have felt for Sarah. She just wasn’t meant for it, and that had to be okay.

He was the one better suited to responsibility, too. He already had work lined up and a mother that was willing to babysit sometimes. So, Sarah was better with him, too, just for that, logistically and all. Maybe that was the only thing that really mattered.

And, well, Joel had wanted Sarah. He wanted her to be his, even if it was something out of a nightmare sometimes, he couldn’t imagine life without her, not anymore.

Once his ex-wife left, and it was just him and Sarah, Tommy doing the occasional babysitting stint, he forgot. He forgot the shame, the crushing guilt that made everything in the world seem his fault.

He didn’t feel young, and being a parent came naturally to him, caring for Sarah, like he was always going to be her dad. He thought it might grate, that he might get resentful about it like he sometimes felt when he had to take care of Tommy growing up, but those feelings never came.

It had been easy, even if sometimes it hurt, even if most of the time he felt like he had no idea what he was doing. It felt like it was something he had always been doing, that had always been done and needed doing.

And it was easy and it got easier.

He forgot, somehow, that he is not the typical parent, that theirs is not the typical household, especially not in Austin, Texas, in late 2006.

But as he stands now in the tiny kindergarten classroom with Sarah’s hand inside his, so little and warm, it’s hard not to notice how very young he is, how very different they are as a pair.

The desks are so tiny, so miniature. Or, maybe the world is just too big. The room is heavy with that gummy new school year scent, of crayola and glue. It’s undercut by the acid lemon of some heavy duty disinfectant or cleaner or something, and by the floral, sharp snap of the perfume of the couple next to him.

They smell expensive. They look expensive, and he suddenly wonders if this is the sort of thing people are supposed to dress up for. He’s suddenly aware of the crisp button-up shirts, the starched dress pants and jeans, the slacks and the dresses.

He’s suddenly very aware that his shirt is rumpled and his jeans have seen their fair share of much better days. There’s a stain on the hem of his shirt because their morning had been a hectic one, somehow. Nerves about this, maybe, about coming here and being seen and judged despite it all, but also just about sending Sarah off to school. They were in a rush and when he elbowed Sarah’s half-empty cereal bowl across the counter, there hadn’t been time to change his shirt as they charged out the door.

Joel hadn’t even noticed he got some on himself until this very moment, looking down at his scruffy boots.

He was only a couple months shy of twenty when Sarah was born, and it shows in this room of more capable parents, of more prepared parents, of better put together parents. Only just a couple of years ago, he was attending the high school across the street. His little brother is a senior there, and Joel is still a month away from his twenty-fifth birthday.

Probably twenty-five was the age most of the folks in the room had been getting married, maybe finding out they had been pregnant if they were young when it happened.

But, he isn’t the only young parent in the room. It’s Texas, afterall, plenty married young and had kids young.

He is, however, the only single parent, and, worse, he’s the only single father in the room. Cardinal sin, he supposes, in the harsh judgment of the bible thumping south.

There are a lot of oh bless his hearts and poor things looks being exchanged. Joel recognizes some of the other parents. People from school and around town that definitely know what happened, that know how Sarah came into the world, that will go out to the parking lot after this and remind anyone that had forgotten.

Got that girl pregnant and then she ran off and left him with the baby. Can you believe that? Oh, bless his heart, I’m sure he’s trying his best.

Whole life ahead of him, what’s a little girl to do without a mother, needs a feminine touch etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

False concern hiding very real judgment.

Nothing he hasn’t overheard before. It does manage to sting here, though, because for the first time, it might affect Sarah too. Kids were more accepting than adults, but they repeated what they heard at home, too.

That knot of something hot and mean locks up in his chest, something protective and angry. The kind of thing those fucking anxiety pills are supposed to help with, but never seem to. Not something he wants to think about. He can just deal.

Sarah tugs at his hand and he looks down at her duck fluff hair, sticking up off her forehead because he’s still so damn bad at braiding. His mother had shown him how, weeks ago, the twist of her fingers nimble and quick. He thought he had it down, had even been proud of his work before they left the house that morning, even amidst the chaos. But looking down at his baby’s hair now, he thinks it looks clumsy, a little snarl of sunshine yellow.

She just smiles up at him with all her teeth, the gap between her two front teeth notwithstanding, pink little tongue poking through the hole, eyes crinkling up until he can’t see her irises anymore.

