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theauthorunicorn · 6 months

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No Limit | Gojo Satoru

tooth rooting fluff, not proofread I just love Gojo Saturo

note: long time no write hehe. this is inspired to Business Proposal scene in which the male lead asked the female lead what his card and his love for her has in common. iykyn. I saw that scene in my fyp and man if I tell you how I screamed, silenty, then I really can't explain it. anyway enjoy.

Gojo Satoru x Reader

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

If someone asks you, "How can you describe Gojo Satoru?" You'll definitely answers them, "A fucking flirt."

There's no hour, minute nor second, he'll try to waste just to get you annoyed or fluster. You hated that he loves doing it and just leave you hanging, mouth opened as if the world had stopped. He's so unpredictable that's why you hated, love it.

Once Shoko said, "Y/N, stop that look, " you raised your eyebrows at her, "you know that thing when your mouth is gaping after Satoru said something flirtatious." You rolled your eye at her remarks, "Shoko, babe," you sigh, "I was caught off guard, okay." She nodded at your words, "As if he did not make those silly remarks at you every second, minute, hour at any day. You definitely have fallen for him -"

"Who fallen for who?" Gojo cut off leaning down to stare at you.

You were surprised and heart beating faster that he might caught your little crush over him, "Nothing! And it's ill-mannered to eavesdrop at a conversation you're not supposed to be with, Gojo."

"Hmm," he puts his hand on his chin, thinking, "if that's the case that you're hiding your silly girl talks to me. I will - no - I assume it's about me."

"What? You're so annoyingly full of yourself Satoru. Stop making everything about you." Said Shoko throwing whatever she had earlier at Gojo. He laughed and told Suguru about it when he arrived at the table.

Nice save, Shoko. And well done Gojo, he was able to deduce it without even trying.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

After classes you gather your things to rest for day. You immediately left the room while murmuring goodbyes to your friends when you saw Nanami.

"Hey Y/N, you free tonight?" He asked. You mumble a quick hum as a yes. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to try the new ramen restaurant that we passed through the other day. You said that you wanted to -"

"Oh, I was about to ask you that as well Y/N." Said Gojo as he rests his chin on the top of your head. "But since Nanami asked we could all go as a group, Suguru and Shoko should come to! Right guys?" They simply nodded.

"Eight pm sharp?" He asked everyone, nodding, "We'll meet at front of the school, okay?" Everyone agreed and Nanami sighed in disbelief.

"I was just hoping a good dinner. Just a good dinner why would I have to be with Gojo-san." Nanami pressed the bridge of his nose. Though he knew that Gojo was just trying to insert himself and would not like you to have any alone time with his male friends. Even Suguru.

"Aw, Kento," you held his arm, "we could just go alone next time or," you grinned, "we could get ice cream after."

Gojo stand behind both of you with jealousy wrapping his face. "You could just ask her, "hey Y/N you wanna be my girl." She'll definitely say yes." Suguru assured him.

A deep sigh broke both man's delusions, "That's why both of you couldn't have girlfriends because it's either your full of shit or just flirty who can't even ask properly a girl out."

Gojo still stared at how you threw yourself over Nanami giving ideas which ice cream you could all try.

"It's my treat. It'll be my treat!" He shouted all of a sudden. He grabbed you and hold your hand, "You can say thank you as early as now," he whispered, "or you can give me a kiss?"

You flicked his forehead as you walked away from him, "Aw, my love, you don't have to run away from me! I'm sure they wouldn't mind, right, Nanami?" He said chasing you.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

At the restaurant booth, Suguru, Nanami and Shoko was on the opposite side of where you and Gojo is seating. You were browsing the menu while Gojo is leaning on your shoulder looking at the menu as well, your heart is beating faster when his close like this, but you disregard it and put in the best stoic face that you could give without hinting that your heart is racing faster than any car could. He might hear it but who cares you can always blame the caffeine if he asks.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, "You could get anything, hell, get the whole menu or I could just buy you the restaurant?" He calmly said staring at you.

"Really?" You played with his banter.

Gojo quickly searched for his wallet and displayed his black card, "You know what this card and my love for you have in common?"

You looked at Shoko bewildered and entertained what's about to happen then to Suguru who's definitely was about to laugh out loud and finally to Nanami whose face is screaming, 'I want to go home, I did not sign up for this.'

You just shook your head, eyes blinking.

"They both have no limit." He said proudly grinning ear to ear.

The booth was silent and then a burst of laughter echoed as Shoko and Suguru laughed and you definitely saw Nanami laugh a little bit before gesturing the waiter to take your orders.

"So, what do you want?" Gojo ask you again.

Love. Your love. I want it. Your eyes say it all before you looked away from him and gave your order away.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk x reader #jjk gojo

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daisysliv · 2 years

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now or never | eddie munson

word count: 4035

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie's plans to confess don't exactly go to plan

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff if you squint, mentions of drugs (not specified), smut, p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it mfs)

notes: sorry for being so ia for a while, i just started working, and by the time i get home, im too tired to even write, but i managed to get this done over the last few days. this was my first time writing smut, let me know if you like it! this is one of my personal favorite fics i've ever written, so i hope you like it <3 there is a part two for this in works so let me know if that's something you would like and as always, not edited, so all my mistakes are my own

library

stranger things bookshelf

Standing outside the burgundy-colored door of his best friend’s home for what felt like hours but was merely a couple of minutes as he gathered the courage to ring the doorbell. He released a puff of air that he had been holding and lifted his finger to ring the bell, only to hesitate and lower it again. He repeats the same action a few more times. He was shaking, not from the cold breeze that nipped at the exposed skins of his hands but with nerves. His heart pounded against his ribs so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest at any given moment.

Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing here so late or what he was going to say if you answered the door; all he knew was that if he didn’t tell you how he felt now, then any and all courage he felt would be gone. He could already feel it slipping.

He shook his arms out in some lame attempt to get rid of the nerves that coursed through his veins. He had been nervous and overthinking this all day, but it didn’t compare to how he currently felt now that he stood outside your house. Muttering a few words of encouragement to himself, he finally rang the doorbell and turned his back to the door to try and gather his jumbled thoughts before it inevitably opened.

The door opened with a low creak followed by a velvet-like voice that had taken over his every thought, “Eddie?” Spinning back around, a nervous smile tugged on his lips, and—fuck.

You looked beautiful, which wasn’t anything new. You always looked beautiful without even trying. He stood there in awe, his lips parted as his eyes danced over the woman in front of him. You looked like you had just finished getting ready for bed. You wore a Black Sabbath that he recognized as the one he gave you at school when you claimed to be cold while sitting in the cafeteria, paired with black sweats and her face bare of the makeup you had on earlier in the day. “Did we have plans or something?”

Snapping out of his trance, Eddie shook his head, his eyes never straying away from you. You smiled at him and moved out of the way, opening the door wider to give him room so he could enter. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, everything is good. I just…” He trails off, his back facing her as he surveys the living room for any signs that your parents are there. “Are your parents here, or did they leave already?”

You shook your head as you shut the door, making sure to lock it. “They left a bit ago. Got the house all to myself for the next few days.” You followed him to the living room and moved around picking up the disregarded trash that was piled on the coffee table. “I meant to call when they left and see if you wanted a movie night, but I fell asleep. Why are you asking?”

“Well, I didn’t really want anyone to witness possible failure on my part because I…I have something to tell you,” A warm smile tugs on his lips as he watches you dump the trash in your arms into the nearby trash can. “So…can we sit and talk?”

“Yeah, just let me finish throwing this shit away. Robin and Steve came over after school before my parents left, and I couldn’t be bothered to clean after they left.” You rambled while carefully placing some dishes in the sink, the alcohol into the fridge, and threw away a few more pieces of trash that you found lying around. Eddie paced the living room, rubbing his hands over his jean-clad legs to wipe away from the sweat that gathered on his palms. “Do you want something to drink?”

He shakes his head and darts his tongue out to wet his dry, chapped lips. He could feel his nerves taking over the longer he waited to get this over with. He could feel the courage he took weeks to gather slipping away with every second that ticked by. “Princess, please just… just come here.” Eddie pleaded, his eyes on his best friend, hoping you could see the desperation in his eyes. Fortunately for him, you knew him and could hear the desperation in his tone. You moved towards where he was and took a seat on the couch, folding your legs under your butt and adjusting the hoodie you wore. Eddie followed you in sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, and he ran a hand over his face.

He hadn’t thought this through all the way, and he didn’t know how to approach it. You were able to sense his nerves, so you reached forward and grabbed one of his hands. “Eddie, what’s going on? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“Shit, uh… I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t ruin anything because I value our friendship more than anything. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be friends with, but–”

“Eds, spit it out.” You cut off his ramblings, your eyes locked on his, and he could feel his heart speed up in his chest; that same pounding feeling from earlier. He was certain that one day he would go into cardiac arrest around her.

Now or never, Munson. He thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. He felt sweat form in the palm of his hands and felt his cheeks heat up. You looked at him with concern carved into your features, your eyes scanning his face, looking for something, but he didn’t know what.

“Are you high or something?” You blurt, pulling your hand out from his.

“No! I’m clean. I just… I’m nervous.” He spoke, his brows knitted together. “Why would you automatically assume I’m high?”

You shake your head, letting out a breath of relief. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re all jumpy and won’t get to the point, and I haven’t seen you like this since the day before that… that night.” His heart clenched at the mention of the night he reached rock bottom a year and a half ago. It had been a hard week leading up to it all around, and he finally reached his breaking point where he felt so alone and unwanted that he took everything he could to not feel that way anymore. Eddie could hardly think of that night without being bombarded with the image of his best friend's face when she stumbled into the trailer and found him barely breathing on the couch.

He was awake but unaware of most of his surroundings. He could speak, but it came out slurred and incoherent. His complexion was turning bluish-purple, his lips already blue, and a thin layer of cold sweat coated his body. His pulse was barely there, and his breathing had turned shallow but erratic.

He barely remembered anything once all the drugs kicked in, but he remembered waking up in the hospital a few days later with flashes of that night swirling through his head, but there were only a few things that stood out the most. The sound of your voice cracking while begging for him to stay as sobs racked your body was one of them. The broken and distraught look on your face was another. That one haunted him weeks afterward. It still did sometimes. The doctors told him that wouldn't have made it if you would've arrived just a few minutes later.

After that night, he never wanted to see that look on your face or his Uncle Wayne’s face or hear the way your voices broke ever again. He didn't want to feel himself slipping away slowly and not being able to move or call for help again so he made it his mission to stay away from that shit. You were there for him through every single step he took. You never left his side even when he had his mood swings, and he couldn't have asked for anyone else.

“I know, and I promise you, I'm okay. I just have something important to tell you, and I'm scared that it'll ruin everything.”

“It won't. I promise, so just tell me.” Placing your hand in his once more, you intertwined your fingers, smiling at the warmth that shot through your body. Eddie smiled at the same feeling, not realizing you did the same.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, the urge to just press his against yours, to know how they felt and tasted, grew stronger with each fleeting second. You, however, didn't notice the not-so-subtle action as you were too focused on the warmth your body felt whenever you made skin-to-skin contact with the man. It was like a warm blanket was being draped over your shoulders after being in the cold longer than you should be. It was like curling up next to the fire with the warm blanket and the comforting smell of cookies floating around the room.

Looking up, you force your eyes away from your locked hands and stare at him, your eyes finding his light brown eyes already staring at you. At that moment, he felt a surge of confidence wash over him, all his nerves disappearing, and he lifted his free hand to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing over her cheekbone.

He watched your face contort from concern to curiosity the longer he stared. With a nervous smile, Eddie leaned in closer, pressing his forehead on yours, your noses touching and mouths hovering over one another. You were so close that all it would take was one wrong move from either of you, and your lips would touch. His eyes darted back down to your lips, taking note of how yours did the same, the once nervous smile now a smirk.

He looked back up to your eyes, searching for anything that told him that you didn't want this to happen; he didn't find any. “Eddie,” You whispered seconds before he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, full of pent-up tension you had been suppressing for years, your eyes immediately fluttering shut. You moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips on yours, your free hand immediately gripping his long hair, tugging at the root while the other disconnected from his hand to wrap around his neck.

He hummed against your mouth, the groan building in the back of his throat making itself known. Your mouth opened with a gasp when he placed his free hand underneath the hoodie you wore, on your waist to pull you closer; the warmth of his touch sent a shock up your spine.

Despite the awkward position you were in, your lips moved against his in perfect sync until the need for air became too much, and, with a lot of hesitation, Eddie slowly pulled away. His eyes opened slowly to look at you while he dragged air back into his lungs. Your eyes fluttered open shortly after his, your chest heaving as you fought for air.

“So beautiful,” He murmured, wearing a dopey grin on his face.

A smile pulls at your lips, and you tighten your grip around his neck, pulling him down to connect your lips once again, now craving the feeling and taste of them more. Eddie responded quickly, removing his hands from where they were on your body to grip underneath your thighs to pull you into his lap, swallowing the noise of surprise you made when he did. He smiled against your lips, his heart still beating rapidly against his ribs.

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair, tugging at the roots and eliciting a groan from the metalhead. He leaned back on the couch, his hands going to your waist to hold you still when he felt you move. You were the first one to pull away this time, your eyes remaining shut while gasping for air for a minute before diving back into his lips. “Hmm,” He hummed against your lips.

You giggled at the vibrations it sent through and down your body. You pull away, keeping your hands tangled in his hair. “Does this mean what I think it does, or do you go around kissing all your friends like that?”

“Only the real pretty ones.” He jokes, and you remove a hand from his hair to smack him in the chest, throwing your head back in a laugh. Eddie took the opportunity to duck forward and attach his mouth to your neck, your laugh quickly turning into a gasp.

“Upstairs.” You said through gasps while he worked on your neck, nipping and sucking gently. You were sure he left marks behind.

He reluctantly pulled away, and you took the chance to disconnect from him, pulling him up off the couch. “Lead the way, princess.” He smirked.

As soon as your bedroom door closes behind you, his lips are on yours again as he presses you against the door. “Are you sure about this?” He asks breathlessly, his lips already back on your neck.

“Yeah, fuck, please.”

“Just making sure.” He leans in again, covering your lips with his. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him. He was warm, despite the cold air that filled the room from your cracked window, and you felt like you were dreaming.

He moves his hand under your—his hoodie, running his hand over your skin, and you can't stop the shivers going up your spine. You're tingling everywhere, all your senses zeroing in on him. His scent, the way his body felt against yours, the way his lips felt. Everything.

