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matan4il · 17 days

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I am at a loss for words.

A Jewish woman in Paris was kidnapped, held for several days, and raped for being a Jew, and her mother was psychologically taunted and tormented, as "revenge for Palestine."

And while the perpetrator is the main person responsible for this horrific crime, every single person denying or justifying the Oct 7 sexual violence is guilty of contributing to this normalization, making this antisemitic terrorist think his excuse is in any way an acceptable justification for this atrocity. Every single person who didn't believe Jewish victims, every single person who demanded proof, but turned a blind eye to the visual evidence Hamas terrorists themselves provided, every single person who called the films and pictures and testimonies from countless Israelis "propaganda," every single person who justified it and claimed that "rape is resistance." They're all complicit. They all have to know they've helped make Jews everywhere in the world less safe.

Speaking of complicity, even though a UN report found credible evidence for the sexual crimes committed by Hamas on Oct 7 and against Israeli hostages since, the UN secretary general, Antonio Guterres, has personally decided to leave Hamas out of the annual report on sexual violence in conflicts around the world. Israeli commentators expressed their belief that this was done, because had it been included, then the UN would have no choice but to finally recognize that Hamas is a terrorist organization. The UN is complicit. Guterres is complicit. Hold them accountable.

Speaking of the UN's known anti-Israel bias, what a surprise, their report on UNRWA, their own agency, claimed not to support the charges against it, though they did find that UNRWA has "some issues" maintaining its neutrality...

Just to make it clear, "staff publicly taking sides" refers to UNRWA employees being openly anti-Israel, antisemitic and pro anti-Jewish violence, and the "problematic content" in UNRWA textbooks is incitement to terrorism and educating Palestinian kids to be antisemitic. This alone constitutes more than "some issues with neutrality." But there's more. Out of the 12 Gaza UNRWA employees first identified by Israel as having participated in the Hamas massacre, at least three were killed inside Israel on Oct 7 itself, and at least one more was captured on film while helping to kidnap an Israeli young man's body from an Israeli kibbutz into Gaza using a vehicle with UN license plates. I'd say that's a bit more than "difficulties with neutrality". In fact, the UN itself implicitly recognized the evidence was damning, or it would not have fired nine of the twelve right away, and admit a tenth UN worker was dead following the invasion and attack on Israeli communities, while claiming they're still "clarifying" the identities of the other two killed employees who participated in the Hamas massacre. BTW, it's been about 3 months of the UN "clarifying" the identities of those other two dead employees (screenshot below is from the article published 2 days ago, link with same claim on "clarification" is from Jan 27).

UNRWA is complicit. There are other humanitarian aid NGOs, which can do better. Dismantle UNRWA. But we know the UN will not be dismantling the cash cow that this agency is, even though no other refugee group gets an equal treatment to that. At what point do we say out loud, that if more and more UNRWA employees are found to be complicit in a massacre or being embedded with Hamas, if Hamas terrorists have continuously used UNRWA infrastructure to store weapons and shoot at Israelis, if UNRWA was found to be providing a terrorist organization with internet and electricity, and if the UN can't hold its own agency accountable, then the UN is also complicit in UNRWA's collaboration with Hamas?

In Israel itself, as the biggest Jewish community in the world is celebrating Passover, attacks on Israeli Jews continue.

Two days ago, on the Eve of Passover, a combined terrorist attack took place in Jerusalem, in an ultraorthodox neighborhood, with two Palestinian terrorists driving their car into a group of visibly Jewish young people, then the attackers left their car and tried shooting at their victims, but the weapon thankfully malfunctioned. Three people were lightly wounded. (the vid below shows most of the attack, but not the graphic parts of the car hitting the young Jewish men)

youtube

Yestrday, the Lebanon-based terrorist organization Hezbollah launched three suicide drones at Israel's northern communities, along its Mediterranean shore. This attack comes on the heels of the news that out of 18 Israelis wounded in a previous Hezbollah drone attack on an Israeli Arab Bedouin town, one has died from his injuries, after fighting for his life for 5 days. It's 27 years old Dor Zimel, an officer who was stationed in that town to protect it. Dor was set to get married next month, and he had proposed to his fiancee with a ring donated by a bereaved father (his son, 23 years old Addir Messika, was a jewelry designer, and the ring was one he designed before he was murdered by Hamas terrorists at the Nova music festival on Oct 7). Dor's organs were donated and saved the lives of 7 people, including an injured soldier, who's also the father of a girl. May Dor and Addir's memory be a blessing.

And today, on the second day of Passover, an attempted stabbing attack was stopped before the Palestinian female terrorist managed to harm anyone. She was neutralized at the scene.

I'm sure all those who decried Israel having to continue its war against Hamas during Ramadan are being extra loud about this wave of anti-Jewish violence during Passover, which is actually just a partial list of the on going attacks on Israeli Jews during this holiday.

In other news, the preparations for the IDF's ground operation in Rafah have actually already started. Reports suggest 250,000 Palestinians who have come to the southern city as they left other war zones in Gaza, have already left Rafah, and that Israel has already started building encampments to house those it will evacuate from the city before the ground operation begins.

Trying to remember when have I ever seen an army building an entire camp city for the enemy's civilian population. I'm coming up blank.

This is Miri Gad Mesikka.

She lives in kibbutz Be'eri, together with her husband Eli and their 3 kids. On Oct 7, they locked themselves in the bomb shelter from the invading Hamas terrorists. They were in there for 12 hours, fighting for control of the bomb shelter's door, until the terrorists set their house on fire, and the Gad Messika family had to make an impossible choice: stay and maybe suffocate to death from the smoke (or worse if the fire got in), or jump from their second floor window, probably be injured and maybe be shot to death by the terrorists. Eventually, they chose to jump out. They all got injured, and one of her sons got his leg broken, but the terrorists didn't spot them, and this decision saved their lives. During the time they were locked inside the bomb shelter, Miri recounts how she would see some of her friends and neighbors not responding anymore, and she couldn't know why. She kept hoping it was because their phone batteries ran out. "Today I know some of them were being kidnapped, while others were being murdered. It was a massacre, happening in countless different spots at the same time." One of her friends told Miri, that her daughter, a baby who was less than one years old, was shot in the head right in front of her. Then the friend's husband was murdered as well, and despite being shot with a bullet in her lungs herself, the friend somehow managed to get herself and her two other kids away.

Never forget.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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thegaysinmyhead · 4 months

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Obsession PT 2

Danny was freaking the fuck out. Considering he spent the last few weeks in a lab being picked, prodded, and vivisected, he feels like he deserves a little bit of a freakout. But trauma-related things aside, Danny was freaking out over this hot-as-hell baddie who saved him. Like, holy shit! This guy’s biceps were bigger than his head, and he would really really like to have his head placed between those thighs.

Holy fuck. His knight in shining red armor was going to fully kill him for how fucking sexy he was. That gruff voice? The tight muscle shirt? The beautiful cheekbones hidden slightly under his mask? Danny was going to die a second death and he wasn’t even going to complain, not if it was this guy doing it.

Danny was thirsting so hard he almost missed what the man was saying.

“–Red Hood. Answer my first question, why do the Pits react to you,”

Red Hood? The Red Hood? Ancients, Sam was going to froth at the mouth when he tells her that Red Hood saved him and was hot as fuck.

“I don’t know what ‘the Pits’ are, dude. The only thing that reacts like that to ectoplasm is more ectoplasm, and that’s the only thing that’s reacting to me. You’re like, constantly angry,” Danny grimaced at the fresh wave of hot rage.

Damn, he wishes there was more reacting to him.

“The Pits. Lazarus Water. The green shit you got all over the floor and my fucking hands when I carried you here,” The vigilante (crime lord?) growled.

Fuck that growl is hot. He wants Red Hood to growl like that in his ear, wants to know what he sounds like when those growls break into whimpers, wants to taste that growl–

“That’s ectoplasm, kinda makes up my whole body in this form so it’s not like I choose to bleed it. Trust me, I’d bleed regular blood if I could. Blood stains are so much easier to get out of my clothes,”

Danny could tell Red Hood was glaring at him underneath his domino, and he was gonna have a problem in his pants if the other man didn’t turn away soon.

“Why. Do. The. Pits. React. To. You,” The vigilante growled out slowly, teeth clicking together in what sounded almost painful. Danny had no idea what he was supposed to say. The man in front of him had obviously died before and came back, but the ectoplasm felt more like a contaminated blob than a full ghost. He couldn’t even see the ghost core underneath all the gunk, even if he could feel it. Red Hood’s core felt…just as angry as when Danny felt it earlier.

How do you give Ghost Biology 101 to a pissed-off guy with a gun who probably had death-related trauma?

“So…I’m just gonna be as blunt as possible and hope you don’t shoot me,”

Red Hood glared harder, his core thrumming ANGER-CONFUSION-ANGER as Danny flipped to sit cross-legged above the couch. He pinched his face together to think about the best place to start, but realized the worst part should probably get put out of the way first. He did say he was going to be as blunt as possible.

“So, you died—” Almost as quick as he said it there was a bullet grazing through his shoulder and embedding into the wall behind him. Thank fuck for intangibility. The crime lord’s core thrummed louder, a garbled mimic of a ghost growl as green blinked behind red lenses.

“Yeah, I know how you feel man. Dying really, really sucks,” Danny murmured before lowering fully onto the couch. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“–But, that’s probably the start of what I need to tell you, unless you’ve come in contact with glowing green water beforehand?”

The vigilante grit his teeth, but shook his head no.

“Right, so. You died–and I’m not gonna ask or make assumptions about it! I get it. But, when you got pulled from wherever you were before…you didn’t exactly…come back all the way,” He finished his sentence with a murmur, but the silence of the apartment made sure it was heard easily. A deep frown etched itself onto Red Hood’s face.

“Come back all the way? What kind of bullshit is that? You’re dead or you’re not, even I’ve met ghosts and shit that proves that,”

Red Hood’s met ghosts? Hopefully none from the Ghost Zone, they’d probably tear him to pieces in a ghost brawl with how weak his ectoplasm is. Might make this explanation easier though.

Danny wrung his hands together before shrugging awkwardly, “Not…exactly? Death is more of a spectrum than a black-and-white kinda thing. You can lean towards one side or the other, sometimes being fully on one side, but it’s supposed to be impossible to sit on both at the same time. That’s…kinda where I come in?”

The halfa shifted while looking anywhere but the crime boss in front of him, lips tucked into a silent whistle as his core hummed anxiously. Danny could tell Red Hood was getting impatient, but he didn’t expect to have to show a solid 12/10 hot piece of ass his human form right after getting away from a GIW base! Sue him, he needs a minute!

With a groan, Danny flung himself into a stand. He rubbed a hand down his face while chanting “Please don’t be naked, please don’t be naked,”

A bright light filled the room before Red Hood could react or question the mumbling, and when the light finally faded he blinked rapidly to get rid of black spots. In the place Danny stood moments before was an individual with black hair, blue eyes, and very very tattered clothing. The cloth (if it could even be called that at this point) looked as if it used to be a NASA hoodie and black jeans, and duct-taped red sneakers sat on the new man’s feet. Blood stains were covering most of the fabric, and the man sheepishly scratched the back of his head. A bright red blush was spreading across his cheeks to slightly pointed ears.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot the last time I was in this form. At least I’m not naked?” The new man (Danny?) said with a small smile.

“Wait, wait, wait–” Jason raised his hands in a stopping motion with a shake of his head, “–what the fuck do you mean ‘this form’?”

(Supposedly) Danny just tilted his head before placing his hands on his hips. He tipped his head up and pursed his lips in thought, “Well, that was technically my ghost form before? This is my human form… and oh jeez, I feel like I skipped like a hundred slides of the Ghost Biology PowerPoint,” Danny mumbled while hiding his face between his hands.

Jason slid a still-clawed hand over his eyes, frustration building, but surprisingly no green was threatening his vision. Small mercies, “Ghost? So, you’re a ghost?” he questioned slowly.

“Only half ghost…”

Jason took a deep breath and deadpanned, “How the fuck can you be ‘half ghost’,”

Danny looked like he swallowed a lemon as he went silent. There seemed to be a silent debate going on in the man's head as the thing in Jason’s chest rumbled with RAGE-FRUSTRATION-WORRY. Danny seemed to come to a decision as he finally spoke.

“Well…same way you did? Kind of a Schrödinger cat situation. Do you really not notice anything ghostly that you do? Like–hiding better than you ever did before, shadows clinging to you in ways that seem unnatural, attacks on you not hitting their mark even though you know they should have?”

Jason paused, shoulders tightening with tension. He never really thought about it, but those words stirred something in his brain. Bullets that should’ve definitely hit him dead on were usually explained away with the distance between him and the gun shooting at him, but the times he was barely holding onto a hiding spot and wondering how the hell he wasn’t caught? The warm embrace of Gotham at night when shadows were everywhere and he was swinging and jumping through rooftops? Jumps no normal human would’ve been able to make unless they were a meta?

He knew the Pit had changed him; his eyes glowed green when he felt emotions too strong, his body filled out with more muscle than he knew what to do with, and he was straining the edge between trained strength and superhuman. Now…now he isn’t really sure what the Pits did to him…

“–And if I say I have? Noticed… ‘ghostly’ things I do?”

The black-haired man just gave him a bright smile, “Well, then that probably just makes it easier to accept what comes next,”

“What comes next?” Jason blinked.

“Yeah. Because, again, sir, your ectoplasm is rancid. Disgustingly rancid. I’m filtering as much of it as I can, but you need a doctor like yesterday,”

Jason could feel the frustration growing again. This guy just did not know how to give good explanations, “What do you mean you’re ‘filtering’ it?” He said through gritted teeth. His jaw suddenly felt like it was too small for his molars, and his gums burned worse than when his wisdom teeth needed to get removed. Danny just waved off his building anger.

“Exactly that, dude. I’m pulling the toxic stuff into me and pushing the cleaner stuff back to you. It’s not pure ectoplasm, we’d probably need to go to the Ghost Zone for that, but you should feel a whole lot better than you did before,”

And Jason…Jason did actually feel a whole lot better. There wasn’t an angry voice whispering in the back of his mind that he needed to spill blood, and he wasn’t fighting off an indescribable rage with every ounce of his willpower. He felt better than the best days of dealing with the Pit and then some. But what the fuck was a ‘Ghost Zone’? Danny must’ve seen the confusion from his frown because he was speaking again.

“–Shit, I’m really bad at explaining things, sorry. The Ghost Zone is basically where most ghosts, or ‘ecto-plasmic beings’ depending on who you ask, live–and usually–stay. The atmosphere is pretty much pure ectoplasm because everything there is made of ectoplasm. Like how everything alive here is made of carbon,” Danny waved his arms around awkwardly as he spoke, back squished tightly against the cushions of the couch. His fists were clenched white with nerves.

Jason nodded. That made sense…kind of. He was still wrapping his head around the whole ‘half-ghost’ thing, honestly. He was also wondering how the fuck that was possible and why this guy thinks he’s one.

“You said I’m like you?”

Danny nodded, before thinking for a moment and shrugging, “Not exactly. I can tell whatever you went through never let you finish forming a core, but if your core does fully develop you’ll end up with ghost powers, probably. You’d also be able to actually filter the ectoplasm in your system, which means you won’t have to deal with all that junk,” he said while waving a vague fully-encompassing hand motion at him.

Jason squinted his eyes at Danny from behind his mask, but he couldn’t detect a single lie from the man. After a long moment, he sighed and slumped back in the recliner. He covered his face with one of his hands and murmured, “–And what’s a core?”

Danny froze before blushing and looking away in embarrassment. Jason doesn’t know how he knows Danny’s embarrassed.

“I’m…I’m just gonna pull up the Ghost Biology presentation. You got a laptop?”

Pt 1, Pt 3

Masterpost

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dcxdp #batfam #ghost core #ghost king au #ghost king danny #jason todd #yandere jason todd #yandere danny fenton #yandere danny phantom

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candychasse · 4 months

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Yandere Sim Male Rivals dealing with the, 'me, my s/o, and their 500 dollar life sized mareep plush' meme being their reality.

Characters: Osano, Amao, Kizano, Oko, Aso, Osoro, Megamo.

Contains: g/n reader, not proofread, fluff. At least five of the guys having beef with a plushie.

Osano.

"What the hell is that."

^ exact words he said when you came home with the adorable pokemon plush.

Despite his harsh words he does think the sheep is cute.

He will complain, like a lot.

"Move the damn sheep." He says loudly as he tries to get comfy in bed. You groaned slightly and moved the sheep to the other side of you. "Thank-" he stops himself as you turn your back to him! "Y/n." He calls out. You turn again to face him, bringing the Mareep to face him too. "Yes?" You ask, a grin slowly growing. "...whatever." He says turning his back to you, 'two can play that game' he thinks.

Two actually cannot play that game. In the morning you found him turned facing you, holding the Mareep tight. You snicker to yourself as you take a photo of him.

Amao.

He's not particularly the biggest fan of mareep, however, he does understand how much the plush means to you.

I'd imagine he'd try to convince you to move mareep somewhere else like, "Why don't we move Mareep to the couch so they can watch TV?"

^when that obviously didn't work. He accepted his fate.

You had just wrapped up closing the bakery for the day and headed upstairs in order to destress and enjoy the rest of your evening. You headed into your room to pick out pajamas, when you saw it. Amao carefully making the bed and placing Mareep front and center on the freshly made bed. "There!" He said with a smile. Your heart melted and you practically tackled him in a bear hug for his kindness toward Mareep.

Kizano.

He actually hates the sheep. No secret love of it or anything.

He thinks mareep is ugly and takes up too much space in bed.

It's the dead of night, you're sleeping peacefully in bed curled up with mareep. Kizano had just got home from a late night film shoot. He did his skincare routine and prepared for bed, but as he gets into bed he feels an unfamiliar lump in the bed. He tries not to make much noise as he pulls back the blanket and investigates the lump....

It's an ugly sheep?

He blinks in confusion for a few moments then simply casts the sheep aside to the ground, adjusting his body to replace the sheep's former place in your arms.

In the morning he pretends not to know of the plushie when you point out it must've fallen in the middle of the night.

"What plushie, my love?"

Bs.

Oko.

I think he'd just get depressed.

Like, I think he'd get self conscious. He really does like snuggling with you late at night, it's even better than summoning demons to him! But now all you do is snuggle Mareep.

Is he not good enough?

You only find out about his feelings towards Mareep during a late night while your a cleaning a stain off her.

"Hey.. Why don't we leave Mareep somewhere else, because she's dirty..?" Oko asks cautiously. You giggle slightly at the thought. "Nah! I'm sure I can clean her up enough!" You replied, dead set on removing the stain. "...great..." He whispers. "What was that?" You question. "I mean great! It'd be a shame if you couldn't cuddle them." He elaborates, but you know Oko, and you know when he's lying, so you decide to toy with him a little. "Well, if I couldn't get the stain off I'd just cuddle with you probably." You say 'off handedly'. "..oh so now you'd want to cuddle with me...." He mutters under his breath. You gasp finally putting the pieces together. "You're jealous of Mareep!" You exclaim loudly. His face turns flush from embarrassment, "..no." He replies turning his face away from you. A common tell of him hiding his feelings. "Well, if you are jealous of Mareep, which I know you're not, I would want you to know that I only got Mareep because I got lonely those nights you would run off to summon demons..." You confess, awkwardly looking down. "Oh, well, uhm, I'm not going out tonight.." He says and your eyes sparkle a little. "Get over here!" You say with a small smile, pushing Mareep to the side and holding Oko closely.

Aso.

LOVES THE DANG MAREEP.

He does however unintentionally abuses the Mareep. Think accidentally sitting on it, using it as a table, etc.

he says sorry to the Mareep everytime.

Throws it in the air really high that it hits the ceiling, BUT he does catch it!

It was a rare occasion where Mareep was chilling on the end of the bed while you and Aso cuddled. Right as the familiar embrace of sleep enveloped you both, a familiar thud was heard. "Aso, Aso, you kicked Mareep off the bed." You said while rubbing his shoulder to try and awaken him. He groaned "huh? Oh shoot! My bad..." He whispered, getting out of the warm bed and picking Mareep up from the floor. You giggled slight at the sight of him placing it carefully onto the bed and returning to your side.

Osoro.

Intentional Mareep abuse. Have you seen those tik toks of squishmallow girls' boyfriends beating up their squishmallows instead of just like, hugging it? Yeah that's Osoro.

HE DOESN'T HATE MAREEP THOUGH! Shockingly (heh get it) he likes the plushie.

