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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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The Revenant Wife

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of grief and death.

Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband.

Word count: 1.6k

Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk <3

Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories @thesadvampire @joel-mlller @softanon @max--phillips @captainsamwlsn @hooplahoopla @moondirti

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Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife.

Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all.

She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more.

“You’re married?”

She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters.

“I was.”

There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps-

“What was she like?”

But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings.

“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile.

Damn this girl.

“Not even from you?”

Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away.

“Did she cook?”

Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning.

Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise.

“From time to time.”

There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with.

Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved. Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both.

In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work.

But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to.

Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family.

Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father.

Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends.

When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights.

You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.

You’re mean.

No. Mean isn’t the right word.

Cold. Yes. you're very cold.

Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak.

She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do.

You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face.

You’re also very pretty.

“I won’t ask again.”

The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them.

She wonders if Sarah had brothers.

“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.”

Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air.

“That true?” “What?”

“Is he telling the truth?”

The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you.

But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene.

And she understands.

“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out.

You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie.

But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder.

“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit.

She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward.

“You know this psycho?”

Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react.

Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why.

“She’s my wife.”

You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them.

Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation.

But this one is real. It’s yours.

There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”

Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her.

“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-”

Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-”

“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.”

You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him.

But at your order, he sits back in his chair.

You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder.

At least. She thinks he’s your son.

Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods.

“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.”

They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement.

“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”

#revenant wife tag #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #this is just a little blurb because I havent written in a hot minute #mostly from ellies third pov so i hope the sort of juvenile internal thoughts make sense #joels wife is a sort of scary badass gal with a lil farm #joel miller x female reader #@ the blogs who asked to be tagged but had zero header or age in their bio: do better #tumblr please dont rearrange the order of this again im BEGGING #not pictured in the fic: joel punching duke in the face and wrestling the gun from his hands before the other twin shows up followed by you #and now joel has to grapple with the fact that 1. his wife is alive 2. she had children 3. he just sucker punched his own kid

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canon-gabriel-quotes · 4 months

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wear headphones :)

Transcript:

As much as I'd love to witness more of your prowess, I'd very much like to have that body of yours.

Is that a strap-on?

Machine, I'll cover you in more than blood.

Fuck. *exhale* Shit. Fuck-God! mmmm-ohohoho. fuck. fuck. h-Harder, Machine. Mph! *whimper* Hah... Come on!

End transcription

Sorry for this. I promise this is the worst thing I'll ever post. Unless he somehow manages to do something worse.

I can't really provide the audio sources in a neat way because this is 6 clips stuck together.

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #gabv1el #WEAR HEADPHONES. PLEASE. PLS. SAVE YOURSELVES.#suggestive #<- if i use a 'stronger' tag than that im 99% sure the post gets shadowbanned from showing up in the tags?#never ask me for anything ever again.#why did he say any of this #i dont know.#surely this will make people unfollow #or will it do the opposite #at this point. i have no idea #animals. all of you. ANIMALS. its ok im one too. we're in hell (together)#i didnt make the gif im sorry all i know is that its from twitter #yeah sorry for the recycled audio. i only have the 2 whimper clips...... so far.#but the actual talking parts are all new #i want to see that angel obliterated. send tweet.#smiles. evilly.#i dont know about you guys but im normal #anyway #if he somehow ever finds out about this blog im krilling all of u............. pls............#he cant know we are farming clips #(mostly joking) but yeah id prefer if this didnt spread past tumblr pls omg #we are past 700 followers now. idk what to say other than. wow.#ok surely no one is reading to this point. bottom gabe real. canon. true. thanks.#lets never speak of this again

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gabe-lovebot · 1 month

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councilor 3D model

i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up to bring him to life. he's yours now. do whatever you want with him

[link]

please credit me if you make something using the model (or even ping/link me to it, i would love to see what you made!)

currently available as a .blend, .fbx and an SFM port.

#hello councilnation i'm finally releasing him to the wild #have fun playing toys with him #ultrakill #councilor #councilor ultrakill #3d stuff #obviously with the councilor having just 1 full body image of him means that some stuff i had to improvise on #so you get to enjoy my headcanons on how he looks #(like obviously the wings & halo)#(but also the chestplate design)#but did you know that the councilor's canon design has subtle engravings on his forearm armor pieces?#i only barely noticed them when painting textures and i was floored #i had to add them #to the sfm anon and whoever else wants to use this for sfm stuff-#i did my best with a port for sfm and i'm quite proud of the result #but please be aware i have never used it before so if you find that something doesn't work as it should please please let me know!!#gonna pour my heart out in tags as always so close your eyes if you don't wanna see me being sentimental but #i'm not kidding when i say i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up for this #i have meddled with blender before but never actually came close to finishing a project #and i don't know how i did it and how i kept going #(i do know) (it was my friend encouraging me every time i showed him progress)#this was like 1 entire month in the making #but i'm so fucking proud of this and how it turned out and people's tags in my act 2 render genuinely were such a huge confidence boost #so thank you guys for liking it <3 #i'm still very much thinking of doing a version with just his bloodied head #but it might take a while because i want a break and i want to play warframe

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lovesickeros · 7 months

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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 2 ]

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ]

This had to be a punishment of some sort – some kind of divine punishment.