You throw your head back, giving him more access to your neck, and it doesn't take long for Eddie to suck and nibble on your skin. “You're so beautiful, princess.” Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Eddie…” Your eyes dart back and forth between his own, your heart pounding against your chest. “Kiss me.” He obliges and plants a quick kiss on your lips, and then he picks you up with one swift movement, making you squeal.

Your back hits the mattress as he lays you down, a giggle tumbling past your lips. The chain he wore swung in your face, and you reached up, hooking a finger through the chain to pull him closer. You meet in another kiss, all tongues and teeth, while you busy your hands with his undoing his belt. Eddie uses one of his hands to support his weight on the bed. “What do you want?” Eddie lays his forehead on yours, his cheeks flushed.

Instead of answering with words, you wrap your hand around his and run it down your body until the heat of his hand is seeping through your sweats, and you feel the gentle pressure on your center. You feel yourself get even more turned on. Eddie rubs his hand over your sweats ever so slightly, but it’s enough to make your heart pound faster against your ribs.

“I see. You want my hands?”

“Please,” You nod quickly, bucking your hips into his hand.

Eddie huffs out a laugh with a slight shake of his head. “I have no choice but to oblige.” He quickly gets to work with undoing the strings on your sweats and hooking his fingers into the waistband, and pulls them down, exposing your underwear that you were sure was soaked through at this point. And you couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed about it. He takes off the fuzzy socks that you wore to keep your feet warm before pulling the sweats off your legs completely, kissing his way back up until he’s resting between your legs. His hands are on your hips, yours in his hair as he gets closer to where you need him the most. “You’re so wet for me, princess.” You could hear the smirk in his, but you don’t get the chance to think more over it, let alone say anything in return, because in the next second, Eddie is running his tongue over your covered core.

You let out a curse when the tip of his tongue finds your clit. “Right there.” Your grip on his hair tightens, and you feel his fingers press into the skin of your thighs.

“Hmm, I think I’ll have to get closer.”

“Fuck, please.” You wouldn’t be surprised if you turned into a puddle at his touch. With nimble fingers, Eddie pushes your panties to the side, his breath now hitting your wet folds directly, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

“So fucking beautiful. Definitely worth the wait.” And then he spreads you with his thumbs and dives in, circling your clit with his tongue, lapping and sucking on it. You can feel sweat begin to form, your whole body growing hot under his ministrations.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you’re making, princess.” He replaces his tongue with a thumb, and the sudden change in pressure makes you moan loudly, your thighs clenching. “I'll take my time with you next time, but, right now, I gotta have you.”

You definitely were not complaining. As much as you enjoyed the foreplay, you needed him inside you, reaching the places you couldn’t. Eddie sits back on his legs and pulls off his jacket and shirt. Just as he leans back down to cover your lips with his, he stops, his brows knitting together. “Condom?”

“Fuck, uh…my bathroom. Top drawer.” You tell him.

He smiles and lifts himself off the bed. “One second.” He disappears into your bathroom, and you reposition yourself so you’re on your knees, waiting patiently for him to return. You hear him rummaging around through the door for a moment before he reappears, a foil packet in his hand, stopping in his tracks at the mere sight of you sitting nice and pretty for him. His eyes visibly darken. “Fucking hell, sweetheart,” He groans.

You don’t take your eyes off of him as he walks over with a triumphant grin on his face. Your eyes flicker down, catching the outline of his hard cock visible through his pants, a low whimper passing your lips.

“God, you’re so hot.” He pulls his bottom lips prisoner in between his teeth as positions himself behind you, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade. His lips sent a shiver through you.

You look over your shoulder, watching as his stomach flexes as he unbuttons his jeans. “You aren’t too bad yourself.” Your mouth waters when he pulls out his cock. His eyes never leave yours as he rips open the condom wrapper with his teeth.

You watch him roll the condom on, and then he’s got a hand on your hip while the other wraps around the base of his cock. “Are you ready?”

You could only nod as he ran the tip of his cock through your folds a couple of times, nudging your clit, and causing you to tighten your grip on your blanket. “Please, Eds…” You whimper, your eyes squeezed shut, and then he’s slowly pushing into you, filling you up.

Both of you are breathing heavily as he pulls out a bit before sliding in deeper, repeating that until he’s sheathed all the way inside you. A loud groan tumbled past his lips.

“You're so tight, sweetheart; feels so good.” He pulls you up by the hips, so your back is against his chest, and he moves one of his hands to your cunt, his middle finger playing with your clit, making you clench around him. “So fucking good. Better than I could imagine.” His words make you smile. You place one of your hands on top of the hand he has on your hip, and he withdraws himself before thrusting deeper into you. His hips build up a rhythm that drives you insane. You push your hips back, meeting his thrusts as you widen your legs, wanting him even deeper.

Eddie picks up the pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours and both of your moas filling the room. “Fuck, the things I wanna do to you.” Eddie grunts; his deep, gravelly voice sends a shock through you.

“Why don’t you do them then?” You look back at him, a challengingly glint in your eyes.

Eddie lets out a strained laugh. “Oh, I will. Next time, you won’t be able to walk for days. I’ll have you in all the ways I could only imagine late at night with just my hand.”

“Tell me about them.” Your words are followed by a moan as he hits a particularly sensitive spot within you.

“I wanna make you cum so many times you can’t remember anything, not even your own name. Wanna have you so cock drunk, you can’t form proper sentences. Gonna have you bent over in front of a mirror and make you watch yourself fall apart on my cock.” You never thought you’d hear Eddie speak like this, and you can’t deny the way it makes you feel. Hearing him say these things while he fucks into you drives you insane. “Wanna see you on top, riding me with your tits bouncing with every movement, fuck.” He grunts, his thrusts speeding up. He moves in and out of you without problems. Each fantasy he’s told you makes you wetter than before, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

The coil in your stomach is wound tight, and it looks like Eddie isn’t gonna last much longer either. “I’m gonna cum, Eds. I’m so close.” You collapsed onto your elbows, your upper body no longer able to stay up.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He wraps his arm around your torso, moving you back up against his chest, and you’re able to hold onto him better. Being back in this position allows him to find the spot that makes you throw your head back with a moan.

“Right there.” Eddie’s whole body is tense, his skin covered with a sheen of sweat as he pounds into you. And then his thumb finds your clit, and you’re done for, an intense orgasm washing over you. Your walls clench around him, and that’s all it took for him to fall over the edge. He grunts into your ear as he thrusts into you a few more times, his cock twitching as he unloads into the condom.

Both your chests are heaving as you slowly recover. You’re now lying flat on your back, your head on your pillow, and you run your hands through your hair, brushing the strands stuck to your face with sweat away, looking up at the ceiling as you try to comprehend what just happened.

You just had sex with your best friend. And now everything might be ruined. God, you felt so stupid. You just ruined everything, and for what? Something that probably meant nothing?

All these thoughts run through your head whilst Eddie lazily caresses your thighs, letting out a deep breath before he finally removes his hands from you and stands from the bed. You hear him walk into the bathroom, and you take the opportunity to sit up, the fabric of the hoodie you still wore stuck to your skin. Eddie walks back into the room, wet washcloth in his hand, his face still flushed a pretty pink, and you realize he has put his boxers back on. He opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it, your voice hoarse, “it’s late…you should go.”

He stares at you in surprise for a moment before his face falls, and he slowly nods. You lay back down, not having the will to watch as he puts his clothes back on and leaves. You wait until you can hear the roar of his engine before you let the tears fall.

part two

notes: since tumblr apparently has a limit of how many people i can tag, if i noticed i had you in multiple taglists for stranger things, i removed the duplicate so i can tag more people!

PERMANENT TAGLIST ( if it's crossed out that means i couldn't tag you )

@prettylittlemoonlight @drayshadow @evanbuckbuckleyhowlett @wildestdreamcatcher @mushroomdemon9 @levylovegood @1-800-prostitutes @AllieAprilKnox @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @moshpot24x @AlohaStitch_626 @lucyispan @linkpk88 @juneb3rry @loveshineslikethesky @liyinzen

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST

@hehehehannahthings @polarisfae @Pinksloosh @mushroomdemon9 @bvmbshell @lilahloopsy @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @angelbbygrl @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @marauderssworld @watchingteav @moshpot24x @scorpfairy @cherrypieyourface @soph69420world @itsquinoa @linkpk88 @milkiane @daffodil0darling @pastel-abyss-x @maruushkka @kiwi5335

EDDIE MUNSON TAGLIST

@polarisfae @spookyconsultingcriminal @findleynovadachs111 @1-800-prostitutes @marvel-starwars-nerd @marauderssworld @lovelyladymayyy @mcueveryday @watchingteav @ts1mikas @moshpot24x @scorpfairy @WolfOstar @pettyassbitch @pumpararapam @karagrace @susbuttercup @cherrypieyourface @cupidlvrrr @eddiemunsonhellfire @soph69420world @itsquinoa @lucyispan @centralperksfunds @daffodil0darling @pastel-abyss-x @zervopoulouu @3belladonna

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things blurb #steve harrington #robin buckley

1K notes · View notes

spiderluvbot · 1 year

Text

𝗞𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗢𝗥 ─── 🇪🇹🇭🇦🇳 🇱🇦🇳🇩🇷🇾.

summary: sometimes you have to remind your boyfriend that he's the only one for you, not that you mind.

genre: does this count as hurt/comfort? insecure!ethan so angst, like five seconds of fluff, gets suggestive at the end.

pairing(s): ethan landry x fem! reader.

words: 1.3k.

warnings: mdni, swearing, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, technically proofread but i'm shit at grammar, i repeat the same word like 500 times, non-ghostface ethan, also he and anika are best friends because i love them.

author's note: first time writing something suggestive (first time writing anything lmao). do i think this is shitty writing? yes. do i think it should stay in my drafts and never see the light of the day? yes. will i post it anyway? yes. enjoy ig.

Ethan downed yet another one of the drinks that Chad had prepared for him while attempting to listen to his friend, the colored lights blinding him as his eyes darted towards the crowd.

"Dude, are you even listening?" The cowboy by his side sighed before looking back at the table, wondering what to fill his cup with next. "Maybe you should just go find her."

"She said she would meet us here. And she texted me that she was by the door like twenty minutes ago. Maybe she's just talking to someone." Ethan's plastic cup looked more and more interesting by the second, he could feel Chad rolling his eyes before his hand forcibly tapped his shoulder.

"You already got the girl, Ethan. There's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. thanks, Chad."

"Ethan!" You made your way through the dance floor to your boyfriend, ignoring a few classmates that tried to stop you and quickly greeting your boyfriend. He couldn't help but notice the boys following after you, even when he had you in his arms and painting his face with your lipstick.

The much more muscular, confident, popular boys.

The kind of boys that you should probably be dating instead of him.

"Aw, this is so cute." You smiled, using your finger to grab the cardboard and pull him closer, leaving a small kiss on his lips. "Did you make it yourself?"

He felt his cheeks getting warm and finally dared to look at you. "It was a last minute thing."

"Yeah, right. He spent like a week on it, said he wanted to impress you." Chad ignored Ethan gaping at him and left with the excuse of finding Mindy, laughing at his own comment and holding his stomach.

Great, now you knew about his shitty DIY skills, he had never felt more embarrassed in his life.

You held his face between your hands and pressed more kisses where the helmet allowed you, continuing to paint him a soft pink.

"Well, consider me impressed."

"I even used velcro." He joked.

"Oh my God, take me back to your dorm."

You threw your arms around him, both laughing and stumbling around in your blissfully intoxicated state. You focus on his eyes, soft brown, long lashes, half covered by light curly hair. Eyes that look back at you with so much more love than one could ever imagine.

The intimacy of the moment is broken the second you feel a hand on your arm.

You're pulled away by Matt, a guy from your literature class, as he and his friends seem to make a barrier between the two of you. His grip becomes stronger when you try to back off.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Come play beer pong with us!" He starts pulling you towards a table, further and further away from him, and Ethan can't help but think that you just make more sense over there, surrounded by shirtless jocks and popular mean girls that somehow everyone loves.

Hell, it would be easier to picture you dating Chad rather than himself. He still couldn't figure out how he got you to date him when you were so out of his league, and the worst part was that everyone thought the same. He could see it in the way people stared at you two, at the way people (including your friends) mocked your relationship, in the way he thought you looked beautiful in your costume while he looked like a total loser (even if you said otherwise).

He felt something cold in his hand and looked down to see he had crushed his plastic cup and sighed before making his way to the table in search of some napkins.

Anika's calls for him made him stop by the couch she and Mindy were occupying. His body collapsed on the old cushions and he dumped his head on the girl's shoulder, letting out a groan in hopes it would make her say something that would make him feel better.

"This again? You know she loves you, Ethan. You don't have to be so dramatic about some random dude liking her."

Anika tried to hold her laugh at the feeling of Ethan mocking her girlfriend against her shoulder, because of course Mindy would say exactly the same things Chad always says, and patted his leg before turning to look at him.

"You know, you should just tell her how you feel, E."

"No, that's shitty advice."

"It wasn't shitty advice when it got you a girlfriend." She rolled her eyes and looked your way. "Ugh, she looks like she wants to die in there. Just take her upstairs, where you can talk in private, and talk. about. it."

"Fine." He got up and made his way to you, pretending to crash into Matt hard enough to make him dump his vodka on himself, and took advantage of the distraction to pull you away.

"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." Your smile disappeared once you saw his sad expression and you grabbed his hand as it was replaced with a frown of your own. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Can we talk in private?"

"Sure." You guided him through the room and made your way up the stairs, searching all of the rooms until you found one that wasn't occupied by a bunch of horny students.

"Okay, what's wrong?" You turned around to find your boyfriend sitting on the bed, playing with his hands and avoiding your gaze the way he did when he was extremely nervous.

"Do you- do you wanna break up with me?" Ethan stuttered and looked up at you only for a second before focusing on his hands again.

Your mouth opened in disbelief and you went to sit by his side, taking one of his hands on your own.

"That doesn't make any sense." You chuckled at the sheer stupidity of the thought before noticing his teary eyes and getting serious again. "Why would you think that, E?"

"We don't make sense together." Ethan sniffed and lifted his hand to wipe a tear. "You should date someone better, someone more like you... someone like Matt."

The words made him feel like his throat was burning up, and he felt rage, at both his tears and the fact that he kept letting people get to his head.

"That's fucking bullshit, Ethan." You grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look at you. "I don't give a shit about people like Matt. I love you, okay? Nothing's gonna change that."

You pulled him towards you and planted a kiss on his lips, starting soft and barely touching until he felt comfortable enough to pull you closer and kiss you harder. He got on top of you as you both fell on the bed and his lips traveled to your throat, leaving a tingling sensation on the way. Soft whispers of 'I love you, I love you, I love you' against your neck as he hid his face and started desperately rocking his hips against yours, one of his hands finding the way to your chest while the other tightened against your waist.