He snorts and a few people shoot him dirty looks, the teacher stuttering at the intrusion on her introduction. The pressure working around his ribs eases just a little. Who knew kindergarten orientation could be so intense?

Joel straightens up and squeezes Sarah’s hand back, his attention refocused on the middle aged woman at the front of the room. He nods, only half apologetic about it.

The rest of the morning he follows Sarah around the little classroom, weaving between the desks and other peoples’ kids. She’s excited for school for months, all summer, always asking the neighbor girl across the way about it, watching for the yellow of the school bus through the living room window each morning with a little sigh.

She’s smart, and Joel wants to dare to dream more for her, more for the both of them.

She’s a social little thing and Joel does his best not to feel intimidated by the other parents. It’s hard though, when he’s gotten asked three damn times if he’s her brother. Somehow, a twenty year sibling gap in age is easier to accept than Joel being her dad.

“Oh,” the ones that don’t know say. “Mama busy today then?”

Mom is out of the picture. Sarah is his.

Then, the inevitable, “Oh, you poor thing. Raising your girl all alone.”

Sarah holds onto his hand again when they leave, and even if he was miserable the entire time, he feels better about it. She talks the whole way home, from the backseat, big eyes watching his in the rearview mirror, crinkling up in that way he loves when she laughs. They stop for milkshakes on the way home, and her smile is covered in chocolate by the time they get home. He mirrors it back to her.

He feels better about the whole thing. The inexplicable knot of guilt in his chest has loosened. The first day of school would probably come with no tears or anxiety, but a smile and excitement. That neighbor girl across the way is already promising they can sit together on the bus.

Joel wants to drive her to school, but there’ll probably be mornings that wouldn’t be possible, not with the schedule he’s going to have to keep with the new job. He feels bad about that, too, because it means less time with her.

It’s terrible, another generation of Miller latchkey kids. He needs more time, but that’s the very thing he doesn’t have.

That’s okay, he tells himself, because Sarah will like it. She’ll like going to school and making friends. She’d see her grandmother in the afternoons, and her Uncle Tommy, too, if he really was close to having enough saved to get himself a truck. Tommy could pick her up after school sometimes, too, take her home and play babysitter for just a couple of hours.

It would be fine.

Sarah would love school. She’s already a smart kid, and too clever for her own good. She’s sociable and funny, friends would come easily to her like they do to Tommy. And hopefully those kids have better sense than their parents to say anything to Sarah about her mother.

Except that first day comes a week later and everything goes to hell.

And he has to wonder if everyone goes through this much grief about everything or if he’s just so goddamn unique. Just so goddamn bad at managing things. That morning is the spilled milk and cereal multiplied by a thousand.

Nothing goes right.

Not breakfast, because he opened the box of cereal and found only crumbs left in the bottom of the bag and he knew his dumbass brother ate the rest of it and that toast would not be good enough for Sarah, and, typical they were out of just about everything else.

Nothing goes right. Not rebraiding Sarah’s hair, because she insisted on sleeping with it in those messy little twists that he’s still yet to perfect.

Not getting dressed, because there was suddenly a glob of toothpaste in the middle of Sarah’s shirt which meant they had to pick something else out to wear and that was a whole ordeal, and he’s fairly sure not a single item of her clothing actually goes together.

He’s pretty damn sure they both look a mess. It would only take one look at them for everyone to know Joel is way in over his head, messing things up with her, doing bad job of it.

They can’t find her backpack, he has to pack her lunch last minute, he can’t find his goddamn keys.

But everything eventually turns up and then they’re both dressed in clothes that don't have toothpaste on them, breakfast in their bellies, and so they get out the door fine.

And then—

Joel very suddenly finds himself kneeling in his driveway with his daughter teary eyed and begging him not to make her go, and his heart snaps in half. Gravel digs into his knees, sweat drips hot down the back of his neck, but he stays there on the ground, eye level with his girl.

“I don’t wanna go without you,” she says, miserable about it. “You were there that other day we went.” It’s said like an accusation, like the beginning of an abandoning.

And he guesses that’s pretty much the center of it. They’ve never really been apart, and maybe it hadn’t been so clear school was something she had to take on on her own.

Her cheeks are bright pink with distress.