She was bored out of her mind just watching the sleeping body – she hadn't blinked once in the past five hours, her eyes were really starting to hurt. Yet they still hadn't moved so much as an inch since she sequestered them away to the only place she had known to be safe.

But it'd been almost a week since then.

The only solace she found was that Teyvat had seemed much less hellbent on collapsing in on itself like a dying star.

That counted for something.

Not much, but something!

..Even if their position was no better then it was a week ago.

There was, after all, still the issue of what to do about the false Creator – the actual imposter – and the Archons following them like blind lambs. The other Archons wouldn't listen if she tried to reason with them, and it would only risk the life of Divine One if she spoke of their location to anyone else.

She also was pretty fond of having her head still attached to her shoulders.

So she avoided them all together. Partially because she wasn't sure she wouldn't have a breakdown at the sight of them..she'd never been a fighter, and fighting an Archon? Easy pass.

Instead she was forced to babysit the sleeping Divine until they woke up while Neuvillette handled taking care of the nation and dealing with the other Archons – and by extension the false Creator.

Really though, she would almost think them dead if not for the subtle rise and fall of their chest.

Though..this also left her with a lot of time to herself. A lot of time to think.

She really didn't like it.

There wasn't a lot to occupy her mind and what little there was only distracted her for a scant few moments before her eyes drifted back to the Divine like she was locked in their orbit, unable to escape.

She closed the same book for the twelfth time – she kept count – and returned it to it's meticulously designed place within her bookcase. A low, barely audible huff of frustration escaped her lips before she could bite it down, her stare boring a hole into the body of the Divine One with a sharp intensity she rarely showed.

She was tired, bored and constantly on edge, fearing that at any moment someone would find out about their presence here.

That, at the drop of a hat, she would be powerless to stop the greatest tragedy of her time play out before her eyes.

Neuvillette would have scolded her for being so petulant, especially around the Divine One, if he were here.

But he wasn't.

He was out running her nation, instead.

And what was she doing? Nothing!

She grit her teeth, nails digging harshly into the palm of her hands as she took a deep breath – now was not the time to think about that. She had..much more pressing matters. Sulking and letting her thoughts spiral helped no one, least of all herself.

Yet her attention was caught by a harsh inhale, the rustle of fabric – were they finally waking up? She was exhausted, but it all vanished at the sudden drop of life within the otherwise deathly still body of the Divine.

Her eyes followed the subtle twitch of their fingers, watching as their brow furrowed and their features twisted in something almost like..pain.

..She wasn't ready.

What was she supposed to say?

Should she even say anything? Would that be considered impolite? Does she wait for them to speak first? Should she kneel? Bow?

She doesn't get much time to find her own answer before their lashes flutter, chest heaving with every strangled breath. Every single thought vanishes from her mind the moment she meets their eyes.

For a long, silent moment she thinks that her heart must have stopped.

Their eyes glow like the cresting of the sun over the horizon, painting the world in hues of gold – yet it also reminded her of the dipping of the moon below the waves, casting the briefest, most gentle of lights upon the world engulfed in darkness. In the depths of their eyes was the birth and death of stars in the infinite cosmos – glittering stars in a sea of empty, blank space that left her feeling lightheaded and breathless.

Beneath the splendor is a spark of recognition in their eyes so vibrant it was like a shooting star piercing through the dark night sky, leaving nothing but the wonder in the eyes of the observer as the only proof it ever existed – brilliant in it's beauty, however brief.

It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

"Focalors?"

The lilt of their voice nearly made her knees buckle beneath her – euphoria so consuming it left her feeling she was starving swallowed her whole, her mind blanking in a moment of utter bliss. It was..an indescribable feeling that she doubted she could ever hope to put into words – not in a way that could properly express it, try as she might.

She swallowed the words that threatened to spill from her lips – she couldn't make a fool of herself. Not in front of them of all people. She'd never forgive herself.

"Divine One," She rasps, clearing her throat and covering her mouth with a hand to mask both her nervousness and the small smile that creeps across her face. She quickly regains her composure, hand resting on her hip as she puffs out her chest with every bit of pride she can manage. "I am sure you must be confused, but worry not– your most loyal acolyte has seen the truth!"

The silence is deafening.

She opens one eye, peaking at the bewildered and almost distraught expression of the Divine.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

That..she was not prepared for. Surely they knew who they were! Surely they knew. They had to– she's been praying to them for as long as she's breathed, she's dedicated every hour of her life to living up to their ideals, they can't just–!

"Lady Furina?"

Neuvillette, thankfully, spares her the embarrassment of having a meltdown in front of the Divine, the gentle rap of his knuckles against the door making her and the Divine pause, the soft lull of his voice soothing her nerves and yet setting her on edge at the same time.

"Neuvillette." She clears her throat again, her steps hurried as she marches to the door and pries it open none too gently, a forced smile pulling at her lips. She wastes no time tugging the man into the room, shutting the door behind him with a short huff. The silence is, somehow, even worse then before as the three of them stare at each other in absolute exasperation.