The cardboard of his costume burned and scrapped your skin, but it didn't matter, you would give him anything he needed, always. And right now he needed to have you close and feel how much you loved him.

So you pulled him closer and took off his helmet. You pulled his hair the way he liked and kissed his cheek repeatedly before turning until his body was against the bed and you could lift the part of his shirt that wasn't covered by the costume, leaving soft kisses on his stomach, traveling down, down, down.

Your hand slowly opened the button of his pants as his hips raised and low whimpers left his mouth, you could feel him twitch against your lips, through the fabric of his underwear, and your eyes focused on the small wet spot in them. You thought about how much he meant to you, and decided you could spend the rest of your life proving it to him, having him just like this, your pretty knight in shining armor.

#this is kinda shit #but i couldn't stop thinking about it so here it is #i'm obsessed with him #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan.txt

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vldsideblog · 1 year

Text

Here’s a quick oneshot based off of the idea that Shiro just decided to ignore all the times Keith did something alien like and decided it was too much work.

It was a quiet day on the Castle Of Lions. Pidge and Hunk were playing some game they had hooked up in the lounge. Coran and Allura were locked in a very intense staring contest. Keith and Lance were sitting on the floor painting their nails. And Shiro was relaxing on the couch with a cup of “not quite tea.” Everything was peaceful, until Lance had to ruin it.

“Ya know, Keith. It’s kinda weird that you’re half Galra, you look completely human!”

“Yeah,” Pidge chimed in, still focusing on kicking Hunk’s ass in some Mario Kart ripoff.

“It’s a bit strange with how Galra traits seem to be passed down, I think you’d be purple or something.”

“I wouldn't say I look fully human.” Keith grumbled as he waited for the black nail polish to dry on his thumb. “My canine teeth are pretty pointy.”

“Yeah, but that’s normal weird stuff! Shit like that just happens sometimes!” Lance complained loudly.

“I don’t think you guys know what you’re talking about. When I first met him I thought I was losing my mind.” Shiro said, staring blankly at his lukewarm cup of tea.

“What the fuck does that even mean!” Lance threw his arms up in the air. “Did he turn purple or something!?”

“Not exactly,” Shiro glanced over at his brother, “Can I tell them?” “Yeah whatever, as long as they leave me alone about this after.”

“Scouts honor.” Lance put a hand over his heart.

“Uh man, you were never in the Boy Scouts.”

“Shut up Hunk! Kidding, love you dude.” Pidge adjusted their glasses, “tell us what?”

Shiro cleared his throat, “Back in the garrison, when we first met I could’ve sworn that his eyes changed when he got angry. Like his pupils looked like a cats” Shiro had set down his tea at this point and was waving his non-metal arm around for emphases. “I had to convince Matt to not write a research paper on him.”

Pidge snorted, “Yeah that sounds like Matt.”

“Um, I think we’re all missing an important point here. WHY DIDN’T YOU QUESTION ANY OF THIS!!!” Hunk questioned reasonably.

“Honestly I was really busy getting ready for the Kerberos mission, I just chalked it up to puberty and tried to keep him out of fights.” Shiro huffed, taking another sip of his tea. Keith rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t that bad.”

Shiro spat out his tea. “Not that bad?! Keith, one time you got in a fight lost a tooth, a permanent tooth. And it grew back in a day!” “To be fair I thought that was normal.”

“Why did I. End up with you as a brother!” “Shut up I’m a great brother.”

Shiro sighed, “One time when Keith was over for the holidays I heard something in the kitchen, when I went to see what it was I swore I say glowing eyes, turns out it was just Keith getting a snack.”

Lance bursted out laughing, “He’s like a weird cat!” Keith rolled his eyes again and added another layer of polish. “Cats' eyes dont glow jackass.” “Oh shut up!”

Pidge who was now very invested in the conversation and taking notes cracked their knuckles. “What else does he do? It could be helpful information.”

“Are we seriously doing this!” Keith mumbled, everyone opted to ignore him.

Pidge began scribbling furiously as Shiro listed things off.

“The whites of his eyes turn yellow, he growls, his fingernails grow and sharpen.”

“Holy shit!” Lance said in awe.

“I’m not done yet. He can jump really high, has great night vision, his hearing is super good. Am I missing anything Keith!”

“I Don't know, I don't really pay attention to this kind of stuff.”

Everyone collectively groaned.

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mandareeboo · 4 months

Text

Unfinished Work #60: "Untitled" (Finished)

I never felt up to publishing this, but I've been rewatching BoJack and felt it'd be good to put here! A little goodbye to an old friend between Hollyhock and Diane.

Title: N/A

Summary: N/A

"Sorry about this," the horse said. "You're probably really busy with writer things."

"You wanna know what I was going to do before coming out on the porch to have a smoke and chat with you?" Diane asked dryly. "I was about ten seconds away from telling my husband I was going out onto the porch to have a smoke. It's not even half the inconvenience you think it is."

"Oh," she responded, and fell silent.

Diane let out a gust of lung cancer in a long, drawn-out sigh. Texas is pretty in postcards but hotter than the sun in person, with the added bonus of all sorts of creepy crawlies straight out of the official nightmare catalogue, but it's kind of nice? There's trees everywhere. Lots of open, bumpy land. The spider currently weaving its web a few feet from her isn't even venomous- it's an orb weaver of some sort. All in all, better than death.

It'd be nicer if her company talked, though.

"Let me guess," Diane prompted, making her jump. "You're Hollyhock, right?"

"Bojack told you about me?" Hollyhock asked, ignoring her question.

"He told all his friends about you. He was really excited to have family he didn't loathe with all his being."

"Oh," she repeated, softer this time.

"Relax, you're not gonna end up on his wiki page or anything. And, for what it's worth, I'm really happy to meet you in person. You're shorter than I thought you'd be."

Hollyhock looked at her hands, where her phone was situated, then back at Diane. "Bojack's told me about you, too. He talked a lot about a lot of things, but you especially."

"And that made you think I had answers?"

She shrugged helplessly.

Diane took another drag. "You want the truth? He's an asshole. Whatever you feel or suspect about him is absolutely vindicated."

"Yeah." she said. "But I miss him anyway. Isn't that... awful?"

"No? I don't think it is. I mean, the part that sucks about people is that they're more than just one thing. Sure, Bojack is a sleezy, emotionally-abusive jerk who's slept with almost every woman he's ever met, but he also sends stupid little text messages about stuff he saw on his drive home, and one time when he got drunk he sang the lollipop song and it was actually the prettiest thing ever, and he helps you pack even though he complains the whole time. He's all that shit."

"He once threw his mom's doll out a window."

"I know. He told me."

"He did?"

"He's always drunk-dialed me. Fifteen years now, and I'm his drunk-dial SOS." Diane considered her cigarette a moment. It was her first one of the day. A new record low. "I never met her, but I spoke to Beatrice twice- for his book."

"Oh, yeah, that thing. I never read it?"

"It sold alright, but it wasn't the next great American novel. Anyway, I called the retirement home to get a statement- got the phone number off of Bojack's long-time manager and friend Princess Carolyn- and called. This was before the dementia really ate up her brain- think, I dunno, almost nine years before you knew her- and she was still pretty sharp. I said, 'hi, this is Diane Nyguyen, I'm ghost-writing a novel about your son, Bojack' and she said, 'what, is he too lazy to write it himself'?"

Hollyhock winced. "Woof."

"Oh, I'm just getting started." Diane flicked some ash away. "We went in circles a bit, but eventually I laid it out for her. 'Mrs. Horseman', I said, 'I'm writing about your son's life, and as such I have called to see if you had any note-worthy stories or quotes you'd like to add'. She was pretty quiet for a minute. Then she said, 'sure, why not, I'm dying anyway. Might as well debase myself even more.' She told me all about her husband, Butterscotch-"

"Bojack never said much about him."

"There wasn't much to say, honestly. Bojack took after him and he always hated himself for it. Beatrice despised her husband for being unfaithful, bitter, and sexist. And she told me, 'now, put this in your little book, girl, and put it word-for-word. Bojack took after him, but he had the sense to be a bit quieter about it; which is a bit like saying the hissing roach is less disturbing to the eyes than the American one because it eats leaves instead of garbage. They're both insects, and they're both a waste of the paper their books were written on'." She paused. "Gotta say, she was damn eloquent."

Hollyhock winced again. "Double woof."

"It's the one story I never put into One Trick Pony. Not because I thought she'd regret saying it, or because it wouldn't fit the tone of the book, but because I knew it'd rip Bojack apart. Even back then, I was putting him above my own job. He has a way of worming into things like that." Diane stamped out the rest of the smoke, then pulled out another one. "I used to smoke like a freight train, but now it's only when I get worked up. Sorry about the second-hand."

Hollyhock was quiet again, but this time it was more pensive than anything else. "I... wrote him a letter. I actually don't even know if he read it, because he kept sending me voicemails telling me he would, but he never told me he did before I changed my number. I thought it'd be over. I thought I was moving on, but..."

"Moving on isn't the same as moving away," Diane said. "Trust me. I've packed houses before. But even now, I still find myself looking for him in the news, or thinking back to the good times we had."

"Mhmm. He tried to learn sports for me, you know? Because he wanted to cheer me on. And that still means a lot to me. But then I remember that interview, and I just... I just can't do it. I can't talk to someone who's done stuff like that."

"That's completely in your right! I know you're a grown-up, but you're still pretty young, you know? Bojack's in his fifties. His problems shouldn't be on anyone, but they especially shouldn't be on you."

"You won't tell him I came, will you? I know you're friends, but..."

"I think your definition of friendship is a bit different from us, kiddo. I mean, we haven't spoken in almost a year now. I just go see his movies, and he sends me long rambling reviews about my books, and we follow each other on social media."

"That feels like friendship," she concurred. "Mrs. Nyguyen?"

"God, don't. Diane."

"Diane. Did you and Bojack….?"

"Nope. But not because he didn't want to. I was dating when we first met, and married a good chunk of the time I lived in L.A. Now I'm married again. If I hadn't been... well, he would've tried, if nothing else."

"And you?"

She pursed her lips. "There was a time where I lived in his house and spent every day getting shitfaced drunk, and nothing skeevy happened. He'd come home, I'd be drunk and when was Bojack not drunk? We'd drink more and we'd watch reruns of Horsin' Around. I liked that. It wasn't healthy, but I liked it. And I liked him. I try not to think too hard about it, but... I dunno, honestly."

Hollyhock pulled her knees to her chest. "I came here hoping to find a way to stop missing him. Now I just miss him even more? I hate emotions."

Diane smiled. It was bittersweet. "Now you sound like a true Horseman."

#BoJack Horseman #BH Fanfic #BH Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Diane Nguyen #Hollyhock Manheim Mannheim Guerrero Robinson Zilberschlag Hsung Fonzerelli McQuack #Unfinished Work

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who1ssheesh · 23 days

Note

Have I ever requested fluff Squalo prompts? But if you’ve already wrote that you can skip this

Fluff Squalo promts

Notes: im a fucking animal and forgot where I’ve got those promts 💀 I also tried to get AI to fix my disgusting grammar but looks like it doesn’t want to correct my swears so deal with with and cry with bloody tears. Idk if those are good tho, Xanxus ones were smoother to write

Warnings: swearing, OOC, not proofread I die like I die. A little sad drop in the end. Basically that’s it, just shmoll everyday stuff

• “Stop hugging me”

• “I can’t hear you”

•“If you don’t stop hugging me, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to use your hands again”

"Stop hugging me," Squalo growls, because you are being such a pain in the ass, and he needs to do a ton of the stupid paperwork instead of his boss, because apparently Xanxus is in a depressive episode again.

“Did you say something?”, you mumble in his neck, and Squalo shivers a bit, which makes you smile. "I can’t hear you”.

"If you don’t stop hugging me, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to use your hands again”.

“Aw-w-w. Will we have matching prostheses?”

Squalo, being an awkward dork he is, blushes even at this, but doesn’t say anything anymore.

(WHAT IF WE BOTH CUT OUR HANDS OFF UWU)

• “You. Me. Friday night.”

You are lucky to get the attention of such a man out of all the people in the bar. Tall and strong, sharp face features with wild eyes almost hunting you like a prey, and hair - oh, his hair…

You feel you heartbeat in your ears, when comes your way, and a smirk appears unwillingly on your face. Some people eye after him, and you just know they want to be in your place.

“You. Me. Friday night”, he slams his hand on the table, as is not even considering you refusing the offer.

“For fucks sake, Squalo, we are already dating”.

His loud wheezing laugh is everything but hot.

•”You smell nice.”

Context to this: in one game Squalo has a quote “Boss threw a pot of meat at me. I’ve washed my hair for three times but it still smells like a soy sauce” (or smth like that) and complains about his hair falling out

You sigh in defeat at a comedy of the situation: Squalo got just a day off in quite some time and you haven’t seen him in hours because…he has been in a bathroom. Four times, to be precise, and every time his hair dries, Squalo, being a clean freak he is about them, gets hysterical, leaving to watch them again.

“You okay, babyboy?”, you look at him with all the desperation in your eyes.

“The fuck you say-“

“Babyman?”

“VOI!”

You stroke his wet hair as you pass by, just to see a bunch of white strand stay between your fingers…way too much to be healthy.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Squalo doesn’t even respond, getting so uncharacteristically quiet and pale as a chalk you could believe it’s an impostor.

You smile awkwardly as you sense a faint smell of soy sauce. “You…smell nice”.

And you are unironically terrified as Squalo still looks at you completely silent with an empty void in his eyes.

“It’s fine, I’ll help you wash them this time”, you kiss his cheek, absolutely not implying Squalo is surprisingly pretty shit at taking care of his hair. “You just need a vacation to relax”.

“Yeah, I should consider this”, he presses his cheek to yours.

“You are vacuuming the floor today though”.

Squalo screams in your ear and feels guilty after since you didn’t hear anything for three days.

•”As if I could forget your birthday.”

•”I was looking forward to seeing you all week.”

You know Squalo is busy, to say the least. And you knew what you’re getting into with him, no way you are trying to blame him…But it still stings a little bit, knowing he is away on a mission, mixed with a never ending fear in the back of your mind that you can never see him again.

You jump at a metallic dinging in the door interrupting a suffocating silence, and run straight to it after hearing loud cursing you know all too well.

Squalo is disheveled. You don’t even think about presents and all that triviality when he is beaten up, battered, his hair dirty and all over his face and so out of breath.

