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thetriumphantpanda · 4 months

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i only wanna worship you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary | When a promising lead for your story turns to dust, you find comfort in the only person you know can make you feel better these days.

Chapter Warnings | mentions and discussions of drugs, drug consumption and the drug trade, swearing, flirting, explicit smut, oral sex (f), protected piv sex but nothing else.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Authors Note | GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. Thank you so much for being so patient - my new job and the festive period kicked my ass, but we're back, and it's the one you've all been waiting for! I'm having so much fun weaving in the story along with these guys' relationship, and I hope it was worth the wait for you. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

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You’ve been sat in the parking lot for what feels like ages. Turning up at the office that morning, you’d stared blankly at the article you’d written, listening to your managers voice in your head telling you that you could go and get your story, swirling the dregs of your coffee in your mug. It was almost like a switch had flicked in your brain and before your head could catch up with you, you were stuffing your supplies into your bag and swiping your car keys off the desk.

Now, your car is surrounded by others in the parking lot of Laredo’s biggest factory - one of the towns biggest employers of people who hadn’t gotten sick of it and left for college and never come back - waiting for Tyler Johnson to appear out of the front doors for his lunch break.

You watch the clock on your dashboard, counting exactly seventeen further minutes until his tall, lanky frame comes through the door. He’s fishing in his jeans pocket, pulling out a cigarette. He leans up against a brick wall just down from the front door, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. It’s now or never.

You get out of your car, deciding against taking your notepad and pen, you don’t want to spook him before you’ve had a chance to talk. You can feel the familiar nervous bubble in your stomach, something that hasn’t gone away when you blindly go up to someone to interrogate them.

“Tyler?”

He turns his head towards your voice as you come to a stop a few steps away from him.

“Depends who’s asking,” He looks you up and down, “But for you honey, sure thing,” He puts the cigarette into his mouth, reaches his hand out for you to shake which you do, “What can I help with?”

You take a deep breath, the speech you’d rehearsed in the car suddenly blanked from your mind as you try and figure out how to explain to him why you’re here.

“This is so strange, but can you remember hosting a party a few months ago?” You ask, “It was in town?”

You watch him think for a second, taking another drag on his cigarette, “Yeah I think so, was pretty wild if I remember, were you there?”

You reply with a nod, “Yeah, with my friend Liv,” You sigh, “Listen, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but you know that place was raided a few days ago, right?”

“Whole place knows it was raided,” He shrugs, “Been the talk of the town.”

“Right,” You’re thinking, how can you catch him in the act? “So, why were you hosting a party in a house that was empty, that was then raided for drugs?”

“Family own it,” He shrugs again, “Guy who rented it died and it needed doing up before we could get someone else in, so seemed like the best place to do it.”

“And the drugs?” You push.

“Listen, lady,” His tone sharpens but he doesn’t move towards you, you don’t feel threatened, “I haven’t got a clue as to why there were drugs there, okay? I haven’t been there since the party.”

“So you have no idea how they got there?”

“Not the faintest.”

“So it wasn’t you?”

“What the hell is this, twenty fucking questions?” He sighs again, flicks his finished cigarette to the ground, stamping on it with his boot, “I don’t know anything about the drugs, I’ve never taken drugs, I can’t even if I wanted to, we get tested here for them.”

“When was the last time you got tested?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Tyler snorts at you, “You and everyone else in this fucking town are so predictable,” He shakes his head, “Just because I’m not a golden boy like my brother means I take drugs?” You’re about to open your mouth to reply when he started talking again, “I got tested about three weeks ago, and then probably six weeks before that too, clean as a whistle, always have been.”

“Do you have the test results?”

“You think I’m gonna show my drug test results to a random girl?”

You nod your head because it his trepidation makes sense, “I’m a journalist,” You finally let on, “I wrote a story about the drug bust but figured there was probably more to it than first meets the eye so I’m just digging around a little,” You shrug, “If you show me, it puts you in the clear though, means people’ll stop talking about you.”

Tyler rolls his eyes but starts walking towards a car. You follow behind him, waiting as he unlocks it and looks through the glove compartment, pulling out a couple of pieces of paper. He hands them to you, which you look through and just like he said, there are the result of his last three random drug tests, everything negative. Fuck. You try not to let your disappointment show as you hand them back.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on here.”

“S’alright,” Tyler responds, putting everything back in order to lock his car back up, “I know how it is, but just…” He trails off, “Be careful, okay? I don’t know what’s happening either but this could be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl,” You counter, “I’ll be fine,” You take a few steps back, “Sorry for bothering you though, I hope the rest of your day is alright.”

There is a part of you that would love nothing more than to roll over, push your face into your pillow and scream. When did having meltdowns like that become frowned upon? You’re sure when you were little they were cathartic, but what use was that at three years old? You needed to be able to scream at this age.

Instead, you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, frustrated that the one lead you had turned out to be a dead fucking end. Were you wrong about this whole thing the entire time? Were you barking up the wrong tree? Did you just need to cut your losses and publish the story as is, without needing to dig around further? You had no fucking clue.

Before you can think about what you’re doing, you reach over, pluck the phone off your nightstand and press the redial button. You don’t even need to tap in his number anymore, he’s the only number you really call these days. The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Javi?” You ask, although you don’t need to, you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“You alright, cariño?” There is just a sigh that you let out in response, then his voice is back in your ear, “I’ve had enough bad days in my time to know that sigh, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Is your response, you know you can’t tell him what’s really up because you know the deeper you dig into this, the more dangerous it’s going to get, “Just work stress.”

He’s silent for a moment, “What can I do? I can listen.”

“Can you come over?”

Even over the phone, you can hear him thinking it’s a bad idea. You can hear him thinking about how weird it will look if your parents find him in the house with you on your own, how you’d explain it, even if they didn’t necessarily catch you doing anything.

“They’re out at the moment,” You offer, “Dinner with some people on the force, and I won’t make you stay long, I promise.”

You can hear him do that thing he always does when he’s thinking - clicking his tongue against his teeth. He’s done it for as long as you can remember - a real tell that he’s battling with something in his head.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” You hasten to add, “We can just talk like this if you’d rather.”

“Need someone to make you feel better, huh?” His tone is lower now and it makes you squirm, all you can reply with is a small mmhmm sound, “I’ll be there soon.”

Then all you can hear is the dial tone. You lie there for a moment, listening to the sound through the phone, then glance around your room and panic. You slam the handset back onto the receiver and hop out of bed, dragging the sheets up to make the bed properly, aimlessly throwing abandoned clothes into the laundry basket, shoving half-read books back onto their shelves and generally tidying up enough so as to not look like a total slob.

Once you’re sure there’s nothing on display that you wouldn’t want Javi to see, you pace around the living room, drawing the curtains a little whenever you can see headlights bleeding through, until one set of those headlights are Javi’s truck. He pulls into the drive and sits there, before he’s reversing back out and driving off. Your heart sinks a little, until you can see his frame walking back up the street. You let the curtains fall back into place and stand by the front door, smoothing your hair and your clothes when he knocks twice. You don’t wait, just tear the door open.

“Waiting for me, huh?” He asks, stepping across the threshold, one hand slipping around your waist, the other letting the door close behind him.

“N-no, I was just by the door when you knocked.” You breath, so close to his mouth.

“That so?” He asks, eyebrow raised, “Someone else looking out the curtains then?”

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer. Instead, he dips his face to yours, lips pressed softly to yours. You can feel the aches and the stress leaving your body as he does, you bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders, as Javi’s palm on your lower back presses you into his body fully.

“Y-you wanna m-maybe go upstairs?” You ask, lips still a hairs breadth from his, you don’t want to look at him whilst you ask.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, free hand cupping your cheek to make you look at him.

“I think so, yes.” You breathe.

“Well then, lead the way cariño.”

I don’t deserve this, is all Javi can think as your hand is clutched in his, leading him into your bedroom. He doesn’t deserve the flutter in his stomach when he looks at you, or the way your eyes look at him like he’s the best thing the world has ever offered you, and he certainly doesn’t deserve the opportunity to do what he thinks you’re going to let him do in the next few hours. All of the bad he’s done, veiled as something good, all of the shit he’s fucked up before, the people’s he’s hurt, the people he’s killed, whether at his own hand or as a knock on from his actions, he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you.

You’re stood at the door to your room, back pressed up against it, hands clasped behind your back as he stands in the middle of your room. He knows you’re nervous, you always are around him, and he wishes he could say something, express that he feels exactly the same around you, that you make him nervous too, but he thinks it would sound wrong if he tried to explain it, so he doesn’t, just holds out his hand and beckons you over to him.

The warmth of your hand slipping into his, the way he knows those hands feel when you touch him, the way your lips are soft when you kiss him, all of it makes him a weak man, a man who knows you need someone with less baggage, because he can’t say no to you, he doesn’t want to say no to you.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, manoeuvring the two of you so you’re sitting on the edge of your bed.

He watches as you shake your head, “No, it’s honestly nothing, it’ll be fine.”

“What do you want then?”

You lift your head, flash those beautiful eyes at him and instead of fighting the strength to stay upright, he takes a single step towards you and drops to his knees, settled on the floor with your thighs spread to accommodate him. He puts his hands on your knees, looking up at you, and spreads them a little wider.

“This what you want?” He asks, trailing his hands up to your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up with his hands as he goes, “Something to take your mind off things for a while?”

“Y-yes,” You gasp when his hands hit the material of your underwear wrapped around your hips, “Yes please.”

Javi hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, watching as you lift yourself off the bed a little so he can pull them down. He’s slow with it, making sure that the hem of your dress keeps you covered as he can. It strikes him now how much he wants this, how much he’s craved the opportunity to get you like this so he can really hear you, really see you for once, without having to worry about getting caught.

“You wanna show me that pretty pussy, hermosa?” He speaks lowly into the skin of your thigh he’s nuzzling at.

He watches from between your thighs as your cheek drops to your shoulder, trying to hide how bashful you’ve become, but it does nothing to help the growing bulge in his jeans. Javi lets his fingers push the hem of your dress up your thighs, pooling at your waist, your legs widening.

Javi thinks he might audibly gasp at the way you’re already glistening for him. He leans forward, puckers his lips and presses a single kiss to your clit. It’s gentle, he revels in the small gasp you suck in, then he’s on your properly, tip of his tongue flicking gently against that little bud. He can feel your hand gripping at his hair already, hips moving in time with his mouth, and he wonders if anyone has ever blessed you like this. He needs to know.

He pulls away, letting his thumb gently replace his mouth, looking up at you, “Anyone ever done this for you?”

You shake your head, “No, but even if they had,” You’re biting at your bottom lip, “I don’t think it would have felt like this.”