Neuvillette, for his part, manages to get his act together with a sharp clearing of his throat, bowing so low even she looks unnerved. She steals a brief glance at the Divine, and she's taken aback by the uncomfortability twisting their features into a grimace.

Their expression is schooled back into one of empty apathy when he stands back to his full height, but she saw it – she knows she did! Did they not like their worship? Were they not respectful enough? For a moment, she feared the Divine would smite Neuvillette down on the spot..but they just stared at him like he was a ghost.

"Why aren't you killing me?"

The defeated, resigned tone combined with the way their voice cracks makes her heart ache in her chest – it feels as though her entire world is crumbling down at her feet, and she cannot explain why she feels such emotions so strongly, but it is suffocating. It is almost as if Teyvat itself is weeping, bearing down upon her shoulders like a heavy weight.

She feels the urge to weep herself, but she powers through, gritting her teeth long enough for Neuvillette to take his place at the side of her – though it feels more like their – bed, kneeling like he was going to pray.

"Divine One," He offers a hand with a quiet rumble of his voice, the words slipping off his tongue like honey. It's like trying to soothe a stray cat..though she'd never voice such comparisons of the most Divine out loud. "I..we mean you no harm. I swear on my authority as the Iudex of Fontaine and Chief Justice that you are safe with us."

The skepticism she expected, but the reverence in which Neuvillette must convince them – or perhaps they are simply so tired that they simply did not care any longer if it was all some ploy to drive a knife between their ribs. She didn't expect them to actually place their hand in Neuvillette's.

He didn't either, judging by the way he visibly brightened – not that they'd notice, but she did.

..Not that she could really blame him, her heels clicking against the floorboards as she shifted her weight to the other foot with a nervous energy that was practically bursting at the seams, more then a little jealous of the attention he was receiving. She was the one who found them, she was the one who stayed with them the entire time..but he gets all the attention?

How unfair.

"O-of course! We would never lay a hand on our creator," She adds, her voice a little higher pitched then she would have liked as she placed her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest and brushing off the sting of jealousy. "Least of all I– your most loyal, most devout acolyte!"

She felt baffled when she heard the sound of their laughter, her shoulders hunching and her cheeks flushing on mere instinct – she was expecting mockery, but the look in their eyes, still dulled by a pain she cannot even begin to imagine, made her hesitate.

..It was, perhaps, the most genuine thing she'd heard from them ever since before the hunt began.

She wasn't sure why her heart hurt at such an idea, but it was enthralling to see the beginnings of a half hearted smile on their lips.

For a moment, her mask of theatrics was forgotten as she stared at them in a mixture of awe and adoration– and though she didn't look at Neuvillette, she could imagine he must've shared such an expression.

Had she any doubts that they were her Creator, that they alone were the most Divine..they would wiped clean now. There was no mistaking the way the world itself seemed to grow clearer as they glanced up at her like she was worth something.

For a moment, she realized how cold the false Creators gaze had been now that she has felt warmth so gentle it almost made her knees buckle beneath her. It felt like a pale imitation, now.

Nothing could compare to the warmth that spread through her body at the mere semblance of a smile upon their lips. She didn't even mind if it was her they were laughing at anymore, she just wanted to hear them laugh again.

She'd make a fool of herself, if she had to.

She'd never felt so..ravenous for such a thing, but just the briefest glimpse was addictive.

She simply couldn't help herself from striding across the room and clasping their free hand in her own, her smile wide enough to unnerve as she leaned her weight onto the bed. For a moment, she considered pulling away at the way they startled, but her mind was made up by then – there was no going back.

"Again."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #neuvillette #focalors #furina #dont ask what happened here idk #this was. also supposed 2 be neuvi focused and then i.#dont talk 2 me abt focalors i wont ever shut up #got a 300k word essay on hand abt how i feel abt her character/how i interpret her personality and her story #focalors jsut like me fr fr (cries at the slightest inconvenience or the slightest mean comment)#shes so pathetic girlfail im gonna chew on her #what happens when reader gets stuck with two emotionally repressed french bastards?? hell #neuvi is the “emotionless” flavor of emotionally repressed in that hes HORRIBLE at showing emotions at all #ask him to smile and its incredibly unnerving and theres too many teeth but hes trying his best please call him pretty or he will cry :(#furina is the flavor of emotionally repressed where she makes it up by having Too Many emotions #using theatrics and masks to show everyone what they want to see but inside this girl is a MESS #constant anxiety and panic 24/7 #will do random shit and look at you and if u dont compliment her she will think u hate her and cry #compliment her and she'll do even stupider shit to try and impress you more #i love my scrunkly little babies they r so stupid and mentally ill someone get these bitches some THERAPY #i want 2 put them under a microscope #watch this be ooc fr furina when more of her lore drops if shes not girlfail im leaving #anyway see u in a week im going on a trip ill get back 2 u in 6-7 business days

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hey-howsitgoin · 20 days

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So I've had this joke in my head for a couple months (at least), but hadn't found the right spot to make it. Today it is complete.

A hole in my jeans?

Hmm? What's this?

A Patchypus?

