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circeyoru · 2 months

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Unwanted Soul _ Part 2 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 — Part 2 (here) — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

You were supposed to wish for Alastor’s defeat, supposed to revel in Alastor’s humiliation. But no, the last moment, when it came down to it, you appeared before the first man and leader of the exterminations out of a tornado of blank pages. You stared down at Adam while Alastor recovered behind you, ears pinned

As much as Alastor’s devotion and twisted love disgusted and caused you to constantly shiver from, you didn’t exactly see an issue since he wasn’t directly harming you or making your life unbearing to the point of wanting to off yourself like the times in your life above. You’d never admit, but you liked having Alastor around and the fact that you have his soul now, made you even more willing to keep him around

Pages flew around you while you held your opened notebook in one hand while your dominate hand held onto your quill. You have always loved the way the feather moves whenever you write. While Adam taunted Alastor for being protected by someone insignificant, you scribbed over the blank page and summoned your angelic weapons, firing it mercily at Adam without stopping

Rare rage of Adam harming Alastor and fear of Alastor’s disappearance became your drive to act. You wouldn’t have acted if it weren’t for the fact that Alastor, an Overlord and The Radio Demon, was willing to spend so long with little ol’ you and even go as far as to give you his soul

You couldn’t just stand idly by while Alastor was going to actually die by your orders. Sure you like the idea of redemption for demons, but you aren’t going to do it yourself, nor will you let what’s considered yours to be taken away by something you hardly care for

“Oh, my dear, how I’d love to be at least standing side by side with your love for that hobby you consume yourself with.” Alastor had once said, long long before he gave you his soul “As if that could happen.” You had once said aloud, thinking in your heart that you’d die before ever letting a physical person or sinner this close to you again. “You can keep dreaming.” “In my dreams, we are something much more, darling.” Alastor cooed close to you, putting down one of your favourite dishes you hardly have the time or energy to buy or make yourself. His grin grew as you inspected it before delightfully partaking in it with a hum of satisfaction. “I do think I can make it into a reality. Just give me some time.” You glare back at him, turning away from him with your food in hand. Your face heated up a bit, as did the tip of your ears. You’d never admit to him, he has a way with words, and sometimes your heartstrings

Out of your blinded rage and fear, as well as your sudden adrenaline, you failed to keep track of the pages used for your conjuring until you were trying to rip the hardcover of your notebook. You paused, as did your attack on Adam

As if karma was playing a hand to laugh in your face, Adam attacked you head on in your moment of disbelief and shock. Having your powers and energy exhausted, you took the hit head on. A deep gash appearing from one shoulder blade diagonally down to your side, you dropped your notebook cover and quill as you fell to your knees, spatting out blood

“I’m ending this broadcast!” Alastor roared as he traveled through the shadows to you, his shadow grabbing your abandoned belongings before he brought you to safety. The taunting laugh of Adam ringing in your ears as darkness swallowed you up while warmth covered a side of you

You didn’t know where you were, but you were positive Alastor was bringing you to safety even when he himself was in a bad shape. You let yourself hang limb in his arms, feeling more and more tired. You once told him you like having a relationship like Ciel and Sebastian’s but a bit different, you can imagine that’s why Alastor was acting the way he was afterwards

When you told him you’re fine and just a bit tired. He held back snapping at you, his hold on you even tighter. He wants you healed, he needs you healed. You can’t leave him. You just can’t. Why were you there in the first place, he would have been able to deal with it and proved to you he was strong. Can’t you see he was willing to do anything to return back to your side?

Red doesn’t suit you. No. You were much lovelier in the comforts of your home, where you were safe and happy with that entertainment you love. He was content with just being by your side and being the only one you interact with. He found you and you found him. It was as simple as that, it was going to be you and him

When Alastor made it back to his radio tower, though destroyed and sat at the bottom of a hill, he leaned you against his chest, holding you with one arm while his other searched through his drawers. Finally taking out a few pages with one word on them. They were all gifts from you to him should be be injured, he was glad he never had to use it

He placed the pages over your wound and watched as they faded out and turned to sparks, the majority of the wound slowly disappeared with time and he covered you with his coat. When you were healed, he hugged you close, too tight as you’d whisper to him

Yet he didn’t loosen his grip on you. Your eyes opened, albeit still droopy from the lack of energy and immense tiredness all over your system. You raised a hand and patted the back of his head, you hummed softly, just as you did before when he was being healed for his wounds

“I’m not leaving you, darling. Never.” Alastor spoke as his body shook, you barely registered his words as your eyes threatened to close. “If you threaten to destroy my soul, I’ll lock you in my staff and keep you there with me. I’m not losing you, dear Pager. I won’t allow it.”