He can’t help but smirk as he brings his mouth back to you, suckling your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, listening to you the way you whine for him, the way you start moving your hips in time with the movements of his mouth again. You taste divine, he thinks, as his tongue drops a little lower, drinking up the slick you’re creating for him, dragging it back up to run over your clit again.

“T-that’s so g-good.” He hears you moan.

“Yeah?” He replies, barely pulling off you.

He hears a noise in reply, lets one of his fingers trace up the skin of your thigh until he’s slowly pushing it inside of you, amazed at how easily you let him in just like he had been in the alley. He slips another in, curls them up gently, moves them until you tip your head back and really cry out for him this time. Javi can tell you’re close - he’s made enough women in his life feel good this way to know the signs - the way you’re tightening around his fingers inside you, the way your hips are moving but your thighs are starting to tighten around his shoulders and the way your moans are louder but more breathy, he’s addicted already, he knows it’s bad, but right now he can’t find it in himself to really care.

“J-javi,” You breathe, fingers gripping at his hair, “I’m gonna-”

“Go on, cariño,” He urges, “You can come for me.”

And you do, God alive you do, and it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever been party to. Your cunt goes tight as a fist around his fingers, slick drooling down into his palm, he can feel the way you flutter around them as you say his name over and over again in some sort of fucked up prayer, and he thinks about how it would feel around his cock. Your entire body convulses as he works you gently through the aftershocks with his mouth, fingers slipping from inside you to rest, wet and sticky, on your thigh.

All of a sudden, he can feel you gripping his shoulders, pulling at the material to try and drag him up to you.

“Slow down, baby,” He says, but he moves anyway, pushing you back onto the bed, settling himself between your thighs, “We’ve got all night.”

“Javi, please,” You beg, and he doesn’t think he’s heard anything nicer in his life, “I want you,” Your fingers are fumbling with his jeans, trying to move his belt, “Inside me.”

Javi moves, taking your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head, letting his hips grind into your own, front of his jeans grinding into the soft wet of your sensitive cunt.

“Do you have anything?” He breathes right into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

“Top drawer.” You say quietly, whining when he pushes himself up onto his knees to reach into the draw.

Javi fumbles around a little until the familiar crinkle of foil hits the tips of his fingers. He pulls it out, places it into his mouth as he works to undo his jeans, pushing them down only far enough to free his aching cock. In an ideal world he’d strip the two of you off, but there’s something about this image of you, laid out on the bed in your sinful little sundress, tits heaving as you breathe, that means he just can’t wait.

He almost cries when you reach up, smooth palm stroking at his cock, so slowly he thinks he might die. Tin foil packet between his teeth, he tears it open, rolls it into his cock like it’s muscle memory. He leans back down, feeling the head of his cock nudging at your aching pussy, gathering your wrists back into his hands to pin you down again.

Javi is looking right into your beautiful eyes now, looking at the very soul of you as he stills. He’s damning the both of you to hell with this. He thinks if he’d been stronger, he could have stopped this - sure your mouth around his cock in the bar had been like silk, and the way you’d let him touch you against the brick wall had him seeing stars, but he knows, once he’s sunk himself deep inside you, he won’t be able to come back from this.

“You sure?” He asks, lips pressing softly to your own.

“Please.”

And it’s all he needed to hear to start slowly sinking into you. He watches closely as your eyes flutter closed, head tipped back, throat exposed to his mouth. He listens as he inches in slowly to your panting breaths and your little moans, until he’s buried fully inside you. His hands are gripping at your wrists tightly as he stays still, your hips wiggling underneath him.

“Hermosa,” He pleads, warns with his tone, “Don’t m-move, please.”

Like the devil himself, you don’t listen, and when he pulls his face from the crook of your neck, you’re smirking, you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Javier,” You use his full name and he swears he feels himself throb inside you, “Fuck me.”

He should have known the whole time that this wasn’t going to be a shining star performance, it’s been too long since he’s felt like this, felt the warmth of someone like this, but he knows this is different, he knows that look in your eye, not quite love, definitely not quite love, but it’s something different to the girls of Colombia. He can’t offer you a lifeline, he can’t offer you money to get yourself out of a country that’s trying to kill you, they needed him for something, and he needed them for something in return. But here, he just needs you, no whistles, no bells, just you.

Pushing himself up a little, letting go of his grip on your wrists, he puts his palms on the backs of your thighs and pushing your legs back, folding you underneath him as he starts moving a little faster, fucking you a little harder, you let out a proper moan into the air of the room and he finds himself smirking.

“That what you needed, baby?” He coos as he fucks you, feeling himself reach the very end of you with each thrust, “Just needed me to fuck whatever was in that pretty head of yours away?”

He can feel you tightening around his length, can feel the sweat sticking his shirt to his back, and that tell-tale tightening he feels when it’s almost time. He wishes he could hold on, wishes he could string this out, make it better for you, but god he needs to feel you again, he needs to feel the way you come around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” His tonne is demanding, but he watches down at you as you smirk, bringing your hand to your pussy, finger circling your clit as his hips start to falter, “Come on baby, one more just for me.”

It happens all of a sudden, the way your body snaps under him, and that feeling he’s been chasing, the feeling of you clenching around him, arching your back into him. He can feel the effect it has on him, just seconds later he’s following you over the edge, stilling inside of you as he finishes, banishing the tiny thought in the back of his head that says he wishes he was filling you up without a barrier between the two of you.

Once he’s caught his breath a little, he pulls out of you, groaning into your skin, listening to you whine at the loss of him. He takes off the condom, ties a knot in the top, wrapping it along with the packet in a tissue to put in the bin. He puts his clothes right, before crawling back onto the bed with you, pulling you into his chest, sighing at the feeling of your arm draped over his stomach, your leg entwined with his own. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did that help?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You reply softly into the material of his shirt, “Thank you.”

“You feel okay?” He’s slightly worried he was too rough, maybe that you didn’t enjoy it, “Was it okay?”

You move your head, looking up at him with sleepy eyes, “Javi, please,” You whisper, “Stop worrying, it was perfect.”

He lies there for a while, wishing he could strip the two of you down, press your warm bodies together and fall asleep like this is all normal and you aren’t younger than him, or the daughter of one of his closest friends.

“I should go,” He muses, “Not that I want to,” He adds quickly, worried you’ll think he wants to make a quick escape, “Just need to leave before any eyes are around to ask questions.”

You move slightly, letting the warmth of your body drag away from his own, “One day we’ll be able to do this properly, I hope.” You say, pushing yourself up on your palm as he rises from the bed.

“I promise the next time I have you like that,” He’s looking at you now, chin held in his hand, “I’m going to strip you down, take my time and fall asleep next to you, I promise.”

He kisses you then, slipping his tongue into your mouth and it takes every inch of his strength to pull away.

“Go on,” You smile at him, “Before my dad comes home and shoots you.”

“He wouldn’t shoot me baby,” He smiles back at you, “He wants me back on the force too much.”

“Before he gives you a black eye then.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, giving you a small salute as he turns to leave, but there’s something niggling at that back of his mind as his hand reaches for the handle of your door, something he needs to ask before he leaves, “If something was bothering you,” He asks, turning back to you, “Or you were getting into something at work, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

He’s looking right at you as you answer, searching for anything that says you’re not telling him the truth, and as you answer, he doesn’t find a reason to doubt you, “Of course I would.”

When he’s gone, twenty minutes later your parents are falling through the door, laughing at each other, too many glasses of God knows what over dinner have made them jolly and you find yourself smirking, biting at your bottom lip in the dark, that the two of them have no idea that Javier Peña left just twenty minutes ago after fucking you better than anyone else ever had.

It’s something that keeps you smiling, even as you fall asleep, eyes closing, any thought of work and dead-end leads forgotten and replaced by dreams of what else that man might be able to show you.

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eunchancorner · 3 months

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SO uhm

Initially this was going to be a blurb. Then I got hooked on writing out the story and suddenly wanted to pull in a third party and the dialogue started doing whatever it wanted so uhm

Long story short I'm starting to remember why writing is so fun

“W-wait, Leon, c’mon, y-you’re not really mad, right?” Ethan stammered out, backing away from his admittedly much scarier boyfriend. He’d had the idea of spooking Leon with a quick tase to his sides, but had unfortunately forgotten to account for the cup of soda in his hands.

The soda that was now all over the front of Leon’s shirt.

“You made me make a mess of myself! And now…” Leon took a second to think, before a smirk crossed his face as he thought of a punishment that’s proven to work at least for a while at their house.

“Now I’m gonna turn you into a mess!”

Suddenly Ethan was on his back, squealing as Leon’s fingers dug into his sides, sending sparks of ticklish energy shooting through his body. Of course this was what he resorted to. Ethan should have known this was coming for a long time. In fact, he sort of got the feeling that Leon wasn’t just tickling him over the soda.

Or at least, he did until his brain was flooded with ‘ITTICKLESITTICKLESNOBADBUTYESGOOD??’ as Leon’s fingers climbed his ribs, his touch becoming lighter and lighter the higher he went, planning each move carefully, slowly turning Ethan’s brain to mush with a smirk.

“Leheheon plehehehease! Ihi’m sohohohorry!” he managed between laughs, squeaking and almost folding as he suddenly received a poke to his belly, which turned into Leon scribbling all over it, leaving his ribs tingling and the anticipation of Leon going after his worse spot left unchecked.

“Aww, you didn’t think I was gonna kill ya that fast did you? I said I was going to turn you into a mess, and I know how easily anticipation does that for you. You need your tickles to be quick and easy for you to keep any sort of brain function. And that usually leads to revenge. But if I’m gonna turn you into a mess the right way, I’m gonna need your brain to basically melt.”

“H-hohow do youhu knohohow ahall thihihis?!” Ethan questioned as Leon’s fingers began to drift to his sides again.

“Dude, please, we’ve been friends since high school. You think I wouldn’t have picked up on all this by now?” Leon answered, still smirking as though he felt like the smartest man in the world for figuring out what kind of tickles made his boyfriend tick. “But, do you wanna know something else?”

“Whahahahat?”

“A little birdie told me tickle games get to you really bad~”

I’m going to fucking kill Liv, Ethan thought, his giggles calming as Leon retracted his hands and began to think.

“What game should we play, Ethan? The claw game? Maybe we could play rib piano? Or arms up? I know how much you love that one~” Leon listed the games off, watching Ethan’s face get redder and redder as he mentioned each game. Still, Ethan could never resist the urge to be a little shit.

“Aha… ahas much as you love tummy raspberries?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as he saw a blush cross Leon’s face before he narrowed his eyes and simply said “Arms up.”

“Ahaw shit…” Ethan mumbled as he slowly raised his arms, knowing he was in for it now. He squeaked softly as he felt Leon’s gentle fingers slowly touch down and begin to trace gentle patterns along his wrists, moving at an agonizingly slow pace down his forearms. Ethan fought a losing battle against a wobbly smile spreading like his own blush across his face, gripping onto a table leg that was just above him, causing it to scoot forward with a small, sudden scraping noise.