"Osaro you're so mean! Mareep didn't do nothin' to you!" You exclaim with a gasp as he absentmindedly punches the mareep. "He's an inanimate object Y/n, he can't feel pain." Osaro replies while punching the Mareep again.

But like Kizana he is not above tossing it a side in order to cuddle with you.

Unlike Kizana he wouldn't put it on the floor but just to the side opposite of the one you're laying on.

Osaro tossed and turned in the middle of the night, to say he had a rough dream would be the least to say. He tries to move closer to you but is blocked by the giant Mareep. Grunting he grabs the Mareep and tosses it to where he was formerly laying. He wraps his arms around your waist and sighs. Now that he's in your arms his dreams seem nicer, even if that does sound silly.

Megamo.

He's a busy guy, being the heir to a mega corp, having his own passions, it's a lot on his plate. So most days he come home by the time you're already asleep.

I doubt he noticed you owned a life sized Mareep until one day...

Once again, we begin our story in the dead of night, you're tucked in, nice and warm. Meanwhile Megamo had just came in from the frigid rainstorm outside. He wasn't all too wet so he just changed clothes and headed to bed. Little did he know, the lump he was cuddling was not you.

In the morning, Megamo was face to face with a sheep's face instead of yours. To say he was a little upset would be an understatement.

He tries bribery, offering you any normal sized plushie you want.

He tries threatening saying that since you're cuddling Mareep you can't cuddle with him.

He even thinks about just throwing it out. But he knows how much it means to you. So he just silently moves it to the couch everyday, and every evening it's back on *his spot* on the bed.

He despises that damn sheep.

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eagerbby · 2 years

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only you | e.m.

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| You and Eddie were never meant to be just friends.

an| written in a world where Eddie was never accused, never died, and more importantly, finally graduated. not very canon, billy’s still alive and briefly mentioned. this was a quick break from a fix-it fic I’m currently writing and very much inspired by the song touch tank by quinnie. it’s eddies song and i’ll die on this hill.

warnings| oral (female receiving), PnV (protected), Eddie running his mouth, thats a warning in itself, 18+ only

[June 9, 1986]

The pitiless Indiana sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its uv-rays biting at your bare skin. The cool pool water lapping over your legs every time Eddie moved was the only relief at the moment.

“Have you ever been in the ocean?” He asked lazily, his long fingers flicking water across your bare thighs. The two of you lay opposite each other in the barely six foot wide and three foot deep blow up pool set up next to his front porch. Your feet floated next to his shoulders, grazing the freckled pale skin there every time he shifted or turned. Meanwhile, tall and gangly Eddie had his head propped up on the blue polyvinyl rim, his own feet hung over the side next to your head. He had bitched and moaned once the two of you had finally finished setting it up, “I don’t even fit all the way.” He’d complained. “Why’d you buy a damn kiddie pool?”

You had laughed at him, his pale body laying stick straight in the cool water in only a pair of plaid blue boxers. You had begged him to let you buy him a pair of swim shorts but he had refused.

“It’s just you and me, it’s not like you haven’t seen my boxers all over my bedroom floor.”

“Yeah, but what if you go to the public pool? You’ll need them then.”

“Ha. Not likely you’ll ever see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson at the public pool. The parent’s would probably gather pitchforks and torches and hang me at the gallows.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Eds.”

“M’not. And anyway, I don’t like swimming, I’m only doing this for you.”

“My parents used to take my little brother and I to the Outer Banks when we were younger. We’d go every summer, swim in the ocean or walk the dunes to the lighthouse.” You opened your eyes to look at him only to find he’s already watching you speak, his deep brown eyes hidden behind the lens of his aviator sunglasses. His hair is almost dry now except for the ringlets that float atop his shoulders in the water. “You should probably take those sunglasses off before you get too much sun on your face. Gonna get a weird ass tan line from them.”

He does as you tell him, taking them off and tossing them onto the porch. “I’ve never been.” He said. “The ocean scares the fuck outta me. All that never ending water. Do you ever think about how many bodies are in the ocean? Lost to the dark depths of the sea.”

You sat up at his words, a perplexed look on your face as you stared at him. “Well that’s fucking morbid. Jesus Christ, Eddie.”

He only shrugged in his usual unbothered way, his knuckles grazing the skin of your thigh beneath the rippling water.

“You’ve never thought about it before?” He asked.

“Not really, no. I guess I blocked the thought from my mind. I love swimming in the ocean.”

“You love swimming with dead bodies. Got it.”

You splashed him at this, laughing as the small tidal wave blasted him. The shock of the cold water hitting his warm skin caused him to shoot up, water dripping down his face as he wrestled you backwards into the water. You squealed when he grabbed your shoulders, his hand holding the back of your neck as he dunked you. The gurgle of the water echoed your laugh and as he pulled you back up you spit a fountain of water right into his face.

“Who would have ever imagined that you, The Princess of Hawkins high and valediction, was such a freak.”

“I graduated two years ago, Eddie! Now I’m just the queen of folding panties at Starcourt mall, and failing my English lit course.”

You watched Eddie’s expression shift at the word panties, your best friend's eyes now slightly wider, his grip on the back of your neck a little harder. He was so close to you, sitting on his knees in the small pool, completely leaned over your body. You didn’t see him shirtless often and you had never seen him shirtless and so close. If you reached up you could trace the dark ink of his tattoo that sat just beneath his collarbone. Scratch your fingers against the small splattering of hair on his sternum. That strange feeling stirred in your stomach, the same one you’d been getting for a couple months now. You didn’t understand it and what made it worse was that Eddie, your best friend, was the sole cause of it.

You felt it for the first time after Eddie had fallen asleep during your weekly movie night. His head was laying on the pillow in your lap, you hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen asleep until you heard him softly snore. He’d had a bad day at school, Jason Carver and his cronies spray painting ‘Freak’ in bright red letters across the windshield of his van. When you got to his trailer later that day you found him sitting on the hood of the van with a razor blade, slowly scraping the still wet paint from the glass. You had tried helping him but he only waved you off, telling you it was fine. But his eyes were red rimmed and glassy like he’d been crying. You wanted to kill those stupid jocks, which you voiced with indignation. But Eddie had only shook his head. He wasn’t a fighter despite what the whole town thought. He just didn’t have it in him.

“Lets go.” You said softly, your hand holding onto his forearm as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“To the ocean. Let’s go to the ocean, Eddie.” It was only a whisper as it passed your lips, your eyes searching his face. His furrowed eyebrows made him appear confused, but there was something else swimming in the chocolate brown of his iris’.

“What are you talking about, Crazy?” He lazily dragged you to sit up as he shifted from his knees to stretch his long legs out in front of himself. You waited for him to get comfortable before bouncing up onto your own knees, your fingers excitedly grabbing the wet fabric of his boxers on his leg. You don’t notice his cheeks flush as his eyes quickly flashed down to your hands and back up to your eyes.

“You, Eddie Munson, are a high school graduate now. You have a whole summer before you have to start thinking about what's next! And I have some vacation time and a shoebox full of savings from the past two years.” You rambled, your smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “We could take your van, o-or my car, and we could drive to the Outer Banks. Rent a motel and just have fun.”

“Y-you want to waste two years worth of savings to go to the beach?”

“It wouldn’t be a waste, Eddie! It’d be… well it’d be like an adventure.”

He was silent, looking away from you, his eyes scanning the quiet trailer park. Your shoulders dropped a little when you realized he didn’t share the same excitement as you. He had an entire summer to do whatever he wanted, why would he want to spend it with you driving to somewhere he’s never been.

He doesn’t even like the ocean, you idiot.

“Forget it. It’s stupid.” He jumped a little as you suddenly stood up, rivets of water rushing down the expanse of your body. You’ve stepped one foot out of the pool before he’s grabbing your wrist softly.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked gently, his eyes wide like he’d just gotten into trouble.

“Inside to change. I think I got too much sun.” You shook your arm until his hand slipped from your wrist, falling back into the water with a splash. You snatched your towel from the rickety lawn chair and escaped into his trailer, ignoring him calling your name. You grabbed your bookbag from the couch and all but ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind you with shaking hands.

You felt so fucking stupid. You already spent eighty percent of your time with him, practically attached at the hip as his freshman friend Dustin had pointed out, how could you think he’d want to spend even more time with you. Especially somewhere far from home. For fucks sake, he hadn’t even looked at you as you went on and on about it. He was too nice to tell you it was a stupid idea. The way he stared off, probably thinking of how to let you down gently, was all the answer you needed.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t that good of an idea. You weren’t known for your extraordinary planning skills and both of your vehicles were pieces of shit. In fact the likelihood of making it across the Indiana border just to break down in some podunk town was terribly high. The thought of spending the rest of your money getting the car fixed just to turn around and go right back home, broke and without ever seeing the damn beach, made you a little nauseous. Because that would be your luck.

A knock at the bathroom door made you jump. "Hey, you okay in there?" Eddie, voice peppered with concern. You tossed your bathing suit in the sink and turned the shower on.

"I gotta wash my hair, be out in a minute." You yelled back at the door before stepping into the shower stall, the hot water easing the tension from your muscles.

You didn't want him to think you were upset so you hurried through your shower, using his old spice to wash your body and his shampoo and conditioner that smelled of citrus in your hair. It was a distinct smell, one that was all him, and it made your stomach whirl once again. Your crush on him was starting to become a nuisance.

Once you were clean and dried off, dressed in his Iron Maiden shirt you stole from his drawer a couple weeks ago and a pair of black jean shorts that were frayed at the ends, you slowly cracked the door open, peering out towards the living room slash kitchen in search for a puff of raven curls.

He wasn’t there, so instead you followed the sound of Ozzy Osborne down the hall and into Eddie’s messy bedroom.

He was in his bed, back propped up against the headboard and rolling a joint with idle fingers. He was still shirtless but with a pair of gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, the band of his now white boxers resting against his dark happy trail. A wildfire blazed in your stomach at the sight and you couldn’t help but clamp your thighs together.

Does he not realize how unbearably hot he is?

He didn’t, actually, which was why seeing him like this all laid out with his chest bare and that smattering of hair that led down his abdomen and under his pants made your mouth so dry your tongue felt like it weighed 110 pounds and your hands so clammy you had to wipe them against your shorts. You cleared your throat in an attempt to subdue your racing thoughts and took a seat on the edge of his bed, body turned towards him watching him roll with ease.

He looked up with a smile when he felt your weight dip into the mattress. “Are you feeling any bette-'' He paused, glaring at the long haired zombie on your shirt. His shirt. “Is that my fucking shirt?”

You glanced down and back up, imitating the causal shrug he always gave you.

“Maybe.” You deadpanned. Eddie spluttered.

“Maybe? Who else do you know listens to Iron fucking Maiden?”

“I know people.”

“You know people?”

“A couple.”

Eddie’s eyes suddenly narrowed, a quiet disapproval in those deep brown eyes of his.

“Billy Hargrove?” He asked with a grating timbre in his voice you’d never heard before. He’d tossed the joint down into the ashtray and got off the bed, standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“B- What?” You’re so exasperated you can’t even form a sentence. “Billy Hargrove? What?”

“It’s him right? I know you used to hangout with him. He’s totally not an Iron Maiden fan, by the way. He definitely listens to Foreigner and cries in his piece of shit Camaro.”

“Hey! Don’t talk bad about Foreigner, I love them.” You stood up from the bed with your hands on your hips. “He’s a Guns N’ Roses guy anyways; completely idolizes Axel Rose.”

“Oh. Okay. So Billy Hargrove likes Guns N’ Roses and groupies for Axel Rose. Amazing.”

“I don’t hang out with Billy Hargrove, Eddie. Not like that, anyways.”

His nostrils flared and he nodded. “But you do hang out.”

“Maybe once or twice, I guess?” Your voice forms a question. You didn’t consider having a couple of the same friends and being at parties the other is at as ‘hanging out’. “What- What is this, Eddie? Why are you freaking out over Billy?”

“I’m not.” He said, blinking a couple times like he was trying to snap out of something. He leaned over your shoulder and grabbed the joint out the ashtray, lit it, and walked over to his cluttered table to search through a milk crate full of records. “Just figured the people you were talking about was him, s’all.”

“Eddie,” You said, coming up beside him to grab his wrist. He froze, his hands stopping their furious flipping of records, but his gaze stayed low. “I was fucking around, Eddie.”

“Fucking around?’

“Yes, Eddie. I was just joking.”

He turned to you at your words, staring dead into your eyes. The intensity of his stare made your heart stutter. “Were you trying to make me jealous?”

“Jealous? Wh- Eddie what the fuck are you talking about.”

There was a pregnant pause. Just you and Eddie staring into each other's eyes. Why would you want to make him jealous? You didn’t even know that was an option. You and Eddie were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t get jealous of their friends hanging out with other people. And Billy Hargrove? You had no idea where he pulled that one from. Not once had you ever even mentioned his name around Eddie. There was nothing worth mentioning. You thought Billy was stuck up and an absolute douchebag. Was he nice to look at? Sure. But you were nearly positive his heart was black with hatred and you believed being pretty meant nothing if your personality was shit.

“Uh, Eddie? Are you jealous?” He couldn’t look you in the eyes, instead he was flickering his gaze to anywhere but your face. “Eddie?”

“Would you hate me if I said yes?” He trailed his question off, biting at the skin on his lips as he waited for a response.

“I could never hate you, Eddie. You’re my best friend.”

He rolled his eyes. He rolled his fucking eyes. “Your best friend, right.” He said through a cloud of smoke. You snatched the joint sitting pretty between his fingers and dropped it in his other ashtray, the glass one shaped like a skull.

“Why are you saying it like that? You are my best friend.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be.” He said defiantly and your throat felt like it was going to close and your eyes burned from the prickle of your unshed tears welling in your eyes. He didn't want to be your best friend. Those words made you want to crawl into your body, to somehow vanish into thin air. Not too long ago you two were laughing together in the pool, discussing Steve Harrington's newest girl drama which was all supplied to you by Dustin Henderson. The night before you two made shitty Jiffy Pop while blazed out of your minds and sang karaoke so loud his neighbors came banging on the door, furious.

But now he didn’t want to be friends.

“Is this because I asked you to go on a roadtrip with me?” Your voice wavered and your chin started to tremble. “I know it was a bad idea.”

He strangely looked befuddled. “W-what? No. No, it’s not tha-”

“Well then what did I do?” You whined, tossing your hands about, unsure of what to do or what to say. What to think.

“You didn’t do-” He cut himself off, frustrated with his inability to explain himself. He looked at you, saw the tremble in your chin and shook his head. “You know what, fuck it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he was surging forward, grasping your face in his hands, and pulling you towards him. His lips met yours with so much force you gasped, hands clutching his hips for purchase. You couldn’t form a single thought as you stood there, eyes squeezed shut, your chest so tight you couldn’t breathe. But then his hand smoothed over your cheek and grasped the back of your neck, his fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin there, and you finally kissed him back. Eddie moaned. The sound so loud it vibrated through your mouth and straight to the core of your being.

You kissed him with every ounce of power you had. Kissed him like you had daydreamed about so many times before as you watched him roll, or play guitar, or sing along to the radio as he drummed against the steering wheel. You kissed him for everytime he smiled and you felt your heart skip a beat. For every time he hugged you just because you looked like you needed one. For every smile he’d ever graced you with. You kissed him like you’d never kissed anyone before in your life, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from a different point of view, but it felt perfect.

Eddie pulled away first, gasping for air in the crook of your neck, his body practically folded into you. “Fuck,” he drew out the word long enough to make you giggle, drunk off his lips.

“Eddie.” You soothed, combing your fingers through his hair. “Why don’t you wanna be my friend?”

He raised to his full height at your question. “Best friends can’t kiss like that.” He’s so out of breath, his words merely a whisper as he continued. “And every goddamn time I look at you all I wanna do is kiss your pretty fucking mouth.”

He left you speechless, looking up into his big brown eyes that you loved so much. He lets you take a second, think on it, all the while stroking his thumb across your cheek.

“How long?” Is all you can ask.

“Shit, since fucking middle school, baby.” He blushed as he said it, the pretty pink darkening to a cherry red as he watched your eyes widen in surprise.

“Middle school?” You whispered.

“I always have. But in middle school you showed up to the snowball in that cute purple dress with your hair all big and your makeup maybe a little too grown for a 12 year old and all I could think about was walking over and asking you to dance. Shit, I wanted to kiss your cheek so fucking bad.” You laughed at the way he scrunched his nose at the last part. You remembered middle school Eddie, his buzzed head and those horrible army green bell bottoms that he’d ripped up to look cool. You liked that Eddie as much as you liked this one, even back then.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked as you pushed up against his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. In this position he had to look down his nose at you, his dark lashes fluttering across his cheeks.

“You were you and I was the freak.”

“I never thought that about you, Eddie.”

He sighed, kissing your forehead. “I didn’t know that then, baby.”

“Should have asked.” You teased, planting a kiss on his chest when he tried to act offended.

You two stood like that for a while, just wrapped up in each other, testing the waters of this new dynamic. One where you both knew where you stood with each other.

“I’m sorry I upset you earlier, you uh- you kinda surprised me.” He spoke into the crown of your head.

“It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

“No it’s not. I wanna go. I just don’t want to spend all your money doing it. Give me a couple months to save up and we can go.”

“I don’t care about the money, Eds.” You said as you took your head off his chest and gazed up at him.

“I know. Just give me a couple months, okay.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

Silence fell over the two of you. Eddie started swaying to the music at some point, humming along to a Black Sabbath song that was definitely not slow dance material. You kissed the tattoo on his chest as you swayed, looking up at him with your best version of puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked softly. He hummed against you, kissing your forehead as he waited for you to finish your question. “Can you kiss me again?”

“Did you use my shampoo?”

Eddie’s voice raised up from the crease of your neck, a hint of amusement in his words. He had you laid out on his bed, slowly working kisses across your body. What had started as a soft little makeout session bloomed into something more when you had drug your nails up his spine the moment he found that sweet spot just behind your ear.

“Mhm.” You were too distracted to answer, focusing on the feel of his tongue laving against your neck and the way his hips shuddered against your clothed pussy every time you dug your nails into his skin.

“I like when you smell like me.” He mused. “Makes me feel like you’re mine.”

“M’yours, Eddie.” You whispered, guiding his face up to look at him. His lips were puffy and tinted red from sucking hickeys against your throat and his eyes were wide, searching your face for honesty.

“Promise?” He said after a quiet couple seconds and you nodded, leaning your head up to kiss the tip of his nose and the corner of his mouth.

“Promise.”

Eddie’s smile lit up his entire face, all dimpled and pink cheeked. It made your heart swell.

“Can I taste you?”

He asked in such a polite way, it caught you off guard. You couldn’t remember ever having a guy ask to eat you out. It was always something you hinted at and they brushed aside. One guy had even told you that eating a girl out made him soft and in the same breath forced your head down on his dick. But here was Eddie, looking at you so expectantly and yet so patiently.

“Yeah.”

Eddie didn’t waste a second getting to his knees on the mattress, fingers fumbling with the button of your shorts as he mumbled to himself. “Oh shit, okay. Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long, you don’t even understand. Pretty baby. So fucking pretty.”

You helped him shimmy the black fabric from your legs, Eddie tossing them over his shoulder with such force they knocked his acoustic guitar, that sat across from the bed, off its stand. He paid no attention to the instruments sharp bellow as it hit the carpet, instead he was transfixed on your purple lace panties.

“Christ.” He breathed, his index and middle finger tracing up the wet spot that had been steadily growing from the moment he kissed you. “You’re so wet.”

“Because of you.” You keened, Eddie suddenly adding more force in his stroking right against your clit. He flashed his eyes up to yours.

“Yeah?”

You nodded.

“Shit, I never thought I’d hear you say that outside of my dreams.” He seems to lose himself in his heavy caressing while you grip his sheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

“Eddie, please.” You couldn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, dipping your fingers under the band of your panties and impatiently trying to take them off.

Eddie chuckled to himself as he watched you struggle. “Okay, okay. I’ve got you baby. Calm down.” He gave your panties the same treatment, peeling them down your thighs and tossing them over his shoulder. He bit his lip as he lowered his stomach to the bed, face to face with your weeping core. “So eager to be on my tongue, huh. Who woulda thought you’d be sobbing at the thought of me, The Freak, licking your sweet little pussy.”

“Eddie,” You were so touch starved, so desperate to feel his mouth on you, that you thought you might actually cry if he didn’t do something. “Shut the fuck up, please. Please. Just… Oh, Eddie, please.”

“Mm, okay.”