“It’s only durin’ the day, baby girl,” he says, thumbs sweeping away the tears that just keep on coming no matter how many times he pushes them away. “Uncle Tommy’ll be there to get ya after. And I’ll be home in the evening, same as always. Hey, take a breath.”

She sucks in a snotty lungful of air that hitches up in her chest and then slowly breathes it out. “But I want you to do it,” she says desolately. He cups her face, soothing away an impossible ache. “I want you to be there.”

Joel closes his eyes briefly, biting back the frustration that bubbles to the surface. He figures there’ll be lots of times like this in the future. Times where he won’t be able to be there, where he’ll have to come home late, miss dinner, miss little life events, miss things he should be there for.

Maybe he should get this first time right.

“All right. I can’t come with ya all day. It just ain’t allowed. But I’ll be there to pick ya up. Since it’s your first day n’all. Can’t be everyday, though, clear.”

She sniffles and Joel brushes a lock of her hair back, thinking that maybe his braids aren’t as bad as he thought. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Promise?” Bottom lip trembling, another crack in Joel’s heart.

“I promise, baby. I’ll be there.” He tucks another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, c’mon, we gotta get goin’. We’re already late.”

She giggles, tears drying in tacky streaks on her cheeks. “We’re always late, dad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, adjusting the twisted strap of her pink backpack, some kind of themed princess ordeal. “We’re always late and always a mess.”

He gets to his feet and takes her hand when she holds it out to him. They walk to the truck over the crunch of gravel in the driveway and Joel helps her into her carseat. She does up the buckles herself and he checks them before closing the door.

Sarah hums along to the oldies station on the radio and Joel thinks it's only half out of nervousness as she watches the familiarity of their neighborhood roll by.

Even though he could let her out at the curb, Joel parks and walks Sarah to the front door. He’s getting this part right, he knows it by the way she smiles up at him, in that funny way she has that makes him chuckle.

He stoops and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be here?” She asks one last time.

“Cross my heart.”

“Okay.”

“Have a good day, baby girl. You’ll do good.” She nods and straightens her tiny shoulders, flitting across the sidewalk to take her teacher's hand and be herded into the building along with the rest of that year’s class.

“Appreciate it now,” a mother next to him says. “In a couple years time she won’t want anythin’ to do with ya. Just be embarrassed.”

He knows it’s probably true. He still can’t picture it.

She turns and waves over her shoulder one last time before the door closes, and Joel thinks her braids look pretty damn good.

Thanks for reading if you got this far 💕 Would love to know what you think!

#tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel and sarah #joel miller #sarah miller

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relaxxattack · 7 months

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Piggybacking off the last anon, what is it you like about Jane so much? I find my feelings on her kind of mixed but I lean towards positive.

okay i haven’t read act six in probably like 5 years so bear with me here. *cracks knuckles*

jane is sooo so interesting and it’s really a shame people miss like everything fun about her.

pre-scratch she used her detective work to literally succeed at tearing down the crocker cooperation, to the point that HIC has to fucking abandon ship and head into another universe to have another shot at her evil empire. pre-scratch jane is also fucking hilarious! if you didnt enjoy her antics with john as nannasprite you must just have no heart

meanwhile HIC breaches a new universe, and her FIRST fucking order of business is to NEUTRALIZE JANE CROCKER because of how goddamn detrimental she was to HIC’s plans the first time around.

not ONLY does HIC pump subliminal messaging and brainwashing into nearly every aspect of jane’s life, she also tries to straight up mind control her basically whenever possible! she ALSO sends assassination attempts after jane 24/7! (people will seriously try to say that jane lived a safe normal life… as if she wasn’t almost killed by walking into her backyard.) this is because HIC is fucking scared of jane, as she very well should be!

jane is also NOT a boring weepy annoying crybaby like everyone and their mother complains about. jane is literally the most fucking supportive friend and emotion-repressing dumbass you could ever hope to meet. jane combines john’s emotional repression and jade’s intentional cheerfulness together into one of the most fucked up cases of emotional repression in the whole comic

act 6 suffers from a LOT of shitty writing choices, but it’s not jane’s fault the whole act turns into a soap opera— and she’s ALSO not the only one who acts all soap-opera-y either! literally all of the alpha kids suffer from this, people just like jane the least so they project it all onto her. despite the fact that she did her very fucking best to NEVER talk about her feelings, to the point where she ONLY started telling people about shit when she was mind-controlled or took mind altering substances to make her do so! and you can say “ohhh that’s stupid she shouldn’t repress things in the first place how dumb” but, one she’s sixteen, and two, everyone eats that shit up when it comes from like. literally any other character.