“Aww, what’s wrong? Can’t get through without something to help?” Leon cooed as he traced little swirls around Ethan’s inner elbows, watching in amusement as the goth struggled to hold back his giggles. “C’mon, Ethan, no cheating.~”

“Pff- i-it’s nohot- snrk- not cheating!” he squeaked out in response.

“Not not cheating? Wouldn’t that mean it is cheating? I dunno, double negatives are stupid… either way, it sounds to me like you are cheating! And you know what happens to cheaters, don’t you?~” he warned, his gentle fingers slowly traveling down Ethan’s arms and towards his underarms.

“N-nohoho, nonono, L-Leheon, wait!” he squeaked out before yelping as Leon suddenly moved to his sides, just above where his belt held his shirt tightly to his waist.

“God, dude, why do you wear these things so high? I can’t get to your hips like this!”

“Doho NOHOT tahake my behelts ohohoff!” Ethan warned with a light shove.

“I’m not, I’m not, but that can’t be comfortable, I’m just saying. They’re covering half of your sides! I might just have to tickle you again after you change out of this, just so I can do what I really wanted!”

“Gohod you’re soho mehehean!”

“Oh I’M mean? Mister Tickles Everyone Every Chance He Gets is calling ME mean? You could just admit you can’t handle the teasing, you don’t have to make shit up just to look big.”

“Nohow lohohook whoho’s beheing a hypohocrihihite!”

Leon didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes told Ethan he’d sassed him for the last time. Before he knew it, there was suddenly an unbearably gentle tracing just between his ribs and underarms, making his arms snap down in response as an embarrassingly high squeal ripped from his throat, his giggles skipping straight to hysterics, filled with squeals and shrieks every couple of seconds as Leon went a little too fast for his brain to keep up with properly.

“Ohp, looks like you lost, guess I’ll just have to keep tickling here~” Leon purred, holding back an amused laugh as Ethan struggled to string sounds into words and words into sentences, knowing his brain was filled with nothing but fireworks of energy, listening to his boots stomping loudly onto the floor behind him. Something he failed to notice, much to Ethan’s embarrassment, was the sound of a door shutting behind him.

“What the hell is all the noise…?” he heard a tired voice, Liv’s, behind him and turned to look at her, not slowing his tickles in the slightest.

“I’m tickling Ethan to death,” he answered simply.

“Ah… What happened to your shirt?”

“This little fucker happened. Why did you think I was tickling him?”

“Because he makes you look like a big puppy almost daily?”

“... Listen, don’t make me come after you next!” he warned with a blush, prompting Liv to raise her hands in surrender.

“Ohokay, okay, whatever you say, big man.” She came over to the two and knelt down beside Ethan. “God, him being such a big, scary tickler all the time can make ya forget how cute of a lee he is. I mean, look at him, his face matches his shirt at this point! What have you been doing to the poor guy, Leon?”

“KIHIHIHILLING MEHEHEHEHE!!” Ethan somehow managed through his laughter, squealing as Leon softly drummed over his tiny death spot the best he could beneath his arms.

“Teaching him a lesson about being a brat and a hypocrite. Can you believe he had the audacity to call me mean AND try to tease his way out of this? He caused this himself,” Leon corrected. “Anyway, I think now he’s just mad he lost the Arms Up game so I’m just gonna keep doing this until he apologizes.”

“Ah, so that’s what woke me up…”

“Why were you asleep at 3:30 in the afternoon, ya weirdo?”

“Oh, fuck off, it’s not my fault Streber’s tummy is comfortable. I wanted to hang out, eventually we ended up snuggling, my head was on his tummy, and you know how fucken soft he is so you also probably know what came next.”

“Ah, yeah, I get it. Did he do that thing, too, where he like, messes with your hair?”

“He did, it was so nice! He said it helps him focus but I honestly just think he knows we like it at this point. Does he ever do that to you, Ethan?” She turned to the goth, who was still pinned under (and getting the absolute shit tickled out of him by) his boyfriend, who only responded by shakily flipping her off, still finding speaking difficult between his hysterics, prompting a quiet laugh from the redhead.

“You gonna let him up anytime soon? I think he’s dying,” she asked Leon, who rolled his eyes but let up anyway, stretching his arms as Ethan slowly calmed down.

“Yeahhh, I think he’s enough of a mess. Got anything smart to say now, Eth?”

“Aheheh… awashb… yuhu… grrehehe…” he mumbled out, not making one bit of sense to himself, much less either of them.

“Oho god you got him speaking a whole other language,” Liv giggled at Ethan’s state.

“Is that even a language? I don’t even understand what he’s trying to say!” Leon pointed out, scooping up the giggly goth in his arms.

“Gibberish is a language… sorta,” she tried to argue. “It’s sorta communication.”

Leon rolled his eyes as he chuckled softly.

“Well last time I checked, Ethan’s first language was English-”

“I thought it was Spanish?”

“No, no, he’s just really fluent in Spanish, that doesn’t make it his first language.”

“Ohhh, I always thought he spoke it so well because it was his first. I could never, honestly.”

“Yeah, I know, right? It’s actually really fucken impressive. Anyway, since English is his first language and he can’t even speak that properly, I think my work is almost done here.”

“Almost?”

“You think I’m just gonna tickle my boyfriend and not cuddle with him afterwards? Do I look like a monster to you?”

“Depends on the kinda monster. Tickle monster? Yeah, very much so, actually.”

“Pft- ok, fair. C’mon, the cuddle window is closing, and if he’s not in a fluff coma soon, he’s not gonna be the only one asked why he was being so loud. Wanna watch a movie?” he asked as he carried Ethan to the couch, followed closely by Liv, who nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah yeah yeah! Let’s watch Pirates Of The Caribbean again!” she suggested, Leon rolling his eyes.

“You recommend that like, every time, why do I even ask anymore?” he teased, grabbing the remote and putting the movie on.

“The illusion of choice, my friend!”

Leon shook his head, chuckling quietly as he held Ethan close, the taller’s head resting on his shoulder, snuggled as close as he could be.In the few thoughts that were coherent in Ethan’s head, one of them was definitely, Worth it.

#eun writes #sm #spooky month #sm tickles #spooky month tickles #ethan #leon #liv #ler!leon #lee!ethan #ticklish!ethan #or as crossie puts it #leethan

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popcornaddict500 · 2 months

Text

Some first meeting...

Liv and Leander, prologue scene rewritten. Olivia is the Hound.

2900 words ~

NOTE: Olivia's curse is different than the one in the game. I decided this for fun. :)

----

Olivia steps inside the Wet Wick, her nose crinkling. Is this really where Kuras sent me? It stinks of stale alcohol in here. She doesn't like it much.

Briefly, she hesitates- but then she enters. A bunch of patrons wearing green cloaks are sitting at the tables, laughing rowdily and arguing amongst eachother. One of them is passed out in the very back. The bartender is nowhere in sight. The lighting of the place is rather warm, though. The floor is slightly sticky and stained from spilled drinks.

No 'Leander' in sight... I doubt that arrogant-looking fuck would show up here anyway. She rolls her eyes. The posters painted Leander as this high and mighty 'hero' or something. I bet he's got a piss-poor attitude.

Might as well drink something before I go. Olivia attempts to find a seat but most are occupied except for the bar seats. But before she can sit down, a racket starts.

"Show! Show! Show!" The cloaked patrons start to shout. Olivia looks up, gasping when suddenly all the cloaks rush from their seats and to the center of the room, dragging her along with them. "Hey! Watch it!" She hisses.

They don't hear her protests as she''s swept into the frenzy. This is too many bodies, way too close. It makes her want to claw out like a cornered animal. Someone roughly pushes her aside and she swiftly smacks them over the head. "You sorry piece of-"

Suddenly a new voice joins the mix, as someone strides across the table.

"Seriously, you dogs? Again?"

The chants have calmed down, and is replaced by reverent murmurs and intrigued laughter, as they look up at the individual getting closer.

Olivia squints at him.

A thick trench coat, broad shoulders, gloves. A dagger earring dangling from his left ear.

"This really is the last time, alright?" He says. Olivia is a little spooked by the hushed silence that suddenly falls. She stomps on the foot of a cloaked person who's standing way too close for comfort and they scamper off, grumbling under their breath.

Olivia can't seem to drag her eyes away from the man's face, more specifically his eyes. Seems I've found Leander... What's with this guy?

"Don't blink, or you'll miss it." Leander says with a warm laugh, and lifts his hand to snap his fingers.

Olivia squints at the flash of pale green light that fills the room. That's no trick, that's real- a mage?

He flicks his wrist, and like it's nothing, the light flows into the delicate shape of lillies, held between his fingers. It's more beautiful than she'd like to admit. He presents the flowers to the audience with a flourish, which results in clapping and cheering. Olivia shrugs and claps along.

Leander turns in a slow circle, eyes sliding over the audience, "Now who could use some good luck?"

Pretty much everyone wants the flowers, it seems. Some reach for them and others watch with bated breath. Olivia tenses when Leander's gaze finds hers.

"How about you?"

Olivia swallows thickly when he leans down and offers the flowers to her, and only gets more uncomfortable when everyone stares at her. Hesitantly, she reaches out and takes them, wincing as the stems 'crunch' a little between her gloved fingers. They softly glow and feel ever so slightly warm against her fingertips. Just as quickly as they appeared, they disappear in a flash of little sparkles.

"That's the problem with flowers. They never last long, but they leave an impression, right?" Leander grins at her.

Olivia doesn't smile back.

After it's all said and done, Olivia finally escapes from the crowd. Leander shoos the 'Bloodhounds' back to their tables, and just as Olivia's about to go over to him, he looks at her. She hesitates, but sits next to him at the bar when he waves her over. She moves away from him as much as possible, as not to feel his shoulder against hers.

"Is this your first time in Eridia?" He asks, green eyes glittering in curiosity.

"...That's right." She gives him a sideways glance. "Why do you ask?"

"I would have remembered seeing your lovely face around Lowtown." He responds, charmingly.

Unwillingly, Olivia's cheeks darken. "Good grief..." She mumbles under her breath, staring at the counter. How on earth am I supposed to respond to that?

The bartender approaches them, and she sighs in relief.

"What can I get you?" They ask Leander.

"Surprise me, and add anything my friend wants to my tab."

Olivia crinkles her nose at him. Bastard, I don't need your pity. "Just water." She groans, rubbing her face. This'll be a long day.

Leander leans his elbows on the counter, eyes fixed on the cloaked woman sitting next to him. Olivia stares him in the face, noting the dark shadows around his eyes and the scar on his face. Though his eyes also roam her figure when she finds her eyes wandering, she pays it no mind- she wears coverage over nearly all her skin for a reason, including her leather gloves. There's nothing that can give her secret away.