The second his warm tongue hit you, you cried out. Hands fumbling for purchase and finding it in his dark brown hair. You gripped the strands at the roots hard enough to hurt but Eddie only moaned and tightened his grip on your thighs, pulling them open even further to sink his tongue as far into your pussy as he could. His nose brushed against your swollen clit with each delve of his tongue, the muscle exploring every inch of your sensitive pussy. You trained your eyes on his nicotine stained ceiling, trying so hard to push back the fire rising in your stomach. You’d never felt anything like it before.

“That feels so fucking good, Eddie.” You loosened your grip on him to pet at his hair, unsure if it was to praise him or soothe yourself. Peeling your eyes from the ceiling you cast your hazy stare down only to find his big brown eyes watching you from between your thighs, mouth latched around your sensitive clit as he alternated from gentle sucks to fast flicks of his tongue. Your thighs burned as you rocked your hips against his face, fucking into his mouth for more friction, hands shaking against his cheeks. He looked so unbelievably pretty staring up at you with so much fondness and lust in his eyes, his mouth and tongue completely ravishing you like no man ever had before.. So you tell him…

“You’re so pretty like this, Eddie. You- oh fuuck- you’re always so pretty b-but-” You let out a wanton cry as Eddie slipped two fingers into your achy cunt. He finds that spot inside you that whitens your eyesight almost immediately, like he knew exactly where it was. Between his fingers and his devilish tongue you were seeing stars, tears slipping freely at how extreme the sensation was. “Oh god, Eddie. Eddie, I’m- I’m gonna-” You couldn’t even fucking speak anymore.

Eddie acknowledged you with a shuddering groan, quickening his movements to drive you over the precipice. His eyes never once leave your face.

You came with a small scream, hips arched off the bed, your fingernails leaving crescent moons into the skin of his wrist. The feeling was all consuming, overwhelming in all the best ways. You let out a sob as he eased you through it, rubbing your thighs comfortingly as they shook with fervor around his head. You could hear yourself speaking but it was muffled by the roaring in your ears; it sounded like you were speaking in tongues. Eddie heard every word.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. Don’t stop, baby. Never fucking stop. So good, s-so fucking good. You’re so fucking good, Eddie. Oh my god, I love you.”

Eddie kissed your thighs as your orgasm faded, your burning lungs gasping for air. When you could finally breathe again, he left one last lingering kiss before crawling up your body. You held his face with shaking hands when he reached you, the biggest shit eating grin on his cum soaked face.

“You love me, huh?” He pondered with a fleeting kiss to your lips. “Or do you just love the way I eat your pussy?”

“Both you fucking deviant. Both.” Each inhale rattled in your chest and every exhale burned the lining of your throat. Eddie chuckled as he kissed you again, pressing his hard cock against your still sensitive core.

“Who knew you were a fucking screamer, baby.”

“I could tell you that was all you but then you’d fucking gloat about it for the rest of eternity.”

“Still might.” He hummed, ghosting kisses over your eyes and nose and lips. “You look so fucking hot when you cum. Never seen anything like it. Coulda cum right then and there but I wanna be inside you.”

You reached a hand between your bodies, running a heavy finger over the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, still a little breathless.

Eddie nodded excitedly before bounding up from the bed and over to his dresser. He rifled through it aggressively. Cursing here and there as he tossed socks and a random cassette tape onto the floor in his frenzied search. When he finally finds what he was looking for he exclaimed to himself, “Fucking finally.”.

He leaves the mess he made, struggling to pull his sweats and boxers off as he makes his way back over to you, sprawled out and butt naked in his bed. Once he finally gets there, after narrowly avoiding tripping over his own boots on the floor, he crawls on top of you with the aluminum wrapper between his teeth. You watched with bated breath as he ripped it open, rolling it down the dark pink head of his cock. Once he’s done he positioned himself in the apex of your thighs, fisting his cock and smoothing the latex covered head through your slick covered folds.

“I, uh, I’m probably not gonna last that long.” He said, his eyes downcast, watching the way your hips rutted into him with every swipe of his cock.

“It’s okay, Eds. Just fuck me.” You grabbed his chin, forcing his face up. When your eyes met you smiled at him sweetly and added, “Please.”

Eddie wasted no time pressing into you, his thick cock stretching you wide as he bottomed out inside you. His cheeks were flamed pink, a bead of sweat bleeding from his hairline down the curve of his nose. He pulled out gently and plunged back in, the tip of his tongue poking through his teeth as he concentrated on his slow deliberate thrusts. You dug your heels into the backs of his thighs, hoping he'd get the hint to go faster. Harder. The slow drag of his cock against that sweet spot inside of you was agonizing. But he only ignored your pressing and not so subtle whines, folding himself over top of you with one arm wrapped around your back and a callused hand holding your cheek. He was being so gentle. It wasn’t something you were used to. Every other guy you’d been with just used you to get off as fast as they could. But Eddie was taking his time, having found a pace that kept you needing more. You found yourself giggling at a particularly languid thrust and Eddie’s round eyes, with his pupils completely blown black, shot up to yours.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, stilling himself inside of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” You giggled again and his eyes narrowed. “I just thought, who would have imagined you to be such a gentle lover. You know, with your bad boy–heavy metal image and all.”

“Don’t forget local drug dealer and devil worshiper.” His smile cracked wide as you giggled again. That giggle, however, turned into a sharp cry with a snap of his hips. “I can be gentle. When I want to be.”

You could only nod at this, your breath lodged in your throat at another hard snap of his hips. Your comment had urged him to go faster. To show you that, yes, he could be gentle. But he could also fuck you senseless.

“Imagine what they’d think of you, baby.” He whispered into your ear, forehead pressed hard to the side of your head, his hips building into a maddening pace. He had thrown your leg over his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper, to hit that spot inside your core that brought tears to your eyes. “You were always such a good girl. Hawkins number one girl. Do you even remember what they said when they found out we were friends?”

You shook your head, unable to speak with how hard and deliberate his thrusts were.

“They said I was corrupting you.” He released a breathy, dark laugh. His hand slotting through the strands of your hair to grip the roots. “But they didn’t know that you sought me out, hm. Followed me to the woods just so we could be alone. Made me laugh. Made me feel special.”

You remembered that day. Remembered watching him walk through the tree line all alone, that black metal lunch pail gripped tightly in his hand. You knew what he was doing, skipping class to go smoke up. You’d seen him do it before. But that day you followed after him, nervously gripping the ruched fabric of your cheer skirt as you went. You couldn’t help yourself, You wanted to know him so badly.

“Everyday after that, you found me.” His thrusts were starting to get sloppy and you could tell in the way he held you, in the way his words doubled as moans, that he was getting close. “I tried so hard to keep you from getting too close. People are shunned for being close to me. But you wouldn’t fucking quit. Always so fucking stubborn. It’s like you couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I couldn’t.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hair tickled your cheeks, his breath fanning over your lips as he held himself over you now. His brows furrowed in concentration as his cock throbbed inside of you. You clenched at the sight of him, looking so pretty and so fucked, and all yours. Because he was. He was it for you.

“Ah, shit.” He whimpered. He wouldn’t last much longer, but Eddie being who Eddie was, you knew he was gonna talk the whole way through it. “You fucking- You broke down every fucking wall I’d ever built. Smashed right fucking through them and straight into my fucking heart. I-I wanted to be good for you. Good enough that you’d want me like I wanted you. You corrupted me.”

“E-Eddie, I think I’m gonna c-cum.” That burning heat had returned but it was different this time. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes. It thrummed every nerve like the string of a guitar, vibrating you to the bone.

“Good.” He said harshly, the word sounding almost mean falling from his red swollen lips, but the fingers stroking your face were still gentle. “I want you to scream for me again. I want everyone in this shitty trailer park, in this shitty fucking town, to know that I’m the one making you feel like this. Crying for my cock, desperate for me.”

You couldn’t handle it, couldn’t see through the tears falling, couldn’t feel anything but him and the white hot pleasure he was gifting to you. You were right there, so fucking close.

“I want them to know that you are mine.” Each word was punctuated with a hard, albeit sloppy, thrust and you came.

You came with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. You felt yourself clench down on him, hard, and his hips shuddered violently against you, succumbing to his own orgasm from your vise lock grip on his cock. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he rocked his hips and moaned through it, your name and curses sounding like the sweetest song you’d ever heard.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned before his body collapsed on top of yours. You could feel his thighs trembling against your own, mirroring the intensity of the feeling you both shared as you came.

The both of you laid there, shrouded in the warmth of each other's embrace, until finally he rolled away. Wincing as he pulled out and discarded the condom. You could only lay there and watch him rise from the bed on shaky legs to grab the half smoked joint from earlier. He placed it between his lips and lit it, standing there in all his naked glory, puffing on it till he could get a nice long hit. The slight skunky smell filled the room and you closed your eyes, relishing in it. But then, you were hit in the chest by something light and lacey.

“For your modesty.” Eddie smirked as you held your purple panties up in the light.

“Thanks.” You croaked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore.

Eddie crawled over you, flopping his sweaty body down next to yours. He handed you the joint, which you took gratefully, taking your own long drag and passing it back. The both of you laid in a comfortable silence, legs draped over each other and his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your bare thigh. But then something occurred to you and you turned your head to look at him.

“I didn’t corrupt you.” You said to him and he rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh.

“Yes, you did.”

“No I did not, asshole.” You guffawed, slapping your hand playfully on his bare chest.

“I wear my seatbelt and listen to fucking Journey because of you. That’s corruption.” He teased with a cute little smirk, grabbing your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh there.

“That’s just safety and taste, baby. If you want me to corrupt you there are… different things I have in mind.” You watched his eyes widen and he laughed.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He said as he leaned in, his lips tasted of you and the weed he had smoked and you smiled behind the kiss, chest full and body sore.

“Hey,” He started as he rested his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you like a little puppy. “You wanna go watch a movie? I can make some Jiffy Pop and we can cuddle on the couch?”

“Who’s picking the movie?” You asked, fingers playing with the ends of his hair.

“I had Steve score me a copy of Poltergeist 2. Picked it up from Family Video while you were at the store earlier.”

You sat up a little, an incredulous look etched into your features while he gave you those damn puppy eyes.

“Eddie, you literally told me two weeks ago that you'd rather be decapitated than watch that movie."

Eddie only shrugged, that casual slouch of his shoulder that you had become so accustomed to, and offered you a pretty smile.

“I would. But you wanted to see it. I'll suck it up, but only for you."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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dudeitiskarev · 22 days

Text

Almost Lover | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x ghost!female reader

Summary: You died right in front of him, yet you're still around.

Tags/warnings: death; grief; angst with a bit of humor.

Word count: 4.5k

Author's note: this is a repost from my AO3. Since I deactivated a while ago, I've been slowly, very slowly. reposting my fics on here 🥰 this piece is one of my favorites I've written so for those who haven't read it, I hope you like it! Flashbacks are in italics.

MASTERLIST

The night froze for a moment.

Like never before, you weren’t able to talk down the unsub, and your confident “we can talk about this” as you lowered your gun, became your last words – your last breath. They pulled the trigger — literally — and from that moment, everything happened in slow motion.

Yet the single gunshot that blared around was so damn fast. It broke the air on its way to you and went straight through your skull, killing you within half a second.

Nice and quick, you would’ve said.

“No.” Aaron’s ears started ringing; his eyes widened in disbelief and his gun slipped off his hand like sand at the same time your body dropped dead to the ground.

“Shots fired! Agent down!” JJ’s voice turned into a desperate scream.

�� No.

This must be one of Aaron’s nightmares; the ones that felt too real and woke him up covered in sweat; the ones that always made him call you in the middle of the night just to hear your voice and make sure you were alright, and the ones that sometimes ended up with you laying next to him because you wanted to be there when he fell asleep again.

The digital clock on his nightstand marked 4:47 AM. He’d been dozing on and off for the past hour since the nightmare but a gentle knock on his door awakened all of his senses.

“Aaron, it’s me.” Your voice came soft but loud enough from behind the door.

An instant sigh of relief dragged him out of bed to the front door. It wasn’t the first time you’d shown up unannounced at his place, but he still wondered, what the hell were you doing here at this time of the night? You hated driving at night.

He unlocked every lock and opened up for you. “Wha–?”

“You had a nightmare–” You interrupted him, walking in as if it was your own place “–Where I died so I came here to show you I’m very much alive.”

You toed off your shoes while tossing your coat on his couch right next to his.

“What?” You frowned, but he didn’t say a thing. He just stood there, staring at your very-much-alive self. You walked up to him and brushed the front pieces of his fluffy hair back. “Would a hug make you feel better?”

Everything you did and said was like a morning sunbeam sneaking through the blinds, bathing him with warmth. He smiled with his eyes and leaned down to you with lazy open arms, going for a tight hug where every piece of you locked and clicked together.

No.

Each step closer to you weakened, and the moment he reached your side, his knees gave up. His entire world froze right then, too. The pool of blood spreading around you was very much real, but that didn’t stop him from lifting half of your body off the floor to hold you in his arms.

There was no click.

This wasn’t happening. Not again.

“Somebody!” His heart-shattering voice echoed around, “Wake up, please.” He lightly tapped your still warm cheek as if you’d simply fainted; as if there wasn’t peace, crimson, and his own tears staining your face. “Oh, honey, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

There were no signs of you. You were just a body, and the only thing your team could do was end with the monster who had broken everyone’s heart.

No one – not even Reid – thought twice before shooting fire at the unsub, all at the same time. There was rage in every single bullet, and though it was morally wrong, in their eyes, making sure the guy was dead was the only right thing to do.

Derek’s gun was the first to run out of ammo and his muffled crying was the first one of all, too. “That son of a bitch!” His voice cracked between a sob, throwing his arms over his head in defeat. He was your running buddy, your go-to random hug, and personal hype man. The first one to notice when you got a haircut and the only one you’d had the chance to tell about your feelings for your Unit Chief.

Reid suspected those feelings, but he was waiting for an appropriate moment to ask you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Spencer rushed to the closest bush, spraying his dinner out of his mouth. Witnessing your life being taken away seemed to be the start of yet another rough patch that was gonna be hard to get out of. The connection you two had was cosmic – like no other; you were the sibling he didn’t know he needed beside him.

Too bad you walked into his life too late and only got to be his sister for three short years.

“Oh, god!” JJ’s voice had never sounded so terrified.“Oh my god!” She brought her shaky hands up to her mouth with wide eyes and just stood there, staring at the hole in your forehead. She was trying not to panic, but she’d started to hyperventilate already.

The air struggled to find its way to her lungs, and if it weren’t for Rossi’s ability to calm her down and Garcia’s loud voice through her earbud, she would’ve passed out right there next to you.

“JJ?!” Garcia yelled. Poor thing, she had no idea. “Oh god! Did wha-what happened? Hello?! Someone please talk to me!”

All she heard was the first gunshot that triggered the shootout. Now everyone’s crying had her at the edge of her seat.

Everyone’s but yours.

“Oh, no,” she mumbled to herself at the realization. “My girl. Is she gone? Is she…”

“Garcia, baby, I’m so sorry,” Derek tried to stop the tremble in his voice. “I’m so sorry. She’s–”

Penelope threw her headphones away before Morgan could finish his sentence and took off her glasses, covering her face with both hands as the tears streamed down her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to leave her. Ever. You’d planned your vacation already to London to visit Emily in just a few weeks.

God, Emily. How was Garcia supposed to tell her?

Your sudden death was evidence of god’s sick sense of humor. Putting Aaron in the exact same position again — holding the corpse of the love of his life as the vision of a less lonely future blended with gunpowder in the air – was the most fucked up joke.

You’d turned into a memory at the snap of a finger and from right then, everything was all a blur.

They ripped you off Aaron’s arms and put you inside a black bag to carry you to an ambulance – as if there was any point in doing so. He somehow made it to his apartment, got a glimpse of his clothes stained with blood – your blood – then found himself sitting on his couch as two familiar tiny hands shook him by the shoulders.

“Dad! are you okay?” Jack asked with worried, wide eyes. He was too mature for a ten-year-old and it was too soon for him to see his father broken again.

“I’m okay.” Aaron stood up, quickly drying his tears with the heel of his hand.

“Are you hungry? Aunt Jessica made us some food. I can put some in the microwave.”

“I’m okay, Buddy. It’s time for bed.”

Next thing he knew he was in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he could press the rewind button and time travel to any moment when he was around you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice got his attention. You were standing at his office door with two matching kitten mugs full of steaming coffee. “Do you have time to share some caffeine with me?”

He gave you a warm smile and put the papers aside. “Always.”

You’d made it a habit to bring him coffee in the middle of the day to remind him he needed to take a break. And since it became a regular thing, you had to give him a mug just because. He looked forward to your date-like breaks, and it boosted him with energy to finish everything on time, even when sometimes you two spent hours just talking.

You preferred to actually take him out of his office and go to the coffee shop two blocks away, but the one time you did it, he didn’t feel like going back to lock himself at the BAU, so the couch in his office had to do it.

You sat on it and tapped next to you, gesturing for him to join you.

“No cookies?” He asked with a smile as he plopped next to you.

“I thought I had some left.” You swung your legs over his thighs. “I’m pretty sure Reid stole the last package I had in my drawer.”

“Girl Scout cookies?”

“Caramel deLites.” You nodded.

“He just can’t resist them.” Hotch sipped on his coffee before getting up and reaching inside his drawer.

“You keep cookies too?” You laughed when he pulled out a pack.

“They’re not caramel deLites–” He sat next to you again and brought your legs back where they were over his “–But…”

“Thin Oreos are perfect.”

There was some sort of interrogation from Strauss at the BAU the next morning. She needed to know exactly what happened while the memories were still fresh.

Aaron was last, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; him relating the story of how his loved one ended up murdered yet again.

“I don’t see how any of this is funny, Aaron.” Erin slid down her glasses to the tip of her nose.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s funny either,” he said, and tried his best to suppress his laughter by hiding his mouth behind his hand, but his shoulder still shook.

Strauss paused the recorder and dismissed everyone that was there with a simple glance as she spoke to Hotch, “We’re gonna take a break.”

His laugh didn’t fade until he was all alone in the room and sooner than later it turned into silent angry tears. Grieving Aaron Hotchner was a whole different person. A version of himself he hoped he’d never have to be again but there he was, being suffocated by rage and guilt, even when he knew there was nothing he could’ve done to avoid what’d happened. He just wished there was a way to turn back time and trade places.

Everyone had a week off to mourn your loss after the interrogation. Not enough – no time would ever be enough – but work was work. Monsters were still killing people and the Bureau had already hung a picture of you on the wall of honor.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Penelope was the first one to say something.

The team was gathered in front of your image; your smile was contagious even through a photo.

“I know.” Morgan touched her shoulder with his and kissed her temple. “It’s gonna be hard living in a world without her.”

“I’m not ready.” Garcia wiped her tears and turned to face everyone. “I’m not ready to take down monsters without her.”

JJ smiled in an attempt to say something, but her voice wouldn’t come out. It could’ve been her picture on that wall, but you’d offered to talk to the unsub that night as if it was the most mundane thing. She wouldn’t even dare to look at Aaron afraid she’d crumble and say I’m sorry a thousand times.

Hotch blinked away his tears and clenched his jaw, staring at your picture. He wasn’t ready to keep living without you, yet he said, “We have to. She would want us to,” trying to convince himself in a way. He walked away to lock himself up in his office and stopped by your desk on his way there.

It was intact and your presence lingered as if you’d just gotten up to refill your mug with coffee. Your chair still had the wrinkled pillow you’d brought on your second day because you couldn’t handle sitting there with a numb butt, and the small heater you used to keep your feet warm was still plugged under the desk.

You always said it was important to decorate your workspace like it was a piece of your bedroom. It helped you perform better, you’d say, and had convinced everyone to follow that advice – even Hotch.

“Excuse me.” A janitor approached Hotch and placed an empty box on your desk.

“What are you doing?” Aaron used his arm as a barrier to stop the man from picking up your stuff.

“Clearing up this desk.”

“Hey!” The click-clack of Penelope’s high heels came running from behind. “Don’t touch her stuff!”

“We need the space,” the janitor said.

“No, we don’t.” Hotch returned the box to him. “As far as I know we haven’t hired any new agent.”

“Look, I’m just doing what I was told.”

“Leave it as it is.” Hotch glared at him. “I’m gonna talk to whoever told you we needed the space.”

“It must have been Strauss.” Derek’s jaw clenched.

“How can she be so cold,” Penelope stared at Hotch walking across to room.

It was known that Strauss didn’t like you, so Hotch hurried into his office to just toss his briefcase and go confront Erin, but the moment he stepped in, his body stiffened.