He smashes the door loudly behind him, leans against it and tiredly sighs.

“Did you come here right after the mission?”, you can’t help but smile widely.

Squalo smirks and chuckles, “As if I could forget your birthday”.

You almost throw yourself in him, pretty sure he would fall if not for the door, and Squalo hugs you tightly in return, almost suffocatingly tight.

“I was looking forward to seeing you all week”, and he sounds so….quiet, as if shy.

Squalo is glad you keep hugging him and bury your nose in the crook of his neck, because he doesn’t want you to see his way too happy and lovesick smile.

• “Your eyes are so blue.”

Squalo is very loud and actually very chatty but still very…distant. Even for you, which makes you anxious often enough. He always needs alone time for a bit and you can hear metallic sounds - even resting and “clearing his head” for Squalo requires something useful to do, and obviously what can he enjoy more than his swords?

But sometimes he’s just…silent. You can swear he just looks at nothing and smokes way too much again, and you can’t remember how it resolves, because by the times Squalo “returns” you are asleep, and in the morning usual Superbia is back on track.

“You’re not sleeping”

“Yeah…” you know getting up for work in the morning will be a bit of a problem but here we are. And maybe it would be better to stick to your usual schedule than seeing him…like this. Because your heart aches.

Squalo has his hair all over, and it was supposed to be a ponytail somewhere in the morning. He smells like tobacco so much, and his eyes are red from being awake for so long. Hell, he even doesn’t have his prosthesis on, which is a huge thing for Squalo - he has some shtick, not letting anyone see him without a “missing part”.

“You okay?”

“Yes”.

“You sure?”

Squalo eyes dart right through you, but all he does in return is bite his lips, not answering.

“I just…though I could help”, you sound almost scared and meek, not knowing how far is too far. “Your eyes are so blue”.

You do not have the courage to look at him and the continuing silence is scary. What is surprising is that Squalo just….looks at you with eyes open wide and very stupidly confused.

“My eyes are grey”.

“That’s not what I mean, you dummy”.

“Then why should they be blue?”

In two minutes regular Superbia is back and you regret this, because he is screaming at the top of his lungs that “being blue” sounds fucking stupid and shouldn’t exist.

But next time Squalo inevitably becomes too depressed and uncertain in his life he is sure to hint you that…he thinks his eyes are blue. Just a bit.

#khr headcanons #khr imagines #khr x reader #varia x reader #katekyo hitman reborn #squalo x reader

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minervadashwood · 1 year

Text

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 11

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Series Masterlist |Masterlist | Taglist

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Summary: Lazy Friday. This chapter contains: Nudity, mentions of child abuse Word count: 2.5K Note: This chapter is a bit different from the others. Not much plot happening, just some domesticity and slice of life moments. I typically like all my chapters to propel the story in a significant way, but I also enjoy writing about simple things that make up a life. Let me know if you enjoy these slow moments!

You laid on the couch with Daryl. He had his back against the armrest and you sat between his legs.

You sighed happily. “Just think: we get to do this for the next two days.”

“Mmmhmm,” Daryl mumbled, holding you close. "'m gonna need something' ta eat 'fore I hike yer skirt back up. Ya still got that delivery shit on yer phone?"

You sat up, full of excitement. Daryl leaned forward, keeping you in his arms.

“No delivery today,” you announced. “I’m making dinner!”

Daryl nuzzled your cheek. “Didn’ know ya could cook. Yer full’a surprises, a’int’cha.”

You wiggled in his grasp trying to stand up. Once you were free, you smiled at him. “Good surprises, I hope.”

Daryl stood up, too, then put his arms around you until his hands were palming your ass again. “Mmmhmm, real good.”

“Don’t get me wound up again. You said you were hungry.” You slipped away from his hold, reaching for the remote to your smart-tv and your glasses. You put your glasses on and handed him the remote. “You stay here. Watch whatever you want while I’m gone.”

However, by the time you were in the other room, Daryl was again at your back, large hands sliding around your hips.

His voice rumbled in your ear. “What for? I missed ya somethin’ awful--I wanna talk to ya.”

Reaching for your apron, you tried to put some distance between the two of you, but Daryl stayed close. You turned to face him. “My kitchen, my rules, Dixon. You’re too handsy to be in here when I’m cooking.”

He traced your neckline with his nose and kissed your sensitive skin. “Why doncha jus’ order some Chinese or somethin’?”

Pushing him away, you replied, “Because I have been planning this meal all week, and I want to make it. For you. Okay?” You did your best to stare him down, but that was hard to do when you had to strain your neck to look up at him.

“Fer me?” he murmured, eyes narrowed.

“Yes, ‘fer’ you. Now get.” You slapped him gently with your Hannibal apron and started putting it on. Screen-printed on the front of the garment was Mads Mikkelson, as Hannibal Lecter, holding a butcher knife that dripped blood. The blood droplets went on to form the words. “Kiss the Cook,” in an unsettling blood-red print.

Daryl grunted at you and backed up a few steps, looking you up and down. “Whatcha gonna fry up?” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

You stared at him, refusing to be distracted by his handsome face. “You, if you don’t get out of here!”

He threw up his hands in surrender and backed out of the room.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the fridge and got to work.

Daryl sighed as he sat down on your couch. The furniture, the room, it was all much more cozy and welcoming than he remembered, but he had spent the last week sitting in a folding chair and sleeping on the floor. Your apartment was so much more inviting than the house he’d been working on. The couch he sat on had a couple of throw pillows, as did the two chairs, and knitted afghans were draped over the back of each piece of furniture. He noticed lace curtains, dark violet, almost black, hung over the windows, and that you also had black-out curtains currently drawn back. Hopefully those let you sleep in when you needed it. Daryl didn’t want you getting too tired or worn out from your busy days.

Almost subconsciously he took in the details of the room, noting colors and decor that you’d added. Later, he might be able to recall them so that the house he would share with you could feel just as cozy and warm as your apartment did right now.

With the remote, Daryl “woke up” the TV and put on a documentary series about crab fishermen. It was a series he liked to watch when it was on. The hardened determination of the boat captains and the perseverance of the crew were all things Daryl could relate to. However, after the opening theme played, Daryl’s eyes started drooping. It wasn’t long after until he found himself slumping deeper into the couch. A moment later, his unshod feet were up on the cushion, his legs stretching to the other end. A dark teal afghan was nearby, and soon he covered himself with it. The blanket smelled just like you, and the couch smelled like you both. Just as the soft yarn of the afghan soothed his skin, the intermingling of your scents wrapped around his soul, lulling him into a carefree slumber.

In the kitchen you finished plating. You knew Daryl probably wouldn’t mind a less than perfect plate of food, but you wanted him to feel special, wanted this evening to be special. For both of you.

Satisfied with the arrangement of the food, you opened the freezer and took out the two beer mugs that had been frosting in there most of the day. You filled each with beer. Then, you balanced the plates and mugs and carried everything to the living room.

An episode of The Deadliest Catch was nearing its end, and you absently wondered if you should put on a John Coltrane album or something by Miles Davis. However, once you fully entered the room, the sight of Daryl asleep on your couch took your breath away. You quietly set the plates and mugs on the coffee table, dinner momentarily forgotten as you watched your mate.

You were captivated by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath one of your first knitting projects. When you looked at the teal blanket, you saw every imperfection, yet the afghan was dear to you. You remembered clearly knitting it, hours upon hours. Woven into the yarn were memories. To see Daryl wrapped up in it, the edge of the blanket tucked under his chin, filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging.

This was the first time you saw Daryl entirely relaxed. No tension in his brow or jaw, no scowl upon his mouth. His lips parted slightly with each exhale, steady and slow. That Daryl, your fierce alpha, could relax so fully in your cozy apartment had you proud and full of adoration for the man in your living room.

You sank into the nearby chair and watched him for a little longer. Eventually you succumbed to your hunger and quietly ate your dinner. Afterwards, you put away Daryl’s plate, and drank his beer. Whenever he finished with his nap, you’d serve it all to him again.

In the meantime, you put on an episode of Survivorman. Les Stroud was fascinating to watch. You’d never had a desire to try your hand at wilderness survival, but the problem solving skills, the ingenuity, always sparked your insatiable need to learn. Although your chosen field was anthropology, all aspects of life intrigued you. From the symmetry and balance of plate tectonics to the predictable rhythm of a Shakespearean sonnet. The world humans lived in, and the way humankind navigated it, was always fascinating.

Keeping the tv on a low volume, you quietly took out your current knitting project: a scarf. It was striped, somewhat, with the main color in big blocks of 10 rows, separated with a contrasting color of single rows in between each block. The large blocks were the exact blue of Daryl’s eyes; the contrasting color matched your own. The scarf was coming along nicely and fairly quickly. You carried it around with you everywhere, using a spare moment here and there to work a few stitches or a few rows. You could only make it when Daryl wasn’t nearby. So it was vital that you finished his gift before he finished his work on the house.

Taking a pair of unused bamboo needles from your knitting kit, you carefully transferred your project from your metal needles to the wooden ones. The bamboo needles slowed your work significantly, as they were of a slightly tougher texture, however, they did not clang with each stitch. You had other gifts to make that others couldn’t see. Ro would get a knitted beanie along with some matching fingerless gloves. You thought of knitting Merle a chunky sweater. You could do it if the yarn was thick enough and the needles large enough. Of course, you would never make Daryl a sweater. The boyfriend curse loomed too large in your mind to even contemplate such a project.

As evening melted into night, without Daryl not so much as stirring, you realized how tired he must be. Had he been working too hard? Not sleeping well? You had some trouble sleeping, yourself. Waking in the middle of the night, overwhelmed with a phantom loneliness, an ache inside that you’d not felt before meeting Daryl. You often had to cover up with his denim jacket, clutching to it like it were your mate. Did Daryl have the same trouble sleeping without you?

Your eyes stung at the thought. You wanted only good things for Daryl, a steady job that was gratifying but not taxing, a cozy and safe place to sleep at night, and dreams filled with hope and laughter. Soon that would happen. Soon you’d fall asleep beside him every night, and maybe Daryl looked forward to that time as much as you did.

When Daryl woke up, the apartment was still and quiet. Were it not for the campus lights shining brightly outside your window, he might have forgotten where he was. He sat up and checked the time on his phone and saw it was just after 3 A.M. Guilt came swiftly, as did regret. He’d slept away the whole evening and half the night, wasting time alone on the couch instead of spending it cuddling (or fucking) you.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he saw you’d left him a message telling him his food was in the fridge and to come to bed if he wanted.

As if on cue, his stomach rumbled and he made his way into the kitchen.

After eating the plate of food (each bite was more delicious than the last), he quietly washed his plate and utensils.

In the bedroom you were asleep on the bed with the soft light from a table lamp shining next to you. You still had your glasses on, and they sat crookedly. Slowly he removed them and set them on the bedside table before watching you again.

You were on top of the covers, curled up beneath another afghan and his denim jacket. His heart pounded fiercely; he found the sight both soothing and scintillating. A comfort to see you nestled so, yet despair that he was not beside you.

The day’s stink and labor clung to him, so he resolved to take a quick shower before joining you. He wanted to sleep skin-to-skin, no barriers between you, aside from his unbuttoned shirt. He’d happily pass the entire weekend like that, with your naked body pressed against him.

The sound of the shower woke you up, and rather than be annoyed at the sound, a grin formed on your face. You hurriedly rid yourself of your tshirt and scrambled to the bathroom, eager to join your mate under the hot water and touch every bit of him with a soapy sponge.

You walked into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain just enough to poke your head in.

“Boo!” you announced, giggling.

Your laughter ceased abruptly when your eyes landed on Daryl’s back. You gasped, stepping into the shower/tub combo. As you did, Daryl turned swiftly around, nearly slipping on the wet porcelain until you steadied him.

“Daryl,” you half-whispered, touching his chest. “What happened?”

Daryl tried to back away from you, holding a washcloth in one fist, but there was nowhere for him to go.

His eyes were frantic, as if he were caught by something (or someone) intent on hurting him.

“Alpha,” you soothed, reaching for his face and cupping his cheek. “It’s just me, just us.”

He blinked at you, droplets of water sticking to the ends of his eyelashes, making him even more alluring.

“‘S nothin’,” he murmured. “‘Ya caught my shadow is all.”

“I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Ya--ya ain’t s’pposed ta see me like this.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. “Naked? Wet? I’m your true mate, aren’t I? Why would you hide from me?”

Daryl huffed. His frantic expression changed into a blank look. Without turning around, he shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, avoiding your eyes.

You followed him out, and you both stood silently, dripping on the rug. You watched Daryl reaching backward for a towel, almost adamant you not see him fully.

Your skin slick from the water, you cornered him, pressing your body into his and throwing your arms around him. Your tears joined the water dripping from your wet hair. “Please don’t hide from me, love,” you begged. “I care for all of you, not parts of you.”

Daryl let out a shuddering breath. A few seconds passed, and he gave up his search for a towel and reached for you instead.

He kissed you, holding tightly to your jaw with both hands, molding his lips to yours until you almost melted to the floor with the passion of his kiss. He pulled away enough to look down into your eyes. Then, he lifted your arms away from his middle, and he turned around.

You traced the scars with a finger, touching each one. As you did this, you found it alarmingly easy to imagine the pain they’d caused, even though you’d never experienced anything like it. Was that due to your connection? Even without you being claimed and wearing his mark?

Daryl’s breathing slowed, and he held himself still. Eventually, he spoke.

“I was young, prolly ‘bout fourteen. Not tall ‘nough ta look tha’ ol’ man in ‘is eyes. Merle was long gone--Marines took ‘im. Jus’ me an’ my old man. No one else ta hit but me.”

You kissed his back and smoothed your hands over the toned muscles there. “What about your mom?”

“She took the easy way out.”

It took a moment before you understood. Suicide.

Daryl grabbed a towel and put it around you. ”Jus’ don’ tell Merle.”

“Merle doesn’t know?”

Daryl shook his head, causing his wet hair to hang over his eyes.

You put a hand on his chest. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He put his hand over yours, gazing at you through the tendrils of his wet hair. “He’ll blame himself.” Daryl took a deep breath. “A’int his fault. Couldn’t’ve been.”

You didn’t quite understand but you whispered, “Okay,” and put your forehead in the crook of his shoulder. “I promise.”

Daryl used his free hand to lift your chin so you were looking at him. “I know I ain’t much to look at, not like this. I’d get if ya don’ wan’ me no more. “

“Daryl,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes. “I think you’re gorgeous. I have since I first saw you. You have the most beautiful eyes, and you’re so strong. Look at all these muscles.” You grinned and ran your hands along his arms. Noticing a blush on his ears and creeping up his chest, you went on. “Everything about you I find wonderful, beautiful, including what I just saw tonight. You’re my mate, Alpha. Nothing could stop me from wanting you.”