REPAIRRY THE PATCHYPUS!!!?!!!

#queueer #visible mending #mending #visiblemending #patches #sewing #my art #phineas and ferb #perry the platypus #repairry the patchypus #I feel like I could have made this look a lot more like perry #but I like my style to be more of an homage #I've done a lot of mends on these jorts recently and I'll show them all off soon #but there's more I want to get done on them before I do #this is a sneak peak of sorts I suppose 😅#I gotta hurry up and finish my mending on them so soon; it's nearly shorts season!#if anyone actually reads my tags I love you and will you please propose to me in my ask box? 💛

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simplyender · 8 months

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just some gifs of spot making his own solar (spotlar?) flares

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderman: across the spiderverse #gifs #my edits #inspired by discussions w fellhellion who ENABLES me #i just find it so neat how his spots start shaking with rage #screenshots werent doing it justice #the way dark energy flits out of him...hes got no face but every bit of darkness on his body expresses his anger PERFECTLY #also he crushes what appears to be a metal sign w his hands. neat!#also not showing up in thw tags for some reason? weird #johnathon ohnn #the spot #spiderverse spot #spot #atsv #as always yall can use my gifs as you please. id like credit tho. unless its a smut fic then by all means take it w/o tagging me

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lesbiangiratina · 10 months

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Hi do you like images. I love images. Heres a little over 100 guilty gear trading cards from the early 2000s. Every character up to xx is accounted for… some more than others. For now. But the average is probably 4 or 5 cards per character. Nearly all of the art is original. Okay have fun :)

#i hope anyone thinks this is as neat as i do.#oh yeah! also scanned the booklet. a little messy but its fine. so theoretically you could learn how to play. if you can read japanese #i tried not to let my perfectionism consume me too much with this. but know if anything looks off hmm 90% chance its the card's fault.#some arent in the best condition and the printing isnt the best to begin with on some of em. but i tried to pick out the best when i could #theres only 1 zappa and robo-ky. very sorry.#complete coincidence that testament has the most cards… well tied with dizzy. and they arent even on 2 of them so dizzy wins actually.#ill probably keep lookin for more cards but i should ummm. pace myself. smile.#the kat goes meow #guilty gear #gg #show up in the main tag... please

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

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For You･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing | Eddie Munson x sunshine!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, 2,700 words of tooth rotting fluff, followed by 2,000 words of pure smut, rounded off with a bit more fluff, swearing, oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex because this reader is responsible.

Word Count | ~4,840

A/N | Everything I write about Eddie exposes me more than any fic I’ve ever written. And yes, I think I will talk about Lord of the Rings in pretty much everything I write about him.

I thank a god I’ve never met, never loved, never wanted, for you

Catching sight of Eddie’s van through the window, you turn the burner off and jog from the kitchen, sliding along the floor in your frilly socks, just short of slamming into the wall. By the time Eddie’s walking up your drive, you’ve flung the door open. Excitement bubbling, you can’t stop yourself from bouncing on your feet.

“Happy Birthday, Eddie!” You yell, reaching out for him as he approaches. His smile sends a little heat through you he looks you up and down in your sundress.��

He’s so handsome, dressed for the late Summer heat. You love his jacket, love how he looks in it, but there’s something about Eddie in just one of his many band t-shirts. You can see the tattoos dotted over his pale arms, his bracelets, and his chain just peeking out from the frayed neckline of his shirt.

When Eddie reaches you, he lets you pull him into a hug, laughing at you still moving up and down.

“You’re more excited than I am,” he murmurs, pressing a short, sweet kiss to your lips.

“I love Birthdays.”

“I know you do,” he nods, remembering the last birthday of one of your cheerleader friends. You’d dragged him into town to look for a gift, there all day as you hummed and hawed over every possibility before landing on what you wanted for her. You then proceeded to spend an egregious amount of time deciding on the right card, even longer writing the message. The day of her Birthday, at school, you’d brought in a green and gold cake, getting practically the whole cafeteria to sing to her as she covered her face, giggling the whole time.

Eddie’s just glad it’s a Saturday.

You grab his hand and pull him inside, then clench your hands tight in excited little fists. He just wants to cuddle you.

“Okay, so, here’s the plan,” you start, straightening your fingers and moving your hands as you go through each step. “I’m making your cake just now, and I thought we could have some here and do your candles and stuff, because I assumed you wouldn’t like that in public later?”

"Damn right,”

“Okay,” you smile. “And we can do your card and your gifts here, too. Then later, we’re meeting your friends for dinner. Just pizza - but it’s within walking distance so you don’t need to drive us and you can have your first actual, legal drink. And I thought, maybe, after dinner,” you say, standing close and looking up into his eyes, tone all innocent suggestiveness. “We could come back here? Does that sound good?”

He nods with enthusiasm, smiling at your soft laughter. Cupping your face, he presses another kiss to your lips, this time letting his tongue find yours, tasting a fading earthy sweetness.

A throat clears, and you jerk around to face your Dad, his expression impassive. “Eddie,” he says. “Nice to see you.”

“You too,” Eddie answers, trying to ignore the way you’re pressing up against his side, your hand on his chest, your arm around his waist. Eddie’s praying he didn’t hear what you said just before, or how you said it.