The room was cold, and the silhouette he caught from the corner of his eye, sitting on his couch, made his heart drop to his stomach.

“Hey, boss.”

That was your voice, and your scent was in the air all of a sudden.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t happening. The lack of sleep was too much. It was definitely that.

But when he turned the lights on and you were still there, it didn’t seem like craziness.

“What? Did you see a ghost or something?”

That was definitely you.

“Shut the door,” you continued, “it’s getting cold in here.”

Still in disbelief, he obeyed but couldn’t dare to look straight at you. Your presence was strong and he was sure it was his brain playing tricks on him because it’d happened before. A long time ago when his father died. He’d see the man at school, though he was never brave enough to reach out and actually exchange words with him like you were doing right now. He wished it would’ve happened with Haley so he could have heard her voice and held her hand one last time, but she never showed up.

Part of him had hoped it’d happen with you too at some point. And there you were.

He made his way to his chair and just stood there for a second before sitting. Then he finally dared to look at you.

God, that was actually you.

You were wearing the exact same clothes you had on the day you died — a purple T-shirt and the cargo pants you borrowed from Emily once but never returned — just not stained with blood and not a single wrinkle in sight. You hated ironing your clothes.

“Have you missed me?” You folded your arms over your chest and walked across the room, sitting on the chair in front of him.

“Yes.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I know you’re not ready for me to leave you.”

The softness of your voice reached his soul, and a knot started to appear in his throat. “I didn’t get to tell you that I loved you.” His voice shook.

“Well, you weren’t very subtle about it.” You rose from the chair and walked to the other side of the desk, leaning on it right next to him, and reached for his hand.

You were warm. He looked up at you and caught the comfort of your eyes. If you weren’t real, why did looking into your eyes still give him butterflies?

“This isn’t real,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes. “I’m going crazy.”

“Now that would be romantic.” There was a twitch of a smile on his lips at your playful tone. You always managed to make him smile in one way or another. “Would a kiss make you feel better?”

He’d kissed you only once – the night before you died – so he knew how soft and sweet your lips were. He looked up at you and right when he was going to say yes, you leaned down and kissed his lips.

This kiss was different, though. It was painful because he was sure you were part of his imagination. He tried to put those feelings aside – take his insanity as a blessing in disguise – and lifted his hand to cup your face, but a single knock on his door seemed to scare you, and before it swung open, you vanished into thin air.

“Aaron.” Strauss stormed in. “Is there a reason why you’re refusing to clear her desk?”

He rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to compose himself. “I need to talk to her family first. See who will take care of her things. Out of respect.” He stressed the last word to show how out of line her behaviour was.

Erin widened her eye, as a threat, almost. “You have one day.” Erin glared at him and left the room.

Hotch sighed deeply.

It was the faintest kiss, but it was you.

Most nights at the BAU were lonely; since you were gone, that solitude pierced bones. It’d been four months already and it was still unreal to the team.

Especially to Spencer.

He used to pull all-nighters with you by his side, and while he played chess on his own, you finished the paperwork you left until the last minute. He still stayed until late these days, just not as often nor until the sun rose.

You missed him too, and now, all you could do was mess with him hoping he’d at least feel the ghost of you.

“Uh.” Spencer quickly snapped his hand off the chess board when a piece slowly moved on its own.

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the board again. And you moved a piece, again.

“What the– not again?”

“You okay?” Hotch’s voice came loud and out of nowhere, making Spencer jump on his seat. His heart almost leaped out of his chest; he had to make sure it was still there, placing his hand over it.

“Did– did you see that?” Reid’s voice got a bit higher than it normally was.

“See what?” Aaron walked up to him with a subtle smirk.

“Nothing.” Spencer frowned. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s almost four AM.” He glanced at his watch.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Spencer frowned his lips.

“We may have a case,” Hotch continued. “So don’t leave.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Spencer lowered his voice, looking around.

Hotch gave you a quick glance ordering you to follow him on his way to his office.

“Haunting Reid isn’t very nice,” he told you as soon as he shut the door behind you.

“I was bored.” You put on an innocent face and gave him a guilty smile. “Waiting for you. And he needs to stop staying here until so late, so I was doing him a favor.” You sat on his desk and swung your feet back and forth as he settled on his chair. “You’re here earlier than our usual time.”

“We may have a case.” He looked up at you.

“It’s Jack’s birthday next week.” You mentioned. “Are we gonna do something special for him?”

“Jessica and I are taking him to this star wars convention.”

“That sounds fun. Can I go?”

You went wherever he went, even flew with him for cases, but you still asked for his permission. You were a distraction, so you tried to stay on the margins when you knew he needed all of his focus.

That’s why you enjoyed plane rides the most.

Everyone still sat on their usual seat on the jet, and your spot next to Hotch remained empty so you still sat there, quiet.

“You’ve been seeing her,” Rossi said as he sat on the seat across from Aaron.

“Sorry?” Hotch lifted his eyes from his folder.

“It happened to me when Carolyn died. I’d see her around, even talk to her at times. I was worried it might have been an illness or something.” He waved his hand in the hair. “It wasn’t. I can give you the name of my doctor.”

He didn’t admit it but didn’t deny it either.

The jet took off and Rossi didn’t mention it again until they landed.

“Are you thinking about going to the doctor?” You asked him when no one was around.

“I love having you around.” He stared into the void. ”But this isn’t normal.”

That hurt a bit, but you still stayed by his side during the entire case and were there for his doctor’s appointment as soon as you made it back in Quantico, too.

“You’re grieving, agent,” the doctor started. “It is a rare way of grieving but it happens. I can medicate you to help get rid of it, but you also need to work on it.”

Whatever that meant, Aaron wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to get rid of you, but something scared you that day and you stopped being around as often. You weren’t at the BAU and the usual time to spend some time alone with him, and you weren’t there for Jack’s birthday as you’d said you wanted to.

Not as your usual self, anyway.

They’d just gotten back from the Star Wars convention and something was slightly off about his apartment.

“No way!” Jack screeched with excitement. There was a dog on the couch. “ You got me a puppy?!” He ran to the little dog who waved its tail with the same enthusiasm.

“You got him a puppy?” Jess subtly asked Hotch

“No? Did you?”

Neither said a thing and stared at the wholesome sight of happy Jack.

Hotch wasn’t sure to what extent the “anything is possible” was possible for those who belonged to the hereafter, but something told him the puppy was your magic work.

“My cheeks hurt from smiling so much!” Jack laughed as the puppy licked his face. “Can I name her?”

How could Aaron say no to that? He didn’t want to crush his son’s dream and tell him the dog wasn’t supposed to be there, so they did a quick run to the store to buy some dog food and helped Jack build a tiny bed for her in his bedroom instead.

“Can she stay forever?” Jack asked. He’d already mastered the puppy-dog eyes.

“We’ll see.” Hotch tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, buddy.”

He gave the puppy one last scratch on its chin and went to bed too, though it already seemed like it was going to be one of those nights where the sleep never came.

The bed sank next to him at two AM, making him lose track of how many sheep he was counting. There you were with a sad look.

“Where have you been?” He asked you in a murmur.

“I don’t want you to think I’m here because there’s something wrong with you.” You whispered.

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you go to the doctor?”

“To rule it out.” He caressed your cheek. “But you’re clearly not part of my imagination. You’re here.”

“Something’s holding me back.” You gulped. “I need you to help me get to the other side. I need to know you’re going to be okay without me.”

Only then he noticed you didn’t want to be there, to begin with.

“I’m sorry we won’t be growing old together,” you continued. “That we won’t give Jack any siblings and Jess more nephews, but I will always be by your side, taking care of you three. Always. And I’ll be waiting for you, Aaron. You were my greatest love, even when I won’t be yours, and I’m sorry. ”

“I’ll be okay.” He tried to swallow the lump on his throat and brought you close into a tight hug. “You go. I’m gonna be alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I love you,” you sobbed into his chest.

“God, I love you, too. I always will.”

It was like the old times when a nightmare woke him up, but this time he was so damn scared to fall asleep because he knew you weren’t going to be there when he woke up. So he cherished the moment and held you until you leaped into his dreams forever.

You stopped showing up, but you weren’t gone. He’d get a whiff of you while he made himself some coffee, and would stop for a moment to close his eyes and take you in. He’d still feel your presence around, at the BAU, at your favorite donut shop, and in his car when a song you liked came on the radio.

You were everywhere. He still didn’t know how to move on, but knew he had to let it happen naturally.

Time went by; he started to forget the sound of your voice, the trees lost their leaves and grew new ones through the seasons. His heart healed eventually, too, and the love he once had for life sparked again.

“I’m not sure if we can keep here any longer,” Hotch said, staring at Chewie who had grown into her ears and started to make the apartment look small.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, putting the harness on her and pulling her close to him.

“We may need a new house.” Aaron opened the front door for them, ready to take her on a walk. “But the park will have to do it for now. Let’s go.”

Those walks in the park became the best part of Aaron’s day. They kept his mind busy and they might have boosted a new chapter in his life…

“Ah! Look at them!” Haley clapped with excitement. Turns out you weren’t the only one looking after them. “Aren’t they cute.”

You stood next to her with your arms folded over your chest and admired how Chewie played cupid by stomping on this woman’s picnic.

“So sorry,” Aaron approached her while Jack tried to catch the leash.

“You are a beautiful girl,” the woman said, letting Chewie lick her face all over.

That was her, Aaron’s greatest love.

“Did you know I was gonna die?” you asked Haley.

“I did.” She turned to you. “But there was nothing I could’ve done. Life… it’s an odd thing. We don’t get to choose anything.” Haley stared at her husband and son again. “Everything is written already.”

“She won’t die tragically like we did, will she?” Haley twitched her mouth. “She will?!”

“I’m just kidding.” She dismissively waved a hand with a laugh and began to walk away. “You can stop worrying too much about him now! She’s got him!”

“Where are you going?!” You hurried behind her, throwing one last look over your shoulder. “Wait up!”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will.

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house.

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage.

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear.

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn’t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove.

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you.

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud.

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness.

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing.

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here)

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor. You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut.

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag.

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands.

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence.

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

#ikea writes 💚#cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #nikto #nikto cod #dark fic #cod nikto #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto

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optimist-pine · 3 months

Text

Mercy

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Animal death

Summary: Daryl watches you hunt and he's left with a question he can't answer.

Era: Season 2, the farm

A/n: Haha this was supposed to be fluff under the title Archer. It's flangst now... Whoopsie.

Daryl doesn't know what drives him to do it. Maybe it's simply boredom. More likely though, it's his growing desire to learn - to study you, study your technique. Maybe he's already impressed and all that's left is to see you in action.

That's how he finds himself following you into the woods on this freshly arrived morning. He keeps his distance but it's not very difficult to keep track of you, your pace and direction consistent and reliable. When you do stop he finds himself watching with rapt attention.

The way you wait is as reverent as a prayer. Your stance never shifting, arms steady and strong, posture perfect. Images of those ancient marble sculptures cross his mind, their bodies crafted into fine-tuned instruments. If he didn't know better, he'd say that the forest has gone still; nothing - not even the breeze - makes a move. The world has gone quiet, like even the animals are holding their breath.

Then your arrow flies and the earth returns to life in full force, that is, everything except for one rabbit who has become quite still. Your arrow has pierced its eye with extreme precision, but he's not surprised. Every piece of game you've ever brought back has been taken down that exact same way.

You collect the rabbit, removing and cleaning your arrow before continuing on deeper into the woods. Daryl doesn't mean to follow, but something spurs him onward. He's never really cared much for art, but if that's what you are, call him a damn aficionado. He's fascinated.

It takes a little while, but you suddenly pause. He spots the reason why - a large gray squirrel clings to the bark of a nearby tree, tail twitching. You take aim, graceful and smooth. But then, like last time, you hold your stance for one breath, then a second, and suddenly the squirrel quirks its head and bolts. He expects you to show at least some disappointment, but you simply let down your bow and continue on.

This happens a few more times; you find your prey, ready your bow, and then wait. Sometimes you loose your arrow and other times you practically allow the animal to get away. This time you have your aim trained on a rather large rabbit, probably a buck. It turns, ready to run, and Daryl can tell you aren't going to shoot this one, so he does. As soon as his bolt hits its target your entire body pivots.

He immediately finds himself at the business end of your bow, but the sharpness of your glare currently feels like the larger threat. "Are you following me?" You ask, lowering your weapon. The glare remains, although it seems to be softening.

You'll know he's lying if he says he isn't, but he doesn't want to admit that he is. "Why d'yuh wait, when ya got'um in your sights?" He blurts out.

You place the arrow back in your quiver with a sigh. "You are following me."

"Jus' curious." He shrugs.

You look up to the sky. "Dunno... Don't like killing things." Your gaze lands on the dead rabbit laying a little ways away. "Figure I'll give 'em one last chance to keep on livin'."

He lets out a snort. Hunting is a way to secure a meal, not some moralistic nonsense. "So, yer like a damn fairytale princess or somethin'?" He asks. "Bes' friends wi'the woodland creatures an'all that?" He waves his hands around for emphasis.

Your face hardens. "It'd be different if we really needed the food." You say sternly, turning to stalk away, back towards the farm. He grabs the now-joined rabbit and bolt and jogs after you, but you're moving at a surprisingly quick clip, dodging branches and roots with ease.

When he's nearly caught up, you stop suddenly and he barely avoids plowing straight into you. You whip around to face him and he instinctively takes a step back. But you're not angry, at least not in the way that he was expecting. He'd been prepared for a slap in the face, not the deep sadness in your eyes. "Feels like some sorta mercy I guess." You say quietly.

He doesn't feel bad about what he said, but your answer catches him off guard. The world is as cruel and as harsh as it's ever been. It doesn't care who lives and who dies, and it sure as hell isn't handing out second chances. "Not much'a that goin' around righ' now." He replies solemnly.

"I don't wanna turn into someone who loses that." Your voice is soft and almost pleading and it pulls at something buried within him.

With a jolt he's thrown into his own past. He knows what that loss does to a person, how much of his life he's spent terrified of becoming that. You're beginning to make a little more sense now. "Yuh, won't." He assures.

---

As time passes, when you do desperately need the food and mercy is barely a reality, Daryl finds himself fighting to protect yours. When the two of you hunt, he insists you take point, that you stick to the way you did things that day at the farm. He'll be right behind you, your backup, he'll do what you shouldn't have to. That part of you - that's something that can't afford to ever be lost. He'll do everything in his power to see to that.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 2 #optimist pine

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underoossss · 7 months

Text

Driving Lessons — S.H

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: none

masterlist

an: hi everyone! here’s a new fluffy fic for you. best friends to lovers goodness to brighten your weekend. I dedicate this to everyone who like me was terrified when they learned how to drive and those who don’t drive bc it’s scary af. steve is just so sweet and perfect and I think he’d be a wonderful teacher specially if he has a crush on you. I hope you enjoy! Pls let me know if you liked this!

The doorbell rings just as you finish getting ready. It’s a sunny summer morning and you decided to fight off the heat with a white dress with tiny pink roses printed on it, a denim vest and converse. You check the clock by your bed and as always Steve is right on time.

You’d woken up with a start this morning from a terrible nightmare you don’t want to think about. Steve had an angry wound on the side of his abdomen and was in no state to drive. He needed your help, but you don’t know how to drive, so you were helpless to do anything else but to press his own t-shirt against the wound. The same desperation haunted you all through breakfast and gave you the push you needed to face your fears. Driving. You’re going to learn, no matter how much panic it causes you.

That’s why Steve is here, you called him earlier and agreed to meet here at noon. And punctual as ever, he’s already waiting on the porch. You heart drums loudly inside your chest, excited to see your friend, your best friend, and object of all your affection. Though no one needs to know the last part.

You open the door, and the pitter patter of your heart gets out of control no matter how much you try to remind it that he’s your friend. Nothing more. Steve looks sun kissed by the summer sun and beautiful as always, with various freckles standing out across his face. Broad shoulders in a white t-shirt and light washed jeans that fit him just right, his old Cortez shoes and usual brown watch. You hate him, and you love him so much.

“Hi Stevie.” Your smile breaks free as you greet him with a hug.

“Hey you.” Steve’s smile is clear in his voice as his arms go around you. It’s a tight hug and soon enough, he’s lifting you off the ground and spinning you around.

You laugh as he sets you down on the ground. “Someone’s happy.”

“How can I not be? I’m spending the day with you.” Steve smiles brightly, “What’s this you have to ask me? Got me nervous all the way here.”

You shake your head; how can you not be crazy about him when he’s so damn sweet with you. You decide to tackle his question instead. “Why would you be nervous?”

“I wasn’t sure if we need to hide a dead body.” He shrugs.

“Not today.” You play along with a fake frown and smile when it makes Steve laugh. A moment later you turn shy under his gaze when it lingers on your face. “Okay I called you because I need you to teach me how to drive. Please.”

“How to drive?” Steve’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead as his brown eyes widen. “You got tired of me already sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the nickname, and hit his shoulder softly; Steve takes that same wrist and holds on to swing your hands between you. It endears you and makes you love him a little bit more, it’s only noon. “You hurt me.” He says all drama as always.

“No, Stevie.” You tilt your head towards your shoulder, choosing not to tell him about last night’s nightmare. “I just want to learn in case there’s an emergency or something.” When Steve’s eyes soften, you look away.

“Okay,” He says quietly, then tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want to start right now?” Steve asks you, completely unaware of the fact that you’ve stopped breathing.

“God, no. I’m scared.” You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your heart hurts at his soft gesture. “I was going to suggest ice cream first.”

Steve smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulder pulling you to his side as he leads both of you to his parked car in the driveway. “Alright, ice cream first. You look beautiful by the way.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and shake his head. “Is this you trying to get me to pay?”

Steve only laughs and rolls his eyes.

“First things first, seat belt.” Steve glances behind you with a nod of his head. The two of you are sitting in his car, but while he’s always in the drivers seat, he’s the passenger today.

You turn around and bring the seat belt across your torso before it clicks into place once fastened. “Okay.”

Steve scratches his chin and you watch for only a second before looking ahead, no distractions. “Now, adjust the mirrors; you should see everything with the rear view mirror and the front door’s handle with your other two. I’ll move this one for you.” He reaches out of the car and brings it forward a tiny bit until you nod.

“Alright that’s good.” You do the same with the one on your right before wiping your hands on your dress. You take a shaky breath and look back at Steve. “Now what?”

Steve’s grinning when you meet his eyes and shakes his head briefly. He nods towards the keys hanging from the ignition switch. “Now you turn on the car.”

Panic bubbles deep in your stomach but you nod anyway, pushing through the many anxious thoughts in your head. This is why you never made it past a single lesson during driver’s ed, your fear. What if you crash the car, hurt someone, hurt Steve? You’re grateful that your hand doesn’t shake when it turns the key, bringing the car to life.

“Hey,” Steve says, and you look over at him to find him smiling at you. “You’re doing great.”

“Thank you, Stevie.” You swallow down the rising panic inside your chest as you look at the steering wheel. At least Steve’s car isn’t mechanic. Steve points at the pedals by your feet which makes you focus again.

“Right one’s accelerator, and the left one’s the break.” Steve explains. “The car’s in park now so it won't move even if you hit the gas.” He looks up at you to make sure you’re okay to go on and you give him a half nod. “If you break and change the gear to Drive, then it’ll move.”

“What?” You ask him when he glances at you expectantly.

Steve motions to the gear stick behind the wheel with his head. It’s time, you guess and swallow hard, pressing down the break pedal and shifting the car to drive. You can feel your heart pounding in your ears, and your hands break a sweat. Trying to push through though, you take your foot off the breaks and accelerate slowly, but it only seems to make your panic worse. The car only moves about 8 feet before you stop and put it back on Park, shutting your eyes tightly. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Steve reaches over and shuts down the engine before turning towards you. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asks you softly, a hand on your shoulder. It rubs down your arm gently and grabs one of your hands from the steering wheel. “Talk to me, what happened?”

“I’m sorry I panicked.” You confess, keeping your eyes shut. “This is scary.”

“Okay.” You open your eyes to see Steve nod, gaze full of concern as it meets yours. “Want to tell me what scares you?”

Taking your seat belt off you turn towards him and rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Stevie, what if I crash your car and we both end up hurt.”

You feel Steve take a deep breath and his hand let go of yours in favour of running up and down your back. “That won’t happen.”

“You don’t know that.” You mumble with a shake of his head.