He turned again, now facing you with a towel in his hand. He wrapped you in it and lifted you off the floor.

He carried you to the bedroom and put you down near the bed, drying you off before taking the towel to himself and tossing it to the side.

You both got into bed. Daryl leaned with his back against the headboard and you kneeled next to him.

“I want to have your pups,” you said, watching him. “I’ve always wanted a pack, a family, Daryl. Something to be part of, with a mate and pups to love. I was all alone growing up, and it sounds like you were, too, at least some of the time. As long as we’re together, neither one of us will be alone again.”

You lay down beside him, resting your head on his chest to hear his heartbeat in your ear.

“It really don’t bother ya?” He whispered, tracing a finger behind your ear.

You peered over at him. “No, Alpha. To me, you are strong; you’re perfect. Made for me.”

“Yer perfect, too, Bubbie.” Daryl whispered, holding you close and pulling the covers over you. He kissed your forehead and pressed you tightly against him.

Next chapter

===

End notes: I have been sitting on all of these sleeping gifs for months, and I only used a few. I tried to restrain myself. You're welcome.

Thanks to @bringinsexybackk69 for all the help with Daryl's accent and dialect. Also a big thanks to my writing bffs @livingdeadblondequeen @green-eyedladywrites and @littlegodzilla

===

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#mdop #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #minerva writes #the cop and the criminal #omegaverse #alpha beta omega dynamics #a/b/o #nonbinary reader #enby reader

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anisette-blackwirth · 2 years

Text

SAGAU: Scaramouche comforts you after a bad day

spoiler warning: references to scaramouche's backstory and real name, inazuma archon quest spoilers

content warning: language, discussion of American politics, poverty, economics, war, mass manipulation, and Scaramouche generally being an asshole towards people not the reader. Not exactly a cult AU but close enough.

notes: I've been working on an SAGAU world for a while, just for myself. I'll go back to the beginning of the story later! I will!! Heck, I'll even set up a proper blog later. I just really need to vent this one lmao

Did I intend for this to be my first ever writing post? No. But did Roe v Wade piss me off on Friday afternoon, enough to want to get pats on the head from a skrunkly little war criminal? Also yes.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The advice within is not intended as actual advice. The writer does not endorse any illegal activity.

[Fanfic under the cut!]

You had your head down and buried in your arms on your desk, just trying to breathe and calm down. The day had been truly awful.

You'd woken up to a mistimed bill coming through and putting your bank account into the negatives, complete with the dumb $30 overdraft fee. You'd forgotten to grab the breakfast muffin you left on the counter before you drove to work and subsisted on crackers you had stored in your desk for lunch. You checked the internet halfway through the day and found out about Roe v Wade being overturned, and then almost had an accident on the drive home because you'd merged without looking in your blind spot twice. You felt stupid, tired, and defeated, and you'd hopped into your personal office in Genshin just to get a break from everything. You hadn't even told anyone you were here yet, you just wanted to breathe and collect yourself so you could be the capable, intelligent person they all thought you were.

So when you heard Scaramouche's hat jingling as he hopped down onto your balcony, you threw any remaining sense of self-preservation out the window and didn't bother hiding your excitement to see him.

"Scara~mouche~!" You popped your head up and looked over at the man, grinning as his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. Aww, had your greeting confused him? Well, you did usually try to avoid giving him any ammunition to use against you in the future, in case he tried to betray you....

Well, fuck that for today.

"What's wrong with you? You look like shit," he said. You just smiled and beckoned him closer.

"C'mere", you said as you waved your hand at him. His expression turned even more confused, but he walked up next to you and even bent down when you continued waving.

"What is i-"

You pinched one of his cheeks and pulled it gently, stretching his face. "My little skrunkly~"

He slapped your arm away and stepped back, but you just propped your head on your hand and laughed as you looked at him fondly.

"What. The hell. Is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

"No," you said with a sigh. "Just tired. And I like looking at your face."

"You don't usually act an idiot about it," Scaramouche said. He rubbed his face and glared at you - even though you were pretty sure you hadn't pinched him that hard. If you'd actually hurt him, he probably would have electrocuted you immediately or something.

"It was just... a really bad day," you admit. "I didn't have much to eat." Scaramouche doesn't say anything and continues to stare at you, so you start explaining to fill the silence. Before you can really stop yourself, you've told him about your entire day... and he's listened to every word.

You put your head back in your arms out of mortification. Of all the people you could have vented to, you really had to choose the one who was probably already disgusted by humanity? Really??

"So all your salary goes to other people? And they just reversed a law protecting you? Why the hell are you putting up with that?" Scaramouche asked.

"Because I need my job. To live. I need to make money to survive in my dumb world. I might lose my entire paycheck to bills, but at least I have food and a roof over my head." You blinked back a few stray tears born of frustration at having to defend yourself to yet another person. "I don't have the money to even leave the state. It costs money to move…. The banks won't loan me money because I pay too much in bills. And I can't break the lease on my apartment without having to pay even more, so I can't even move somewhere cheaper nearby…" You tapped the desk with one finger, and then two, just burning off frustration. "That's what I tell myself anyway. You probably think I'm just dumb and weak."

Scaramouche didn't reply. Eventually you stopped tapping the desk and just focused on breathing. No thoughts, only breaths.

"I'm just going to say it." Scaramouche spoke up after some time.

"Go 'head," you muttered into your arms.

"I manipulate people like you all the time. It's disgustingly easy."

You made a vague whine of protest into your arms. He wasn't wrong, but - A knuckle bonked you on the head before you could even finish your thought.

"Shut up! I'm not done. Most people are obvious targets, you know that?! Humans are stupid."

Instead of knocking you on the head again, his hand… turns to rest its palm on your head?? His hand doesn't move another inch, but.. is he… patting you??

Scaramouche continued without acknowledging it. "They're even stupider when you take away their safety. As long as you're focused on surviving, you're not thinking about what's happening. You just put one foot in front of the other until you drop. …You sheep are the easiest to target because you're too focused on surviving to be smart."

"So I am dumb," you mutter.

"Because you're in danger all the time," Scaramouche said with a laugh. ....It was not a kind laugh. "You can't stop and think if you have to keep moving. Being afraid makes you exhausted. And the people pulling the strings keep you tired and afraid on purpose."

Scaramouche is actively shifting his hand back and forth over your head at this point. Maybe it's absentminded? You try not to move at all, so he doesn't realize. "If I need someone to manipulate, I find people like you: isolated, with nowhere to run and everything to lose. Then I either make them depend on me, or get them angry and set them loose. Offer them a way to seize control of their own destiny for just a second."

"Like Watatsumi?" you say.

"Like Watatsumi," he agrees, and his hand moves again, all the way down your hair - okay, that was definitely a deliberate pat, what the hell- "I funneled sheep towards the priestess for over a year before we started selling the delusions. Now, use your brain: why do you think the rebellion was based in Watatsumi?"

"Uh..." You wrack your brain for the answer. The Inazuma Archon quests were a while ago, so it's hard to remember specific details, but if you think about the map... "Maybe because it was a safe place for a base? It's far away from the main city, so they could defend it better. And maybe Kokomi - er, the priestess - had her own soldiers already?"

"Right," Scaramouche says. You still don't want to move, but you imagine you hear a smile in his voice. "Watatsumi is far from Narukami, so it's easy to defend. They had their own supply lines. But distance helped the army, too. They could pretend like nothing was happening back home."

"Isolating people is how you make them vulnerable. If I had wanted the resistance to win, I'd have funded resistance fighters on Narukami directly. Or just splintered the Tri-Commission to pieces."

You turn your head to look up at him. "Yeah, that sounds like you. ...Kunikuzushi." You hesitate, but nervously add his real name onto the end of your sentence and hold your breath to see if there's a reaction. His eyes narrow, but he just hums and moves on.

"Wars keep civilizations down. The longer we kept Inazuma focused on internal war instead of the outside world, the better. Because then the people who weren't fighting for their lives had time to plan. You're in a war. The people in charge know that and are using it against you. You're stupid because they're making you stupid on purpose."

"So what do I do?" you ask.

"You still need me to spell it out for you? You're vulnerable alone, so talk to people. Find others in your world with the same situation and talk. Talking is free, right? Stop being naive and hoping for a miracle: use resources you have instead of waiting for ones you don't."

Scaramouche makes a wide gesture to the office around you. The office you had been gifted.

"You have people falling over themselves for you here, right? You're their precious god or whatever? So eat here. Sleep here. Make that alchemist teach you how to paint. Make the lawyer look at your laws."

"I'm n- Yanfei…?" you ask. Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"Yes, obviously her. She has centuries of Liyue's laws memorized and is starting on Inazuma's. She'll help your "lease" problem. If you can bring clothes-" he tugs on your obviously modern t-shirt "-into this world, you can take things out. Have someone figure that out, or something."

Hope bubbles up in you for the first time in what feels like weeks, and you honestly can't help it: you lean over and hug the Balladeer around his waist, pressing the top of your head into his side.

"Thank you, Scaramouche. Thank you so.... so much."

His hand presses on your shoulder for a second before relenting, like he can't figure out whether to push you away or not.

"It's- ugh. Whatever."

You stay where you are, heart pounding as you push your luck. You can tell he's uncomfortable, but you still get another minute of hugging out of him before he pushes you off and walks briskly towards the balcony. But he stops before leaving completely.

"Your pronunciation sucks, by the way. It's Kunikuzushi," he says, placing exaggerated emphasis on a different syllable.

And then he's gone.

Was that…. Was that his way of asking you to say it again??

#sagau #sagau scaramouche #reader x scaramouche #genshin sagau #cult au #might edit this later #but I'm tired of looking at it for now #so out it goes~

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miraclesabound · 10 months

Text

Lavender Haze

Summary: Aemond's coworker Kaela gets attacked with some kind of bioweapon, and he's the only one who can help her. Also on AO3.

Pairing: Modern!Scientist!Aemond x F!Plus Size!OC Kaela Drox

Notes: I had this idea sitting in my drafts for literal MONTHS and I only just now got it done. Many apologies to those few people that I promised this to back in ... what was it, February?

Warnings: Sex pollen and all the consent questions that go with it, corporate espionage, fingering, semi-rough PIV sex, Aemond realizing his feelings

Tags: @trelaney, @sapphire-writes

The only reason that Aemond doesn’t tackle the man running away from his biomechanics lab is the awful scream he hears that sounds like his lab partner. When he gets into the lab space, he sees Kaela Drox by the wash station, desperately trying to get something off her face.

Aemond holds back Kaela’s dark hair back so she can finish rinsing the lavender powder away from her eyes, nose, mouth and cheeks. After a few minutes, her breathing eases, and he has her sit down on one of the chairs so he can call Campus Emergency Services.

The call button crackles a moment, and then a familiar voice comes through. “CES, this is Supervisor Strong, what is your location?”

Aemond groans – he’s never cared for his sister Rhaenyra’s husband. “Harwin, this is Aemond, I need Criston Cole, where is he?”

“He’s not on duty today. I repeat – what is your location and the nature of your emergency?”

“I’m in Lab 301 of the Volantis building, Eastern campus – I think my coworker Kaela Drox was attacked or poisoned. At the very least, the lab’s compromised.”

“Is she conscious?”

“I am,” Kaela says, raising her voice so that it catches on the speaker.

Harwin’s tone was businesslike with Aemond, but he tempers his voice when he speaks with Kaela. “Walk me through what happened?”

Kaela gulps, and Aemond realizes she’s sweating. “I found the lab door unlocked, and some guy was in here rifling through my notes. I yelled at him and asked what the fuck he was doing and he threw some kind of powder in my face…” She sucks a breath in through her teeth. “Aemond helped me rinse off most of it, but I’m getting these weird spasms and flashes of fever…and my heart rate is up.”

“What color was that powder?”, Harwin asks.

“Lavender,” Aemond says.

“Shit,” Harwin mutters. “Kaela, listen, I know this is indelicate, but are the spasms purely painful, or are they more like arousal?”

“…more like arousal,” Kaela admits. Aemond puts a hand on her shoulder, but he pulls away when she winces. “What WAS that stuff?”

“I suspect it’s choking lavender – it was a party drug back when Rhae and I were in school. We have a dose of antidote here at the station, but if you got hit in the face, Kaela, you’ll need triage care immediately.”

Kaela whines from pain, and Aemond asks, “What do you mean, triage?” Is it his imagination, or did she just rub those thick, luscious thighs of hers together?

“I mean she needs to achieve orgasm at least twice, if not more,” Harwin says. “It’ll help her heartrate come down. I’m sending help as fast as I can, but with the East Campus being farther away, we can’t take any chances.”

“I can’t!” Kaela begs. “Please, there has to be another way!”

The panic in her voice is clear enough that Aemond feels it in his own heart, combined with a growing sense of rage. “Strong,” he hisses, “I don’t care if my sister loves you – if I find out you’re making this up, you’re a dead man.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this. Help her get comfortable – I need to sign off.” The line crackles as it closes.

Kaela is shaking, but she lets Aemond help her to her feet and take off her lab coat. His heart hurts for her again – he can see the fever creating splotches and chills across her pale skin. “What do you need?” he asks.

“For you to turn around!” Aemond puts his hands up defensively, but he does as she says and turns so that she’s in his blind spot.

He hears the rustling of what he assumes to be her shirt and pants and shoes – and then a jolt goes right to his cock when he hears her moan. The powder must have acted faster than he thought; has it really only been five minutes since he came in here?

“Are you ok?”

“Maybe?” Kaela’s voice is strained. “Just…let me take care of this…” There’s another rustling, and he can hear how wet she is – she must be taking off her underwear.

Kaela’s feet almost go out from under her when she swipes a finger between her legs. She leans against one of the tables as a spasm hits her. “Oh FUCK,” she hisses. “That helps a little, but not enough…” Her legs buckle when she swipes again, and this time she collapses to the floor. “Help…”

She doesn’t have to say it twice. Aemond is already turning around and helping her up, checking her body for bruises from the fall.

“Kae, do you trust me?” She nods. “Ok, then hold on.” Aemond pulls her to him, taking a moment to feel the softness of her body. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He wraps one arm around the thickness of her waist, and she buries her face in his shoulder. His other hand reaches down, and he feels her shudder when his fingers find her clit. “Steady, honey,” he coos in her ear. “I have you.” He wonders if she can feel that he’s gotten fully hard himself.