“It’s Eddie’s Birthday,”

“So you’ve mentioned, with increasing frequency, for the last month,” he answers. “Since you’ve claimed the kitchen for the day, at least let me move through my own hallway in peace.”

“Okay, Dad,” you say, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him easily through to the kitchen, where he’s greeted again by that floral, sweet warm aroma that he’d tasted in your mouth.

He sees there’s three jars of honey open on the counter and furrows his eyebrows. “I was trying to taste for the best one, but actually it makes sense if you decide.”

“This is...for the cake?” Eddie asks, taking the teaspoon you hand him and tasting the most yellow of the three. It’s grainy in the pleasant way that honey can be, a little too sweet. You give him water to wash away the taste, nodding as he tries the next one, more runny and lightly floral.

“Yes,” you answer, turning to switch the stove back on, stirring together milk, butter and cinnamon. “Which do you like best?”

“The last one,” he answers, licking his lips to get the dregs of it. The darkest, a golden brown, almost woody tasting.

You grin. “I like that one, too.”

“So it’s honey cake?”

You nod vigorously, spooning in his chosen honey before continuing to stir. “So, you know I’m reading the Lord of the Rings books. Slowly, but I am enjoying them,” you start. “And last month I was at the bit where the elves are giving them all the supplies, and they’re trying that bread, right? And Gimli! He talks about honey cakes that, um, how do you pronounce the word for the bear men?”

“Beornings,” he supplies.

“The cakes the Beornings made. And I thought, oh that would be so lovely for Eddie! To give you food from this world you love so much.” Your eyes are bright with the excitement of finally getting to spill the whole thought process to him. “And then, when I went looking for a good recipe, in the library I found this!” You grab the open book from the counter and hold it up. The picture on the front is long faded, the plastic covering from the library barely hanging on. “This is a 1965 reprint of a British cookbook that was first published in 1899. The foreword talks about how, at the time, this was like, the go to book for cooks and housewives in England. So, Tolkien was like seven when this came out, and in his biography it says that his Mom looked after him pretty much on her own until he was twelve.” You turn from his wide eyes to take the pot off the stove, wanting to give it a final good stir before you let it steep. “So, this is, entirely conceivably, the recipe for honey cake that literal Tolkien himself ate when he was a kid! And it makes sense then, that this would be what he was picturing when he wrote about honey cakes in the book! And sure, there’s probably been improvements to the recipe in the last eighty-seven years, but I just thought- oh. What’s wrong?”

You abandon the cooling pot at the sight of him, face a little red, bottom lip quivering, fingers pressed to his eyes. You reach up to brush some of the hair from his warm forehead. “Eddie?”

“Oh, man, what the fuck,” he says, clearly embarrassed. Eddie shakes his head, dragging his hands across his face and looking up to hide the tears bubbling in his eyes. He sniffs, giving you a brave smile that breaks your heart. “I don’t-” He laughs, trying to hide the next sniffle. “That was weird, I don’t know what that was.”

“Eddie,” you repeat gently. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, tears building again suddenly. “Fuck!”

“Come on,” you say, all but dragging him over to the kitchen table and sitting him down on one of the seats, dropping yourself in his lap to let him press his face to your shoulder. His arms are secure around you, his fingers digging into your hip a little desperately. For a few minutes, you stroke his soft hair, taking long, deep breaths that you hope he’ll copy.

“Don’t wanna distract you, if there’s anything you need to do,” Eddie mumbles, his fingers twitching against your skin.

“You need to leave everything in the pot for a while for all the flavours to come together,” you assure, smiling at him happily when he finally looks at you. “And I hope you know it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“‘m sorry,”

“Don’t be.” You press a sweet kiss to his cheek, making an exaggerated mwah sound just to hear him laugh. Then, because it strikes you that he might need to hear it, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I’m starting to believe that,” he admits, rocking you both a little before running a hand through his hair. “I’ve uh,” Eddie looks up at you, eyes wide and earnest. “Well, I’ve never had anything- Nobody has ever done anything like this before. For me. Not for my Birthday,” he explains. “Not for anything, actually.”

“It’s just a cake,”

“It’s not,” he shakes his head vigorously. “I’ve had Birthday cake, sweetheart, but this. It’s you. You thinking about me for weeks before, planning things I’d like, researching what fucking cake a British guy ate as a kid!” It sounds a little silly when he says it like that, but he continues. “And I’m excited about it! I wanna taste it so bad, for every reason you thought I would, cause you know me and you think about me when I’m not even with you and, yeah,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I just wasn’t expecting it. I knew you’d do something cool, cause you’re you, but uh, it surprised me, I guess.”

“Well, better get used to it, because this is the treatment from now on,” you assure. “Every Birthday for the rest of your life. And you know it’ll improve each year. I’m already planning your 22nd.” You play with the ends of his hair behind his head, watching a real smile grow on his face. “Actually, since we’re on it, do you know if Blackie Lawless does singing telegrams, and if so, approximately how many hours of babysitting will I need to do to afford him?”