“I do.” Steve counters, pushing on your shoulder gently to look into your eyes. “We’re only going to turn right and drive to the dead end, nothing crazy. No cars will hit you, babe, you know it’s a quiet road.”

You look out the windshield towards the road in question. No one ever drives by, just the three homeowners who live in the dead end, but they’ve already left for the day. If that’s the only practice you’ll have today, you think you can manage to keep your fear in check.

“There we go.” Steve smiles triumphantly when you nod in determination. “Ready?”

“Yes.” You click your seat belt into place and turn on the car.

Just as Steve promised, you only go back and forth from your house to the dead end. He’s patient and gentle as he gives various instructions, when to break and when to accelerate. He guides you through the u-turn and how to back up when you mess up said u-turn. The initial paralyzing dread fades to manageable nerves as 45 minutes go by, and smile when Steve gives you a knowing look.

“Feeling more confident?” He asks as you park in your driveway once more.

“Yeah, a bit.” You let out a deep breath and nod. “I know I’m safe if I’m with you, Steve.”

“You are.” Steve mirrors your nod and clears his throat, then motions towards his door. “Come on, let’s switch. We’re renting a movie so you can relax.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Stevie, it’s so early.” You mumble, opening your front door at 6am on a Saturday. You look up at him, he looks just as sleepy as you but handsome as always. His hair is a mess of chocolate waves, and the light blue polo he wears with his jeans looks great on him. An outfit so basic shouldn’t look so good; it’s his shoulders you think, they make those damn polos look gorgeous on him.

“Well, you’re the one scared of driving.” Steve’s voice brings you back to the present. “If we go right now, the streets will be all yours. It’ll help with your nerves.”

“I’m sure, it’s the crack of dawn during summer after all.” You joke, sleepiness slowly leaving your body. A smile takes over your face at Steve’s sheepish expression and you can’t help but lean in for a hug. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You know, people aren’t supposed to look so pretty at 6am.” Steve says, stepping back and meeting your eyes. You heart drops to your stomach for a moment at his words and you look down at your clothes. Black denim shorts, converse, and a sweatshirt.

“You really need some glasses, Steve.” You chuckle, bumping your shoulder into his as you walk towards his car.

“My eyesight is perfect, babe.” Steve gives you a wink that leaves you flustered and trying to understand what’s happening. “Come on.” He places the keys to his car on your hand and opens the passenger door.

Steve lounges back on his seat, pointing towards the direction he thinks you should go. He tells you when to break, what to do in an intersection and the roads you should avoid at a normal hour. Like he said, all of Hawkins is asleep and there’s not a single car on sight as you drive through the town. He was right, the nerves and awful dread you felt the first time you tried to drive his care are gone as you drive the empty streets; no one’s gonna hit you because no one’s here. The radio stays off though, you’re not a professional yet and the music only distracts you. There’s no way you’re crashing because you were singing to Blondie.

“You’re doing amazing.” Steve says, and you control your reaction to his praise. Knowing you’re doing a good job makes you feel giddy inside, so you glance at him quickly with a smile. “Pull into that parking lot right there. I think we can practice parking today.”

“Okay, good cause there are no cars for me to run into.” You joke, looking at Steve and laughing when he frowns. He doesn’t like you doubting yourself, right. “I’m kidding, Stevie.” You check your mirror, and turn the blinker on before you make a turn towards the parking lot. The concrete floor is deserted and fifty-something empty spaces stare back at you.

“Now what?”

“Okay,” Steve sits up straighter and rubs his chin, deep in thought. You can imagine the way his eyes light up when the idea finally comes to him. “Now you have to sort of turn away from the parking spot then turn back in.”

It sounds like gibberish for a moment before you go over his words and catch on to his explanation. Still, how can you pass up an opportunity to tease him?

“Real good explanation, Steve. Super clear.” You chuckle with an eye roll. “But I think I know what you mean.” Following his instructions, you drive the car towards the right before turning left and moving between the two white lines in front of you. At least that’s your intention, but what you end up doing is driving over one of the lines –taking two spaces.

“Come on don’t make that face, it’s your first try.” Steve shakes his head taps the dashboard. “Check the rear-view and backup. You got it.”

You do as Steve says and try to park on the spot next to you, turning a little more to the right so when you drive into the empty space, you’re perfectly parked in between both lines. “There! I did it!” You cheer, putting the car on park and turning to Steve. “Ha!”

He’s smiling too, celebrating this small win and high-fiving you. Steve’s fingers intertwine with yours and keep your hands in his hold, giving them a tight squeeze. There’s happiness and affection shining in his eyes –brown and beautiful and a little sleepy from how early it is– making your blood fizzy under your skin and your body feel like it’s glowing. There’s no one in this world like him, someone who is your cheerleader and makes you feel this happy and safe. And in love.

But the glint in his eye tells you he’s going to say something; you definitely missed something. “You didn’t check the right-side mirror babe; a car can come from your right, and you could’ve crashed into them.”

“Ugh!” You lean you head back on the headrest and look at the roof. Defeat washes over you, there’s so many rules to this driving gig; just when you think you’ve got it right, it’s actually the opposite. Your hands cover your face. “Fucking mirrors.”

Steve laughs next to you, a warm and beautiful sound that wipes away your frown as he shakes his head. His hand takes one yours again a moment later and gives it a squeeze. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Glancing to your right at him you feel your heart dance in your chest at his soft smile. His eyes dance around your face in a way you can’t really describe, and it flusters you beyond words. You smile at him though, ignoring the acrobatics your stomach is performing and the feelings rising to the surface once more. He’s your friend and he’s helping you, nothing more. Don’t make it something it’s not.

Steve is the one who breaks the moment first, eyes going back towards the dashboard. His hand lets go in favour of motioning towards the steering wheel. “Come on, let’s keep practising.”

“Can we go get coffee after?” You ask as you spot the sun beginning to rise in the distance.

“Anything for you babe, you just gotta learn how to park.” Steve settles back on his seat and you look out your window to bite back your smile. He’s got to stop talking to you so sweetly.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Can they please stop honking!” You mutter. The burning orange of the setting sun is shining through the trees and painting the dark asphalt in front of you as you drive by. It would be beautiful if not for the car that’s been tailgating you for five minutes now. To say you’re frustrated at the incessant sound of its honking would be an understatement, you’re sweating buckets, and you can hear your pulse in your ears. Your shoulders are tense and pulled tight towards your ears and there’s nothing you wish more than to arrive to Steve’s place. “Stevie.” You plead, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Ignore them, you’re doing great.” Comes Steve’s easy response, but he still checks the rear-view mirror and glares at the car behind you. “Of course, it’s some dude in a truck.” You hear him mutter as he shakes his head.

“I’m sweating, I told you I can’t drive on this road yet.” You complain, rolling your shoulders back to ease the tension. “But no, you had to insist.”

“Well, you had to eventually, babe.” Steve shrugs leaning towards the window and looking at you. Then after a sigh, he adds, “Nothing’s going to happen, relax alright.”

Another loud honk helps you do the opposite.

“Tell him to fuck off.” You groan, glancing at the truck behind you. Great now he’s flicking his headlights at you. “I’m literally driving at the speed limit.”

Steve shakes his head and motions to the road ahead, where the lane splits into two. “You’re fine, look, he can drive past you now.” Right on cue the truck accelerates and drives by, letting you breathe. Your shoulders sag, and when you spot a dinner in the distance you finally relax. There’s no way you’re driving the rest of the way.

“Okay, you’re switching places with me. I’ll try again tomorrow.” You announce after a sigh.

You turn the blinker on, and perfectly park on a free spot before shutting off the car and getting out. You look at the setting summer sun and breathe in to calm down, at least you made it halfway to Steve’s. Even the shirt you’re wearing feels stifling and your back is sweaty, so you take it off, which leaves you in a black tank top. “That made me age like 70 years.”

You look to your left and find Steve looking at you in that way you both hate and secretly love. He’s leaning against the car, arms crossed in front of him, and his eyes have gone soft. They linger on you, like he loves watching you, like you’re his favourite sight. But is it him or you projecting that? What does that mean, Steve, what is this look? You shake your head and look away; he always looks so handsome in the golden hour, you can’t catch a break. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, stop apologizing.” He rolls his eyes, sounding exasperated but fond as he offers you a hug. You’re quick to step into his arms and relax against him, you stand no chance when it comes to Steve. He calls and you’ll always answer. Though you wish for nothing more than to bury your face in his neck and breathe him in, let yourself melt against him, you don’t. That it would be weird and you’re just friends. “You, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and hug him tighter. “Yeah, I just wish I didn’t get so nervous.” It’s been like this a few days, you stopping and getting out of the car; it’s frustrating and a big blow to your confidence every time. “

“You know I don’t mind driving you, right?” Steve mumbles against your hair, his thumbs rubbing circles on your lower back. “If this is stressing you out too much we can stop, I’m happy to drive you anywhere.”

“I know that, Stevie.” You whisper as you close your eyes, deciding to tell him about your dream. “But I had a nightmare the other week, we were in the middle of nowhere, you were really hurt and I couldn’t drive you to the hospital. It was horrible but it made me realise if that happened, I wouldn’t be able to help and I don’t want that.”

“Babe.” Steve sighs, his hands pressing firmly up and down your back. “That won’t happen, it was just a bad dream.”

“I know, but in the off chance that it happens, I want to know that I can help you, Stevie.” You say, shutting your eyes tightly as the image of a hurt Steve comes back. There’s no way you’re losing him over something as simple as driving.

“Alright, we’ll see this through then.” Steve breathes out, holding you for a moment longer before he places a kiss to your temple and steps back. His beaming smile is back on his face, to ease your nerves, you’re sure; it works. “Let’s go, the ice cream’s going to melt. Good job today.”

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

“Are you sure?” You ask Steve on a Monday morning, one month of practice later you’re ready to take your driving test. Steve Harrington is offering you his car for the test.

“Of course, babe.” Steve shrugs and hands you his keys. “Let’s go get that license.”

You want to smile at him, thank him for how wonderful he’s been but there’s a sadness creeping into your heart and it casts a shadow over your joy. No more lessons after today. Steve is probably sick of you already. You, on the other hand, don’t want this to end, you want to spend more time with him. Hell, you want to spend all of your time with him. Steve notices your frown and steps closer to you, his hand reaches for yours.

“What’s wrong?” A gentle squeeze.

You let go of his hand and lie. “Nothing, I’m just nervous.” With a half-hearted chuckle you leave his side and walk towards his car. “We should get going.”

The drive towards Hawkins High is quiet, with you concentrating and ignoring your aching heart and Steve looking out his window. It’s still early and the town is quiet around you when you drive by. You’ve come so far since your first day and this is where it ends, with you coming closer to Steve after all those hours spent together –something you didn’t think could be possible. Now you’re trying to think of excuses to continue the driving lessons but come up empty handed. Maybe this was all a mistake, the worst mistake, for now your feelings are all over the place and the words I’m in love with you are on the tip of your tongue.

Your favourite song comes on the radio, and you don’t pay it any mind; you can see Steve look at you in surprise from the corner of your eye. Then, because he’s wonderful, the most wonderful and caring boy, he reaches for your hand and squeezes it tightly.

“Hey, I know you’re scared.” He says gently, “And I know me saying this doesn’t help but…”

Steve takes a deep breath, and you squeeze his hand again before he continues. “I’m not lying when I say you’re ready, so please relax this is your favourite song.”

With a quick glance at him, a grin breaks free and soon you’re laughing as Steve turns up the volume and sings loudly. “There’s a room where the light won’t find you! Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down!”

You laugh and smile and sing with him, letting nerves and aborted confessions slide off your back for now. “When they do, I’ll be right behind you!”

The two of you continue to drive like that, happy and carefree and clutching the other’s hand –like you’re unwilling to let go– until the song ends right as you arrive at the high school. Your smile is replaced by a frown and you glance at Steve as you spot the evaluator. He’s a middle-aged man wearing a plaid shirt and khaki pants, black rimmed glasses are perched on top of his nose, and a mustache sits over a deep frown. “He looks so grumpy.”

“Well, it’s 9am on a Saturday.” Steve says simply, “He probably hates you.”

Your eyes widen and you glare at your friend. “Steve!”

When he laughs you shove his shoulder and roll your eyes. Leave it to him to be a jerk when you’re already nervous. “Get out, the faster we’re done the better.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve turns on his seat to face you and his hands move to hold your face. Your next breath catches on your throat at his actions as you look into his lovely brown eyes. They’re full of faith in you, encouraging you with only one look. “Good luck.” He whispers as his thumb rubs at the apple of your cheek. Brown eyes drift down to your lips, and Steve’s face leans the tiniest bit closer to yours. Is he going to…?

Then just as fast as it happens, he’s stepping out of the car; you feel the ghost of his touch burns your skin. Not a moment later, the evaluator gets into the car.

“Seatbelt.” You mutter, watching Steve’s retreating figure head towards the bench by the entrance. Is there a tiny chance that Steve feels the same way about you?

“Let’s start.” The man next to you grumbles, snapping you back into action.

Your mind is half present on the test and half wondering about what just happened. Following your usual route through town, you come to a conclusion. Of two facts you’re absolutely sure. One: You’re hopelessly in love with Steve, and a moment ago you thought he would absolutely kiss you. The other, well the man sitting next to you hasn’t said a single word since the test started. His only instructions were Just drive. And so, you drive. Every time you try to ask something he shakes his head, so after a few turns around main street, you go back to the school.

You heave a sigh as you parallel park and shut down the engine. “Well?”

“Passed.” The evaluator hands you a slip of paper with your test without another word. You don’t care as you thank him quickly and run out of the car, towards Steve.

“Stevie!” You yell, meeting him halfway as he run towards you, and waving the piece of paper frantically. “I passed!”

“Babe! I told you so!” His arms are around you a moment later, holding you tightly and lifting you off the ground just like the day your quest for a driver’s license started. You hold onto him just as tightly, laughing against his shirt as he spins you around. “Told you, you could do it!”

When you’re back on the ground and look up at Steve, the same joy you’re feeling is shining back from his beautiful brown eyes. All the same emotions including love, in the very same way it sparkles whenever you’re looking at him. Your best friend who’s also so kind-hearted and amazing, and so devastatingly handsome, you never stood a chance against falling for him. This is who you love, who you want. The man who woke up at 6 in the morning to teach you how to drive, who chased off your fears and cheered on your wins with hugs and sweet milkshakes; the one who never once lost his temper, no matter how much you messed up. Steve who let you use his car.

“It's all thanks to you.” You whisper, hand going to his cheek and drifting upwards towards his hair. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“You know I would do anything for you.” Is all he says, his voice matching yours.

You nod, smiling a teary smile when your emotions overflow. “I love you so much, you have no idea. And I know it’s stupid but I don’t want to stop spending all that time with you just ‘cause I passed my test.”

“I think you don’t know this, but,” Steve smiles disarming you in a second as he leans closer to you. “I’m crazy about you, babe, I want to be with you all the time.”

“Really?” Your voice is breathless as you lean closer.

“Would I wake up at the crack of dawn just to see you, if I didn’t?” His lips are so close to yours you can feel your breath mingling. Then after a pause, he whispers softly, “I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes you close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s a short press of lips before Steve’s hands hold your face to kiss you better, angling your faces in the perfect way to deepen the kiss. He takes your bottom lip between his, your hands run through his hair, and the brush of his lips is as soft and as urgent as you dreamed they would be. How many times have you imagined this exact moment and still be so unprepared thing. Kissing Steve is wonderful, it’s perfect, it feels like drinking stardust and glowing from within. You can tell how much both of you have wanted this from the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume you; the fact that it’s taken you so long makes you giggle against his mouth.

“What?” Steve asks against the corner of your lips, unwilling to pull away.

“Nothing,” You shake your head, stepping back and looking up at him. “I’m just so happy.”

His gaze goes impossibly softer as he looks at you, “Me too.”

A long moment later, you steal another kiss because you can, and take Steve’s hand. “Celebratory breakfast?” “You got it, beautiful.” Steve says, eyes unable to contain his affection towards you. He leads both of you back to his car, swinging your hands between your bodies. “You’re driving.”

reblogs are appreciated💖 motivate an unmotivated writer pls

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic

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1lenii · 10 months

Text

Fuck them kids

Miles (G) Morales x F!Reader

⚠️⚠️⚠️THE SONG IS FOR SATIRE PURPOSES⚠️⚠️⚠️

The classic, don’t underestimate me cs I’m a girl

As you know, bonding time with miles as he proves “Fuck these kids, that’s 4ever the moto” - Kali

⚠️cursing, degrading means against children, bullying if you wanna call it that, mentions of violence(only for the game and physical irl)

For the sake of decency these middle schoolers are in 8th grade and miles and (Y/N) are sophomores

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Fuck you and your dead rat dumbass, where your mom at”

(Y/N) peeps her head from the crack of her boyfriends room, as he yelling more than normal at his game.

“Oh yea?? What you gonna do go cry about it?”

(Y/N) heard murmuring from the other side of the headset that’s seemed to respond in a more ruder tone then last time,

through the headset that rested atop of Miles head leaving a dent in the half that had his Afro and sitting perfectly on the side that had 2 braids

(Basically half out and other half braided; with a hair pick from more visual representation)

‘Seems he got distracted while doing his hair again’ (Y/N) mentally notes, and imaginary sweat drop forming next to her eye brow

“Uh Miles..”

“What.”

“Are those the same middle schoolers from down the block?”

“No..”

The uncertainty of Miles tone gave it away, (Y/N) open the door even more allowing her body access to the room, positioning her self behind Miles gaming chair

“Don’t you think you should be nicer?”

“Nice? When was that a option for you” Miles side eyes you before returning back to the aggressive violation that is shooting

(Y/N) slightly gasps, putting a hand to her chest for effect while pouting

“I’m nice”

“When you want to be”

“I guess, you should still be nicer to them, there only in middle school after all”

“Nu uh ma, fuck these kids” Miles says through the headset noise, violently pressing at his controller

“Papi you can’t be violating kids because they shooting better or whatever it they’re doing” (Y/N) says not being able to contain her laugh

“Como esto es un chiste, why don’t you come play” he’s say taking off his headset and gesturing it towards you, raising a eyebrow in the process

(Y/N) takes the invitation taking the headset and adjusting the muffs to fit her head, Miles pulls her by the waist adjusting her so she sit right on his lap, passing her the controller

“AiI Ma I taught you the basics not to long ago, do your best”

“You talking knowing damn well I’m better then you”

“Not true”

“Keep dreaming pretty boy”

*initiate operating: the mic is now on*

(For my sake a yours I’ll change of the writing style)

Kid 3: Yooo miles you back? I was getting tired of cooking you

(Y/N): oh were you really?

Kid 2: whoa.. who you?

(Y/N): his girlfriend ya kids clueless

Kid 1: booo I got a girl for a teammate wtf

Kid 2: must suck LMAO

Kid 3: don’t worry girly I’ll make sure you the one ending up clueless

(Y/N) just laughs along with Miles who whispers ‘watch yaself’ into the mic

Few minutes into the game and (Y/N) already gotten 20 points for her team

Kid 1: woah I didn’t know your that good

Kid 2: don’t praise her the game ain’t over dickhead

*the game has now ended, with a score of 15 to 62 Miles/Kid1 Wins*

The In game announcer announces as (Y/N) cracks her fingers, “and that’s how’s it’s done little boys, before ya go assuming ya better then a girl, humble yourself maybe you’ll get a girl after”

Kid 3 gf: uhhh who are you talking about little girl watch who you talk to

This random girl appears on the mic, sounding sassy like almost irking (Y/N)

“Don’t test me, who you calling little girl” (Y/N) says with a sadistic smile

“You, what are you deaf, it’s on sight when I see you, don’t talk to my man again”

And with that the girl left the call for kid 3

“Can’t wait to see how that pans out” Miles laughs into your back hugging at your waist

“That little bitch trying” (Y/N) says with the same smile

“It’s fuck them kids right?”

(Y/N) sighs leaving the conversation open for further and future elaborations

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been three days since that game, (Y/N)

Has been chilling knowing she would get touched ‘obviously their empty threats’ (Y/N) deadpanned

While walking the block she catches up with Miles who HAS FINALLY DONE HIS HAIR, was in front of 2 kids around his height and girl

“Ohoho look who decided to show up”

(Y/N) analyzes all of them, “who are you?”