You somewhat nodded, Alastor had always been overly protective and obsessive with your health, wellbeing, and mostly safety. He’d say the darkest things he’d do to you to get you shaking, you’re used to it, it was his way of caring. As pitiful and sad as it is, no one had care like this for you

Your eyes closed as you gave him his order, “Alastor, I’m removing that no seeing me rule.” You muttered, positive he heard every word even with the lack of responses. “You know, I’ve missed your cooking. Your presence in my apartment. I’ve missed you.”

You remember a tightening hug before you fell into a deep slumber

“Darling. You’re unusually free today.” Alastor remarked as his eyes follow you strolling back and front the living room to the hallway where your bedroom and other rooms were. “Yeah, well, I watched and read all I wanted.” You complained, “Now I’m just walking around to remember if I missed anything.” You paused in your pacing and went over to Alastor’s side. “What are you making this time?” “Some cookies, dear, you said you have been craving some and the shops were out of them. So why not make some instead?” Alastor laughed as he continued to mix the mixture till it was well done. You glanced to the baking book in front of him, then back at his smiling face that you had grown accustom to already. Even that grin smile that scared the living daylights out of you, especially when he was waking you up from your sleep. “But I can’t finish this much.” “You can merely throw it in the trash, my dear.” Alastor stated easily. “But you’re making it with so much care.” You looked down at the dough that had formed, ignoring the way Alastor was staring at you. Your shorter height was definitely an advantage here. “I don’t want to throw away something you made with your time and energy. Considering your cooking, I think your baking would be nice too.” Alastor laughed, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. You had flinched, but then relaxed a bit. “Dearest dear, your praise is too much. However, if you can’t finish it, there’s no use in keep them when they turn bad.” “Then we can share it with the neighbo—” “My doe.” You heard the static grew, feeling Alastor’s grip on you tightened but not enough to give you a bruise or a wound. “This treat is made for you and not for those sickening souls. I rather burn them to ash than let another taste these.” You sighed, somewhat expecting this already. “Why not compromise? You dislike sweets and I dislike that deer meat, uh.. Venison? That you love. I’ll try your dish and you eat these cookies with me. Sounds fair?” Seeing Alastor eying you with narrowed eyes, you rolled your eyes and shrugged off the loosen hold, “I’ll also make the cookies with you, since I got nothing to do at the moment.” That seemed to spark something in Alastor as his smile turned genuine. “Now how can I refuse such an attractive offer.” You looked away, pushing down that bubbly feeling as you kept a straight face while you spoke softly, “If you left me like you would when you’re already healed.” At that, Alastor took your hands in his, bringing you to the living room as his shadows shifting away any furniture in the way and twirled you around. A sudden darker toned soundtrack playing, presumably from his staff with a microphone on top. His silence to your comment was unusual, usually he’d be laughing it off or denying it. Now he was just being unusually quiet. The dark track that was play wasn’t helping the way you felt unnerved and a bit chilly. His twirling and dancing changed to a slow sway as the music transition to that of a classical piece. Finally, he spoke, “My darling Pager. If I give you my soul, will you believe in my devotion and love for you?” Your head snapped up from looking at his chest, you wanted to shout at him for suggesting such a thing, but your shock was grounded when you saw the smile on Alastor’s face. By now you had known, even while he’s smiling, he wasn’t always ‘happy’ or in power. It was like a mask for him, a mask you’d see through. You looked away, having tried to get out of his grip but he held you with an iron grip. “Don’t joke about that. Soon, you’ll be back out, doing your Overlord things and being the feared Radio Demon like you love.” “And leave a precious soul like you behind with no one to care for? Never, my dear. Perhaps in your nightmares.”