people (cough hs2 writers) act like she would actually be “pushy” with a relationship on jake— as if she wasn’t literally the one who helped him make the decision to explore dating dirk?? because she thought it was the right thing to do???

jane is incredibly thoughtful and mature and people really throw all of those traits out of the window with preference for a version of the story where she Comes Inbetween Their Fave Gay Pairing as if she wasn’t, again, the one who got them together. jane is also extremely interesting in terms of queerness; she’s got the makings of a really interesting arc, not to mention she’s the only human girl that dresses mainly masc! there’s a lot there that people just don’t care to explore.

people just have less patience for the prospit kids in general. not to mention homestuck fans love to be misogynistic and berate jane for stuff they love the men doing, or claim she’s coming between them when she’s not, etc etc. and then because no one was writing fun meta posts about her, nobody ever rereads the comic to grab little scenes or lines to expand the online discussion about her! and then because there’s no discussion about her, people assume she’s boring and don’t go looking for bits to start discussing, which cycles on and on forever until we have the ripple effects we see of that misogyny today. which mostly consists of, “oh i hate jane because she was a villain is hs2”, or, “i know hs2 isn’t canon but i still don’t care for jane because she doesn’t do anything that interests me.” (and she’s only not interesting because of the cycle i mentioned before causing NO ONE to have meta discussion about her).

idk, it’s been a while since ive read so i could be talking out my ass but that’s what i’ve got.

TL;DR: jane is fucking COOL, she just suffers from intentional fandom ignorance. and she’s also a canonically hot, fat, masc woman, so i don’t know what else you could possibly want.

#oh god i didn’t mean for this to get so long #lol i hope this helped????#jane crocker #homestuck #op #hsmeta #long post

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suzannahnatters · 1 month

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Some weirdly specific tropes that I absolutely adore but rarely see: Platonic Love Triangle Two attractive people will battle to the death over the right to be friends with you (I wrote this in A Day of Darkness and otherwise have only seen it in the kdrama Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938)

The UnChosen One In the magical fantasy world, everyone has super awesome magical powers, except the protagonist (A Dream of Fire by JR Rasmussen did this SO WELL and it made me SO HAPPY; I also plan to do it myself in an upcoming project, A Lord of Thorns and Teeth)

Dying Baby King Terminally ill teen boy should be asking out his crush and having fun, not killing himself running a country (I wrote this in The Lady of Kingdoms with my squishy darling Baldwin IV, and I've only ever seen it done otherwise in the Trevor Nunn movie My Lady Jane)

Disabled Love Interest Put your romantic male lead in a wheelchair you cowards (Stella Dorthwany's Song and Flame and @rj-anderson's Knife have two of the best disabled love interests I've seen)

Sword in the Bed You've heard of Only One Bed but this is the superior medieval variant: before they bunk down together one of them draws a naked sword and lays it in the bed between them (IIRC, it happens in the Welsh Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, and apart from that and some other medieval legends and fairytales, I've only seen it in an unfinished work by @rj-anderson auuuugh)

Fake Divorced Exactly what it says on the tin (I've never seen this? but DV I'll be writing it into the 5th Miss Dark book)

Bad Fictional Matriarchy What if the patriarchy was a fantasy matriarchy? It'd still be bad, obviously. I see this so rarely but it is always an opportunity for fantastic, layered social criticism (Greta Gerwig's Barbie movie did it well; I'm struggling to recall the one (1) other fantasy novel I read that did it!)

Sad Wet Puppy X Righteous Female Warrior ETL Enemies-to-lovers, but he's a skinny waterlogged little weirdo and she's the righteous paladin who is going to hound him to his destruction without mercy on the strength of her own heavenly wrath (it's the one thing in common between the kdrama Flower of Evil and the cdrama Till the End of the Moon and both of them sent me absolutely feral, plus I have an untitled project on the backburner that will give me the chance to do my own version of this...)

#weirdly specific tropes #tropes #these are a few of my favourite things #writing

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jermer10 · 3 months

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Hey, I've got a TF2 request, if you don't mind! Mercs with a s/o who accidentally falls asleep with their head on the mercs shoulder. (Very cliche, I know...) I'll let you pick who you want to write for, no pressure! PS, I think your writing is phenomenal, and I anticipate whatever you might post next!