Kaela’s panic dissipates into a wave of pleasure as Aemond alternates his fingers – first brushing her clit, then slipping a finger or two inside of her, making sure to vary the pressure when he feels her shake. He obviously knows what he’s doing – Kaela’s relieved that she doesn’t have to chase her satisfaction on her own. However, she can also tell that her heart rate is pounding higher and higher, and as she groans into Aemond’s shoulder, she begs him to hurry.

Aemond would normally want to stretch this out, but with how tightly he’s holding her, he can feel that same heartbeat acceleration. With a flick of his wrist, he finds the right angle, and she falls apart in his arms with a breathy moan that almost puts him over the edge himself.

The relief is short-lived – Aemond tilts Kaela’s face up to check on her, and her expression is still manic. “Are you with me?” he asks.

“It’s not enough,” she says, and Aemond can see her eyes filling with tears. “I think…I think I need penetration… and I won’t make you do that!”

Aemond’s hand grips her chin, and he uses his other hand to pull her to him, having her cup his erection. “Kae, listen to me – does it feel like you’re making me do anything?”

Kaela gulps, the realization hitting her that Aemond is very much into this. “No, no it doesn’t…”

“You said you trust me, right? Then trust that I’m willing to take care of you.” He gives her a quick kiss. “Will you let me fuck you, honey?”

“Ok…”

Kaela looks positively dazed at this point, and Aemond knows he needs to move quickly. He has her face away from him and bend over the lab table. He then takes off his lab coat and pants, giving himself a few quick pumps to make sure he stays hard.

Aemond lies down over Kaela’s back and starts to slowly push inside of her. Once he’s all the way in, he whispers in her ear, “How hard do you want it?”

“Whatever it takes,” Kaela says with a groan. “My chest hurts…”

Aemond lifts off slightly so that she can breathe, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Just hang on and stay awake for me.” He would normally start slow, but Kaela is so wet that he can fuck her fast without causing pain. As such, he gives it to her as hard as he can, every thrust pushing her belly into the table edge.

Even with that, Aemond can still tell that Kaela’s having trouble staying conscious. “Stay with me,” he says. “Need you to tell me what you need…”

“Harder,” Kaela murmurs.

“I need specifics, honey,” Aemond says, putting an arm under her for more chest support. “Do you need me to use my fingers like I did before, or is it something different when you’re being fucked?”

“Constant…clit pressure…” she’s able to say – and Aemond is only too happy to oblige.

He reaches down and begins firmly rubbing her again. This time, she seems to wake up, and Aemond can feel her tightening around him. “Good girl,” he says, kissing her cheek. “What a good girl, telling me what you need.”

Kaela moans, and Aemond knows he’s hit on something. “You like that?” he asks. “You like me calling you my good girl?”

“Uh-huh…” Kaela’s voice is stronger now, and Aemond suspects she’s close. “I like…shit, fuck…I like being yours…”

“And you will be,” Aemond promises. “If we get this figured out, I’m taking you to dinner, the theater, anything you want…just be good and come for me, honey.”

Kaela bucks her hips against his hand, once, twice, three times – and she falls into her orgasm with a shriek that she would find indecent at any other time in her life. She’s grateful for Aemond’s strong arm and the table beneath her, or she knows her legs would be giving out.

Aemond isn’t far behind – though his sound of satisfaction is more a growl than a yell. He helps Kaela stand up, and when he turns her around, he’s relieved to see her lucid. He wants to talk – to confirm that he wasn’t just bullshitting to help her come, that he does want to take her out when she has a clean bill of health, but his own heartrate is a bit wild now too. Instead, he helps her get dressed. When Harwin and the medical team arrive, they find Aemond and Kaela with their arms wrapped tight around each other, as if they’re helping each other stay standing.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #house of the dragon fanfic

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moonfurthetemmie · 8 months

Text

other random sunfall shit that's either funny or important

Another cut because it's a little Long with all the stuff I threw into one mf Thing

Funny fun facts from the original dream:

In my dream this actually started out as Kai redoing Dreamswap, and then halfway through my brain was like 'actually this is Silver's AU' and completely forgot kai except for the art style for the mental image of everyone in the frozen living room. I forgot about the first half when I woke up tho

Cross and Ink were dudes again even though they're girls To Me. Which is so funny

dude the ice chairs were sick

The ice chairs melted when the new boyes also thawed out. very sad. The two Inks, single Finch, and single Cross were there and the chairs started melting first and they were all like "Cross what did you do" and Cross was so indignant.

Dream II momentarily turned into Reverie/OG Dream when he was revived and tried to write 'hi Dream!!!' on Dream I's old notes. we had to tell him old Dream was gone. I think he got sad but around there is where I woke up

Dream II had my awful cursive handwriting for some reason FDFDSFSFDS

Finch was like....i don't know really prim and proper?? He was sitting like a princess in front of the fireplace for the crack photograph. I don't know what that was about but that's the main reason I think he was supposed to get a new version

yeah the one Ink had all the vibes of OG, and the paint thing, just with DS's outfit. I don't know what the fuck that was about. It was so stupid (funny). Cross and the other Ink were much closer to the camera and Ink looked and acted more like DS, and Cross...tbh i don't remember. he seemed pretty normal. Maybe he wasn't though.

I never actually saw any of the castle except for that one room. it was just 'yeah they're in an ice castle. and frozen

Other stuff:

It was going to be cryosleep and not petrification, bc that’s what it was in the dream, but there is literally no reason to do that to them. Freezing Orion and Corvus isn’t going to made them stronger it’s just going to make them sopping wet and really dumb for the first hour after they thaw out

Corvus looks terrified as a statue :))

Glaze doesn’t respond to her name in donut shops because she just automatically assumes it’s someone ordering a glazed donut instead of someone calling her name.

Do you know how long it took me to push Corvus and Glaze together. Anyways Corv’s pet name for Glaze is Donut and Corv is the the reason Glaze is now actually putting effort into deal with The Maelstrom.

There were actually quite a few survivors from JR. There was even enough to keep it going (even if just to say we survived. There’s not many of us but we’re still here and by god we’re doing our best), but they were scattered and the few others Ink and Finch found had already resigned themselves to trying to make a new life for themselves in this apocalyptic hellscape that the MV has become.

“Alright you little shits it’s scavenger hunt time. Whoever finds the most stuff on the list gets a candy bar” - exhausted Ink at 11pm having to go on an emergency grocery run because 4-year-old Temp and Glaze eat way more than she thought they would and she is still trying to figure out how much food she needs for the three of them. No, they can’t read yet; their lists are in pictographs. Reason #99 why she should not be responsible for kids. She really needs another adult.

Ink almost didn’t bother enrolling Temp and Glaze in a school bc it seemed like a lot of headache-inducing paperwork, but the lure of ‘time to herself without two hyperactive children’ was too strong.

Xena and Java didn’t go to a proper school like the other clones, tho. Cross and Error just weren’t sure they could get Xena and Java to school. They did their best to homeschool them instead. Finch and Hacker gave them some basic shit to teach the kids too, because Finch was pretty sure they’d forget some actually important stuff. He was right btw. Xena and Java are lucky they know as much math as they do. They’re also lucky Cross and Error were willing to ask for help teaching them how to read and stuff because dear god

Cross really can’t blame Xena for not wanting to do this, but Xena hasn’t turned in her resignation form yet, which is the only reason Cross is pushing her to work on her shit. Xena does not realize this yet. Glaze is also seeing this and is very sure the older ones are forcing them to do this, which is why she hasn’t said anything.

All the older ones kinda decide to start training the kids to fight at different points. Finch and Hacker took the longest to. As much as Finch wants Wren to be able to at least defend themself, he really doesn’t think young kids need to learn to fight.

Oddly enough Ink took the second longest. She wasn’t too worried about it being appropriate or whatever to teach kids of a certain age to fight, her logic was just “I have very little patience. Kids test my patience more than most things. Kids are also very stupid. I should wait until they’re less likely to get themselves killed trying to learn how to hold a stick with a sharp pointy end.” She did teach them how to use their other magic, though.

Cross and Error started teaching Xena and Java about their magic pretty early on. Their logic was ‘if they know how to control it young, there won’t be problems with runaway magic. Just problems figuring out where the cookie jar went and catching kids swinging from the ceiling’. They still wait for them to be at least double digits old before starting combat training. And they didn’t use real weapons.

All of the clones have the same birthday.

Oddly enough, Aster actually wanting to help encouraged the others a lot. ‘You mean you WANT to be involved in this thing we don’t feel we have a choice in??? …maybe it won’t be that bad.’

None of the clones realized Corvus and Orion were going to wake up in their lifetimes. Especially not this soon holy shit.

Had Corvus and Orion been more prepared, that one fight may not have gone as badly as it did. As it was they were young and inexperienced and had even less idea what they were doing than the others. They’re lucky they didn’t die. Hell they’re lucky it was only about 20 years and not 100. Or 500.

Corvus and Orion do have a destiny bond. Had being turned to stone killed Orion, Corvus would not have lasted even a second longer in that first big fight with the Maelstrom.

Also Corvus and Orion are both right about becoming radiants/corrupts. It would make it much easier for them to deal with the Maelstrom, but it would also make them much more vulnerable.

Worst Ending Corvus & Orion:

Corvus’ body is now made entirely of corruption and she can turn into a ✨goo puddle✨like OG Nightmare. Her body is very, very endothermic. Worst ice hands ever

Orion on the other hand is very EXOthermic and very very hot so like. Be careful

Orion is an unfortunate combination of Dream’s holier-than-thou-ness and some pretty awful manipulative tendencies. Obviously she is in the right, smh. But if she needs to do a little persuading, she’s not above using tricks and lies. She fights dirty, don’t let her talk of honor and righteousness fool you

Corvus is, surprisingly, rather honest most of the time, which doesn’t help Glaze when Corv offers to let her join her. Still, the corruption in her wants only one thing, and she will stoop as low as she needs to achieve it.

Poor, poor Glaze. She promised herself she’d protect Corvus, and now she has to help kill her.

The pair of them are mere shadows of their former selves.

ALSO hey here's a bonus Xena that no one asked for (even though i said someone oughta smh)

#Sunfall DS #Sunfall Xena #Sunfall Java #Sunfall Corvus #Sunfall Orion #Sunfall Aster #Sunfall Tempera #Sunfall Glaze #Sunfall Wren #Glaze + Corvus my beloveds #they're so gay #also XENA is SO #Yells #god #no one asks about the extra Xena :((#wheeze is the only one who saw and only bc i sent it to them unpromted #i forgor to post this i had 500000 things going on augh

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thelostmagicians · 1 year

Text

Season 2: Episode 6

Pairings: Eventual Steve Harrington x Reader (slowburn)

Warnings: Slight violence, profanity, the usual

Author’s Note: This is more of a filler chapter and most of the script is based of the actually episode. Netflix pls don’t sue me lol. The next few chapters will focus more on Atlas and her past so that should be fun to write!

____________________________________________

“What the hell do we do now? I’m so dead, so so so dead,” Dustin panicked, frantically waving his arms.

Steve remained stoic, a hand curling under his chin while the other rested on his hip. He stared at the trap door deep in thought, hoping for an idea that could get them out of this dilemma.

“You said Dart ate your cat, right?” Atlas broke the silence as she rose her head to look at Dustin for confirmation.

Dustin nodded remorsefully.

“What if we lure it and trap it again so we can kill it,” Atlas suggested.

“I only had the one cat —“

“She doesn’t mean with the cat, dingus, she means with meat,” interjected Steve.

Atlas nodded in agreement, “We can go to the butcher or something, buy some meat, and lure it somewhere and then kill it. It should be simple enough, it’s three against a baby right?”

Both boys looked at her with fear and awe. Steve clapped his hands together and led him to his car, this time Dustin beat Atlas for shotgun. __

Atlas had two layers of rubber gloves and it still didn’t help her with the disgust she felt when she threw pieces of raw meat on the ground. She winced every time she heard a quiet plop and a few droplets of blood splattered on her boots.

“So let me get this straight, you kept something that you knew was probably dangerous to impress a girl you just met?” Steve’s voice broke the tense silence.

“Alright, that's grossly simplifying things,” Dustin defended.

“I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?”

“An inter-dimensional slug, because it’s awesome?”

Atlas huffed out a quiet laugh as she peeked back to witness the brotherly back and forth between Steve and Dustin.

“Well even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I… I don’t know… I just feel like you’re trying way too hard.”

“Well not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?”

“It’s not about the hair man, the key with girls is just.. just acting like you don’t care.”

“Even if you do?”

“Yeah, exactly. It drives them nuts.”

Atlas scoffed loudly and yelled out, “That’s terrible advice” as she continued throwing the meat.

“Then what?” Dustin proceeded to ignore her warning.

“You just wait until, uh.. until you feel it,” Steve awkwardly stammered.

“Feel what?”

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh… electricity, you know?

“Oh like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere…”

“No, no, no, no, no. Like a… like a sexual electricity.”

“Oh”

“You feel that and then you make your move.”

“So that’s when you kiss her”

No whoa, whoa. Slow down Romeo.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure, okay, some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a… I don’t know, like a lion.

“Mmm.”

“But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthily, like a… like a ninja.”

“What type is Nancy?”

“Nancy’s different. She’s different than the other girls.”

“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess.”

Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

Atlas rolled her eyes at this, glad that she was a few spaces ahead so her actions went unnoticed by the boys. “Of course Nancy Wheeler is different. She’s fucking perfect,” Atlas murmured out angrily. She had no reason to hate the Wheeler girl, but seeing the way Steve talked about her, seeing the things he did for had the evil green monster, dubbed jealousy, clawing to get out.

“But this girl’s special, too, you know. It’s just, like something about her,” Dustin spoke again.

“You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?”

“Uh, no. No.”

Okay, good. Don’t. She’s only gonna break your heart, and you’re way too young for that shit.”

Dustin looked down dejectedly as he lightly swung the bucket back and forth.

“Faberge,” Steve whispered, “It’s Faberge Organics. Use the shampoo and conditioner, and when your hair’s damp… not wet. When it’s damp. You do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray”

Dustin grinned at him, “Farrah Fawcett spray?”

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett.”

“You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass. You’re dead Henderson. Do you understand?”

Atlas laughed loudly at this, peering around her shoulder, “I’m not scared of you Steve Harrington, what are you gonna threaten me with.”

Steve shot her an amused grin, as he blamed his faint pink cheeks on the October chill. __

After what seemed like miles Dustin led them to an abandoned junkyard, filled with rusty cars and a broken school bus.

“Oh yeah this will do,” Steve affirmed with a nod, “This will do just fine. Good call dude.”

Dustin smiled, his cheeks shining from the slight praise.