When the hotel was newly rebuilt, Alastor had his appearance, holding tightly on his staff that contained you from inside. He didn’t let anyone near his staff and by extension, you. He kept up appearance even though Charlie and a few others were asking what transpired on the hotel roof when he was battling Adam. They saw your powers, but at least they didn’t see you

“A little magic trick to confuse that rascal angel. It seems I underestimate the man.” Alastor answered, shocking others that he admitted to his fault. Especially Husk who was suspicious of his change in attitude. “Now, may I pick my room? I would love to redecorate, if that’s alright with you.”

Charlie nodded along, telling Alastor of his new radio tower as well. He ignored how it was opposite to Lucifer’s but there was more pressing matters. He took up another room nearby, that would be yours, and reconstructed your bedroom down to the letter. When everything was done, he laid you down on the bed, still asleep

Alastor would read to you while you were still in your slumber, when he takes a pause from his reading, he’d check your wound to see if you were healing and not dying. When he wasn’t in the room, he’d leave behind his shadow and staff to play those anime you love so much. As much as he wanted to play with your unique technological devices, he had no idea who to operate them and he didn’t want to mess up your stuff

While this wasn’t new, you sleeping for longer periods of time to heal and replenish your energy due to over-exhausting your powers, this was the first time you were heavily wounded and by holy powers no less. He doesn’t know what to do and he wasn’t going to risk others knowing he had someone sleeping in a spare room that he took up

“Wow. So this is who you’ve been talking too. No wonder you were more talkative than usual.” Lucifer stood over your slumbering form with his hands behind his back. Alastor immediately had his black tentacles pushing Lucifer away from you and at a wall farthest from you as he summoned a barrier around you. “Protective too!” Lucifer remarked, unaffected by the situation. “Should have known our dear Page Demon here is more capable of gaining allies.” “Get out.” Alastor growled a warning “I bet you don’t know how to wake sleeping beauty up.” Lucifer taunted, “I mean, this slumber and your pathetic desperate self is amusing and all, but I can’t let the Page Demon die.” Alastor’s mind was racing. Die? You were dying? But the wound was, is, healing. You were looking better and better with ecah day. He didn’t even feel his bond with you weakening. “What do you mean?” Lucifer shrugged off the tentacles and pushed them away, twirling his staff before planting it in front of him and leaning against it, “Our dear Page Demon here was once my informant, you know? Got a lot of secrets and knowledge you can never imagine, but I respect the quitting and gave a wonderful apartment and money so there’s a comfortable life, see?”

That’s how you were never worried about money or the fact that your apartment was the only one this big and well off, compared to the others around your place. Not to mention you were in such a secluded spot in the Pride Ring that not many demons knew who he was nor do they care. You were even more showy with your powers to conjure angelic weapons too

The King of Hell gave Alastor the hint to drown you in knowledge so you could soak up energy, you were a unique one, the both of them agreed. But at this point, Alastor was willing to try anything to save you from death and leaving him

What the two did was this. Build a barrier around the bed, making it like a tank, then they worn out pages from various books and documents. The finale was dumping them all over you like a heavy blanket. You were literally drowning in pages now. It would be ridiculous to anyone that walked in on this

“Okay, now all we need is blood.” Lucifer nodded at the handy work. “You want to be the one to do it or…” “Ha! Is that still a question?” Alastor glared at Lucifer’s suggestion “Well, I mean. If Page Demon here takes my blood, there’s gonna be immunity built up. But, your call I guess.”