TF2 falling asleep on their shoulder

gn reader | ahhh tysm!! this message means so much :) i decided to write for all the mercs, hope you enjoy!!!

temperatures are in celsius

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: "Move ova'!" Scout pushed his way onto the already overcrowded couch, disregarding the protests of the other mercs. Tonight was movie night at the red base, and he would be damned if he couldn’t use this as a moment to try and get closer to you. "Hiya toots," he flirted, stretching his right arm out to rest around your shoulders. "Hi Jeremy." You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. Scout had been crushing on you for a while, every chaste touch and every flirty interaction had culminated in something that far outweighed any feelings he once had for Pauling. The movie had long since started, and mercs were continuing to file into the living room, squishing themselves onto the lounge or plotting themselves onto the floor. He couldn't remember the genre let alone the name of the film, all Scout could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat and the feeling of uncomfortable itchiness in his throat as you cuddled into his side. An hour in and your eyes began to grow heavy, breathing slowing in tandem. Jeremy glanced down at you, his palms moist and his face flushed as he wrapped his arm around your waist, attempting to focus on the movie and not how cute you looked like that. He was definitely asking you out in the morning.

Soldier: Everyone felt hot, sweaty, and exhausted as they slugged themselves back to the blu base. The mood hung heavy, no one seemed interested in Soldier’s usual antics - all except you, of course. You feigned a smile as he ranted about team ethic and the "American spirit", some mercs scowled at the man and others mumbled profanities and sauntered off. A light breeze came in through the afternoon air, Soldier sighed in the smell of Spring. “Hey, we should sit out here for a bit,” you squeezed Jane’s arm, pulling him towards one of the wooden benches placed just outside of the entrance to base. He felt his heart swell, not only did you want to hang out with him, but any touch from you made him absolutely crazy. “AFFIRMATIVE CUPCAKE,” Soldier responded, allowing you to lead the way. You audibly sighed as you sat down, just looking at you it was obvious you were exhausted. “Better luck next time, huh?” you joked, Soldier chuckled and stared out at the afternoon sky. You sat there together for a while, until he felt a sudden, yet small pressure on his shoulder. You had fallen asleep on him, and with anyone else he would have woken them up immediately, but you looked so peaceful and….pretty in a way? Soldier glued his eyes to the afternoon sky, he could think about these feelings later, better to let you rest after a long day.

Pyro: Being friends with Pyro was exhausting in of itself, and they knew this. But they couldn't help wanting to invite you along to their errands, you were their best friend and any time spent with you was time spent well. By the end of the day, you were both well past exhausted. "You're lucky I like you so much, otherwise I would never go on an errand run with you again." You teased, slinging an arm around their shoulders as you both trotted up the stairs to the base entrance. Pyro flushed under their mask, muffling out a "Yeah, yeah whatever, you love me." and rolling their eyes. You chuckled, opening the door to base and dragging yourselves to the living room. Pyro plopped onto the couch, sinking into the plush cushions and removing their mask. They knew the rest of the team wouldn't be back for a while, and the heat of the day had done a number to both of you. You took your seat next to them, sitting back and resting your feet on the coffee table in front of you. "Wanna watch tv?" They asked, grabbing the remote. "Yeah whatevs" You responded, yawning and stretching your arms over your head. An hour of mindless game shows, and you had passed out, head falling on their shoulder. Pyro chuckled, turning the tv down and dimming the lights. They pecked your forehead, and cuddled into you, making themself comfortable.

Demoman: Demo certainly didn’t take you as a drinker, let alone a party animal like himself! You go out for a couple drinks together after a team winning streak and manage to arrive back to base blasted out of your minds, clinging onto one another for dear life in your drunken stupor. “IIIIII LOOVE YOU DEMOOO!!!!” You proclaimed, enveloping your arms around the Scott’s neck. Grinning and face burning, he wrapped his arms around your waist, attempting to gently guide you back to your bedroom. His ongoing feelings for you had always been pushed down, and despite knowing that you were probably just super wasted and wouldn’t remember it in the morning, he didn’t want to waste possibly his only chance to spill at least some of his feelings to you. “Aye, i looove you too y/nnnn” Tavish slurred, poking your face in various places. You laughed and kissed the man on the cheek, “DAAATE ME TAAVAVVVV!!” You lamented, cupping his face in your hands. The sudden movement causing you both to topple over onto the floor of your room. Demo sat up and leant against the foot of your bed, you, laughing hysterically, joined him. Resting your head on his shoulder, your laughter dribbled off to giggles and you listened to his thundering heartbeat. "I really do like you, Tav.." You whispered, peering down at the floor, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you. You nuzzled into his shoulder, and drifted off, leaving a beet faced Demo staring down at you.