Atlas walked around gathering large pieces of scrap and leaned them on the bus, “This would be a good look out spot, seems safe enough.”

Steve nodded in agreement and started helping when they heard two voices speak up.

Lucas Sinclair and a redhead girl. Dustin grabbed Lucas’s jacket leading him behind a car. They talked too quietly for anyone to hear, but she could see the frustration in Dustin’s eyes. She quickly glanced at the redhead who looked around awkwardly and came to the conclusion that this was the girl Dustin liked. She waved the young girl over, as Steve left to find more scraps.

“I’m Max.”

“People call me Atlas, but you can call me whatever,” she shrugged indifferently.

Both girls worked together barricading the windows with metal sheets when they heard a loud Clank.

“Hey! Dickheads, How come the only people helping me out are Atlas and this random girl?” Steve banged part of fence on the car the young boys hid behind, interrupting the intense conversation between Dustin and Lucas. “We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go. Let’s go, I said!”

40 minutes later all five of them clamored into the bus awaiting the next move.

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carriedreamerxx · 9 months

Text

As I write my original works with my research tabs open and ready for reference once again I realize - good God I overdid it again. Hummmmm

Oh well - hello random government agent assigned to my search history - I am so very sorry you got the shortest straw.

Bugs aren't *that* scary 😂

Huh, maybe my own phobia will get better the more I purposely scare myself with these things - you never knowwwwww.

In all seriousness : Do not look at my search history if you are insect phobic right now.

Buzz.

NOTE: Ladybugs are assholes

Excerpt of CHaSM: Book 1 - "Here we go again"

****

Evelyn didn't say much usually, truth be told the woman barely spoke at all, choosing only to at times catch the eyes of her female companion and from that quiet interaction apparently an entire conversation was to be had with eyebrows and varying sizes of pupils and twitches of the mouth. Ah, one of theseb- right Adam would just have to give them privacy then and focus on someone else.

It was rude to "eavesdrop" after all....even if Evie - err Evelyn did seem a bit...flustered?

Hm, interesting, that wasn't a - oh my god why me go away(!)- flustered either - Adam was err... unfortunately ( or fortunately) quite familiar with the latter.

Zari nodded sagely just then, with an affirmative, mmhm, before her own dark eyes flitted over to him and - aw shit he was caught- that little nurse with a bite was going to chew him out later and fuck man, when Zari was pissed at you it was just like being scolded by both your fifth grade teacher and a damn drill sergeant.

Ugh, his life was going to be hell. Kyle threw him a sympathetic glance but also made no moves to rescue Adam from his predicament.

Traitor.

See if Adam smoothed over the next couples spat when Collin vents to him on patrol later.

Footsteps interrupted him and a shadow loomed and...oh.

That would do it.

"Mr. Caputo I presume? I hear you were part of the security detail last night- can you tell me how a restricted area was left open for a civilian to wander in?" Crisp. Polite.

But seething .

Second Class Science officer Noah Harrison* stared down on Adam like a gnat he was about to crush in his fingers and the developing black and blue splosh around his right eye probably didn't help Adam's case.

Noah...had always kind of been a bit of a... Peacock honestly. He was not going to like the fact his face was "blemished" because Adam had been well... A moron.

(again)

So being the man with common sense ( no really he was - don't listen to the haters ) - he gave the officer a smart salute.

"yes sir - I have absolutely no idea what happened I was on the midnight shift I had only just clocked in two minutes before the incident occurred therefore this is not my fault - sir!" He beamed.

Not a hundred percent a lie...

But not enough to fool this particular science officer because oh had that eyebrow had begun to twitch.

"Sir." Both men paused, Noah especially seemed to stiffen at Evie's approach. "It really wasn't his fault, I got turned around, this place is huge, I haven't gotten my bearings yet." She hugged her arm, still bandaged. "Adam was just trying to help me get back." "

Noah frowned more, "And why, Miss Noire were you even out at that hour?"

"Because I prefer the night. It's quiet. Sorry it won't happen again, just don't chew Adam out he didn't do anything wrong, the door was already open when he found me anyway."

"You're sure?"

"Do I look like the type to go poking around restricted areas for fun?" She countered.

"...no." Noah mumbled before puffing his shoulders, "Regardless, Miss Noire- I have to ask that you stay away from restricted areas from now on, they are...off limits for a reason!"

"Well maybe whoever designed this glorified sardine can should have thought of that before putting a door so close to the damm library!"

"Gee you think." Adam muttered but he was ignored. Rude but story of his life.

The standoff was on and all the setting needed was a piece of tumbleweed to drift past the two of them as they continued just glaring at each other.

Then again, he also didn't exist at the moment, oh no the whole world had melted away, leaving nothing but the young woman currently glaring at Noah Harrison* with that frigid "Evie" stare that had clearly frozen the man in place.

"You...have a point." The officer finally mumbled again before clearing his throat. "Right well... Mr. Caputo while your methods were unorthodox they got the job done so I won't be telling the Captain about this."

Adam jumped, "Wait you're not?!"

"I don't see a reason to, it was a close call but it was also entirely at the fault of the ship and whoever was last down there, they didn't follow safety protocol." He scowled. "Which I will take care of right now, excuse me." His voice lowered and Adam felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up though the firm grip on his arm kept him from tumbling down like a dope though, at least he could be petrified with dignity. Huh for being a terrifying stick in the mud at least Noah wasn't a jerk. Good to know.

Satisfied Adam wasn't going to end up up a sad puddle on the ground Noah turned to Evie now.

"Miss Noire, I'm glad to see you unhurt." He murmured. "But next time you find you've lost your way around the sardine can... Come find me instead. Unlike Mr. Caputo, I have a sense of direction." He nodded in her direction before turning on his heel and just striding away.

Okay never mind he's still a jackass.

Didn't matter though, oh Adam saw that pretty clearly in that moment.

And tch...

Here we go again...

***

Notes:

*: Harrison is a placeholder last name

#my writing #writers life #writing coffee hour #before work and chaos yay #writeblr community #WIP #CHaSM #Adam is a fun narrator might be using him more

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hausofmamadas · 2 years

Text

| Gone. Like that |

⁂

Pairing: Mika Camarena & Connie Murphy

Written especially for @kesskirata - Narcos Fanfiction Exchange 2022

Word count: 4K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, major character death, grief/mourning, loss of significant other just like don't fuckin' read this if you're in the middle of grieving the death of a loved one, I implore thee

"But Colombia? It made no sense. It sounded nuts. It was nuts. But it was also something different ... So, she did it. She went nuts."

It's 1991 - six years after Kiki Camarena’s death. His widow Mika Camarena has been living in Colombia for about three years. She’s best friends with Connie Murphy, she's homies with Steve Murphy, she’s made Javi hopelessly smitten with her, and she’s maybe, possibly the only person who can save Steve from ending up worm chow.

⁂

“Kikito can you answer that please? This is the third time they’ve called and given how often your nenita calls, I’m pretty sure it’s not for me."

Kikito closed the fridge with a groan and strode down the hall.

“Don’t you growl at me. And– hey. Don’t stay on too long. You still gotta finish your homework before bed. I don’t have it in me to help you write another essay about Ernest Hemingway or whoever at three am, mijo.”

Mika scrubbed the rust off the pan, wishing the scouring pad on the back of her sponge was steel wool. Or a blowtorch. Connie insisted she’d get used to the weather, but so far, she and her cookware had failed to acclimate to the humidity. The air was so thick, sometimes breathing felt like being water boarded and the kinds of bugs they had would be right at home in National Geographic issue about insects that look like aliens. But even if the tropical weather didn’t agree with her, Colombia did have something Guadalajara didn’t. Connie and Steve had been a godsend. And Javi too … in his own way. Or, he tried at least.

When they finally sat down to eat, Connie kept making faces at her. Mika didn’t know what she was on about but she’d find out later it was related to why Javi was, as Connie said, “on his best behavior” or as Steve put it more colorfully in that homegrown Tennessee drawl, “all minding his Ps and Qs and shit.” But before that? The only thing out of the ordinary that Mika detected was an occasional, well-disguised but evident look of awe that came across Javi’s face whenever she glanced at him, like a kid trying to play it cool while meeting his favorite baseball player. That and the downright robotic way he shook her hand when he said goodbye. You would've thought they’d just closed a great deal on the sale of a condo.

“Right. Ah, thanks for dinner.” He practically ran to his car. The only thing that could’ve made it more awkward was if he’d tacked on ‘ma’am’ at the end.

When they were clearing the table later, Connie finally told her why she was pulling faces all throughout dinner. She had been surprised at Javi’s newfound sense of propriety.

“Look, I’m just shocked he didn’t make a pass at you. I think that says something,” Connie said, handing her a plate.

Mika noted wryly, dunking it into the soapy water, “I think what it says? Is he’s that guy."

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Javi’s a good guy, he’s just the kind of— where— okay, you know how generally speaking, everyone’s prone to feeling a little lost in life?”

Mika nodded. She had no idea where Connie was going with this, but wherever it was she was intrigued.

“Right. It’s a transient thing. We've all been there, we get it." Her voice shot up half an octave, "Let's just say being lost is a permanent destination for Javi? And uh, like a kid looking for his mom in a supermarket, he grabs onto any woman’s skirt in the hopes it’ll help him find his way.”

Mika laughed at the way Connie threw up her hands, like she was giving up, stumped by the exceedingly complex math problem that was Javier Peña.

“I feel like that’s a really long-winded way of saying he's a lost cause.”

Connie shook her head, “Mm, see that just doesn’t fully convey the true depth, the scope of 'lost' that I’m talking about here.”

“Huh. Well, since it seems like he is that guy,” Mika turned to look at her reflection in the microwave, “I don’t know what I did wrong. Shoot, I guess I styled my hair a little differently today. Or, I mean— I know I put on a couple pounds in the last couple of months - y'know too much arequipe - but damn, I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Connie’s laugh sounded more like a screech. She snapped the dish towel at Mika. “Oh, c’mon! You know that’s not what I mean.”

Mika doubled down, chuckling, “Well sure, you’re my friend. That’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“You’re just going to watch me dig this grave aren’t you.”

“What? I’m right there with you, manita,” a sly grin spread across her face, “handing you the shovel.”

Connie smiled and scrunched her nose, twisting the dish towel in her hands like she was going to snap it again.

“Let’s go, guera. I can take you,” Mika threw her hands up and cocked her head, channeling the teenage-wannabe, Calexico cholita she was back in the day.

They both giggled. Connie bumped Mika’s hip with hers, “One of these days, cabrona.”

“Ey, there we go. You pick things up that quick, I’ll have you talking like a real chola in no time. Steve won’t know what to do with you.”

Connie murmured, “The better to scare him with,” a cheeky smile on her face.

“Yeah, show him who really wears the pants because he loves that so much.”

“As if he could ever forget.”

Mika wagged her eyebrows up and down knowingly, “True.” She turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on her jeans.

Connie tossed the dish towel by the sink and hopped up to sit on the counter, “No, but seriously, I only bring it up because Javi— well, he fancies himself some kind of Casanova. I call it a bad substitute for therapy. And I’m sorry but you’re exactly his type. Brown-eyed, brunette knockout. A smart, resilient, kind-yet-uncompromising woman,” she suddenly lowered her voice like a she was narrating a movie trailer and leaned forward, “with a dark past and a deep well of sadness.”

Mika threw her head back and laughed.

“No! But I’m serious!”

Connie busted up too, both laughing so hard until they were gasping for air. Steve walked into the dining room tucking his shirt in, eyes squinting, cigarette planted firmly between his lips, wearing the look of a perpetually confused and disgruntled man. He leaned on the counter of the breakfast nook, waiting expectantly. Connie and Mika just stared at him, then looked at each other and cut up all over again.

"Is anyone gonna let me in on the joke here, or are we cracking up 'cause I'm the joke?"

Mike teased, "I don't know Steve, maybe if you'd stayed and helped us clean up, you'd be in on the joke. I thought they were all about manners in the South."

Connie composed herself with one of those long, drawn out laugh-sighs and leaned over, putting a consolatory hand on Steve's cheek, "Oooh, no it's not you. Not now, anyway. No, this time, the punchline is Javi."

Steve's cigarette bobbed a bit as his tense jaw and pursed lips relaxed into a sly smirk. "Shoot, that's some of my favorite stand-up material. Guess I should've stayed and helped y'all after all. Lemme guess, y'all are discussing that school-boy crush he's desperately trying to squash."

"Actually, Connie seemed to be suggesting the opposite. He's the kind of guy who'd hit on a rock, but he didn't put the moves on me. So, it can only be concluded I am an unsightly, old wench."

"That is not what I was saying and you know it!" Connie play-smacked her in the arm.

Steve leaned back, eyes wide with mock shock, "Connie, how is that any way to treat your friend? And a widow at that?"

He looked at Mika, chuckling out a puff of smoke. Her nose scrunched as she giggled and high-fived him.

"You can't co-opt my friend with humor and Southern charm, Steve. I won't stand for it."

"Look baby, you set up such a perfect shot —can't expect me to let that one go."

Connie threw up her hands and swept them around in a semi-circle, "May I just remind everyone that I was the one who thought they should meet. I didn't expect Javi to suddenly grow a conscience and adopt the manners of a 1950s house-husband."

"He was a little uptight, wasn't he," Steve mused. "Poor little guy, just don't know what to do with himself."

That’s when Mika finally realized what Connie was trying to say. Javi was awkward, but he was on his best behavior for a reason. Despite the fact that he never knew Kiki and despite the fact that apparently anything with a pulse was fair game, it seemed Javi respected Kiki too much to let his playboy antics to get the best of him, almost like making a pass at Mika would’ve been an affront to his memory. It was naive but well-intentioned. It was also sweet in a way that made Mika want to lock herself in a closet and cry for days.

The truth was, Javi didn’t need to shut anything down. The mainframe broke a long time ago. Because no matter who it was or how hard they tried, it just wasn't Kiki. It didn't matter what all those self-help books said about grief, how "it got better with time," how "the load would lighten, float away a little more each day," enough time had passed now that she knew she’d never stop missing him like he’d just left.

Without him, no place on earth was ever going to feel like home. But Connie and Steve came close. They tethered her to reality the same way Jaime and Ana did back in Guadalajara. After Kiki was killed, Guadalajara of course wasn’t the same but Jaime and Ana took her in like she was family. So, when Jaime eventually got transferred after a couple of years, and they had to move to El Paso, the city felt downright alien. Nothing looked real and each mundane reminder of the empty space where Kiki used to be began to disassemble her, piece by piece: their favorite open-air market, favorite restaurant with the homemade, hand-pressed corn tortillas, favorite little, date-night, divey cantina, the route through the neighborhood they used to take Danny for walks in his stroller, the too-big, King-sized bed with that hideous palm-tree bedspread he hated, the one his mother gave them for their anniversary one year. Worse yet, the void of Kiki was starting to replace him, memories of precious moments going fuzzy at the edges more and more each day.