In the end, both of them dripped blood onto the countless pages around you. It was almost like a breathtaking art piece to admire. According to Lucifer, it’ll take a while. As for how he knew about this method, he was informed about it from you it seems

While Alastor was offended that you didn’t tell him, he understood that it was because you have yet to meet them then. Even so, he can’t deny that you still had your guard up around him even after he gave you his soul to command. It was that element of a duel personality you had that intrigued him

You were lazy and simplistic, yes. You have a mundane life that will bore him to death yet you hate bored yourself. Then there was your keen and observant self, like a flip side of you, or a darker side of you. Though it was rare for him to see, you were very possessive of your belongings and would rather destroy them yourself than have someone else take it from you. There was so much contradictory in your case that interested him so, too much that he fallen too badly for you

He knew the present you to a T. But he never knew the you before him, your history was something you kept close to yourself. Even more so when it came to your human life. All he know was that you were extremely against forming connections with people and that was a knowledge he loved learning about. Only when it was applied on others and not him

Still, he didn’t care. It was you that saved him and given him what he lacked. He wished the two of you met earlier, then again, he might have tried to take you as one of the many souls under him or taken you to torture for his broadcast. So he was fine with the way things were

“Darling…” Alastor’s breath was caught by an invisible force, he felt himself frozen on the spot while the door closed behind him “Alastor.” You spoke, though your speech a bit slurred and your glaze was a bit jumpy and fuzzy, you were awake. “This looks like my room, but I’m positive it’s not.”

No words were exchanged as Alastor lunged at you, hugging onto you so tightly. Your eyes widened, barely having the time to catch his form while the pages flew all over the place from his actions. This scene was familiar, he was hugging you this tightly before you entered your slumber mode. You hugged him back, ignoring the way your face was in his chest

Time stilled and so did the two of you. While Alastor was hugging the living daylights out of you, your memories replayed itself, as did your realization to your feelings for the red demon. You came to terms with it, you really did. How ironic when you were the one judging the characters in the stories you read and watch

“Alastor, I’m back.”

“Welcome back, my dearest love.”

Note: Wa la~ Done! Hope it is to your liking guys! I added a bit of other moments and extra end, cause just the battle scene was not enough and there was more to write! (I'm too lazy to separately post them, there's that)

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

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#Circe's Nighty Writings #Circe's requested writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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jayden-killer · 6 months

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FOR US.

(Loki x fem! Reader)

summary: A friend of Loki knocks at your house door, with the intention to tell you Loki's last words to you.

warnings: SPOILERS FROM LOKI SEASON 2 FINALE, very long one shot, other than that, no more warnings, this is so sad lol.

"On the coast, temperatures will drop sharply, dropping from eleven to four degrees, especially after the sunset. Now, let’s move on to the inner side..."

The weatherman’s voice came from the TV in the living room, but to me, it was distant since I was focused on unpacking the shopping bags on my kitchen island. The cold dyed my cheeks a light purple, although I had access to the heating in the house for a few minutes. A few sunbeams were seeping through the curtains, illuminating my face, and I was checking that you hadn’t forgotten anything from my shopping list. And yet, even though I was busy, there was a small part of me that felt like something bad was going to happen. As if my sixth sense was warning me that something inexplicable was coming. Almost as if it were fate to give me the answer rang the bell at my front door. I picked up the remote next to me of the TV, turned it off, and gently left it on the couch, then went to open it to whoever was behind my door. The moment you opened it, a gentleman appeared to me to be middle-aged, with grizzled hair and a short moustache. Despite his rather well-groomed appearance, the lines on his face were noticeable, showing his age. And he definitely had tired eyes. I looked at him reluctantly, waiting for him to talk; actually, I did it first. "Hi? Can I... do something for you?"

He breathed in air and glanced at me, not with disgust but rather with curiosity. He asked if my name was what he actually knew, which was later confirmed by me. Then he answered with a half-forced smile and a subtle voice: "I’m sorry if I show up here, out of nowhere, without even introducing myself. Call me Mobius," he clarified, giving me a handshake."I am here for a specific reason. It's forLoki".

My heart sank when I heard Loki’s name spoken. It couldn’t be good. Loki would have come in person if it was important.

Why wasn’t he there?

Why was there this Mobius instead?

Did Loki pull one of his tricks again and caused more chaos than he did in the past?

Once again, my sixth sense did not betray me.

"Tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you".

"Not even a piece of cake? It’s fresh, I bought it just this morning".