Heavy: Visiting Heavy's home during the middle of a Russian winter was a less than ideal scenario, but the team had wanted to see what a "real winter" was like, and now here you were trudging 2 foot deep in snow towards the wooden lodge. Heavy opened the door to the sight of 9 freezing mercs, and scoffed. "Inside." He commanded. You furrowed your brows and complied, shivering from the contrast of hot air. "Drink." A mug of hot coco was given to you by the gentle giant. "T-thanks.." You mumbled, walking over to the fireplace and sitting cross legged in front of it. Most of the mercs were directed to their rooms, some lounged around in the kitchen or dining area, having quiet conversations. Heavy sat next to you, mug in hand. This was already too close to comfort for you, and he could tell. Whilst he had been crushing on you for a while, he was oblivious to whether you returned those feelings - believing that you were scared of him. But right now your tired eyes and pink cheeks said otherwise, seeking some form of comfort from the man. "Come, I will hold you to warm you up." Mikhail gave you no room for choice, and you were still freezing. You complied and scooted closer to Heavy, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. In an instant, you had fallen asleep, curled up on Heavy, the body heat shared between the two of you giving more warmth than the blazing heat permeating from the fireplace in front of you.

Engineer: Even after hours of battling, the match on 2fort had yet to finish. Scouts from both sides rushing for the briefcase, only to instantly die from sentry guns, Spies in disguise, or a Heavy hopped up on ubercharge. You were ready to drop, the respawn machine healing your wounds but doing nothing for your exhaustion. You knew that Dell was stationed in the intelligence room, sentry setup so anyone who trespassed would be delt with. The perfect place to catch a few z's before heading back out to the fight. "Yo Dell, can I maybe rest down here for a bit?" You implored, watching the man upgrade a dispenser. "Sure darlin'," He smiled earnestly, you gave him a look of relief. Curling up under the desk, you attempted to sleep, but the lack of cushioning made it an impossible task. Dell noticed, and gave the dispenser one last 'clonk' with his spanner before accompanying you under the table. "Here," He scootched up next to you, "You can rest on me if you'd like." You looked up at him, his cheeks felt hot. "Wow - yeah, thanks Dell." Blood rushed to your face as you situated your head on his shoulder. "Anytime, pumpkin." He muttered. Sleep was instantaneous, Engie held his breath until he was sure you were out cold, letting out a deep sigh and smiling down at the floor. How did he get so lucky?

Medic: Medic suffered long nights in the infirmary, and during those nights you would often visit him to keep him company. It was routine - you would saunter in around 9pm, sitting on the edge of the operating table, your feet barely touching the floor, chin resting in the palms of your hands as he tinkered away. He reveled in it - he had grown attached to this schedule, and by extension, you. Your mere presence made him giddy, seeing your sweet smile before he put you under anesthetics made his heart swell. The best nights were the ones where you would let him operate on you, he would be able to enact out his writings, throwing things at the wall and seeing what stuck. Then, you'd either walk out around 3am, or respawn from a botched surgery, and go to bed. Tonight, however, you had proven to be far too tired for a surgery, let alone a full night of softly rambling to Ludwig about whatever crossed your mind. You had pulled up the operating chair and sat next to him, eyes flickering between him and the notes he had been writing in his medical book, slowly drifting off. Your head fell on his shoulder, fast asleep. Medic peered down at you from over his glasses, breathing a lovestruck sigh. Maybe these were the best nights.