At first, she thought maybe she’d go back to Calexico. Until she realized surely, there would be little echoes of him, them, in their hometown. It would’ve been just as bad. Probably worse. She never considered Colombia until Jaime brought it up.

“Yeah, it’s a hotbed of cartel activity, fixin’ to be a war zone over there,” all pecan pie in that Southern drawl of his, “what with that Escobar at odds with the Colombian government on extradition and such.”

“Jaime. Ugh—” Mika let out a huff as she struggled to untangle the telephone cord, “you’re not really selling me on this whole Colombia idea. Why the hell would I want to live in a war zone?”

Jaime’s laugh always filled her with warmth and relief. “Look, I’m not saying it’s Sandals Resort in La Paz by any means, but you don’t want to come here to El Paso which—” he said with more than a hint of irreverence, “heck, understandable. You can’t go back to Calexico. You certainly can’t stay in Guadalajara. Maybe it could be a new adventure for you guys. With all the action, you’re bound to find some community there. ‘Sides,” he concluded dryly, “it’s not like Guadalajara has been a pacifist utopia these days.”

By community, Mika knew he meant DEA. An interesting point, given it was really the only one she’d known for several years. But Colombia? It made no sense. It sounded nuts. It was nuts. But Jaime was right, it was something different. She tried to dampen the budding hope that she might live in a place that wouldn’t haunt her. A place where maybe she could be closer to Kiki than the absence of him. And, Jaime was three for three because Guadalajara really wasn’t the ‘burbs. She’d stayed somewhat for practical reasons, to keep things like school consistent for the boys. But the other part of staying, Mika reasoned, was to raise them in a place where they’d stay connected to their heritage, their father, know where they came from. An environment with a diversity of people from all walks of life, so they could see that not everyone had what they had, so they could see and understand the harsh truths of the world before being stuck in it alone. Some of that could be achieved in a place like Colombia. So, she went nuts. She did it.

They’d only been there a few months when she happened to meet Connie at one of the colonia’s many farmer’s markets. Danny had been wandering around looking at all the exotic fruit and handmade wares when he saw a girl about his age, in denim overalls and a pageboy haircut, looking at the dream-catchers. He and Livvy made fast friends. He tugged on the hem of Mika’s jacket, “mama, venga a conocer mi nueva amiga,” pulling her closer and closer to Olivia and a no-nonsense blonde woman, swearing at one of the vendors in broken Spanish. From what Mika gathered, it seemed like they were haggling but the guy running the stand wasn’t being straight with her, trying to take advantage of who he thought was a clueless gringa.

“Estas haciendo pasar un mal ratito a mí amiga?” >*Are you giving my friend a hard time?*

The slimy little man and Connie were both startled. The man’s eyes darted to Mika and then down at the ground, as he adjusted the brim of his faded baseball cap and sputtered. “No señora, solo estaba—”

She cut him off, grabbing the dream-catcher they were haggling over.

“Pues, a esto se debe todo el revuelo? Pinshe huevon, lo podría hacer por la mitad que estás cobrarle. Una gabacha y con su niña? En serio pues, guey?” She held up the trinket. “I’ll spell it out for you. We’re taking this, sin cargo alguno. Estamos pues?” > *All the fuss over this? Fucking moron, I could make this for half the price you’re charging her. A foreigner, with her kid? Really, dude? I’ll spell it out for you. We’re taking this, free-of-charge. Got it?*

He jiggled his head up and down in agreement.

She handed it to the blonde woman, who smiled smugly at the guy. Mika stifled a laugh when the guera offered him her fakest, “muchas gracias.”

They walked out onto the pebbled street together, Danny and Livvy skipping ahead, playfully shoving one another.

“Oh my god, thank you. You have no idea how long I’ve been arguing with that asshole. I’m Connie by the way.”

“Mika.” She shook Connie’s outstretched hand and smiled warmly. “Honestly, I’m just happy to see another expat from the States. Colombians aren’t especially welcoming to us Chicanos I’ve learned. The combination of gringo and Mexican is really not— tsk tsk." She cut the air with her hand the way film directors do.

“Oh no, so you're like Double Jeopardy. But wait— I mean, I know I stick out like a sore thumb with my half-assed Spanish. But how can they even tell you’re not Colombian when you’re not speaking English?”

Mika chuckled sarcastically, “it’s the brand of Spanish that gives me away. Every country kind of has its own brand. One of the dead giveaways that I’m not Colombian is the lack of ‘vos’ but what really gives the Mexicana away are things like ‘chela’ and ‘chinga.'”

Connie looked at her with blank curiosity.

“Chela is like cerveza, just means beer, but a very Mexican thing. And I think I heard you say ‘puta madre’ back there? In Mexico, more often it’s ‘chingada madre.’”

Connie laughed, “wow, so your version of ‘motherfucker’ is as neon a sign as my gringo Spanish and Disney-princess blonde hair.”

“Ha, sorta yeah. Well, close. I mean, no matter what Mexican slang I throw around, they at least know they can’t get one over on me like that guy just tried to do with you. So, you’ve probably dealt with more bullshit. That’s is why I butted in —can’t stand crap like that.”

“My husband’s partn— mm— one of my husband’s coworkers speaks English and Spanish. I’ve asked him to teach me but trying to get that guy to do anything you want him— well, or don’t want him to do,” Connie whistled, “phew, in one ear and out the other.”

“Classic. Sounds like a keeper.” When Connie didn’t say anything, Mika clarified nervously, “Sorry, the coworker. Not your husband.”

Connie laughed, “Oh no, I wasn’t— sorry, I just stuck a piece of gum in my mouth. No, trust me,” she spoke quietly now, like she was revealing trade secrets on the stock exchange floor, “I love Steve, don’t get me wrong. But I am well acquainted with what a grade-A ass he can be.”

“Oh, no kidding! Glad to know I’m not the only one who knows what it’s like to be married to a lovable grade-A ass.”

“Oh yes,” Connie swept her hand out next to her in a presentation-like gesture, “welcome to the support group. So far it’s just me, but uh— Hey! It reeks of stale liquor and cigarettes and the coffee’s barely drinkable, so I’m sure there’ll be more butts in these seats soon.”

That lit both of them up. Before they knew it, they were wheezing those noiseless laughs with no air left. Danny looked back at them, “What’s so funny?”

“Aw mijo, it’s too hard to explain. Don’t worry about it.”

When they settled down, Connie noticed Mika’s left hand. “You said 'be married to a lovable, grade-A ass.' Was that past-tense?”

Mika nodded gravely.

“Can I ask what happened?"

Mika looked down at the ground, watching her feet stepping on the cracks of the pebbled street as if they weren't her own

Connie ventured nervously, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry. You have full license to tell me to fuck off, if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Mika smiled softly, without joy, “He died.”

She worried her impassiveness made Connie uncomfortable, but she figured out years ago that if she allowed herself to really feel every time she answered the question, she’d never stop screaming.

“Oh gosh, forgive— I didn’t mean— Fuck. I’m just ... I'm so sorry.”

They walked in silence for a bit, watching Livvy and Danny dodging between the crowds of shoppers ahead, playing some kind of make-believe game about pirates it sounded like. Mika gave a small, sad smile and a nod to reassure Connie she’d done nothing wrong. If anything, she was grateful that Connie didn’t ask how Kiki died. She wasn’t ready to be Mika Camarena, Kiki Camarena’s widow just yet. Eventually, she’d have to give up the ghost and put that mourning veil on again, but she was relieved Connie didn’t force it on her. For now, she was simply Mika.

In some ways, that was the first sign of an almost innate mutual understanding between them. When Connie eventually discovered who Mika really was after spotting a stray bill left out on the kitchen table, she was able to finally tell the truth about Steve. That no, he was not in fact a “janitorial services professional” for the US embassy building, but a DEA agent. And the infamous janitor “coworker” who wouldn’t teach her Spanish was actually his partner, Javier Peña. That revelation only expanded their mutual understanding into a kind of easy shorthand, so that, despite the fact they hadn’t known each other long, Mika and Connie knew each other.

That’s why it felt like such a knife to the gut, when Kikito rushed in with the phone in his hand. “Mom, mom, mom,” she could tell he was scared. “It’s Connie. I can’t understand what she’s saying, she’s crying.”

Mika took the phone, trying her best not to look alarmed. She didn’t want to frighten Kikito more than he was already.

She kept her voice, low and calm, “Connie? What happened?”

Connie was lucid but hysterical, “Steve’s gone. I don’t know where he is. No one’s seen him anyw— anywhere for several hours. Javi just left. He didn’t tell me—” She trailed off, choked by the force of her own panicked sobs.

No. Not again. This was not was happening again. Not after Kiki. She couldn’t abide a world that would put someone else through everything she went through. What he went through. The memory of his mangled body on that cold metal slab hit her again; all caked in mud, riddled with cuts and burns, pieces of rebar still stuck in the wounds on his head, his swollen, bruised face barely recognizable yet still her Kiki all the same. Sometimes, she felt it would’ve been easier if he’d been completely unrecognizable.

Mika squeezed her temples - think - then covered the receiver. “Mijo, go get your brother dressed, pack a bag, and call Laura, her phone number's on the fridge. Tell her there’s an emergency and ask if you guys can stay there. Livvy too. I'll explain the rest in the car.” Kikito skittered off down the hallway. “And hey! Don’t forget your toothbrushes. The overnight bag is in my closet on the top shelf. Just use my office chair if you can’t reach it.”

She took her hand off the receiver. “Okay Connie, how long as he been missing?"

"I— I don't even know. You know how it is on the job. It's— " she sniffled, voice growing thick again with tears, "It's not a regular nine to five."

"Do you know who the last person to see him was?"

"We think it was the Agent in Charge at the embassy. The older lady who wears the Miss Piggy make-up. But— I do—" she broke down again, sobbing into the receiver, "I don't even know for sure."

"Hmm." Mika chewed on the inside of her cheek, "Before he left, did Javi tell you where he looked so far? I'm sure he checked all of Steve’s normal, routine stops, but did he check places they go to meet their C.I.s, has he talked to any of the informants? Did he check the hospitals? Churches? Shelters? Morgues?”

Connie sucked in a huge breath and exhaled slowly. A few heartbreaking stray whimpers escaped the back of her throat.

“No, he didn’t say much and he left before I could ask him anything. All he said was that he thinks Steve’s alive, but … all that really means,” her voice broke again, “is he’s not certain he’s dead yet.”

“Listen to me. I need you to breathe. You have every right to be upset, and unlike those smug, patronizing assholes that you’re gonna inevitably have to talk to at the embassy or the DEA, I mean it with every fiber of my being. But right now, you need to have your wits about you.”

“Okay?” The sound of Connie’s voice, hoarse and confused, nearly broke Mika. It took everything not to burst into tears herself.

“We’re going to have to deal with this on our own. No federales, no Search Bloc, no DEA, no Martinez, no Javi.”

“What? Even no Javi? Why?”

“Because as much as they all mean well,” Mika chuckled with an apocalyptic edge and punctuated each word, “All they’ll do is lie.”

Connie said nothing.

“They’ll lie to save face. They’ll lie because they think it’ll protect Steve. And they’ll lie to protect you because they think you can’t take it. And because they don’t want to deal with the ‘hassle’ of your tears, your sadness, your rage.” Mika sighed the whole weight of the world, “All they’ll do is lie. And that? What they project as compassion or strength that’s really a pretense for apathy? That’s a death sentence.”

Mika waited for Connie to speak. She didn’t. Praying she wasn’t catatonic, Mika continued, “But it doesn’t have to be. No one’s contacted you, the embassy, or the DEA for ransom, so whoever it is doesn't want money. And anyone in the game who wanted him dead, no matter which side of the law, would’ve shot him walking to his car and left him somewhere. He’d be gone,” Mika snapped her fingers, “like that. So, Steve is probably alive. For now.”

Neither of them said his name. The silence was already heavy with it. But Connie knew what they did to Kiki, every gory detail. She was probably picturing Steve right now, battered and bloody, tied to a chair in some dank shed in the middle of the jungle. The irony that Steve was probably alive, and that it wasn’t much more consolation than knowing he was dead, struck Mika painfully.

"Okay." Connie blew her nose and took another breath, this one more even, chilled by determination. “What do we do.”

“I need you to get a piece of paper and something to write with.” She waited patiently through scuffling sounds as Connie fiddled with the receiver.

“Okay, got it.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Mika recited the number.

“Who’s this for?”

“It’s the number for the DEA field office in El Paso. Now, you need to wake up Livvy and get ready to leave. Kikito’s calling my neighbor Laura. She and her mom can take the kids. Wait for me outside your place. Listen to me very carefully. If I’m not there within a half an hour and you can’t get ahold of me? Call that number and ask for Special Agent in Charge Jaime Kuykendall or Agent Walt Breslin. Do not let them pass you off to receptionist or another agent. You have to talk to one of them.”

Connie asked breathlessly, “Wait, Mika. Who are they? And where would you— Why wouldn’t I be able to get ahol—”

“They’re people who’ll know what to do.” Mika stared at the spine of Kikito’s battered copy of Charlotte’s Web on the living-room bookshelf. “But more importantly, they’ll tell you the truth. Now c’mon manita, we don’t have any time to waste. Every second counts. I’ll see you soon.”

⁂

#Mika Camarena & Connie Murphy #Connie Murphy & Mika Camarena #connie murphy #mika camarena #javi peña #steve murphy #Narcos/Narcos Mexico crossover AU #narcos #narcos mexico #narcos imagine #narcos mexico imagine #Narcos Fanfiction Exchange 2022 #javi is a ho always and forever #but mans has standard's when it comes to hitting on dead fellow DEA agent's wife #so like ... go javi?#HOWMEVER #if i were to continue this ...#which i won't because i have no fucking idea where tf to take it...#but if i did ... you bet your bottom dollar i'd find a way to make Javi/Mika happen #could she fix him? ... hell no #would it be hot and probably accidentally hilarious if she tried? ... you do the math #would there be limitless bickering wherein javi realizes that he's wrong about everything? ... what do you take me for #oh also if you really wanna ruin your day #go ahead and pull up the Nmx soundtrack on apple music or spotify or wherever tf #scroll on down to a little ditty called 'Charlotte's Web' and throw that bitch on about halfway thru the fic #it will wre- aherm make your fuckin day

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