"I can not say no to such a good piece of cake. I gladly accept." Mobius' laugh was short, but it was effective in bringing back a smile on that concerned face that I had shown since he told me he was here with precise intentions. Now, he was sitting in my living room, on the leather sofa that Loki himself adored, since his butt never wanted to leave it. "So..." I began the conversation, handing the strawberry cake plate to Mobius, who thanked me with a silent thank you. He took a bite of it and showed with pleasure that the dessert was good. I sat in front of him, rubbing the sweaty palms of my hands on my jeans. One of my legs bounced back and forth, clearly anxious. "You said it was about Loki. What’s going on?"

Mobius cleared his voice, placing next to him the dish of cake now devoured, and assumed a different expression; he seemed tense, as if finding the words for what he was going to tell me was the most complicated thing in the world. I bit my lip. The wait was slowly killing me inside.

"Loki... well, he..." He breathed, looking down. "You know what he was doing at TVA?"

"Yes" My answer was hasty. I needed to know what had happened to my partner.

"What about his past?"

"I know everything. What happened? Why isn’t he here, Mobius?"

He took a very deep breath, and closed his eyes slightly, looking away. He placed a hand on the inside of his jacket, pulling a paper bag from an inner pocket. He handed it to me, and I immediately noticed the details: the recipient and the sender were written with, surely, an handwriting well taken care of; of course the ink was a fountain pen, because no one else would recognize that writing so elegant. It was Loki’s. A letter from Loki. And judging by the content, there was also an object inside it.

"What does that mean?" I didn’t want Loki to leave me. Not again. My voice cracked in pain, and I felt a tingle in my eyes. Mobius took my hand, holding it tightly. As if to say that he was there to console me, but that the worst was yet to come.

"Loki is...he is now 'He who remains'. The one who watches over time. On all the timelines of all time. He is...like a new time keeper".

The pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together and everything seemed clearer when he confessed to me. My gaze wavered from the envelope to Mobius' broken face. He sympathized me, it was clear, but how could you not pity a lover who had definitely lost, this time, his other half.

"He holds all the time lines together. His role is extremely important, because if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t...you wouldn’t be here." I looked at him with tears in my eyes. His breathing was accelerating. He hadn’t finished. There was something else he had to reveal to me.

"Before he sacrificed himself for the sake of time, for his friends, for you... he told me to give you this." His gaze fell on the letter. "Then he closed the underground doors leading to the tunnel, and looked at me and Sylvie."

"Sylvie..." The name reminded me of someone he previously told me about. "Her other variant, right?"

He nodded. "He told us that now he knew who he would become. What God would he be. And he thanked you for taking care of him when he was still a dangerous man, a threat to others." He paused briefly. Even his voice seemed to waver for a second. " That’s it. And he disappeared in the next few minutes."

How much information in one speech.

How many things I would have to process in my mind before I accepted the harsh and harsh truth.

How many thoughts buzzed in my head as a result of that shocking revelation.

It was like a truck hitting you in the chest, throwing your powerless body into the road.

"He won't come back anymore, will he?"

Mobius never stopped holding my hand for a moment, holding it even tighter in his rough palm. He understood that he too had a strong hope of Loki’s return. Surely he had been a close friend of his, one who had been close to him all along. So why didn’t he tell me about it before?

However, his silence mk was from confirmation: he wanted, as much as me, his return, but how many were high hopes?

Would it have happened that, one day, a morning like this, he would have appeared at the door of my house, he would have knelt down and embraced me grieving?

How many years from now?

"We don’t know for sure." That sentence brought me up. I dried with my fist closed the tears that threatened to flow from my eyes, as a child does when she feels that maybe her mother would never return to her. I couldn’t stand the idea that I wouldn’t have Loki around me anymore.

Without adding any more, Mobius let go of my hand, standing up and glancing at the letter I held in my other palm. It was a silent way of saying he would give me some privacy to read the letter. So, he walked to the kitchen, bringing with him the plate with the leftover cake.

My hands were shaking. I didn’t have the courage to see what was inside. I was hoping it was another one of his planned pranks. Maybe confetti and a snake would come out, and he would hiss and say, "I fooled you again!"

I tore the opening of the envelope very gently and put a flickering hand inside. I had a cold feeling. Something hard and small was inside. It was..

"A ring.."

A beautiful silver ring.

Tears immediately came back to me. The small object landed in the palm of my hand, the hiccups made its way into my throat, and I squeezed it tightly against my chest. I couldn’t do it.