Finally, Eddie gives you a real laugh. Not embarrassed, not trying to hide something, but genuine joy. “It’s really not that great, Eddie. I got so excited about the cake, I didn’t get anything at all for us to eat for lunch. And I haven’t planned anything we can do before dinner past opening your presents.”

Eddie grabs your head in his hands, forcing you to lean down so he can smack a kiss to your hair. “It’s my Birthday,” he says, sticking his chin out. “And I want to sit with you on my lap all day.”

“Well, I need to finish the cake first-”

“All day!” He yells, pulling you right back when you try to stand, tucking his arm under your knees to pull your feet from the floor, watching you squirm and giggle.

Bribed with kisses, eventually he lets you off the seat, staying close to you while you weigh, pour and mix. When you’re ready with the tin, he opens the oven for you and closes it with a flourish, pleased he made some kind of contribution. Forty minutes later, the room smells heavenly, even better than it did when he walked in. You make a glaze while it cools, then suddenly you’re running to the window and closing the curtains, though they do very little to stop any light coming in.

“Don’t look, Eddie!” You cry, even as he hears the strike of matches behind him.

You sing to him, presenting his cake burning twenty-one yellow candles. He closes his eyes to keep the tears back, scrunching his face like he’s thinking childishly hard about what to wish for.

When the candles are out, curtains pulled back to let the sunshine in, you sit on Eddie’s lap, holding a plate out for him to serve the first slice. The sound of the golden edge as he cuts through it makes his mouth water. Inside, it’s light yellow and fluffy.

The way you’re looking at him when he takes a bite makes him a little nervous, but the taste of it has him yelling with his mouth full. “Jesus H. Christ, you’re a witch!”

You cackle like one, letting him offer you the next forkful. It’s nicely warm, the crispness of the edge surrounding light sponge steeped in woody sweetness and the warmth of cinnamon.

“I’m a God damn witch.”

Your Dad appears, wilfully ignoring the way you’re sitting on Eddie as he turns the coffee machine on and grabs himself a plate.

“It’s Eddie’s cake, Dad!”

“It’s my kitchen,” he answers, simply, your glare doing nothing to stop him from cutting himself a considerable slice. He hums through a mouthful, slurps his black coffee as he leaves the room. “Happy Birthday, son.”

Eddie slaps his chest, eyes wide with shock, throws his head around in disbelief. “You’re a God damn witch,” he repeats.

You sip milky tea, watching Eddie opening his card, a picture of a bearded collie in a party hat on the front.

“Reminded me of you.” Your giggle morphs into a squeal when he tickles your side in revenge.

Inside, there is a long, rambling message that covers both sides, fitting messily around the pre written Happy Birthday on the right. A list of his best qualities, a favourite memory, why he deserves everything he’s getting today. All of my love, from...xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Fuck,” he says, pressing the fingers of one hand into his tear ducts. “This is what you wanted from the start, isn’t it?”

You bury your face in his soft hair to hide your own wet cheeks.

He’s Eddie, so as much as he appreciates the shiny wrapping paper expertly folded and taped, the sparkly blue ribbon tied in wide bows around each of his gifts, he still rips into each parcel like a wild cat.

A paperback copy of Stephen King’s It, published just last month. Inside, a bookmark woven from red and black card you made with the guidance of a girl you babysit. A Judas Priest patch you’d bought a whole second hand jacket for, picking it off with nail scissors before donating the jacket right back to the thrift store. New white laces for his Reeboks, because both of his shoes have one aglet which has long since rubbed away, and you refuse to wait for him every time he has to tie them back up any longer. A polaroid in a metal frame. The two of you sat in the Hideout, in the same position you are now. A little tipsy, so happy. The picture is dotted with round hearts drawn in black ballpoint ink.

“One more,” you say, hand on his cheek, and you give him a kiss that tastes like honey and milk.

Before you walk to meet his friends, you each re-lace one of his shoes. Eddie doesn’t have his jacket with him, so he safety-pins the patch to his t-shirt in the meantime. He reads you the first chapter of It out loud while you do your makeup, then tucks the bookmark in the right place when it’s time to leave.

The photo, he stared at, his chest sore, while you were busy clearing away wrapping paper.

At the restaurant, he shows off every one of his gifts, relays your whole thought process about his cake in perfect detail to Jeff, Gareth and Matthew. He drinks his first legal beer and shuts down every complaint about his pizza choice because it’s his Birthday and if he likes olive and pineapple then by God he’ll have olive and pineapple.

And you don’t make him blow out candles in front of a whole restaurant, but you do sneak away to ask the waitress oh so politely, please oh please, could you just put these cake slices in the microwave for three minutes twenty seconds and, oh, could we have five scoops of vanilla served on plates, please and thank you?

She does, and you do. Jeff, Gareth and Matthew pile cake and ice cream into their mouths and thank Christ Eddie found you because this cake is fucking ungodly and you’re a witch.

“That’s what I said!” Eddie yells.

“Happy Birthday, man,” Jeff says, later, when they’ve given him their own framed photo. The four of them, Eddie, Jeff and Matthew with guitars hanging from their necks, Gareth holding his drum sticks high in the air.