“Better remember me little girl”

“I’m not so little if you looking up to me😭 it’s was on sight, right? I’m waiting and make this quick” (Y/N) dropping her bag food over to Miles, who was literally un phased knowing how this was about play out

“Oh fo’real? Ii girl if you says so” the girl from the match 3 days ago, rolls up her sleeves already swinging

(Y/N) dodge dragging Miles by the hand leaving them behind

The girl fell flat on her face with her bf attending to her

While the other kids said ‘hey!’ And a bunch of other things to retaliate too

(Making this cliche bare with me)

(Y/N) and Miles walk further and deeper into the street into the fading color of the sunset hitting the streets and the buildings with in

“Miles, fuck them kids”

Miles chuckles leaning in to kiss the top of her head, smiling shortly after

“Fuck them kids”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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nevadancitizen · 1 month

Text

-> YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH – I'VE BEEN OUTTA TIME

synopsis: you died six months ago, but you've come back to haunt johnny. not as a ghost, no – as some twisted version of you that johnny still loves. too bad you don't still love johnny, or remember him in any capacity.

word count: 4k

characters: john "soap" mactavish, resurrected! reader

trigger warnings: talk of canon-typical violence, temporal weirdness, hurt + damn near no comfort

notes: first soap fic.. hopefully i've written him well!! also i couldn't resist incorporating madness combat in this somehow lol it's taking over my life (you don't need to know anything about madcom to read this, don't worry). also tumblr user nevadancitizen using the amnesia trope again? it's more likely than you think.

Somewhere in Nevada, a battered body is denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse…

And six months ago, somewhere in Russia, you were killed in action.

It was a single shot through the skull – nice, clean. You didn’t suffer. Despite your killer more than likely being a terrorist (or working for one), they did you right. It was probably unintentional, but they still did you right.

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even to piss, for weeks after. He was completely numb to almost everything. The world passed by while he stood completely still, laying on his side in your shared bed, spooning a pillow that was rapidly losing your scent.

(He even tried spraying it with your perfume or cologne, but it didn’t work. It was too strong – it didn’t smell like when you wore it.)

Johnny thought all-too-often about what happened after death. He was ready to die, always has been, but he never really thought about what would happen if (or, more accurately, when) you died. He always cast those thoughts away, because he was done losing people. He was done with grief and screaming, pleading to God, and crying so hard he threw up.

But he eventually returned to his job. He eventually put you to rest. He prayed for the first time in damn near two decades that, if there was really an afterlife, that you were in Heaven.

(He just hoped that, whatever Heaven there was, it was good enough for you.)

But again, six months ago, somewhere in Nevada, a battered body was denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse.

It is a land without sun, without warmth unless you could find it in another body. It is a land without rules, without remorse, without regret.

It is a land of violence. It is a land that fits you well.

Despite being dead, you were sewed back together and cursed to live once more. Someone put a gun in your hands and told you, “Listen bozo, I don’t care where you’re from – just shoot!”

Of course, Johnny didn’t know this. How could he? He watched your casket be lowered into the ground. He knew it wasn’t empty – he had to confirm your identity in the morgue.

But he can’t help but feel his stomach drop when Kyle comes rushing into his office, pointing behind him and, in a panting breath, says your name.

Johnny immediately springs up from behind his desk and almost pushes past Kyle to get out the door. He turns down the hallway to the left, where he knows it leads to the hospital ward.

“No, Soap – Soap!” Kyle sprints after him, just barely catching his wrist. “Wrong way, man.”

Johnny stops and, in his stunned state, lets Kyle lead him down the hallway to the right, away from the medbay, away from where you were surely waiting for him, recovering.

Kyle leads him into an elevator, scans his keycard, and presses the button for -3. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet. It just faintly registers in Johnny’s mind that the floor -3 is below the parking garages, past where anyone typically goes.

(Past where anyone can hear screams ripped from tortured throats, really.)

When the elevator doors open, Soap’s greeted by a familiar sight. It’s a grey concrete hallway, with two soldiers on either side, guarding the way in. Doors line the hall, each one steel with a keypad to unlock it.

Gaz leads Soap down the hall and doesn’t stop for a while. Eventually, he stops in front of the last door and takes a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

Gaz inputs the code into the keypad and opens the door, nodding at the inside. “Come on.”

Soap, almost so quick he clips his shoulder on the doorframe, goes into the room. It overlooks an interrogation room, and it’s fit with a double-sided mirror, recording tech, everything.

Soap freezes when he looks into the interrogation room. It – it’s you, but… not you. You’re pacing, and Johnny can only stare. There’s a grey flush to your skin – no, your skin is actually grey – and bandages cover the back of your head, dirty and frayed, like you haven’t changed them in a while.

You’re angry, a far cry from the person Johnny knew you to be. Sure, you could be angry, and Johnny’s seen you angry, but this…

You’re panting as you pace, fists clenching and unclenching as your eyes dart around the room. Soft mutters and expletives leave your mouth as you look around, surely looking for a way to escape.

Johnny just keeps staring. You’re… alive? Yes, you’re not what Johnny remembers you to be, but you’re still alive.

“Fucking – goddamnit!” You bang your fist on the steel table, causing it to rattle. “I don’t have anything to tell you! You’re all cowards –” you turn to the double-sided mirror and point at it “– especially you, Sheriff! Don’t tell me you’re not back there!”

You immediately turn away, your hands coming to clutch at the sides of your head, your fingers digging into the bandages, almost ripping them. “I swear, when I get my hands on you…!”

“We don’t know what to do,” Kyle says softly. He looks over at Soap, his gaze obviously sad and sympathetic. “Do you want to try ‘n talk ‘em? Even if they’re feelin’ a tad… neurotic.”

Johnny can’t rip his gaze from you as you throw a steel chair at the wall, still cursing out someone named Sheriff and his lackeys. The chair bounces off the wall and one of the legs hits your shin, causing you to curse it out, too.

“Yes,” Johnny says quickly, decisively.

Soap shifts on his feet, oddly impatient, as he waits for Kyle to unlock the door to the interrogation room. As soon as he does, Johnny shoulders past him and into the room. He hears a faint click as Gaz closes it behind him.

You immediately whirl on Johnny, your eyes wide and your breath labored.

“You!” You point at Johnny like it’s meant to be some offensive gesture. “What do you want?”

You move closer, and Johnny catches sight of the dogtags hanging from your neck. You were buried with one, and he kept the other. He even gave you one of his own because, on that day, a part of him died with you. But… instead of two, you have four hanging from the metal chain.

You shove your finger in Johnny’s chest, your fingernail digging through the thin fabric of his fatigues. “Answer me!”

Soap immediately takes your wrist and cradles your hand to his chest. “Bonnie, please, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you bark, ripping your hand away from him. “I just lost one of my team and you’re telling me to calm down?!”

“Your team?” Soap echoes.

“Deimos!” you snap. “You – you killed Deimos.”

You take a step back, your fists still clenched and your eyes still angry. “I saw your stupid fucking Engineer murder him. He was dead from the first five bullets, and you know he knew that! But oh, let’s just make sure he’s dead by unloading clip after clip into him.”

You heave a breath, almost growling. “Let’s desecrate his corpse. All because he’s a dissenter. Let’s make it oh-so-hard to bring him back.”

Johnny steps forward, just barely moving his foot, and you jump back like he took out a knife.

He breathes out your name, soft and unbelieving. “Are… is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me!” You turn and rest your hands on the steel table, obviously resisting the urge to bring your fists down against it. “Always has been, always will be. It’s always me.”

Johnny circles around the table and leans down a little, taking in your face. The grey makes you look dirty and unwashed, like you’ve got a layer of dirt on you that you couldn’t wash away.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you.”

Johnny’s heart leaps into his throat and, for a hopeful moment, thinks that you remember him, that this is all some sort of stupid trick, that you went MIA instead of being KIA, that this is really you. The you Johnny knows, the you Johnny loves. But his heart is crushed beneath your boot when you speak next.

“I know soldiers like you,” you say softly. “Soldiers, produced en masse, told to shoot first and die quietly. We’re both clones, you know? But there’s a difference in what we want.”

You stand up straight, glancing at the double-sided mirror before turning your eyes back to Soap. “You follow orders. When they say jump, you ask how high. But I…” you laugh beneath your breath. “I am fighting for change. Normality. You’re comfortable living in this… this chaos.”

“Bonnie, what are you on about?” Johnny reaches across the table, trying to take your hand. You snatch it away before he even comes close.

Gaz slides into the room, holding a tablet. You whip your head around and glare at him.

His eyebrows lift a little, and he raises the tablet, as if in a defensive manner. “Your tablet. It –”

You snatch it from Gaz’s hands before he can talk again. You set it down on the table and stare at it, waiting.

Johnny can just barely see the interface. The top of the screen reads COMBASIC .9(beta). It looks like some sort of chat room. A few messages pop up in quick succession.

FellowD9: GOTEM FellowD9: YOU WERE RIGHT FellowD9: HE WAS COMPLIANT 2BDamned: Neat FellowD9: CHECK MY SECTOR FellowD9: ANCHOR HIM NOW [user:FellowD9 IS OFFLINE]

The messages seem to relax you, even if Johnny has no idea what they’re talking about. You bring a hand to your forehead and laugh breathlessly, then set to typing.

CrosshairF6: lol hey im still alive CrosshairF6: aahw assholes gave me my tablet idk why CrosshairF6: check my sector & get me back 2BDamned: Getting Deimos right now, I’ll get back to you CrosshairF6: better do it right CrosshairF6: saw his corpse, looks like he ran through traffic [user:2BDamned IS OFFLINE]

Johnny watches as you tuck your tablet back in one of the inner pockets of your jacket, casting a suspicious glance at Gaz, like you expect him to take it back.

Gaz raises his hands and slips back out of the room, leaving you and Johnny.

“So.” You look at Johnny. “Why are you trying to act all buddy-buddy with me?”

“You’re… you were…” Johnny sighs, an overwhelming feeling settling in his chest. “Do you remember… dying?”

“Of course,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “2B brought me back.”

“2B?” Johnny echoes. “Like, the one you were talkin’ to? 2BDamned?”

“Yeah.” You move and lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s all doctor-like, y’know? Brings us back when we need it.”

“And he’s… on your team?” Johnny asks. He feels a deep pang of… something in his chest when the thought of you actually being on another team, separate from him, settles in his mind.

You nod. “Yeah. 2B, Hank, Sanford, Deimos.” You tap the dog tags resting against your chest. “We’re a team. Some of us are on a subteam, but still. We’re a team.”

Johnny blinks hard, shaking the thought from his head. “Do you remember anything before you died?”

“Some, but… not a lot. Just blips of fighting, some soldiers, then Nevada.” You shrug. “2B says that happens sometimes.”

Johnny feels his tense shoulders relax, if only a little. “Any one specific soldier, bonnie?”

“No,” you say. You look away and fiddle with your dogtags. “But I’ve got the dogtag of someone named John.”

“John?” Johnny echoes, his heart picking up in his chest. “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze fixes on him again, immediately suspicious. “How do you know that?”

“That’s me, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly, moving towards you. He makes sure to stay slow and cautious, just in case. “I’m Johnny. Your Johnny.”

You move along the wall, away from him, just slightly. You seem to bristle a little, and bring your shoulders up a bit. “You’re not mine. I don’t own anyone.”

“Not in the literal sense, bonnie,” Johnny laughs, resisting the urge to trail after you. “I’m yours, romantically.”

You bring yourself off the wall, taking a step back. It’s like you’re repulsed by the idea. “I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. You think I’ve got time for that?”

It’s like Johnny’s been punched in the gut. Tears well in his eyes and he suddenly feels so fucking sick. His feet almost come out from under him as he stumbles to the door, shaking hands putting in the code before slipping out.

He could take the idea of you maybe not remembering him, sure. He could just re-introduce himself. He could take the idea of you forgetting the time you’ve spent together, because you’d remember, right? But the way you were disgusted by the idea of romance, the vitriol in your voice as you spoke…

Johnny doesn’t like the word ‘relapse’ because he thinks it holds too heavy of a connotation, but that’s the best way to describe what he did for the rest of the day, and into the early hours of tomorrow. He rotted in your shared bed, but instead of feeling numb, he felt his heart being wrenched by your hand, by your words.

He just laid there, looking at his sketchbook – a good one with thick paper. The one you’d gifted him for your six-month anniversary. It’s filled with drawings of you: candid ones, ones where he had you pose (even though you were embarrassed), ones of you and him, together, doing couple-y things.

He could only mourn what was lost, because you seemed to have absolutely no interest in recovering it.

A week passes before you’re able to be let out of your cell. You slowly lost the fire and brimstone that filled your heart as you realized that the 141 really did want to help you. You feel better now that you have a few people by your side, fresh bandages, and a renewed sense of comfort.

(But you forgave yourself for acting like that in the beginning because, in Nevada, no one is nice. Not without an ulterior motive, at least.)

You’re practically on a leash as Ghost leads you throughout the base. He doesn’t talk as he guides you through winding hallways and up an exhaustive amount of flights of stairs.

Eventually, he opens a door labeled ‘ROOF EXIT.’ He tilts his head towards the door.

“Someone waitin’ for you,” Ghost says gruffly. “And…”

He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. Your cigarettes.

Ghost takes your hand and puts it in your palm. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

You close your fingers around it and nod. “Got it, boss.”

Ghost starts back down the stairs, leaving you and the open door to the roof. You move through it and look around.

Johnny’s sitting, cross-legged, on the concrete roof, facing away from you. It’s dark – obviously, it’s night. You look up and take in the stars, and…

“You have a moon,” you say softly.

Johnny looks back at you, a tentative smile on his face. Like he’s scared to be too hopeful. “Yeah. We do.”

You hum and look at Johnny.

“Do you…” Johnny glances at the floor, then back up at you. “Do you wanna sit with me, bonnie?”

You slowly move over to Johnny and sit by him. You keep a healthy distance, but you’re still closer than you’ve ever been to him before.

“Those fags for sharin’?” Johnny asks, a teasing smile on his face.

You look down at the carton of cigarettes in your hand. You grip them a little tighter, causing the thin carton to crumple a bit. “Sure. Don’t know if you’ll like them, though.”

“Nonsense, bonnie.” Johnny bumps his shoulder against yours. “Let’s give ‘em a go.”

You smile and take out two cigarettes. You hand one over to Johnny. They’re hand-rolled and don’t have a filter, so they look more like joints, but the overwhelming smell of raw tobacco quickly quells that thought.

“Got a light?” you ask.

“‘Course.” Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. He lights his own cigarette, then pulls it away with a sputtering cough.

“Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?” He asks in between coughs.

You laugh, hitting your knee as Johnny reels from the taste. “It’s good, yeah?”

“Hell no!” Johnny wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at you. Despite his coughing, a soft smile spreads across his face at the way you’re laughing – loud, unabashed. Just like before.

You swipe Johnny’s lighter from his hand and light your cigarette, the cherry basking your face in a soft, warm glow. “Welcome to Nevada.”

“Let’s see that thing.” Johnny reaches over and takes the carton from your hand.

He turns it over, looking at it. The carton is worn, like it’s been refilled many times. There’s no warning about nicotine being an addictive chemical, just a grey box with a simple brand: G01 Choice. There’s a name scribbled on the back – Deimos, in all capital letters.

“Deimos,” Johnny says aloud. “The man died and you stole his cigs?”

“He’s not dead.” You take the carton back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “Not anymore. Well, he’s died lotsa times, so I guess he’s an... honorary corpse.”

“An honorary corpse,” Johnny echoes, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He puts it out on the concrete. “Just like you, yeah?”

You take a drag off your cigarette and blow out the smoke in a single, smooth stream. “Just like me.”

A silence settles as you look up at the moon. You can feel Johnny’s eyes occasionally flitting to you, then back up at the night sky.

“Your dogtags.” Johnny points in your direction. “Whose are they?”

You look down and tug on the metal chain, causing them to clink together. “Mine, yours, and my team’s.”

“Your team?” Johnny asks softly. “You never told me about them.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “I’m part of an extraction team. My partners are Sanford and Deimos.”

A pain, almost so real he thought he was actually injured, runs through Johnny when you say partners. The logical side of his brain chides him a few moments later because you obviously meant it in a militaristic sense, not a romantic sense.

“Can I see them?” Johnny asks.

You nod and take off the chain, then hand them to Johnny. He looks at the dogtags – he recognizes his and yours as being standard military dogtags, but Sanford and Deimos’ are much more… odd.

Sanford’s reads SANFORD / MELEE + EXPLOSIVES / G02 (NEG) / RETURN TO FAMILY. Deimos’ reads DEIMOS / FIREARMS + TECH / G02 (POS) / NO FAMILY.

Johnny tilts the dogtags so that you can see them and runs a finger along the lettering. “What do these mean, bonnie?”

You move a bit closer and lean in. “The first lines are their names, obviously. The second is what they’re proficient in. The third is what generation clone they are, and their blood types – there are only two blood types for second generation clones. And the last one is what to do with their bodies if they can’t be revived.”

“Wait, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly. “Clones?”

“Yeah, clones.” You tilt your head a little to the side. “What, you don’t have cloning technology here?”

“Of course not!” Johnny laughs.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his. “You people are so primitive.”

Johnny smiles back at you and it’s like nothing is wrong. You both go quiet as you stare at each other until you look away.

“I, uh…” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being so… abrasive. Earlier, I mean.”

“It’s alright,” Johnny says, almost too quickly.

You scratch your cheek and glance over at Johnny, then away. “But it’s not, is it? I should’ve handled things better.”

“Someone you know died right before we talked.” Johnny reaches over and, cautiously, puts his hand over yours where it rests on your knee. “It’s expected that you don’t act like yourself.”

Your breath hitches, and Johnny squeezes your hand reassuringly in response.

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “I’ve seen so many awful things before. People getting shot, stabbed, beaten, Hank tearing people apart with his bare hands. But, Maker…”

You drag a hand down your face, rubbing your jaw. “Deimos is young. So young. He’s only twenty-seven, and he always has a smile like he’s just tied your shoelaces together and is waiting for you to trip. And he’s so smart, even if everyone calls him a bit stupid. Yeah, he’s got a slower reaction time, but that’s what me and Sanford are for, y’know? He…”

You blink hard, trying to will your tears away. A soft, frustrated groan leaves your mouth as you duck your head and put your cigarette to your lips. “Don’t look at me.”

Johnny starts to pull his hand away, but stops when you squeeze his hand. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, averting his gaze.

To Johnny, it again almost feels like nothing ever happened. Like there’s no Russia, no Nevada, nothing besides you and him on this roof, together. But he’s no fool. He knows things have changed – that Nevada has changed you.

You breathe out a shaky plume of cigarette smoke. “I just want to go back.”

“But you’re here now, bonnie,” Johnny says. He tries to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, tries to keep his composure for you. “Aren’t you glad you’re back?”

“I don’t know this place.” You look over at Johnny, your eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You keep saying that we’re together, that – that this is my home. But how can this be my home if I don’t remember a thing about it? How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t remember a thing about you?”

Johnny exhales sharply, like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him. “Bonnie, please don’t say that. Please.”

“I know violence, and I know bloodshed,” you say softly. “I know Nevada. This place, this world…” You gesture vaguely with your cigarette still in your hand. “It’s not mine.”

“But there is violence here, there is bloodshed here,” Johnny insists. “Here, we fought together.”

“But I don’t remember us being together, in any capacity!” you snap. You take a breath and try your best to soften your words. “All I remember from before is just flashes. I didn’t remember your face. I just had your dogtag and a weird, empty feeling.”

Johnny sighs and feels tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t tear his gaze away from you.

“You really expected me to trace the bullet and sift through fleeting memories when there was an entire agency playing Pinkertons knocking down our door?” you ask softly. “2B was bandaging my head ‘cause he just finished playing around in my brains and Sanford was shoving a gun in my hands. They pointed me in a direction and told me to shoot. I didn’t have the time to remember you.

“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t.” You squeeze his hand before letting it go.

Johnny immediately scrambles to catch your hand in both of his, holding on desperately. “No, bonnie, please.”

A few tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks as he looks at you. Your face is a mirror of his own, just in greyscale. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your eyes are just beginning to get a bit puffy.

“If you know you’re gonna be leaving again, then just let me hold your hand,” Johnny says softly, his voice wavering. “Just for a few more minutes.”

You nod and, when you blink, a tear rolls down your already-wet cheek. “Okay.”

Johnny slowly moves so that you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder to him. He hesitates before resting his head on your shoulder. You smell just like how he remembers, albeit tinged with the acrid tang of G01 Choice cigarette smoke. You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“Okay.”