Sniper: The middle of the day in Sniper's van was akin to hell. The air smelt stale, windows wide open, no aircon, just the both of you sweaty, sticky, and half clothed. This would usually have embarrassed the two of you, but the 40 degree weather and sound of the other mercs outside attempting to cool off using a singular hose had you both choosing to stay indoors, not wanting to get involved in the argument currently taking place between Demo and Soldier. Heat fogged your brain, you felt so tired, your body sweat all of your energy out. "Fuck, why couldn't you get an AC installed?" You groaned, lazily shutting your eyes and fanning your face with your hand. Sniper shrugged, and despite not being able to see the motion, you scoffed. "Dunno," Mick responded nonchalantly. He trailed off, seemingly succumbing to the same heat induced exhaustion you were fighting with. You opened your eyes slightly, confirming your suspicions that Sniper had also closed his. Arms crossed, head pointing downwards, God, he looked so comfortable. Mick could tell what you were thinking, and he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to you, but he couldn't bring himself to move. You were close like that, almost reading one another's minds at times. So you made the first step, sliding over to him and laying your head on his shoulder. Sniper was uncomfortably hot, yet refusing to move an inch as you slept on him. Eventually, he couldn't help but nod off alongside you.

Spy: The drive back from your mission was excruciating. Sniper and Medic sat in the driver and passenger seats respectively, the only sound was the droning radio hosts on the van's radio. You had failed, and you knew Spy was seething from the loss. You, however, were so tired you couldn't even stand. Partially from the bullet lodged in your calf, partially from the athlete level running you had to do in order to get back to the van after the high elected government official had caught you in the act attempting to steal nuclear launch codes. Spy was the one to snatch the codes, but you had still been seen, and that in of itself was a failure. Incidentally, Spy had been the one to offer you aid once you were safely in the van. Your arm draped around his shoulders, wincing at the sharp pains running up your leg. As much as he tried to hate you, he just....couldn't. You were too sweet, too kind. So, he opted instead to blame Medic and Sniper for being unable to damage control the situation better. You were slipping in and out of consciousness, head slowly rocking towards Spy's shoulder, and then awkwardly leaning back towards the wall of the vehicle. "Rest your head on me, mon cher. Otherwise you are going to break your nose." He grunted. In an instant you had passed out on him, breathing in the strong scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne. He sighed a breath of relief, enjoying your gentle pressure on his side. Smitten was an understatement.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #ask #jermer10 #fluff #tf2 fluff

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amaesama · 2 years

Text

𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛

So the Slenderman has chosen another troubled soul to manipulate, force to do his bidding, induct into the mansion, great! We’re all one big happy family here, so I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine! Whatever may have happened in the past is over now. This is your new home, and everything is going to be just fine.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⨂ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Everyone is really weary of newcomers.

For the first few days of you being there you will absolutely 100% catch people staring at you, like ‘what is this new thing and what do we do with it.’

The first people to come and talk to you are Nina, Jane, Liu and Dina.

Nina wants to make new friends so she’ll try her best to be nice and welcoming to you, she might be a bit too much at first but she means well.

Jane and Liu are there to warn you of any potential pastas to stay away from (*cough*Jeff*cough*), Liu will do most of the talking because he’s lovely.

Sully won’t front straight away, he will watch you when you talk to Liu to see what you’re like but otherwise he’ll leave you alone.

Jane will try to introduce you to Clockwork but 9/10 she’ll be ‘busy’ so it might take a while to get to know her.

Dina is an absolute sweetheart and they will try their best to be welcoming to you and make sure nothing bad will happen.

There’s a chance that they might try to introduce you to Helen but he just will not make an effort to talk to you, you’ll have to find another way to get to know him.

Dina will also introduce you to Ann and Johnathan, Johnathan will be a bit more talkative but you have a feeling that’s only because he wants something out of a relationship with you.

Ann won’t be all that interested. If you actually want to pursue a friendship with her then get beat up and she might be in the infirmary. Might be.

Speaking of the infirmary, that’s the best place to find him E.J, he spends most of his time down there, so if you ever want to talk to him or need something from him he’ll be down there.

He’s not too social and it’s rare to see him anywhere else, but he will always help someone if you’re injured. If you spend time to get to know him he’ll be very happy, though (he’ll probably ask if he can have your kidney somewhere along the line, he’ll assure you that the operation will be safe but he’ll respect you if you say no).

BEN and Sally are also two people that will be the first to talk to you.

Like Nina, BEN tries his best to spark conversations with people. He’ll probably play a few pranks on you though so be careful.

Sally just wants to play so she talks to everyone, she has no ill intentions so she’s a pretty safe person to be around.