Eddie is unusually quiet on the walk home, but you know he’s happy, and that’s what matters.

“See you later, babe!”

“Bye, Eddie! Happy Birthday!” You call out into the empty street, closing the door then stifling a gasp and a laugh when Eddie hoists you up into his arms. He tip toes up your stairs, trying to make his footfall sound like yours in any way he can.

The TV plays on, with no sound of your Dad moving from his comfy chair.

Your door closes, he places you on the carpet in front of him and leans down for you, holding your face to kiss you like he’s really wanted to all day. You let him press his tongue to yours, tasting a little of the smoke from the cigarette he’d snuck on on the walk home.

Your hands are flat against his stomach, fingers barely curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. When Eddie pulls his lips from you, you run your fingers down the front of his pants, feeling him half hard beneath his zip.

“Baby,” he says, head falling back when you drop to your knees in front of him, hands tugging almost frantically at his belt. You help him kick off his shoes and step away from his pants, feeling your panties starting to get sticky between your legs.

Eddie can’t look at you pressing kisses to his cock through his boxers. Your giggle at his cock twitching in excitement against your lips has him searching blindly for your hair. He threads his fingers through, hips jerking to grind his aching cock against your face. His groan is too loud when your mouth opens, pressing your wet tongue to the damp spot where his tip is leaking against his underwear. When you purse your lips and suck, Eddie’s fingers tug your hair enough to make you whimper.

“Please,” he whispers to the ceiling, loosening his grip and stroking an apology to your scalp.

“Look at me?”

Eddie has to take deep breaths to calm himself down when he drops his gaze to you, your fingers playing with the band of his boxers for a second before you pull them down just enough to get at his cock, tucking the elastic below his heavy balls. “Mmm,” you murmur, going straight for them. You suck one into your mouth, running your tongue along the soft, fuzzy skin. You rest one hand on the back of his leg, keeping yourself and him steady. The other, you lick quickly before returning your mouth to his sack, circling his cock with your slick palm.

You hum happily, your nose brushing the base of his cock while your hand tugs at him. “You have an obsession,” he breathes, bouncing on his feet a little to dip his balls in and out of your loving mouth.

“I love them,” you mumble, mouth full, giving a cheeky little suck to the hanging skin before dragging your curved tongue up the thick vein that runs along the underside of his dick. You purse your lips and kiss the tip softly, hand pulling back the skin to expose the ridges of his pretty pink head. You run him over the lines of your lips, covering your mouth in the drops of cum leaking from his slit. “I love your cock.”

You gather spit in your mouth, letting it out to cover his cock before you take him in, sloppy wet how he likes it best, the sounds of your mouth on him better than his favourite album. You gag a little when his head meets the top of your throat, pulling off with your brows furrowed like you’re annoyed with yourself. You take him back in with renewed vigour, adjusting the angle and bullying the back of your mouth with his cock until you manage to swallow him just right, nose pressing against the dark hair at his crotch, your tongue trying to edge out to get at his balls again.

You can’t quite reach, so Eddie, always the gentleman, takes a hand from your hair and grasps the base of his cock, holding his sack up for you to tickle with the tip of your tongue.

He’s covered in your saliva when you pull away, gasping and spitting more onto his soaked, swollen dick.

“Will you fuck me now?” You ask as Eddie tries to wipe some of the spit from your chin with his thumb. There’s too much, and he ends up just dragging it across the bottom half of your face.. His cock throbs at the pleading look on your messy face.

“Yeah, gonna fuck you right,” he answers when you reach up to let him grasp your arms and drag you up to your feet. He presses his body to yours, pushing you back to your bed as he kicks off his underwear. Eddie takes hold of your face, licking and biting at your swollen lips more than he is kissing you.

He feels you move, hands reaching up to pull at the bows on your shoulders, straps falling away with the top of your dress, leaving your pretty tits on display for him. Eddie’s excited mouth moves to them next, your fingers in his hair as he gives your nipples wide, desperate licks. He runs his thumbs along the undersides, digging the rest of his fingers into the soft flesh at the top. Eddie gives your right nipple a little kiss, a suck, then a cheeky scrape of teeth. You tug his hair, pulling him from you to view your little pout. “They’re sensitive, Eddie.”

“’m sorry, baby,” Eddie murmurs, the apology ruined by both his exaggerated, mocking pout and his fingers continuing to play with your tits even as he says it.

“Need a condom,” you remind him, smiling despite yourself when he stays planted in his spot, lifting your tits and letting go to watch them bounce. “Eddie.”

“Wh- oh, yeah,” he grins, leaning down to quickly suck a little bruise into the inside of your left boob before he turns, searching for the pants he’d kicked away. In the meantime, you tug your dress down, sitting back on your bed and wriggling out of your drenched panties.

Eddie returns to you, flicking his fingers against the wrapped condom happily. He drags his t-shirt off on the way, dropping it carelessly to the floor of your bedroom.

Getting desperate, you lean back against your pillows, and dig the tips of your fingers into your leaking hole. You open your legs to let Eddie stare at your pink slit, dragging your slick up to help you play with your aching clit. The relief has your eyelids fluttering, your button already twitching under your fingers, glad to be touched finally after you’d keyed yourself up with Eddie’s cock in your mouth.