"So, what brings you to the Wick?" Leander asks warmly, that smile returning to his face.

She leans on the counter. "Kuras told me to find you."

Instantly, Leander's expression sours a bit, soft-looking lips pursed in an annoyed way. "So it's about work..." He pushes the hair back from his forehead but it's futile as it falls right back into place.

The drinks arrive, and he fixes his expression.

"Very well. How may I assist you?"

Olivia hesitates. Maybe it would be better if I looked for something outside of the Senobium... But what?

"I need... I need a solution." She mutters. "To a big problem. I heard the Senobium might be of help."

As soon as the word leaves her lips, the patrons quiet briefly, then look up in anger and disdain, angered shouts erupting from the crowd. Even Leander frowns.

"Who's mentioning the Senobium in here?"

"Get lost!"

"This ain't your place!"

Olivia winces, tensing up.

Leander groans and turns to the crowd. "Keep it down, will you? This is business." he says simply, and surprisingly the Bloodhounds listen, returning to their drink and only casting wary glances Olivia's way.

"Sorry about that. We, uh- don't talk about the Senobium in here. Kind of a touchy subject, you know?"

Olivia stares at him, the corner of her lip twitching in agitation. "Right."

"Maybe we should continue this outside?" He offers, getting up.

"Fine."

---

Olivia is more than a little relieved to be out in the fresh air, even if it's in some dark alley with a charming bastard who's, honestly, kind of getting on her nerves.

Leander leans against the wall. "So- If you've spoken to Kuras, he must have told you about the Senobium. Yet you're still thinking they could be of service?" He crosses his arms, looking at her.

Olivia sighs. "I don't know what else could help me with my problem. All I heard when I was outside the city is that if you need something important, that's your best shot. I'm just... surprised at the hostility everyone seems to have towards that place."

"With good reason. The Senobium is dangerous, as Kuras said. It's doubtful whether they'd even help you, anyway." He frowns, glancing off to the side. "You don't want to get on their bad side."

"That's not how I heard it was, at all." Olivia frowns. "Isn't it supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of learning?"

"Maybe it used to be, but it certainly isn't now." Leander sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "They want you to think they're perfect. But things that are too good to be true are often just that."

Olivia blinks at that last bit.

"I wouldn't waste my efforts trying to get into that place. You'll just hurt yourself."

So what now, then? Did risking my life coming here mean nothing? She feels a gross taste bubbling up in the back of her throat.

The charming smile returns to his face, though. He clears his throat. "Though I'm sure there must be a solution to your problem, no?" He claps his hands and grins. 'That's why Kuras sent you to the Bloodhounds. Let us help you. We can hunt Soulless, find people, recover valuables- just name it. And free of charge."

Olivia frowns at him, the colour of her eyes briefly shifting to black. "Doesn't sound like a sound business practice to me. Everything has a price." She crosses her arms over her chest. "Besides, I'm no damn charity case. A bunch of good Samaritans pretending to be heroes won't be able to help me."

Leander seems a bit taken aback by the hostility. But he straightens himself out.

"Mm- then your problem must be fairly serious. You did say it was a big problem..." He hums, before his green eyes find hers again. "And if your first thought was to go to the Senobium, I'm guessing you're dealing with something magical in nature."

This is going in the territory of 'more info than she'd like to give' and she doesn't like it. Of course, information is deeply valued in this city. Maybe I have no other option.

"...Right."

He nods slowly, as if he'd already expected this. This ticks Olivia off no small amount, and she finds herself gripping her coat harder.

"I'd be happy to help you out, if you tell me what ails you," He offers, expression calm and easy.

Olivia grimaces. She doesn't like this. She doesn't like it one bit. Her shoulders tense, her jaw tightens.

I can't trust him. I can't trust anyone. But he is a mage... And kind, despite how I've been treating him.

She sighs deeply. "Tell a single soul about this and I'll gut you."

He laughs and nods, flashing her a brilliant grin. "Alright, alright."

Liv finally turns to face him fully. "I am cursed."

"Cursed?" He raises a brow in curiosity. "Now I'm very curious. Something ancestral or more recent?" He smiles.

Olivia bares her teeth at him. "If you're going to make fun of me, we're stopping this right now."

"That- wasn't my intention, I promise. Sorry." Leander swallows thickly, looking away.

Liv continues, still glaring at him. "...It's my hands, my skin- the second I touch someone, they-" She pauses when her voice starts breaking, trying to force herself through it. "They... decompose. Decay, if you will."

She flinches a bit when he starts pulling his glove off. He flexes the fingers from his left hand.

"Let's see it," He says with a smile, and offers his hand. A prismatic flash gleams across his palm.

Olivia feels the hairs prickling on the back of her neck. "I cannot." She winces, stepping back.

Disdainful of most people as Olivia may be, she's not about to turn someone who seems like a good person into a heap of rotting flesh. And he may be confident, but then again, so were the others in the past who assumed they could help her.

"Believe me, do not take this lightly," She warns him, her irises now fully black, out of stress and concern.

"I'll be fine. Perhaps where you came from, your affliction was rare and one of a kind. But spend a year in this city and you'll see countless curses and countless cures." He frowns, "Do you really think Kuras sent you here if I couldn't handle it?"

Olivia grits her teeth. "I only met him today. I'm not about to trust a stranger's judgement without question."

He smiles. "I'm as good as any mage in the Senobium, I promise if they can help so can I."

"You don't know what you're asking me." Olivia grimaces.

"I'm asking you to trust me," He says.

"Trust you?" Her eyebrows raise in surprise, but then she scoffs. "You're a goddamn fool, trying to make someone whom you met 20 minutes ago trust you blindly." She groans. "But fine- have it your way. If you end up as rat fodder, don't blame me."

She pulls off one of her gloves, slowly. The blackened, unnatural skin appears, and she nervously clenches her fist. Leander holds out his hand again, smiling invitingly.

Olivia glares at him one last time, looking in his eyes, which oddly enough has him glancing away, his cheeks darkening.

"Ready when you are."

This is a terrible idea. She stares at his hand, before reaching in.

Her fingers hover over his hand. She swallows and hastily taps the centre of his palm, before pulling her hand away and closing her eyes.

When there's no sound of pained screaming or the gross squelching of rotting meat, she opens her eyes again- to see him smiling warmly, unaffected.

For the first time today, Olivia's harsh expression is overtaken by one of surprise and shock.

"See?" He's entirely fine... and the warmth in his smile is infectious.

Olivia is silent, eyes wide. She reaches out again and slides the pads of her fingers over his palm, his fingers, his wrist. He catches her wrist before she can pull away and she looks at his face.

"There's really nothing to worry about..." he says softly, cheeks dusted with a faint blush. For a few seconds, Olivia just keeps her hand in his, fingers resting on the soft, warm skin of his wrist. She stares at their hands blankly.

Then, out of nowhere, her vision becomes blurry- and tears streak down her cheeks. Her body shakes, and she sucks in a sharp breath, trying to pull her hand away- but he doesn't let go.

Olivia turns away, and furiously wipes her face with her other hand, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

"Damn it- sorry- it's just-" She gasps, feeling a lump in her throat. I've never... it's... this can't... be... Her eyes flicker from being black to her normal peachy colour, in an erratic manner. This- this is too much.

Leander is silent, and doesn't comment on her tears- something she's grateful for.

Finally, she manages to drag her eyes back to his hand holding hers. Still holding one hand over her mouth, she strokes her fingers over his skin, feeling every detail. The subtle ridges in his palm, the bumps of his knuckles, and the raised scar starting down his arm.

"...Am I the first person you've been able to touch like this?" He frowns a little.

Olivia gives a tense nod, her hand going still on his arm. "The first person I've... touched at all, in a very long time." She mumbles, internally cursing herself at the way her voice trembles.

He blushes, glancing away from her, "I admit, your touch does make it... difficult to keep level-headed... but it's not because of your power."

When she doesn't respond, Leander smiles gently and takes her hand, pointing to the diamond shaped pin on his coat.

"Look, we match."

She manages an unsteady smile, and pulls her hand way, hastily pulling the glove back on. She wipes at her eyes a few more times, now feeling embarrassed and humiliated to be seen like this by a stranger.

"...I can't believe it worked." She mumbles under her breath.

"May I ask your name?" He smiles.

"...Olivia."

Leander hums in thought, pulling his glove back on. "You were right to hide this from me, Olivia. That curse of yours... it's unlike anything I've ever dealt with. I can tell you're discreet, but you'd better not go showing that off to anyone else."

Olivia crinkles her nose at him. "Wasn't planning to." But showing you is fine?

"Are you staying in Lowtown?" He inquires, looking at her with a grin.

She pauses. I could ask if Adam has a room at his bakery... but I doubt it. "...I don't really have anywhere to go." She admits.

"Let's get you settled, then." He smiles, and before she can protest he leads her back into the Wick.

Back inside, Leander turns to the bartender. He asks if there's any rooms left, to which they slide him a key.

"You know I always keep the corner room free for your escapades," They say, looking used to this by now.

"I- right, and I always appreciate that, but-" Leander laughs, though it's a bit strained.

"Escapades, huh? If I knew you had such intentions I would have ran." Olivia jokes lightly, which makes him blush even darker.

"No, no, you're mistaken- this is just for my friend Olivia."

The bartender doesn't look like they're buying it, waving him off with a 'you two have fun' before disappearing to do their own thing. Olivia crosses her arms and regards Leander with a pointed look.

"...I can't pay for that."

"Don't worry about it, it's on us."

This makes her frown. "...Sounds fishy."

Leander laughs. "Consider it my treat for sharing your secret, alright?"

She doesn't trust this much, but it's not like she has another choice. She sighs and takes the key. "Fine." But then she smirks at him, "I better hope I don't find anything weird in there."

Once again, he flushes. "Ahm-"

"If I find a drawer full of sex toys, I swear-"

"You won't! You won't. D-Don't worry."

"Ah, right. You need to use them at home too, I got it."

"Olivia, please."

"Fine, fine." She raises her hands. "Thanks for the room."

He smiles warmly and nods. "Go explore, Olivia."

----

As she wanders off, his words echoe in her mind... 'But if you need a reprieve from what haunts you, come find me.'...

Maybe I will. Maybe.

#charlie's writing #touchstarved writing #touchstarved game #touchstarved #touchstarved leander #touchstarved oc #touchstarved mc #olivia #I LIKE THIS A LOT #ugh #told yall I would eventually finish it

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ridestomars · 2 years

Text

WHERE THE FAIRIES ALL WAIT – E. MUNSON HEADCANONS

𖥻 pairing: eddie munson x fairy!reader. 𖥻 warnings: only mentions of food and eating i guess, if you see something else pls tell me. not proofread (as always).