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ugh-yoongi · 1 year

Note

can i request Yoongi drabble? where a random member is Y/N's brother and Yoon is his best friend, but Y/N has a big fat crush on him

hiii, thank you so much for the request! it gave me an excuse to get rockstar yoongi out of my system (and make an actual banner for once), so i hope you enjoy. <3

playing with fire

pairing: yoongi x f. reader genre: brother's best friend au, rockstar au; suggestive warnings: extreme thirsting. a moshpit and moshpit-related injury. mentions of blood, alcohol, and weed/cigarettes. swearing. an unrequited crush (or is it). tension. unedited. rating: this is slightly suggestive but not explicit so 16+ wordcount: 1k listen to: i'm on fire by bruce springsteen

with this, i am finally done with bee's birthday drabbles! a huge thank you to everyone who sent in requests. i did save a few, so if i didn't get to yours this time, hopefully some inspo strikes in the future.

see all beeday drabbles here

have a favorite? let's talk about it!

It’s been a while since your brother’s band played in a nice venue.

Been a while since your boots didn’t stick to the floor, each step feeling like a glue trap. Since you could go home at the end of the night and pull a t-shirt over your head that didn’t reek of weed and cigarettes and someone else’s body odor. Been a while since you could just exist in peace; not feel like you were taking up room in a space that didn’t belong to you.

Been a while since you’ve seen Yoongi, too.

His hair is longer—half-formed curls framing his face, some trendy kind of shag. Chipped black lacquer on his nails. Fresh ink up and down his arms. Silver hoop through his nostril. A leather jacket and heeled boots, because he doesn’t have a thing to prove to anyone who might have something to say about it.

(You, least of all.)

Somehow, you’d forgotten that some people are magnetic. Some people are meant to be looked at, put on all those impossibly high pedestals, and that Yoongi is one of them. False idols be damned, everyone in this fucking room is wrapped around his finger. Even as he screams into a mic, shoots a sleazy grin at your brother to his left, every single person in this place would drop to their knees as soon as he gave the order.

(You, most of all.)

And you know it’s dangerous; know where that particular road dead-ends. You know that if you try to reach out and touch him all you’ll do is scar, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to quell the urge. There’s still just Yoongi and you and the millions of daydreams that have played out in the dead of night and the boundless distance between you.

The haze makes him beautiful, ethereal, like some kind of demi-god. Imposing, you think, because Yoongi’s up there looking down on you, as stable and immovable as all those shrines they built centuries ago. Places where people would gather to worship, just like now.

You’re distracted. Don’t hear Yoongi when he commands the crowd to move, and there’s a split-second just before the chaos where he finds you—sets his siren gaze on you and smirks out of the corner of his mouth, presses his tongue into the fat of cheek—and then there’s a searing pain blooming in your skull.

It’s hard to say what happens after. Hard to see through the fog and the frenzy, let alone make sense of amorphic shapes. There’s just the aching in your head and the jarring, dissonant ringing in your ears, and someone’s arms wrapped tight around your shoulders.

You come to in a bathroom.

Stinks of piss and disinfectant. Has one flickering, fluorescent light strung above the sink. Dingy tile on the floor and the walls. Paper towels overflowing from a trash can by the door.

“You with me, darlin’?”

Yoongi’s voice. He’s the only one who calls you that. Puts some exaggerated twang on it because he thinks it makes him sound cool. Doesn’t give a fuck about anything, especially what people might think, and he doesn’t have to.

“Not sure,” you answer truthfully. “What happened?”

“Some piece of shit elbowed you pretty good in the side of your head. Got a nasty gash—don’t look, doll. Got fuckin’ blood all over the fuckin’ place.”

You exhale. Nod your head as best you can. Unsteady. Find it hard to breathe when Yoongi’s fussing over you like this, calling you these little pet names. When he gently cradles your face in his ink-stained hands and says, eyes on me. Like you could look anywhere else. As if you’ve looked at anything else in years.

“Wha—what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning you up. Deep breath, darlin’, this is probably gonna sting.”

You barely react, still too dazed by the feel of his hands on you. You wish, briefly, that whoever had hit you had done so harder. Just enough to rewire a few things. Get rid of this juvenile crush you’ve let go unchecked for far too long. “Where’s Hoseok?”

“Went after that guy.”

You scoff. Roll your eyes. “Hoseok can’t fight.”

“Nah,” Yoongi agrees. Bites his lip as he concentrates. “But Jungkook can.”

Another press of an alcohol pad. This one stings, has you sucking in a breath through your teeth. “Don’t you think this is a bit much? I’m sure it was an accident.”

Yoongi is so close. Fits himself in the space between your thighs, presses you further into the sink, the faucet digging into your back. Doesn’t matter. Not when he’s close enough for you to count each individual eyelash, the scars that dot his face. Yoongi’s close enough for you to smell the nicotine that clings to his clothes, his skin, his hair. Close enough to smell the cheap beer lingering on his breath.

“Too much?” His brows knit together, head tilts like a confused puppy. “Why would it be too much?”

“S’not the first time I’ve nearly got my teeth kicked in at one of your shows. I just—is it worth all this fuss? My brother’s gonna get all fucking weird about it, and fuck knows what Jungkook’s gonna do to that guy.”

Yoongi’s close enough that you nearly speak the words against his mouth. Fuck, it’d be so easy to kiss him. So easy to give in and let the world burn down around you, the consequences be damned. It’d be so easy to be ruined by him that it has your hands twitching at your sides, wanting so badly to reach out and touch. Grab him by the belt loops and learn how he feels when he’s pressed flush against you. Learn what he sounds like when he moans, whimpers. What he looks like when he’s hurried and desperate.

"Stupid girl." But Yoongi doesn’t look hurried and desperate—he looks like he wants to devour you. “I would’ve done much worse.”

#beeday drabbles #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts drabble #jewel answers #jewel writes

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tainted-liquor · 7 months

Text

'Perfect Fit !...ft 42Miles ( ⸝⸝⸝ ̫⸝⸝⸝)◦♡︎

...⸝˚₊‧꒰ა ꨄ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⸝

ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

TWs: Nothing? Heatwave? Idk

A/N: short luh fic

Silence. What better noise to bask in than the sound of your own thoughts and the actions of those around you? You weren't rude, or disrespectful in any capacity. But you preferred not to speak or avoid long conversations with people you weren't close to. It proved beneficial in analyzing people around you and their behavior, slowly but surely revealing their true intentions and personality beneath the six-foot grave they'd bury it under around certain crowds. One girl would compliment and play in her friend's hair, but turn around and grunt and gag when talking about the same young lady only an hour later when given the chance. So you found yourself to be quiet, and nonchalant when it came to unfamiliar faces.

As of now, you were outside with Miles, perched up in the nook of a tree with both of your guitars stationed on each other's lap. The air was finally beginning to warm up after a frigid ass winter, the pale blue and ghost white morphing into golden orange and vibrant greens. Your school sweater had been discarded somewhere across the school grounds, and the 'prestigious' Brooklyn Visions tie loosely wrapped around a nearby tree branch. "This heat got me mad tight...I can't even play in this fucking heat" you grunted, promptly resting your painted dark-oak guitar on the grassy soil. You looked over to see Miles, your boyfriend, half dead and with his shirt halfway on.

"Nah deadass...and they act like they can't turn the fuckin air on in the building" He groaned before tossing his guitar on the ground, barely wincing at the hollow thunk it made. You side-eyed him, glaring through his soul with a low "I hope you got money to replace that...since you think it's a damn toy." Miles rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to form a rebuttal before getting cut off by an unfamiliar presence. "Hey, guys!" some girl you'd seen a couple times around exclaimed, pulling her hair back into a high pony as she came to lean on the tree. You both nodded simultaneously, going back to your silent and stoic demeanor as she continued to climb up the tree trunk, squishing herself next to you on the already too-small branch. You grunted, feeling yourself grow hotter against her already warm body heat.

You cleared your throat, shooting the girl a stern glare and gesturing for her to get down. "Can you move? It's hot and I really don't wanna be all up on you..." You grunted, attempting to lean further away from her without falling on the floor. You groaned when she gave you a glare, actively staring her down silently before she hopped off your branch. Miles rolled his eyes, immediately leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head as he got comfy on his side again. He chuckled just barely above a whisper, muttering to himself "No reason for you to be pushed up on me in this heat..."

You giggled before lowering yourself down off the tree to collect your things. It was 3:19, and all you really wanted to do was sit under some cool air and chill with an icee. "C'mon. We finna go to the store. 'N put your shirt on you hoodrat." you spat, giggling as you put your guitar off to the side next to your bag before setting off. Miles glared at you, fixing his white button-up with an unamused scowl across his features, but nonetheless still pecked your forehead with the same gentle grace of a baby bird.

"Aight remember that"

Taglist below 🤍

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x you #prowler miles #miles g morales #miles 42

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icouldntfinditsoiwroteit · 3 months

Text

Made something?

I've been really obssesing over poppy playime lately, the game is so damn good, I genuinly love it, so this is mostly just work in progress and a small "lab test" if you may when it come to my writting since I want to experiment with stuff.

"You....Your Poppy's angel" Those where the first words you heard from to the giant mangled creature that resembled the critter Dogday.

"Come to save us" His voice was hoarse, his lower body completely gone, all the while his hand where held unto metal hooks to keep his body...or what remained of it suspended in the air.

"Nothing left to save...not here" How right he was, you had come here to try and get answers, at least to try and understand what had happened, what had gone wrong and yet you had only found death and failure...but this was new.

"You're in Catnaps home, angel" For the first time since entering this forgotten place you had found...suffering...fresh real suffering, of course you could guess Mommy longlegs had died painfully but that ws nothing compare to this...thing...

"Their home, a million pairs of eyes are on you now," This was never meant to happen, you had come here with a clear goal and yet now...you could only feel bad...not pitty but genuinely sad, there was nothing you could do for those old coworkers who were long dead, or for the children who you were pretty sure had shared the same fate as your coworkers did.

"Watching, waiting, hungry..." Hungry...that had always bothered you, it was such a huge design flaw, you had tried to tell them, how there needed to be some change so they wouldn't need to eat, you had even given them the absolute best reason, it would cost less to mantain, and yet they hadn't listened...

"They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin and eat away at you bit by litte bit," You really wish those higher up brainless sad excuses of human beings would still be alive so you could laugh at them...although they did get eaten, so that will have to do at least.

"And feel what is empty inside themselves" The little failures would be dissapointed with what they found...little to fill their empty husks.

"Listen to me, you need to get out of this place," Tempting...

"You need to live," It's not like you're interested in doing otherwise, to many loose ends to leave behind by selfishly dying.

"You and Poppy can fix this, end this madness, the torment, the-oh no," Those small critters had started inching closer to the mangled body of Dogday, they were so fucking ugly, such failures about to twist even more one of the few succesful ones, one you had spent so much work nd time on, he looked utterly helpless, pathetic and...terrified

"OH NO!" He was absolutely terrified, of course anyone would be if small creatures were about to eat their insides bit by bit, it is only natural to fear such painfull death and yet...

"Leave me, please, just go, RUN!!" He was still trying to get you to leave, more worried about you than himself...

You really don't realize what you've done until after you've done it that the screams of the small critters fill the room as you shoot them with the bengal gun hand as you pull Dogday with all your strength much to his shock as he basically falls on top of you, causing you to almost fall over from the unexpected weight, yet you manage not to fall back as you regain your bearing, holding Dogday tightly, the plushfur of his body was all matted and smelled putried almost making you drop him and recoil.

But you didn't...

"Angel what are you doing?" His voice sounded absolutely shocked yet terrified at the same time.

"You shouldn't have done that, Catnap won't let this pass!" He was now panicking as you manuvered him so he would be on you back.

"Hold my shoulders, don't let go," You order and he does as told, holding unto your shoulders, almost reminding you of a plushie backpack, except the plushie was giant, missing half of it's body and absolutely dirty...

Oh well, you'd fix that later, now you needed to get out of this damned laberynth of a place before those disgusting small critters got to you.

#poppy playtime 3 #poppy playtime #dogday #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #gender neutral reader #reader insert

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femoso-seben · 8 months

Text

Immortal Shenanigans

Task force 141 x immortal Freader

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

TW: Gore, implied gore, violence, blood, Torture

Well, shit.

Like a sardine in salt, you could not slip out of this. You weren’t killed no simply knocked out. You awoke chained up and sore. You look over to see a group of armed men watching you. You realize what your fate has in tale for you, and you feel your lips twitch into a smile.

How fun.

The task force slowly explored the large warehouse. The smell of blood was strong. Blood coated the ground, so much blood. This was a killing place. The men turn to each other with a grim expression.

“HAHAHAHA!” They froze and slowly began to inch their eye to the noise. Peer around the corner and witness a violent scene.

There that mysterious girl, YN was chained down her leg and being sawed off. Blood pooled on the ground and all over the frazzled men. They kept trying to kill her, yet she kept coming back.

“Is that all you got?” You tilt your head laughing. It was incredibly painful but this was the funniest thing to you, as funny as being burned alive by witch hunters.

“Shut bitch!” One yes shooting her in the eye. You slightly fall forward pain disappearing before waking up in pain. How many rotations have you gone through? Maybe 10? Were you killed 10 times?

That’s fun.

“Hey, how long are we gonna do this, I’m bored.” You finally ask smile dropping as you gaze into the eyes of your supposed killer. He glared at you and hit you in the face.

“You punch like a bitch,” you grumble the chair falls down. Blood soaks down your arms and you rip your arms out of the demonic hold of the restraint. You slip your hands out and silently wait for them to set you up.

“Tell me how you know them!” The terrorist bellows hitting your neck with a machete.

“Bro, are you trying to get baptized in my blood? Because Jesus Christ will accept you—“You were hit hard in the sternum by a foot. They had these hateful gazes burning into your soul. You snicker and begin to laugh, religious people are so funny.

Someone prop you back up. You twist your body grab their gun from them and begin to shoot them. They shot back riddling your body with bullets. So much blood oozed out of the wounds. All of them fall dead and you untie your foot with the machete.

“Damn, what a moment.” You groan stretching your body out. You pick up your sawed-off leg and begin to reattach it to your body. You look around, there is so much blood on the floor. Like a perfect mirror.

You whistle and pull your phone from one of the dead terrorists. You took a selfie covered in blood sounded by your blood. You're so tempted to post this saying photo shoot. You chuckle and walk through your own blood.

“What the hell!” You look up to see those four again. You give them a peace sign and a large smile.

“Hey boys,” you call out walking up to them giggling.

“Is all this blood yours?”

“Who else?” You asked back like it’s obvious. It was there was no other dead body here.

“Why is there so much blood?”

“I have a lot of blood,” you shrug.

“Why the fuck were you laughing,” the mustache man ask… you really have to ask them for names.

“What’s your name?”

“Price, this is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.”

“Dumb but ok.”

“Why were you laughing?” Ghost asks.

“Look at it from my perspective, that’s shits funny.”

“You were being tortured.”

“Nothing more painful than being set on fire.” You retort like it was obvious.

“You have been set on fire?”

“Soap, I was around during the witch trials in Europe. I was burned alive several times,” you nod your head with a smile.

“Why were you being tortured?” Price asked arms folded.

“They thought I was with you, not the fact I’m a very nosy archeologist who was following after my pots!”

“What is with you and pots? Is this a sexual thing?” Gaz asks, you turn to him with a ‘what the fuck,’ look.

“No, I’ve been around for the progress of pot making. To me, pots tell an unspoken human history.” You explain to Gaz who only nods but still looks at you with mild disgust.

“They thought you were with us?” Soap ask.

“Yeah, apparently you guys are being watched…” you state, “Did that box of pots get back to the museum?” You ask.

“Yes. How long have you been here?” Price asks.

“Maybe three hours, what day is it?”

“Friday.”

“Rad I’ve been here for three days,” you laugh and walk off.

“Where are you going?” You stop walking and turn around.

“My Airbnb, why?” You ask turning back to them. What’s with their deal?

“If you’re being targeted, we have to keep you safe,” Price steps forward looking down at you. You sigh and nod understanding their standpoint.

“Let me make a call though my colleagues must think I’m a flake or something. I mean I am, but I don’t ghost people like this.” You laugh and call your archeology buddies.

“What is her deal?” Soap asked looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know mate, maybe it’s the price for being immortal?”

“She’s all over the place, manic if you ask me.” Ghost mumbles. The others nod she is manic a little wild, and definitely needs to be on medication.

The task force slowly led the enigma of an immortal with that back to base. How will they explain this to Laswell? They look at her covered in blood and riddled with holes. In her clothes. She looks perfectly fine besides her outer appearance.

“I miss historical violence.” She states breaking the silence.

“What!”

“Yeah like whipping, beheading, hanging, ugh just being tortured brings back some fond memories.”

“Your fucking weird.” Soap states.

“That is true!”

“You’re insane.”

“That is also true!” You adamantly agree with their sentiment.

“Why do you agree with them?” Ghost asks leaning forwards to see your face.

“Because I did lose my mind, being immortal fucks you in the head in a way so unique it makes you crave for something.” The others grew quiet that makes perfect sense.

“Also I’m the worse at getting shit done, if you think you procrastinate I can take decades to do something.” You honestly state.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the most insane thing you’ve done?”

“Besides diving off Niagara Falls, I say being a nurse from the American Civil War all the way to the Vietnam War.” The entire truck grew silent. You’ve seen war.

“Really?”

“I dressed up as a guy and became a field medic. I’ve seen a lot of death, I was there in Japan when the atomic bomb dropped.” You state somberly. The truck grew cold as no one wanted to say anything. They’re shocked, you're a veteran, and they didn’t even realize that.

“I was one the first to suggest a special unit to take on harder missions the average soldier couldn’t do. And here you all are,” you smile looking at all of them with a sense of pride. They were your making, indirectly but still yours, just like your living descendants.

“So… you’re a medic?”

“I was a medic not anymore.”

“You’re a veteran?”

“Technically I’m not because I lied when I was a nurse and then a field medic.” You explain to Soap who’s trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

“Oh, also I was in New York when 9/11 happened. That was horrific.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath, Ghost joined because of 9/11, so this was a big shock for him.

“You have a colorful history,” Price mutters breaking the silence with his calm demeanor.

“What can I say, I live long enough to be around when shit goes sideways.”

The truck arrives at this military base and they lead you to HQ from the looks of things. People stop moving and just stare at you, you completely forget you’re covered in your own blood. You’re used to being stared at, always doing dumb things.

“John— on my God!” You look over to see a middle-aged woman stepping backward.

“Laswell, this is the woman who we’ve told you about.”

“The immortal one?”

“Yup.”

“Hello, Laswell.” You turn to her with a warm smile.

------

1.3K words

@josieguts

#soap cod #141 #cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #john soap mactavish #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #task force 141 x reader #crack fic

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stylesparker · 8 months

Text

dead man walking

PAIRING: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: language, kidnapping, torture, graphic violence, hurt/comfort, sort of asshole!joel, protective!ellie, please let me know if I missed anything!

The lights that hung above you in your cell flickered again for the seventh time in the past twenty minutes. A new guard walks by and shakes hands with the woman who’s been watching you as of yesterday; they exchange a couple of words, take a glance at you, and snicker as one leaves and one takes the others place on the wooden chair.

You huff in your cold corner of the cell and burrow deeper into yourself, looking away so maybe you can forget that you’re here at all and not at home.

The memory of being torn out of sleep and out of your bed by cruel and harsh hands plagues your mind. The laughter that spilled from their lips when you screamed and kicked and scratched, but to no avail. You can only imagine the image created for Ellie when she came home from her night patrol early in the morning; bed sheets and pillows thrown on the floor torn and shredded, scratch marks all the way down the hallway from your fingernails, picture frames knocked off the walls and broken on the floor, particularly of Ellie. You don’t want to imagine how she might feel, the dread that she might have lost another person in her life with no goodbye.

You do everything you can not to cry.

“What’s the matter with you, stay quiet!” The new guard, a scruffy looking male with blonde hair tied into a bun, bangs the metal bars that hold you inside.

Despite your better judgement, you respond with, “What are you gonna do if I don’t, shoot me?”

He chuckles and turns away from you, “If it were up to me, I’d do much worse.”

That scares you more than you wish it did, so you stay quiet the rest of the night. Your mind wouldn’t let you rest, so you didn’t get a wink of sleep; but the asshole watching you did. As you watched him sleep, you imagined getting out of here somehow, taking him out before he could even know what hit him, and getting back to Ellie before she could even worry. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in your cards, so you huffed and tried to fall asleep.

...

“Damn, I cannot believe how much weed we found!” Dina laughs loudly.

“Yeah, I swear I haven’t found that much since that snowstorm with Y/N,” Ellie smiles at the thought.