“Please, Eddie,” you whine, watching him shake his head as he pulls his gaze from your displayed cunt.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he answers, ripping open the condom and rolling it down over his blushing cock with his ringed hands, your own fingers rubbing more desperately against your sex. Eddie climbs up on your bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you away from your cushions to get you on your back below him. “Open that pretty cunt up for me.”

You mewl, bending your legs to press your feet flat to the mattress, legs wide as you reach down. You use two fingers from each hand to pull apart your sticky lips, hips jerking into the air at the caress of the warmth he’s radiating.

Eddie taps your tingling clit with the tip of his cock just to see you throw your head back, petitioning him, “oh, please, please, please,” one more time.

It aches, when he slides himself into you, opening your tight hole up for him, but the stretch feels right, just natural. You moan his name a little too loud, hands flying up to grasp his shoulders, whimpering at Eddie’s harsh, “sh-sh-sh.” One with each good thrust into your gooey cunt, his warm wet breath spreading over your cheeks.

The drag of his cock inside you is heavenly, causing increasingly filthy sounds as your cunt gushes, easing the way for him to use your hole. “Can’t believe it’s your cunt and not your mouth that’s going to get us caught,” Eddie says, stifling a groan. “Desperate little hole, noisiest I’ve ever fucked.”

“Eddie!”

“Shut up,” he breathes, giving you your favourite ringed finger to suck on to keep you quiet. You suck happily, grasping onto his wrist with both hands to hold him there. It keeps you from moaning out, but your girlish little squeaks continue along with the dirty wet sound of your pussy.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie pushes himself inside until his whole cock is settled in your warmth, only giving you little jolts of his hips. It’s quieter, but the tip of him is hitting tortuously against the spot inside that makes your thighs shake.

You look up at him, in love. Eddie’s hair moving with every thrust, the edges around his face a little sweaty. His pale face is pink in the cheeks, as is his neck and the top of his chest, so pretty smattered with dark hair that leads down to his cock. His hair is thick and wiry there, rubbing against your clit enough that it’s matted down against his skin, covered in your slick.

“S’good,” you manage around his finger. You watch his concentrated face, eyes constantly on the move from your face to your bouncing tits to the stunted thrusts of his cock in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, finally dragging himself all the way out to the tip before pummelling back inside, hoping that if he just ignores the desperate sound of the springs in your bed, then nobody else will hear it either.

“Gonna cum,” you mumble, your tongue pressed down by his finger. You caress his forearm, his name coming out of your mouth funny but it doesn’t matter. He knows it’s him fucking you right.

“I can feel it,” he grins, your hole tightening in an unsteady rhythm around him. “Your little cunt can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”

Your head falls back, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him where you need him as your hips jolt, pleasure from your clit and deep inside peaking together.

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers at your teeth biting down on his finger, unable to care when he can feel your cunt gushing wet and desperate around his twitching cock.

You hear Eddie’s breath falter above you. He drags his finger from your mouth, grasping your face with one hand and pressing his face to your neck. ”You’re perfect,” he whispers desperately, balls pulling tight. “I’m the luckiest-” He gasps at the sweet roll of your hips under him. “Fuck. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

You stroke the back of his neck as he comes, still twitching yourself, cunt squeezing him as his thrusts slow, slow, stop. Eddie’s weight drops entirely, squishing you into your mattress but you love how close he is, his cock softening inside you. He gives your neck a gentle kiss, then another before he looks up, his brown eyes telling you he’s sated and happy.

He gives you a goofy grin that sends you giggling, only calming when he’s pulling himself out and you sigh, missing him inside a little. You settle back, feeling boneless and tired, as Eddie deals with the condom. When he returns to you, he’s pulled his underwear back on, and he gives you his soft shirt to sleep in.

“Good Birthday?” You ask, when he’s thrown himself down next to you and pulled the covers up to your hips, lying on your sides and staring at each other.

“The best ever,” he answers, both because it’s true and he knew you’d sigh happily and give him a sweet kiss, your soft hands on his cheeks.

“I love you so, so, so much, Eddie!”

“I love you, too,” he says, looking away, still a little shy with it, but it doesn’t matter to you. He means it, and that’s all that matters. You kiss him again, humming your joy against his lips.

Eddie lies back, pulling you into his side, your head resting on his chest, your leg tucked up over his. You run your fingers through the hairs on his torso and let the sound of his heart beat lull you.

Eddie is awake long after you’ve drifted away, reliving every moment since you flung open your door to greet him. He thinks about how proud you were, singing a little off tune, as always, when you presented him with his cake. He’d almost cried, again. Had only just managed to hold them back. He was so concentrated on it, he never made his wish.

Eddie glances at the clock on your bedside table. Still his Birthday. Only just, though, so he hopes it still counts.

You shift a little, your cheek rubbing against his chest. Eddie closes his eyes, takes a breath, and wishes.

This, her, forever, please.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #please show up in the tags #i just #i just want eddie to have a nice gf that loves him and makes him happy #and also for that gf to be me #my stuff

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