💭 liv's thoughts: i dedicate this one to @wrenniebaby!! the title comes from madonna's dear jessie. also, my ask is always open for thoughts about my concepts (esp this one!) <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

🧚‍♀️. Eddie's used to Hawkins' strangeness, but he couldn't deny that really weird stuff has been happening a lot lately. It could be spring, but he swears he's never seen Forest Hills' grass so green and flowery; the front door of his trailer is surrounded by mushrooms and four-leaf clovers – which seems to mean a lot to Uncle Wayne, since he's always picking them up and bringing them home for good luck.

🧚‍♀️. Not to mention the haunting sweet smell of apples that have been following him around wherever he goes. And he is the only one who's able to smell it.

🧚‍♀️. But there are two things that are intriguing him a lot: every day when he comes home from school, he sees a light spot floating outside of his window. Shining a bright gold and sparkling from time to time. And yet, every time he locks eyes with it, it simply vanishes.

🧚‍♀️. There was this one time when he was staring so hard at the light spot, trying to figure out what it was that when it disappeared, he was welcomed by the confused face of Max Mayfield, his neighbor, who was looking at him like he was the most idiotic person in the world.

🧚‍♀️. But the light spot isn't the only thing that has been disappearing lately. A bunch of his own things have gone missing throughout the week. For example, on Monday, he couldn't find his D20 anywhere; Tuesday, he lost three D&D figures at once; Wednesday, his guitar pick necklace disappeared.

🧚‍♀️. He tried to convince himself that, even though he is always extra careful with all of his D&D stuff, these things happen… right? Maybe he dropped them in one of their sessions, or in the school's hallway by accident. It's fine.

🧚‍♀️. Eddie thought he was imagining things when he found gold glitter all over his guitar one day. A very similar color to the light spot that floats outside of his window every day.

🧚‍♀️. It was almost a month after these events started to happen that he was finally able to catch a glimpse of you, the little creature that has been peeking inside his room for the last weeks.

🧚‍♀️. He was absolutely shocked to see your face outside of his window (or should I say absolutely spooked).

🧚‍♀️. But he thought you were the cutest thing ever as your eyes widened, mouth completely agape, and face flushed when you realized that he had finally noticed you. And then, you went back to being that familiar light spot, twinkling before his eyes again.

🧚‍♀️. This simple encounter was enough for him to decide to try to know you, somehow.

🧚‍♀️. And so, he started to leave small things outside of his window for you to take – he figured it would be better than to have you taking his stuff without him noticing –, like small wildflowers that he reaped on his way back from school, or some nice fresh fruits he stole from one of the small markets uptown.

🧚‍♀️. Every morning, he was happy to find that all of his gifts were gone… but were replaced by something else.

🧚‍♀️. Colorful guitar picks, rings made out of twigs or wire and crystals, old coins, and pretty handmade bouquets of red flowers were your gifts to him.

🧚‍♀️. It was like you were warming up to him, and he patiently waited for the day when you would decide to show yourself again. And now, instead of spending his days thinking about the most fantastical campaigns, he daydreamed about your next encounter; imagining every little aspect of it.

🧚‍♀️. But when you actually showed up, he was absolutely speechless.

🧚‍♀️. Maybe that was because you wore a small, earthy-toned slip dress, so loose that the straps kept falling off your shoulders, and your hair looked so wild, with a few leaves and twigs along the strands. In a nutshell, you were probably the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his whole life.

🧚‍♀️. Oh, and the way your golden aura practically radiated out of your skin was just too much for him.

🧚‍♀️. He must've really looked like a fool because you started giggling so hard that your chest couldn't stop shaking and your cheeks started to heat up like crazy. And he just stood there… absolutely mesmerized by the sound of your laughter.

🧚‍♀️. After a bit, he finally mustered up the courage to say, in a very high-pitched voice: "Hi! Hey! Hello! I-um… you… y-you were the one leaving those cool things on my window, right?", and you just nodded, curiously staring at him.

"Nice! That's really nice! I really liked t-them, especially those coins! Where did ya get them?" as soon as he said that, he paused, scratching his neck. "No! Forget I said that, it was super rude of me! I just uh-just wanted to say thank you! Yeah, thanks!"

🧚‍♀️. And as you giggled, finding his rambling really cute, his eyes dropped to your chest that shook wildly with laughter, and he saw it. His guitar pick necklace was wrapped around your pretty neck, and the pendant was comfortably resting on the valley of your breasts.

🧚‍♀️. Ever since then, talking to you was his favorite part of the day.

🧚‍♀️. I mean, at least seeing your face, since you didn't talk. At all. You just nodded or shook your head as you listened to his endless ramblings.

🧚‍♀️. You kept exchanging gifts every day, but now, Eddie invited you to eat the fruits he brought with him. As in: he actually asked you to enter his bedroom, sit on his crappy mattress with him and share large portions of peaches, apples, strawberries, grapes… you name it.

🧚‍♀️. And you kept making rings and pretty necklaces for him, and he treasured them with his whole heart.

🧚‍♀️. In fact, you even had matching rings now! Both were made of wire with a small citrine in the middle of them – you insisted on making it onyx or any darker stone, but Eddie insisted that they didn't match you, and you should make them citrine.

🧚‍♀️. In your almost daily visits, Eddie always put music on. But always went for soft tunes, like Heart and even Fleetwood Mac – he borrowed most of the records from Nancy's collection.

🧚‍♀️. And you discovered that you actually enjoyed these human songs. Especially Stevie Nicks.

🧚‍♀️. In fact, it was during one of those music sessions that you actually spoke to Eddie for the first time.

"Like it", you softly muttered, while chewing on a strawberry.

"Y-you what?" he almost fell out of bed when he heard you speak.

"Like… it?" you asked back, now very unsure of your own words. "No?"

"You like Fleetwood Mac?" Eddie questioned slowly and you nodded, "That's nice, baby. Y'could do better, though."

And then you're back to giggling again.

🧚‍♀️. Needless to say that he bought the whole Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks discography for you. So now, every time you get together, you listen to a new one.

🧚‍♀️. And now that he finally heard your voice, he always tries to make you talk to him. Even if all you could say was small, one-word sentences, and was really patient to teach you how to form more complicated sentences <3

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! eddie masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fairy!reader #eddie x fairy!reader #fairy!reader #liv talks about eddie #eddie <3

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riversofmars · 7 months

Text

New fanfiction time! Yes, self-indulgent fanfiction should come with self-indulgent fanart!!! Inspired by Netflix's "Bodyguard", yet another AU for Liv and Helen to fall in love in. Sue me. They deserve it.

Summary: Following a successful stint in the Home Office, Dr. Helen Sinclair sets out to compete in the upcoming General Election. Things are far from straightforward, as numerous death threats are made against her and she is given personal protection despite her objections. While protection officer Liv Chenka turns out to be far from the burly guard type she had dreaded, her life is about to become very complicated indeed - and not just because someone is trying to kill her. Rating: Will go as high as Explicit but starts off General

Chapter 1

Liv Chenka smoothed her dark blazer down and tucked her brunette hair back as she adjusted the wire in her ear. It wasn’t so much a nervous habit as it was to make a good first impression, and be able to do her job to the best of her abilities. Anything less wasn’t an option. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, allowing her eyes to scan the office she was in. She had been in the Palace of Westminster plenty of times on protective detail but never in the staff offices of the Members of Parliament, and certainly not having been asked there. She did her best to ignore the curious looks the staffers were shooting her as they walked past. The hustle and bustle was constant; this was certainly a busy time for all of them.

“Why now?” an exasperated, female voice sounded from behind the heavy office door she was waiting in front of. It didn’t bode well, but Liv tried her best to reign in her own apprehension. Remaining professional was of paramount importance in her line of work. “Security is already stifling!”

“Ma’am,” a male voice responded, that she knew to belong to the Chief of Staff of the office she found herself in. “This is a credible threat we’re dealing with.” He struck a reasonable tone. Getting MPs to agree to anything was a balancing act that Liv didn’t envy him for. She could only imagine this challenge increased with how important those MPs thought themselves, and ought to put people who were running for Prime Minister on the very top of that list. It only furthered her own misgivings with the job in question, but it wasn’t as though she had a choice. Orders were to be obeyed, as had been drilled into her all her career. Her own opinions were of no consequence. “You will be more visible publicly and with the intelligence MI5 has gathered… Please. It is necessary.”

“Do I not get a say in this matter?” Helen Sinclair - The Rt Hon. Dr. Helen Sinclair MP - Liv reminded herself, as she didn’t want to be caught out on the details - appeared a stubborn, opinionated woman. “I thought things would get easier when I resigned from the Home Office!”

“Please, Ma’am, I must-” The Chief of Staff didn’t appear a match for her, and the brunette idly wondered if the politician surrounded herself with weak men on purpose to feel more powerful.

“I will look weak if I have some burly guard type dogging my every move!” she snapped, and Liv hoped they were more considerate of the volume when discussing sensitive policy matters.

“Which is something I have requested the Met be conscious of when selecting the officer in question and they were,” the Chief of Staff sought to appease her. Liv certainly did not fit that stereotype, though she hoped she had been selected for something other than her appearance. Perhaps for her outstanding service record and the fact that no-one had come to serious harm on her watch… Surely that counted for more than being a woman of slim stature in her line of work.

“You’re not going to let me say ‘no’, are you?” Dr. Sinclair sighed, and Liv imagined her crossing her arms in front of her chest, staring him down with an icy glare as she had seen her employ in Parliament. The former Home Secretary was a popular politician, who was very visible and often engaged in debate. She was quite obviously very intelligent too, but the security officer didn’t think those were measures that made a good person. Plenty of her policy decisions had been divisive, particularly with the police and military forces…

“No,” the Chief of Staff stood his ground. It was a done thing anyway, it wasn’t as though the Met would simply shrug and ask Liv to come back even if the politician refused. Orders came from higher up than that. “This is for your own safety. You have clearly made some enemies during your term in office, and they’re all coming out of the woodwork now that you’ve announced your run.”

There was a pause and then a huff of reluctant agreement:

“Fine. Whatever. Show him in…”

“’Her’, Ma’am, and you do realise your walls are very thin?” Liv wanted to say but she knew better than that. She took a deep breath and waited patiently until the door was opened and she was asked inside.

The office wasn’t as big as Liv had expected, and not nearly as organised either. Folders of paperwork were stacked high on the desk, the walls lined with bookshelves filled to capacity. Dr. Helen Sinclair stood amongst it all, leaning onto her desk and peering at her over a pair of reading glasses.