You’ll 100% see Hoodie and Masky around as they basically do everything the Slenderman asks them to do, and if you’re new that’ll be to train you and do the whole initiation process. You’ll see Toby less frequently, but still pretty regularly in comparison to most other people.

Jeff will test if you’re good enough to be friends with him by setting Smile Dog on you. If you don’t run away from him or if you don’t try to kill him you’re good.

However, being friends with Jeff means you probably won’t be friends with Sully. Liu is a bit more accepting (strangely enough) but he’ll still be a bit iffy, he believes you should be friends with whoever you want but he probably won’t be around you if he’s there.

Ok onto actual life in the mansion.

Very rarely will you have a proper meal.

And by very rarely I mean only if you make yourself something or on one of the pasta nights.

A pasta night is something that happens every month (or every other month if no one can be bothered) where someone makes a shit ton of pasta for dinner for laughs.

It’ll almost always end in an argument because there are so many dysfunctional people living in the mansion.

And then there’s an argument on who should clean up, in the end they came up with a router where everyone takes turns.

E.J only comes along to these nights because he feels he has to, he can’t eat the food so he just kind of sits there.

Not many people can cook, so it’s usually either Tim, Brian, Clockwork or Liu who make the pasta.

No matter what your background is there will most likely be someone who went through the same thing, so if you’re happy with talking about it and so are they then you’ve basically got a therapist buddy.

Smile Dog is the family pet except instead of seeing him as a full blown family dog he’s treated like a person, minus all the responsibilities and stuff.

He’s a freeloader. That’s what I’m trying to say.

Also a great guard dog.

Not every room is an en suite so there’s a chance you’ll have to share a bathroom with like 5 others. And sharing a bathroom with literal serial killers? Not fun.

They’ll always flush, don’t worry, but some of them take excruciating long. Jeff is known to take long ass showers and sing obnoxiously loud (because he’s a dick) so avoid the bathroom that’s closest to his room.

Honestly it might be best to befriend someone with an en suite. Helen has one (mostly because people were annoyed that he kept going to refill his water when he’s painting), and he’ll probably be indifferent to you using his bathroom.

E.J also has one and he basically lives in the infirmary so he probably won’t notice if you use his, but you’ll have to ignore the mini fridge in his room. You just know what he keeps inside it.

He also doesn’t like being called ‘E.J,’ he mostly puts up with it. With two Jacks around it can be confusing so he understands why people call him that, but when the other one isn’t around he doesn’t get why people call him this. Call him Jack and you’ll be in his good books.

The proxies have their own bathrooms as well, and since they’re always out you might be able to use theirs.

EVERYONES ROOMS ARE A MESS.

Hardly anyone can be bothered to clean their rooms so they all live in their own mess.

If you complain about it enough then you could potentially bully some people into cleaning them.

Jeff is the worst.

Absolutely vile.

Jane has one of the best rooms because she’s a literal goddess so of course it is.

Helens is covered in paint.

Jacks is passable if you ignore the mini fridge.

Tim’s absolutely sticks of cigs so you probably don’t want to go in there.

Toby’s is- yep. It’s definitely… something!

Also for room arrangements, the people who hate each other are located a far away as possible from each other to reduce conflict. There are multiple floors, probably around 3, with the ground floor being where the living room, kitchen, infirmary and all that stuff is.

Floors 2 and 3 are mostly bedrooms. Liu, Jane, Nina, BEN, E.J, Helen, Dina, and a few others are on floor 2.

Jeff, Tim, Brian, Toby, Kate, Ann (if she’s at home) and some others are on floor 3.

Bless you if you end up on floor 3. It’s so noisy. Mostly because of Jeff.

During the day you probably won’t see many people, you may see them crawl out of their holes to get food but that’s pretty much it.

You’ll most likely get into a few fights because these fuckers are aggressive and argumentative.

Say anything mean to Sally and everyone will hate you forever.

It’ll take a while for you to fully feel like you fit in (a few months to a year) so try to keep on everyone’s good side and everything will be just fine.

If not then you’ll be hated forever. These assholes know how to keep a grudge.

You won’t see Slenderman.

You’ll FEEL him, but hardly ever see him.

If he does contact you it’ll be via Tim or one of the other proxies, or he’ll talk to you telepathically.

If you’re in the house then he’ll always be watching you.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⨂ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

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