Ellie and Dina trudge across the gravel towards the house you share with the two girls and Jesse. As much as Ellie wanted a house to you and herself alone, she had to admit it was fun living with her two closest friends as well; only when they weren’t getting it on in the middle of the night that is.

“God, I remember that day. When you finally grew some balls an-”

“Oh shut up, we were a thing before that!”

“You sure about that? If I recall correctly, you had only thought that-”

Ellie shoved her arm, “Do I really have to beat you to shut your damn mouth?”

“Ya’ know, I’d love that-”

The two friends got their argument shut down as soon as they approached the porch steps of the house; a terrified looking Jesse barges out the door.

“Dude, what the hell-!” The girls say in unison, but immediately stiffen at Jesses next words.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone.” Ellie shoves him aside, ignoring his pleas not to go inside. Her eyes scan the house frantically, her body moving before she could even think, checking every room and only finding more terror.

“Oh my god.” Dina’s face looks like she can’t even fathom what happened, and Jesse is only staring at Ellie. She’s gone rigid, a stone cold look appearing in her eye as she catches sight of the smashed up picture frames, the scratches on the walls, and he knows she’s flipped the switch. They don’t argue and only follow Ellie as she storms out of the house, an aura of rage surrounding her as she went.

“We know who did this right?” Dina asks.

“Yeah, we know alright,” Ellie responds harshly, “and we’re gonna kill those sons of bitches like we should’ve.”

…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Ah shit,” you mutter, abruptly pulled out of your sleep (once again). Your hand flies to your face to cover the bright sun burning directly into your eyes.

“Wakey, wakey!” You hear laughter and rude mutterings coming from outside your cell. You can only imagine the state you must be in right now, but you open your eyes and examine your kidnappers in front of you.

Three guys and two girls, all standing there staring at you.

“What the hell do you want.” You try asserting a dominating tone, but you don’t think it comes across as bossy as you would have hoped.

“What do we want?” The blonde dude who was watching you last night laughs at that, and is quickly followed by the rest of them. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You snap.

He chuckles, crouching to the floor on the other side of the bars.

“Okay, honey. What we want... is a nice chat.”

You glare at them, “The fuck for?”

“Ellie Williams.” One of the girls behind him says. You think it was the redhead one, but you’re not quite sure. The other girl, the brunette, stands there leaning against the wall.

Ellie? You think. What does she have to do with this?

You huff out a laugh as best you can, “Right, and you think I’m gonna tell you anything?”

Blondie smiles, “I know you will. And you wanna know how I know that?”

You glare and don’t say a word.

“Because I know you know who I am.” Suddenly, he pulls his sweatshirt over his head and throws it to the floor. You watch him in confusion as he pulls his sleeve up and up… and…

Oh shit.

“Yeah. You know who I am.” He smiles, but this one, this one is not like the last one. It scares you so deep to your core, you almost try to flatten yourself to the wall behind you to somehow get even farther from him. “I know she would have told you. I’m glad I was right.”

“You attacked them, I don’t blame her for what she did.”

“You’re gonna talk about blame?” He hits the bars and it makes you flinch. “They came through our territory!”

“How the fuck were they supposed to know! They didn’t do shit to you until you fired on them!”

He rolls his eyes, “They knew. They saw the sign.”

“Right, like a damn sign was gonna stop them. For all they knew, the place was abandoned and that sign was years old!”

“Doesn’t matter.” A cold, dark look comes over his eyes. “Williams cut off my arm,” he gestures to the ugly scarring in the middle of his arm, with clusters of risen scar tissue on the edge of it. It looks atrocious, you wonder how he was even able to reattach it, much less use his arm for that matter.

“Well it looks like you got over that.” You mutter, but the look doesn’t leave his eye.

“And she killed my girl.”

His hands reach above him to grab onto the bars to pull him up. He stalks over to the door of the cell and unlocks it, swinging it open. His friends stiffen in anticipation.

“And now I’m gonna kill you.”

...

Joel, Tommy, and Maria were made known of your… disappearance, shortly after the others. Joel had immediately sent out a search party, but he knew what Ellie really wanted.

“No, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Joel, she’s fucking out there, I’m not sitting here-!”

“And I’m not letting you go out there! You know why they took her, right? You do realize why this happened?”

Ellie quickly straightens, mind shutting down at even the thought of it, and Dina and Jesse behind her stand to attention.

“Hey!” Dina marches up to Joel, “don’t bring that shit up. You know how hard that was.”

“Her killing that girl led to this, she has to know that-”

Dina yells, “I think she’s fucking well aware of that, Joel! And I think you should be too since she saved your damn life!”

He quiets, “Yeah, and now she’s gone.” He walks away, leaving the building as Tommy and Maria come in. They look behind them to watch Joel leave, but they walk over to the others, stopping in front of Ellie, who’s looking down at the floor.

“I know you want to go, kid, I would too, but I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. You’re gonna be their main target.” Tommy rests his hand on her shoulder, but she’s quick to shove it off.

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Ellie-”

“I don’t care,” Her voice rises, “I’m getting her back, and nobody’s stopping me.” She marches out the way they came, and Dina and Jesse sigh, following close behind her.

“Dina!” Maria calls. She whips her head back to look at her. “Watch out for her alright? Make sure she comes back with her head.”

Dina nods, “I think she plans to come back with much more than that.”

…

You scream a sharp cry of pain, whimpering at the harsh sting of the knife gliding across your skin. Your bra is soaked in blood since your shirt had been torn open so he could slice your collarbones, and you can feel the cool drip of it hitting your thighs. You lean your head back and whine, forcing yourself not to cry out again as the knife drags down the side of your arm.

“Dave, are you sure we can’t be done with her yet?” Molly, the redhead, asks. When you lean your head up just a bit through blurry tears and blood from your hairline, you see the horrified looks of the others surrounding him. As horrified as they are, they’re still sickly enjoying it, which makes you even more terrified.

“No,” he coldly replies, “we’re not done until I say we’re done.” You earn another punch across the face, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto your lap, coughing as you catch your breath.

“You’ve- you’ve made your point,” you said roughly, your voice cracking as you say it. “Just end me for gods sake, man.”

“Heh,” he chuckles, “you’d like that, huh? A swift end to your suffering? Well that’s not gonna happen, bitch.” The knife glides across the flesh of your stomach, causing you to scream out in pain again.

The brunette speaks up this time, “I know you want her to suffer, but… Daisy didn’t suffer dude. You’ve gotten your revenge, let’s just end it and get out of here before she gets here.”

“I plan on her being here.”

The group stiffens in horror.

“WHAT?!” They all shout, immediately starting to panic.

“You’re shitting me man-”

“We’re gonna fucking die.”

“She’s probably already on her way here with their shit ton of guns!”

“You think she’s just gonna let this go? You fucking tore up her girlfriend, man!”

“Y/N here was just the start of it, I’m ending her tonight.” You start fighting against the ropes confining your legs and hands after he said that.

“Ohhhh!” He laughs loudly, “Did I say something that bothered you, sweetheart?”

“You’re not gonna fucking touch her!” You snarl, spitting blood in his face.

He wipes it off, leaning his hands on his knees as he gets real close to your face. “I don’t think you’re gonna do much from this position, girl. You’re gonna sit here and watch as Williams comes in here and attempts to save you..” he says condescendingly, “and you’re gonna see the life leave her eyes as I slit her throat.”

You glare menacingly at the man, yelling at him and fighting to rip out of your chair, but he ignores you, and so do the others as they leave your room. You yell for hours, but it weakens you, and eventually, you become too tired and succumb to black nothingness.

...

"This is it," Ellie says, looking back at Dina and Jesse.

"How do you know?" Jesse asks, walking up beside her.

"Because, I recognize the building. Let's go!" She snaps quietly, waving her hand for them to follow her. They trek sneakily through the grass right up against the side of the building, and Jesse watches behind them to make sure no one is following. Sneaking out of Jackson wasn't hard, but they're very aware their absence has probably already been noticed, especially since Ellie didn't exactly hide the fact this was her plan in the first place.

The three crouch even lower when they hear voices coming through the open window right above them. Dina, being in the middle, throws her hands over the other two so they don't pop up too early and get themselves caught.

"Cool it. Let's not make ourselves known until we've at least gotten her out of there, yeah?" Ellie grumbles and Jessie just nods. "Good. Now, the five that were with the girl are most likely in there, one of them the boyfriend, so they're gonna be on our asses ready to kill. Shoot if you have to, but remember, the goal is getting Y/N out, not killing everyone-"

"This isn't going to end until they're dead, Dina," Ellie says, "I'm gonna do whatever it takes, and if that means everyone in that building dies, so be it." Without warning, she throws her gun behind her on her back and pushes herself over the wall into the awaiting room of the building.

"Well, guess we're goin' then." Jessie mutters. Dina huffs in response but is quick to follow her inside, Jessie right behind her.

Once they enter the building, they're able to hear some of the voices more clearly. The room contains two doors, both completely open, so the chance of getting caught is slightly greater now. Ellie signals two coming from the right, and two coming from the left, so Dina and Jessie split to take each side. Ellie lets Jessie take the lead into the next room, and waits until Dina is out of sight to make her next move. Once she's in the room once over, she realizes how big this room is, and Jessie is already on the other side near the two men, watching them in case they hear Ellie. Neither of them are him.

To the left, there's a long, straight hallway with what seems to be cells, with all the bars and all. Right as she's about to uncover herself, a shot rings out through the building and women start screaming.

Dina.

The men look at each other quickly and take off for the door she just entered. Jessie springs up from his spot and starts shooting at them, hitting his mark as they both crumple to the ground with bullets in their legs.

"Go!" Jessie yells at Ellie, and she takes off for the hallway. She pushes so hard her legs feel like they're gonna give out, but she ignores it and grits her teeth, determined to find you. Hopefully unharmed.

But she knows better though. She killed his girlfriend. If it were the other way around, and he killed you, she wouldn't have let that bitch live for another minute. She forces it out of her mind when she catches a sliver of your hair as she nearly passes up your cell. Ellie suddenly halts, backing up to run to your door. She struggles with the lock for a moment, but she quickly takes her gun to repeatedly jam it into the lock so it breaks apart. Once she throws the door open, she's next to you in a second, softly placing her hands on your face so you lift your head.

She hears you grumble and she sighs with relief. You're not dead.

"Hey, baby, I'm here. Let's get you outta' here yeah?" She talks quietly, nearly a whisper so you barely hear her, but you feel her hands on your skin so you start squirming.

"No no no, stop, please-"

"It's Ellie. It's Ellie, baby, you're okay." Your eyes open slightly, and tears start to fall against your face. You whimper and slump forward once the ropes are off your wrists, not able to keep yourself up. You whisper her name and she nods, taking your arms to wrap them around her neck before she picks you up to cradle you against her chest. "Yeah, me. Ellie. I'm here now. You're gonna be okay."

Your face nudges her shoulder as you dig yourself deeper into her embrace, and once you're settled she turns and runs out of the cell with you now in her arms.

She makes it half way back down the hallway when she hears a click.

A gun click.

"Stop."

She closes her eyes shut and huffs out a breath, letting her head fall back towards the ceiling. Shit.

"Turn around."

As slowly as she can, she spins around to face him, making eye contact as soon as she lifts her gaze from the ground. Surprisingly, he's smirking.

"You're here. Finally." He forces a laugh, "What took you so long? Figured you'd be here hours ago."

Ellie ignores the comment and stays quiet, glaring at him menacingly.

"What, no excuse? Alright." He shakes his head, and starts shaking the gun in his hand, pointing it in her direction. "You know who I am, right?"

"I know who you are."

He smiles, throwing his hands up, "Good! Good, that's great. I'm glad." He huffs out another laugh, but it's cut short when he drops the facade and his face turns daunting. "You know my name?"

"Your name doesn't mean shit." Ellie says.

"Dave. You should know since... you should always be able to put a name to the face who's about to ruin your whole damn life." Ellie's face doesn't change, but she starts to worry. She doesn't know what she's gonna do with you if she has to fight. "I know your name, Ellie. I know... your name, where you live," he starts to count off his fingers, "who you love, who was here that night, I know everything about you."

"Aw, how sweet."

"Yeah, joke about it now. You're not gonna be laughing when I blow your brains out."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Ellie lifts her chin, keeping her head high. "I know what I did, Dave. You should have taken me, this had nothing to do with her-"

"Oh, Ellie, but it did!" He interrupts. "It did because you wanna' know why? She's your girl. You took mine, I took yours. End of story."

Ellie grunts. "She was gonna kill someone who was important to me. It was either her or him."

"Blah, blah, blah, I don't care. Daisy was important to me, and you killed her."

"Daisy didn't suffer! You tortured her!" Ellie screamed.

"I suffered, Ellie. You would've done the same." He keeps his voice leveled. "We're the same you and I."

"Maybe. The only difference is that I'm gonna walk out of here alive and you're gonna be dead."

You don't see much of it. One minute you were in her arms and the next you were slumped against the wall watching her bang his head against the ground five times. At first she had the upper hand, but when she stopped, he threw his head back and slammed it hard on her nose. You heard her groan, you heard him scream, but your eyes were sort of blurry and it was so hard to lift your head.

You don't know how long you're there, it could have been a minute or an hour, but they don't stop, they never stop.

When you're able to see a little better, you see him pressing her body against the bars with an arm over her throat, choking her. She gasps for air and her hands are pushing his shoulders, but he doesn't give. You whimper on the ground as you try to move, but you just fall to your side on the floor.

"She's mine, now."

"Like hell." She sputters out. She shoves her thumbs up and into his eyes, digging her nails in causing him to scream in pain and let her go. She knees him in the crotch and watches him collapse to the floor. He groans, holding himself on the floor as Ellie towers over him.

He lifts his head to glare at her, but then he screams, "Just kill me!"

"Gladly." She whips out the gun from her belt behind her and shoots him point blank between the eyes. His head smacks the ground and his body twitches before it stops and lies motionless. Ellie stares at him for a second before her head snaps to you, lying on the ground in a crumpled sort of position and she runs to you, lifting your head to look at you properly.

"Baby, you there? You okay?"

Loud boots are heard stomping down the hallway and Ellie lifts her gun, prepared to shoot again before she realizes it's just Dina and Jessie. They come to a stop, breathing hard from their fight, but they still when they see you on the ground. Their eyes change from shock to horror, but Ellie doesn't pay attention.

"They all dead?" Ellie asks as she grabs you and cradles you in her arms again.

"Yeah..." Dina breathes, and Jessie nods. Even though you're leaning on Ellie's shoulder, you can still see them holding hands, and it makes you smile.

"Good. Let's go."

...

"It was reckless!"

"But she's here isn't she? We got her back!"

"You put her at risk-"

"She was already at risk, Joel! She was being tortured, it really couldn't have gotten much worse than that!"

"-and you three put your lives at risk, Ellie!-"

Their voices get louder and louder as you start to wake up and gain consciousness. You almost couldn't tell who it was at first when you began to slowly blink your eyes open, but as you listened to more and more of what they were arguing about, it was pretty clear who it was.

You feel the softness of a couch beneath you, and a pair of jeans rubbing against your ear. You already know it's Dina who has your head in her lap, the gentle rub on your arm giving it away. Without hinting to Dina that you're awake yet, you look around the room to see who's with you. You're in Tommy and Maria's living room; Tommy and Maria reside in the corner on a chair together, Jessie sits on the arm at the other end of the couch, and other than Dina, it's just Joel and Ellie that's left. They all look defeated and grave as they sit and listen to their argument, one that you're starting to comprehend.

You guess you were doing a bit too much shifting around because suddenly Dina's hand stops moving and her head comes into view.

"Guys, shut up, I think she's waking up!"

All of a sudden, all the attention in the room is on you, and you rub your eyes as you sit up, making it seem like you didn't just hear part of their conversation. Ellie's face lights up and she moves from across the room to kneel in front of you, helping you and Dina sit you up from your laid down position.

"Hi, baby, how you feelin'?" Ellie's soft voice is comforting to your ears, so different from how she sounded two seconds ago.

"Hi," you rasp, clearing your throat so you don't sound so hoarse, "I'm okay, I think. What time is it?"

"It's a little after 8 o'clock," she says, "do you want something to eat? Or do you want water?"

You nod your head, "I'll take some water."

"I'll get it for you." Jessie says, leaving the room to get you a glass. You look around and examine their faces, and the way they're looking at you starts to make you feel overwhelmed.

"What? You're looking at me like I'm a ghost or something." You chuckle halfheartedly to yourself, but none of them laugh with you. Ellie grips your hand, bringing your attention to her for a moment, and it's then that you notice how much emotion is being held in features as she stares at you. You can tell she wants to cry, but she holds it in her chest, shoving it down deep, so it doesn't bubble up in front of everyone. You grip back as hard as you can.

Nobody talks until Jessie gets back. He hands the glass of water to you with a gentle smile, rubbing your shoulder gently as he passes by and sits next to you on the couch. You awkwardly take small sips as they sit and stare, watching you, as if you're gonna fall or die on the spot or something. After about five minutes, you couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay, is someone going to say something, or are we all just going to sit here and stare at me?"

Ellie hides her laugh a little bit, breaking the silence, and Joel gives her a look.

"You've been through a lot, why don't you go get some rest?" Joel suggests. You want to make a comment about his and Ellie's argument, but you hold back for now. That can be hashed out in the morning, for now, you'd rather go lay in bed with Ellie.

Just as you think about going home, you remember what happened there and what the house must still look like. There's no way Ellie even went back into the house after seeing it, much less to clean it, from what you can assume she probably left right away. You look at Ellie, and she's already speaking, and lending you a hand to stand up.

"We're gonna stay here tonight, Tommy and Maria offered us a room. Just so everyone can stay together." She gives you a tight-lipped smile, and you know as soon as you get to the bedroom and you're alone, she'll probably tell you more.

"No problem, I'd like that. Thank you guys."

"Of course, honey. Get some rest, we'll see you in the morning." Maria offers a kind smile. Then her, Tommy, and Joel leave the room and head to the kitchen where they start a small, quiet conversation with themselves.

"Thanks for... everything," You turn to Dina and Jessie, giving their hands a squeeze, "I don't really know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything, babe. You know we got you." Dina pulls you into a tight embrace, and Jessie follows suit, wrapping his lanky arms around the both of you.

"Yeah, you know we got your back. Even against crazy psycho cults." Jessie adds. Ellie and Dina give him the most point blank stare you've ever seen, and it makes you laugh, maybe a little too hard because you wince and hold your ribs.

"Stop, Jessie, you're making me laugh." He smiles, giving your head a rub and messing your hair up even more.

"Okay, let's go." Ellie grabs your hand and wraps her other arm around your waist as she leads you up the stairs, while you give Dina and Jessie one last smile. Once they're out of sight and you guys are up the stairs, you finally let yourself lean into Ellie and let her take your weight. You didn't realize how much pain you were in until now, but you think the shock of seeing everyone again all of a sudden must have just worn off. "I got you baby, we're almost there." Ellie says into your ear, giving you a kiss on the side of your head as you make it to the top of the stairs.

She sets you on the bed before going back to close the door, giving you a once over as soon as she's standing in front of you again. You offer your arms out, and she steps closer, letting your face fall into her stomach and your hands come up to wrap around her body. She feels your sigh of relief almost instantly, and it makes her cup your head and lean into you as close as she possibly can.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." She whispers.

"For what?" You look up at her.

"I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you that morning-"

"Ellie, you were on patrol, you couldn't have known-"

"It was still too soon after everything that happened. I didn't want to leave you in the first place and I shouldn't have." She's shaking her head, eyes closed, and her hands in a fist with your shirt enclosed in them. You know no matter what you say, she won't listen to it, so you just rub her sides.

"You saved me, Els. I'm home because of you." She nods her head and glances down at you, cupping your cheeks.

"I would have never stopped until you were."

You nod back, "I know." You pull her down so your faces are level and kiss her, taking her by surprise. Of course, she returns the kiss, and it's so soft, so comforting, familiar and safe.

Ellie changes into sweats and a t-shirt quickly so she can help you get into your clothes, which is the exact same thing as she's wearing, and get you under the covers faster. Once you both are changed, she holds up the blankets so you can slide under, and once you're settled you let your head hit the pillow and close your eyes. You breathe deeply, calming your heart, and trying to force your mind to settle down. Ellie's arms snake around you, pulling you close to her chest.

"I'm never leaving you again."

You smile, and kiss right above her collarbone where your head is resting against her chest.

"I don't doubt it."

#the title has no particular meaning I just thought it was cool lmao #i guess you can say dave was the dead man walking #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #the last of us

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