“Allow me to introduce Sergeant Liv Chenka, formerly of the Royal Air Force, now part of the Royalty and Specialist Protection Branch of London's Metropolitan Police Service,” the Chief of Staff introduced her with some fanfare. Liv imagined he was still trying to sell the idea to his superior. “She will be serving as your principal protection officer.”

Surprise flashed across the politician's pale complexion at the sight of her - but only for a moment. If one was to be successful in British politics, an ability to mask one's emotions was surely of utmost importance.

“Got tired of flying, Sergeant?” she asked impassively, but extended her hand to her. It was a start.

“Change of pace, Ma’am,” Liv answered quickly and grasped her hand in a firm handshake.

“I see,” she nodded, her tone completely neutral. “You’ll likely have that. Can’t imagine following me around is going to quite compare to the thrill. But apparently it is deemed necessary, so…” she shot a glare at her Chief of Staff. “I’m sure you have better things to do than wait here?” she prompted pointedly.

“Yes. I’ll leave you to it,” he nodded, a hue of pink shooting to his cheeks at the obvious dressing down. “Sergeant Chenka will fill you in on any operational details-”

“Yes. Thank you,” Dr. Sinclair pressed her lips to a thin line, and he took his cue to depart quietly, but swiftly. Liv waited patiently until the door closed behind him, more conscious of the risk of being overheard than they appeared to have been.

“So, Ma’am, I-” she started, but the politician cut her off as she dropped back into her chair.

“You really don’t need to go through the trouble, I know how this works,” she told her, pulling a folder in front of her and adjusting her glasses. “You will follow me wherever I go, making sure I don’t get killed. I’ve had personal protection before.”

“I see…” Liv wasn’t keen to start an argument. She would have to work her way around the other woman’s particularities. That, too, was part of the job. She observed her for a moment, intending to start fresh and compile her knowledge of her, ignoring her media-built prejudice.

Dr. Helen Sinclair, Member of Parliament for Tooting, was a middle-aged woman of considerable education. A linguist by degree prior to getting involved in politics, she’d built a career on top of a middle-of-the-road agenda, employing her looks and eloquence to great effect. Looking at her now, she certainly didn’t disappoint in person. She dressed well, even on a day where she wasn’t due in Parliament, in a slim, navy business dress. A grey blazer hung off the back of her chair and a half-drunk cup of tea stood on the desk amongst her paperwork. Her long blonde hair was tied into a somewhat more messy bun than she’d usually be seen with, and Liv ventured a guess that she was absent-mindedly fiddling with her hair as she worked, pulling apart her hair-do in the process.

“You’re welcome to wait outside, I’ll be a while yet,” the blonde stated without looking up, clearly having felt her eyes on her, and Liv took the opportunity to speak up.

“With your permission, Ma’am, I would like to have a look around the office, check the line of sight from the window and-” She tried her best to sound accommodating. A lot of what she did was based around trust and a good rapport with the person she was charged to protect. “Well, normally, I would want to stay with you. There already is security around the building and that wasn’t deemed enough… I’m charged with protecting you personally.” She had noticed the two security officers outside the office on the main corridor, and wasn’t keen to simply be a glorified guard at the door. She was trained for more than that, and it wouldn’t be enough if someone decided to line up a sniper through the office window.

“Is that strictly necessary?” Dr. Sinclair looked up and fixed her with a piercing stare. “I have work to do.” Her tone was measured but her eyes betrayed her annoyance.

“You won’t even know I’m here,” the security officer assured her, and simply received a huff in response.

“I doubt that very much.”

“Please, Ma’am… I just want to do my job,” she tried again, appealing to what she knew was an appreciation of the work ethic the other woman had. One thing she couldn’t fault her for, going from the briefings and personal observation of her, was her dedication to her work.

“Fine. Whatever. Just… don’t be in my way,” the MP decided, and returned her attention to the folder in front of her.

“I won’t be,” Liv promised, and set about examining the office as unobtrusively and professionally as she could. She got the sense she had her work cut out for her with this assignment, but it was certainly an important one if she was to protect the woman that would likely become their next Prime Minister. Whether she believed her to be deserving of the honour or even the right person for the job was a different matter, and utterly irrelevant.

---

Liv took up position by the window of the office on the second floor of the Palace of Westminster. It had a clear line of sight from the street, and was therefore her greatest concern if the threat didn’t stem from the politicians own rank and file. That was always an option too. Political opponents, unhappy staffers… though MI5 believed the threat to stem from further afield. A member of the public, perhaps part of an underground organisation or a member of a disenfranchised portion of society, someone who didn’t agree with the policies Dr. Sinclair stood for or the decisions she had made while in the Home Office… Liv had attended a short briefing on the subject that morning before taking up her assignment, and the sad truth was that the intelligence services were simply not sure, and had little to go on. And that was why she was there.

The security officer mulled over the intricacies of her assignment as she watched the politician work. She had hardly looked up from her paperwork in the past hour, diligently going through letters from constituents that Liv would have rather opened herself just to be on the safe side, but she didn’t want to step on the other woman’s toes. Knowing that mail was scanned before being handed to the Members of Parliament, she had decided to trust the process. It didn’t stop her from following her progress with keen eyes, looking out for anything suspicious. Every now and then, there was a security update in her ear from protection command, informing of unusual activities around the building, foreign guests and dignitaries coming and going, and the movements of cabinet members, but nothing that concerned her directly. All in all, it was an uneventful start to her new posting.

A knock on the door interrupted the quiet and Dr. Sinclair startled. Not because she was jumpy, Liv figured, but because she had been so engrossed in her work.

“Come in,” she called, after brushing her hair behind her ears and whipping her reading glasses off.

“Dr. Sinclair?” A young woman stuck her head in, and the security officer searched her brain for information concerning her. Since being told about the assignment the previous Friday, she had taken the weekend to prepare, and among other things had gone through information on the politician’s staff. The visitor in question was Dr. Sinclair’s PA. “Would now be a good time to discuss the itinerary for the week?” she asked, cradling a file to her chest.

“Sure,” the politician nodded, extending her hand towards her, and the young woman rushed to pass over the folder. She seemed eager to please, and the MP rewarded her with a smile. “Feel free to get yourself a coffee, Sergeant,” she continued as she opened the file, and Liv was surprised to be spoken to. She had gotten the impression that the other woman had almost forgotten she was there. That had been the point anyway. Apart from that, however, the security officer objected to her instruction. She had no intention of leaving her side.

“It would be good for me to know the itinerary as well, Ma’am,” she retorted respectfully. “I’ll need to request that information anyway.” She could hardly do her job without knowing where they were going to be going. She would have liked to have her schedule on the weekend along with all the other relevant information, but had been told things were still in flux. While she hadn’t been happy about it, her superiors had told her that was something she would have to get used to. Life on the campaign trail was like that. There wouldn’t be many days like today where they remained in London for sedate work.

“Of course…” Dr. Sinclair huffed and from the angle, the security officer couldn’t tell whether she was rolling her eyes to boot - it felt like it. The PA shot Liv a questioning look, obviously not yet used to her presence. That would soon change, she hoped, and remained impassive, allowing the other women to continue.

“We’ll be focusing on the Midlands this week,” the girl started. “Stops in Warwick, Stafford, Nottingham, Birmingham, Coventry, Milton Keynes, Bedford, Northampton and Leicester,” she explained and Dr. Sinclair nodded along, running long, elegant fingers down the schedule.

“That seems like a lot of stops for one week,” Liv observed. She hadn’t meant to jump in, but that was a red flag in her book when it came to security. The more places they went, the more opportunities for someone to try something. The PA’s eyes shot back to her.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” she told her, and Liv noted the slight shakiness in her voice, as though she was unsettled by her interruption. “While the party was going through the selection process after the PM announced he wouldn’t be standing for re-election, the opposition has been campaigning and-”

“You don’t have to justify yourself,” Dr. Sinclair interrupted sharply. “This looks fine. What’s important is that I can be here for the debate and vote on Wednesday.” She searched the page for that particular piece of information and tapped perfectly manicured nails onto the itinerary point.

“Yes. We have blocked Wednesday for that. We have worked out the schedule to reduce travelling times-” The PA’s eyes flashed up to Liv once more and the brunette made sure to set her expression into something impassive, fearing she had given away how much these plans displeased her.

“I will need this schedule,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“And you will have it, Sergeant,” Dr. Sinclair interrupted and this time, she turned around, scowling at her, visibly annoyed. “Now please, can you keep out of this? I seem to remember you said I wouldn’t even know you were here?” That was a strike against her, Liv realised. She was still finding her feet with this assignment and she was off to a poor start.

“Sorry, Ma’am…” the security officer lowered her eyes respectfully, which seemed to appease the politician for the time being. She returned her attention to her staffer.

“Right, so. Warwick - talk at the university, I take it?” she prompted, and her PA nodded quickly, jumping back to attention.

“Yes, indeed,” she nodded eagerly. “Stafford, then-”

Liv observed the exchange with mild interest, taking note of the stops they would be making. She was glad that travel arrangements and security at those events would not be her concern. While it meant working with numerous security details every day and liaising with them, when it came down to it her only focus would be the MP herself. And so she set out to study her mannerisms, resolving to learn everything she could so she could best protect her - regardless of any sort of contempt she treated her with in return.

---

By the end of the working day, there had been several of those instances of contempt. Dr. Sinclair was not, in fact, used to having personal protection, as much as she insisted to the contrary, and Liv was finding it difficult to navigate as she had refused any further attempt of them laying down ground rules.

“I can open doors for myself,” the politician hissed, as by the end of the day a considerable amount of tension had built up between them. Liv, for her part, had decided that the best way forward for the time being would be to struggle through and set hard borders where she could. Her attempts at building up rapport with the other woman had derailed at midday when they had disagreed about her lunch plans, and since then she had put off any attempt to do so until tomorrow. For the time being, all she wanted to do was get her home safe and sound.

“Not when they’re into a public space, no,” the security officer answered decisively and pushed through the door, walking ahead of her through the halls of Westminster Palace.

“No?” the blonde snapped behind her disbelievingly. “Did you just tell me ‘no’?” Liv ignored her, her eyes shooting up and down the road as she stepped out of the building. Dr. Sinclair walked straight into her outstretched arm, intended to keep her back until she had made sure there were no dangers awaiting them. At her insistence, they had walked out of a back entrance.

“Please get in the car, Ma’am,” the brunette instructed, walking her to the blacked out car that was waiting for them at the side of the building. Liv was pleased to find that at least these aspects of Parliamentary security were well rehearsed. She opened the car door for her.

Dr. Sinclair’s cheeks were flushed with annoyance by the time the protection officer joined her in the car, sitting across from her in the small limousine. Liv paid her no heed, not until she had reported to protection command that they had left the building and were headed to the MPs residence, gesturing for the driver to go.

“I hope you don’t expect to come into my house too!” the politician snapped when Liv pulled the wire out of her ear.

”I will be accompanying you home where I will hand off to the night duty office until tomorrow morning,” she answered dutifully.

The blonde huffed, exasperated, and swiped her phone open, hiding behind the task of checking her messages. Liv could see right through it, she was trained to, but she didn’t comment. She allowed her the comfort of it, hoping it would make her feel a little better, as she seemed entirely unhappy with the arrangement by this point. She cast her eyes out of the window, watching the lights of London fly by in a blur. She was still watchful, it was the nature of her job, but in a heavily armoured, unmarked car, she felt as safe as one could under the circumstances. She undid the blazer that strained across her chest from sitting down, and noticed the way Dr. Sinclair’s blinked up from her phone for a moment, likely catching sight of her gun holster. She looked back down so quickly that Liv couldn’t be sure it had really happened.

“I’m told you leave the house at 7am?” she asked into the heavy silence.

“Sometimes as early as 6am,” the MP answered coolly without looking up.

“I’ll be there at 5.30am,” Liv decided. It would be a short night. It was gone 8pm already, and likely to be another hour until she was home, but she would have to suck it up for the time being. Overtime was expected and calculated for. She merely received a huff of acknowledgement for her troubles. “I’m sorry my presence is an inconvenience for you,” she said, hoping to clear the air a little before the end of the day. “But there have been threats made against your life.”

“When aren’t there? That's what it’s like being in politics,” the blonde countered curtly, tapping her fingers onto her phone quickly, likely answering a message. As much as Liv loathed not to be afforded her whole attention, she decided to argue the point regardless - or perhaps because of it.

“These are credible threats,” she insisted calmly. “And once the threat is neutralised, you will be rid of me.” It was a promise she hoped she could keep. She was determined to reserve judgement, but on first impression, she wasn’t sure she wanted this assignment to last for any length of time.

Dr. Sinclair didn’t respond, and silence fell, just as heavy as before.

Liv resolved to make a mental list of what she would have to pack. Thursday to Friday would involve staying over in Birmingham, and she didn’t want to be caught out with her preparations. The job allowed for little down time to get those things in order.

“Have you been doing this long?” The MP’s voice unexpectedly brought her musings to a halt. The brunette looked up to find her still on her phone, but took the question as the olive branch she hoped it was intended as.

“A while,” she retorted vaguely, as she wasn’t sure how much the other woman actually cared for her answer.

“Saved many people?” the politician continued, swiping her thumb across the phone screen with a flash of annoyance that Liv hoped was directed at whatever she had just flicked away, rather than her.

“I wouldn’t have been selected for this assignment if I wasn’t good at my job,” she gave back seriously, hoping this was a chance to put her at ease. “You’ll likely be our next Prime Minister.”

“And still I feel utterly powerless…” Dr. Sinclair mumbled, and pushed her phone back into her briefcase as they were pulling up in front of her home.

“Allow me.” Liv took the initiative and opened the door for her, scanning up and down the road out of habit, even though there was an officer already stationed in front of the townhouse in question. It was a nice area and a big house, and the protection officer wondered how much the MP was worth, disregarding her set Parliamentary salary. Like most politicians, she’d likely been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she had gotten her degree at Cambridge after all - another nugget of information she recalled from her briefing notes. She did her best not to hold it against her as she walked her to the front door.

“Goodnight, Sergeant,” Dr. Sinclair tried for a conciliatory tone and Liv forced herself to a small smile.

“Goodnight, Ma’am.”

---

Liv slammed the door of her flat shut and kicked her shoes off. Her feet ached. She much preferred trainers or boots, but a Parliamentary posting required a certain dress code and she could only hope she’d walk the dress shoes in eventually. As she walked further into the studio flat, she caught a glimpse of the time on the oven. Even though she had taken a taxi, it had taken even longer than anticipated to get home.

Releasing a huff of annoyance, she shrugged her blazer off and went to hang it up, as she didn’t fancy having to get the iron out again in the morning. Some routines were well practised, like storing her service weapon away in a gun safe, likely the most valuable piece of furniture in the place. When she had been with the RAF, she had moved around a lot and once she’d needed a place to stay, well… she hadn’t been picky. Her sister always made a big song and dance about her surely being able to afford better, but the protection officer didn’t see the point when her work was so demanding and she merely needed a place to sleep.

“Right, travel Thursday…” she muttered to herself as she went searching for her suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe, multitasking with laying out her clothes for the next day. Preparation was everything, and she hoped she could indeed be better prepared for tomorrow. Unnervingly, she found she hadn’t quite got the measure of Dr. Sinclair yet. She could only hope she would do so soon, a lot of her ability to do her job would depend on it.

#doctor who #fanfiction #liv chenka #helen sinclair #liv x helen #big finish #action #angst #thriller #slow burn #femslash #alternate universe #alternate universe politics #bodyguard #female bodyguard #spooks

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mysterysoulrider · 6 months

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I just had to take some pictures of Liv's two horses together

you can read some oc-lore about them below if you'd like

From left to right we have Domino and Cato. These are the two horses that Liv actually owns. She takes care of a few more but these two beans are her own. Altough Cato often annoys Domino they still love each others company. Domino Domino is a 12 y/o Lipizzaner gelding. He is the first horse Liv ever bought. She got him when he was six. Domino is a very calm, hardworking and reliable horse. He and Liv fully trust each other. Domino's willingness to do anything for Liv has been greatly appreciated during rides and adventures. He also has a very cuddly side and he loves his grooming time. Which is perfect considering his fleabitten gray coat.

Cato Cato is a 5 y/o Kwpn mare. She has been with Liv almost all her life as Liv got her when she was only a yearling. Cato has been quite the challenge for Liv. Cato is very curious and not easily satisfied. Which has resulted in many escapes and break-ins. Her mischievous side is accompanied by her very loving side. She will force her love upon you while getting in your personal space. Besides some spookes she has been great her first year under saddle and her and Liv's bond keeps improving. Cato loves to keep her mind busy with learning new things which makes her try very hard when Liv asks her to do something. These first few interactions I got for Cato describe her pretty good.

#I so badly wish we could take multiple horses out at the same time to take pictures #horse-Domino #horse-Cato #ssocs #ssoblr #starstable online #sso #my photos

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bluestar22x · 7 months

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A Haunting In Jackson

A Haunting In Jackson - A "Visitation Rights" Short Fic (Absolutely can be read as a standalone fic)

Summary: A campfire story told by Tommy Miller leaves you spooked

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader; Miller family dynamics (includes Ellie)

Rating: 13+

Warnings: Just an eerie setting, reader being nervous, fluff and Miller family dynamics. Some swearing. A spooky ghost story told around a fire pit on Halloween night.

Word Count: 3,200 (ish)

Author's Note: For the Halloween writing challenge made by @pedrocontestsrus ; set after Visitation Rights and Morning Routine, but definitely can be read on its own if you're not interested in reading the other two. That's why I'm submitting it for the contest. It's a standalone in this fic verse. Happens 7 months after Morning Routine (for anyone who cares about the timeline).

Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night ⚡️

Must include: A lit candle, bare feet, a creaking sound

I keep visiting this Jackson verse, but I don't mind! Funny how Visitation Rights was basically just a spur of the moment fic.

xxx

Jackson, 2025

You hadn't watched a horror movie in over twenty years, but you remembered one that had an eerily similar scene setting to this. Thunder rumbling in the distance, lightning flashing, rain pelting against the roof, wind howling, blocking most sound out and causing the branches of the old ash tree behind the house to smack violently against a window in the spare bedroom that your boyfriend, Joel Miller, used as an office and workstation for his smaller projects.

You were padding cautiously down the short hallway to the stairs in the dark of night barefoot, you know, like any sane person who'd been startled awake by a loud thump, armed with nothing but a burning candle stick in your left hand. (The electricity had gone out right before you’d gone to bed that night and the stick was closer to you than a flashlight.)

Paranoid you was mentally bashing yourself for not waking Joel, letting him stay curled up in your shared bed, completely unaware that something might be going on. Joel might be half deaf, but he was a strong and capable fighter even at 58, and you could've used back up in the form of his broad frame, just in case.

Logical you however, had managed to convince yourself that whatever you'd heard couldn't be anything you couldn't handle on your own. You'd survived more than twenty years by yourself in a fungal apocalypse with nothing but dogs for company. Besides, it had to be nothing. A raccoon, if anything. Or a squirrel that managed to chew its way into the house. It couldn't be an intruder. This was Jackson after all. A small town filled with a community of proven trustworthy people and guarded by a fence and patrol twenty-four-seven. It was for that same reason that it couldn't be one of the infected. They never could get even close to the fence line, the Jackson patrol, which you and Joel were a part of, made sure of that.

And it definitely wasn't a ghost. It sounded stupid in your head even as you were denying it. Billions of people had died since outbreak day, most on that very night or during the following few weeks, and you'd never run into anything that suggested ghosts existed. If you couldn't find evidence for them after such a tragic and violent event, you figured there was nothing to find.

That somehow didn't stop you from being on edge anyway.

Damn you, Tommy, you cursed silently. Damn you for getting it into my head.

You'd always hated horror stories, ever since you'd been a little girl around a campfire, your friends swapping scary stories as tradition insisted. Your friends had fun with it, but you didn't, spending half the night lying awake in your sleeping bag, listening for any strange sounds, even though you were always camping out in the relative safety of each other's backyards.

You'd braved a few horror films here and there in your twenties, but only for dates with guys you were really interested in, and you always lived to regret it, spending hours on edge, looking over your shoulder just cause you felt like someone was watching you.

When your life had become a literal horror story, the infected one of the greatest nightmares ever seen in fiction and reality alike, you'd hardly slept for days. Most people probably hadn't, as they feared the infected attacking and tried to comprehend their massive losses, but you had especially not been equipped to cope with the fungal spread. It probably hadn't helped that you'd taken off alone, with only your black Labrador Raven to comfort you at night. But she'd been a lot better than nothing. A second set of ears that allowed you to sleep enough to remain sane.

So you were the least likely person to understand why Tommy was insisting on telling a scary story as if you were all back in middle school.

It was Halloween night, and while it wasn't an official holiday Jackson still celebrated (for obvious reasons), Tommy and Maria had still invited you, Joel, and Ellie over for a chicken dinner and a marathon movie watch of The Addams Family DVDs he'd found in a store the month before while out on a supply run. Popcorn was even included.

It was later followed by supper over the fire pit in their backyard, which consisted of beef sausage made from one of the cows recently slaughtered in town. Joel had showed Ellie how to cook one over a flame on a stick pulled from Tommy's tree line and sharpened by the pocket knife you'd gifted him last Christmas.

It was after everyone had finished eating that Tommy brought it up.

Joel had groaned. "Don't we live enough horror?"

"This one's a good one," Tommy insisted. "You'll love it, Ellie. It's based on a true story."

She was the only one who looked remotely curious. You supposed that was enough since Tommy was settling into his seat and clearly mulling over how to tell the story. Maria seated herself right alongside him, willing to humor her husband.

Joel was distracted, and likely would remain so. He was seated cross legged in the grass next to his one and a half year old nephew, receiving handmade wooden blocks over and over as the toddler willingly passed them to him. Joel had accepted each one with a grateful smile that mesmerized you a little. The kid was too young to know, but Joel had made them himself not long after he'd returned to Jackson with Ellie, months before you showed up. But you knew. You knew how much his nephew meant to him, and how much he valued his time around him. You were so focused on their endearing interaction you almost didn't catch on that Tommy had begun telling the story. (You'd later wish you hadn't caught any of it at all.)

"This story happened here in Jackson," he started. "The Green family, husband, wife, their teen twin daughters moved here in 1925, lookin' to start up a ranch like most who moved out here back then." He took a beat. "Now, Jackson was a small town then, might've been even smaller than it is now, but it wasn't that safe. Most of the west had been tamed but there were still a few outlaws, and no matter how tame a place gets, there's always someone stirring up trouble of one kind or another." He paused, "Mr. Green was one of those men. Wanting so desperately to afford his own land, he took to gambling, and cheating when he knew he was about to lose. Ripped off a lot of people, and in turn pissed a lot off too. In revenge, someone lit up his little clock shop on main street with him inside. They didn't know his wife was there with him at the time."

"But their daughters weren't?" Ellie prompted, invested in the story already, hands on her knees.

Tommy shook his head. "Thankfully, no. They were at a friend's house."

"So, what happened after?"

Tommy sighed. "The sheriff found the burned bodies of the husband and wife in the morning, unrecognizable, but the twins recognized the jewelry they were wearing, and everyone knew he'd been there that night. The fire was immediately deemed suspicious, but the murderer was never found."

"Of course not," you couldn't help but huff out. You'd heard a lot of similar "true" stories like this.

Tommy ignored you. "The orphaned twins found their father's secret stash of money and were able to rebuild the shop, turning it into a sewing store. A place where they handmade clothes to sell to people and sold supplies to make clothes, depending on the customer's preference. They turned the second floor into an apartment, living in the same space together. It made their lives easier to be able to walk downstairs and immediately get to work."

"There was one hiccup though," he stated dramatically, "The twins kept hearing noises at night. It started out as random thumps and creaks they could easily explain away as the place settling or their cat knocking something over, but eventually turned into sounds like footsteps and dragging furniture. It freaked them out, especially since whenever they got up to check, the living room chair would usually be out of place. They couldn't believe it. Something was moving it, but they didn't know what. Didn't want to know."

"What happened to them?" Ellie encouraged him, frowning.

"About a decade after their parents died, their shop burned down mysteriously," Tommy told her, poking a stick at the burning logs in the pit, moving them around so the flames could get more oxygen. "Luckily, they weren't inside, but because there was no evidence to otherwise, it was deemed as an accident this time. The twins weren't convinced. They thought their parents' killer was out to get them. They thought their parents had been with them in their apartment and were trying to scare them out, like they knew it would happen again. Of course, they couldn't prove it. That didn't stop them from moving out of town, settling somewhere else. The locals heard that they lived out long, mostly happy lives after, but they were, to say the least, haunted by what happened until their last breaths. They never did get justice for their parents. Their killer was never found."

Everyone here that isn't under two years old could relate to that, you thought. Being haunted by loss and injustice.

"While that was the end of the story for the Green family," Tommy continued, "It was not the end for the town. The spot the shop was built on was used for other things. More shops, eventually a house when main street was moved over to where it is today. No more burned down, but the roof on one shop collapsed because of heavy snowfall one year. Of course, that's not the spooky part. It's that the buildings on that piece of land were always haunted. The owners always heard strange things a night, always found furniture moved from where they'd been left."

"Where is the piece of land?" Ellie inquired curiously, if not a bit nervously.

"You don't actually believe him, do ya?" Joel teased, glancing over at her.

"Of course not," she denied. "I just want the full story."

He grinned like someone who'd found a secret to weaponize against a friend. You were smiling too. Who knew Ellie was superstitious?

"No one knows where the piece of land is," Tommy declared. "It could be one of our houses for all we know. I don't think it's mine, but then I sleep through a lot."

"Tell me about it," Maria huffed.

You chuckled at her comment but couldn't help but shiver a little. It wasn't like you thought Tommy's "true" story had actually been real, but rather that the spirit of the story (pun not intended) had settled over you, so similar to the feeling you used to get after finishing up a horror movie. It may have been fake, but your body reacted like it wasn't, getting keyed up over the creepiness of strange noises happening in a house that should be quiet.

Joel, ever so vigilant, noted your shiver, but assumed it was from the cool wind picking up. It was probably close to ten at night.

"Well, we outta get home, huh?" he suggested, looking up at the sky. "The clouds are gathering. Might have a storm tonight."

"I'm certain of it," Maria told you both. "Can smell it in the air."

You never quite understood how people could do that, and wondered if your sense of smell was just bad.

You pushed yourself up off the log you were sitting on as Joel scooped up his nephew and handed him off to Maria. "See you tomorrow," he said to both her and his brother. They both nodded.

"Thanks for the story, Tommy," Ellie said, hopping onto her feet. "Even if it's totally fake."

"If you say so," he hummed, smiling. He almost convinced you that he believed the story and that it wasn't entirely made up. Almost.

Ellie was about to walk away when Joel stopped her with a hand. "Where are you going?"

"Some friends of mine are hanging out with Dina at her house," she informed him. "I said I'd stop in."

Joel gave her a disapproving look. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I won't be long," Ellie replied, giving him a pleading look. "You know them."

It was mostly true. You and Joel had seen her with her friends before and had met Dina herself, but you both weren't naive enough to think that wasn't just the tip of the iceberg of knowing them. Teens hid their truths well.

Still, against his better judgement Joel gave her the benefit of the doubt. "Be at the house by midnight the latest."

Ellie jumped in spot. "Okay, I will. Thanks!"

Joel shook his head as she jogged off. "Am I going to regret that?" he asked you.

"Probably," you said honestly.

You both turned to Tommy and Maria one last time to say goodbye and kissed their son on the cheek before strolling back to your house across the street.

The wind started to really blow and thunder boomed in the distance. An autumn storm was definitely on the way.

A wooden floorboard creaked behind you and you spun around, heart pounding in your chest. You relaxed instantly when you saw that the noise had come from Joel stepping on one of the house's loose floorboards (that he had been, in fact, planning to fix that weekend). In the dark you couldn't really see the details of his face, but there was enough light to see the outline of his sleep mussed hair and angular nose. You could also see that he'd slipped on the matching shirt to the gray sweatpants he sometimes wore to bed on chilly nights before following you.

"What are you doin’ up?" he murmured sleepily, voice as gruff as ever.

"I heard something," you whispered back. "Probably nothin’, but..."

Joel nodded, understanding. If there was anyone who could outmatch your anxious state of being at any point in time, it would be him. He already had the handgun he kept hidden in his nightstand in his right hand.

Of course he'd taken your concern seriously. Even though he'd been in Jackson for nearly two years, he still fell into old habits easily. He'd probably never quite believe that the town was one hundred percent safe. It was why he'd joined patrol.

He didn't know why you were worried, but you being worried was enough, and you decided not to tell him that the single thump wasn't really what had compelled you to get up.

The storm was dying down, and when another thump sounded, followed by a soft whine, your current dog, a senior black Lab named Penny, limped out of her bed, stopping by your side loyally and growling, neck hair standing on end. Though your heart was banging in your chest and your mind was once again wondering what the hell was in the house, there was still a part of you that managed to wonder how Penny had heard the sound at all. She'd been progressively losing her hearing during the past year, and her deafness was in both ears, unlike Joel's.

You and Joel glanced at each other anxiously and quietly made your way down the stairs, Joel automatically taking the lead, and you gratefully following. Penny smartly lingered at the top of the steps, watching you go.

Once you'd both made it to the kitchen, Joel tried flicking on the lights, and you were grateful when they worked, surprised that the men who dealt with the power supply had gotten it back up and running so soon.

Ellie, however, was certainly not pleased by that revelation. She blinked at you and Joel, squinting in reaction to the sudden bright light, and groaned. "Fuck."

She was seated in one of the kitchen chairs, bending slightly over to rub the big toe of her right foot, clearly having stubbed it on something when she'd stepped into the room. Her tied back shoulder length brown hair was soaking wet and she was still wearing the dark green raincoat Maria had gifted her on her sixteenth birthday.

She pulled her hand away from her toe to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes avoiding both yours and Joel's. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Ellie, do you realize what time it is?" Joel lectured, immediately switching into dad mode. You liked to think it was trademarked to him. "It's four AM. You promised you'd be home by midnight."

"I know," she moaned. "But I fell asleep, and no one bothered to wake me up. Dina didn't know I wasn't supposed to stay over."

"Why didn't you tell her?" Joel quizzed as he approached her. He sniffed the air. "And why do you smell like you poured alcohol over your head?" He stared at her disapprovingly.

Ellie grimaced. "I may have drank a little." She knew better than to deny it at least.

"Go get washed up and get to bed," Joel ordered sternly, eyes narrowing. "And don't think about spending time there next weekend. We'll talk more in the morning."

Ellie chewed her lip, but didn't argue, standing and bowing her head in defeat as she raced past you both to do as told.

Joel shook his head as he watched her go and scrubbed a hand over his face. You blew out the candle you were still holding and placed it on the kitchen table before reaching out to slip your newly freed hand into his. "Teenagers."

Joel grunted. "She listened better out on the road."

"Out on the road she was in survival mode," you reminded him gently. "Here she feels safe enough to make mistakes. To get into trouble."

"Are you trying to imply it's a good thing she stayed out all night and drank?" he huffed. "Did God knows what else?"

"No," you said simply. "I don't like it either. But at least it's normal."

And it was far better finding Ellie in the kitchen, even if she was a little tipsy, than some ghost.

You snorted at your train of thought.

"What're you thinkin' of?" Joel asked, having noticed.

You shook your head. "Nothin’. Let's get back to bed."

He agreed to it reluctantly, still stewing over what Ellie had done, and after you shut the light, you led the way back upstairs, past Penny, who'd climbed back into her dog bed in the hallway.

He got back into bed first, and you followed, wrapping an arm around his middle, burying your face against the back of his shoulder, and he accepted your embrace without protest.

You slept soundly for the rest of the night, what little there was left, despite Ellie having come home late.

There were worst things in life than a teenager coming home drunk.

At least you weren't living out a horror movie called A Haunting In Jackson.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

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