This was too much for my weak heart.

Was that the real pain?

Was that how you felt?

I still had to read his letter. I didn’t mentally have the strength to do it. It required a huge effort. Only some time later I had the courage to open that letter that was delivered to me by Mobius.

☆

A/N: NOW, my fellow readers, would you like to know what Loki has written in that letter ✉️? Because I've assured you, it's gonna be much sad than this one short.👀

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki series #loki season 2 #loki laufeyson #loki

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Note

Can you do a Leon x reader where he’s teaching her how to defend herself and she’s getting all frustrated and he thinks it’s cute and then she actually hurts him and she feels bad but he’s impressed. Hope that makes sense /.\

You throw a mean punch

{Leon teaches you how to defend yourself}

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“Plant your feet” You’ve been at this for a while now, and you swear if Leon tells you to ‘plant your feet’ one more time you might just kill him.

It had started as a joke, you were both curled up on the sofa watching some trash tv because what else is there to do on a Sunday evening? You both watch a fight happen and you make a joke about how you could definitely ‘beat someone up’ and now here you we’re standing in the middle of the living as Leon teaches you a couple of things.

“My feet are planted Leon, they can’t get anymore planted” You huff with a slight pout, the crease between your brows grows more powerful and you swear he’s doing it to piss you off.

He can’t help but cup your face in his big hand squeezing your cheeks as he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, which makes you groan out in disgust, “Stop pouting sweet thing, you’ll get it” he smiles and you roll your eyes, scoffing as you try to punch his arm.

Maybe it’s how he just stands there as if you’re hitting with a pillow or the unfazed expression he looks at you with that makes your skin tingle with anger.

He stands behind you, hand grasping at your hips, “You gotta step into the motion, it’s all in the hips doll” he whispers, lips grazing against your ear as he swivels your hips slightly showing you how you should move, a shiver runs down your spine, and he notices the way your breath hitches.

His fingers grasp around your elbow, “Move your arm too, keep it tight but not too tight” he says, pulling your elbow towards his chest to emphasise what he’s saying. he's so close you can feel his body heat radiating against you.

He steps in front of you tapping his bicep as he urges you to throw another punch, you step backwards a little, trying to apply his methods and he blocks it as if he can see the punch before it even happens, god this was starting to get tiring.

You groan, once again pouting as he holds your arm firm against your back and you wiggle out of his grip with a huff, and you want to wipe the smug look on his stupidly handsome face.

“I’m getting tired” you whine, as you go and sit back down on the sofa but Leon is quick to stop you pulling you to stand back up.

“Yeah?” He mocks as you nuzzle your nose against his chest, his hands settling against the small of your back, as you whine incoherent words, nodding against him whilst his fingers trace mindless patterns on your back.

“I’ll make dinner if you can land a punch,” he says, you smile and nod your head with determination as you ready yourself, standing the way Leon told you to. You pull away looking at him with something fierce in your eyes, and you watch as Leon’s eyebrows lift in shock, a smirk teetering on his lips.

To be perfectly honest you had no idea what you were doing, you took Leon’s advice and just kinda went with the flow and whatever you did worked, as you threw a punch hitting him straight in his bicep following through to his jaw and your eyes widen with surprise as you realise what you just did, stepping back slightly as guilt buries itself within your heart.

He groans a loud ‘fuck!’, in pain holding his jaw with his hand, and a string of ‘oh my god, I’m sorry’ leaves your mouth as you rush over to him, a gentle hand on his back.

Leon looks over to you, completely star-struck at the strength behind the punch as he rubs his jaw, he had no idea you held that type of power and he can't help but feel a little prideful.

“Leon, I’m so sorry— let me have a look- god- I’m so sorry” you ramble studying the redness that blooms across his jaw and cheek.

He looks over at you noticing the tears that collect against your eyelashes and he shakes his head, his hand settling against your hip with a chuckle, “Hey, I’m alright sweetheart” he says, wiping the stray tears away.

“No I hurt you, I’m so sorry Leon” you whisper, guilt overcoming your senses.

“Sweet girl look at me, hey, I’m alright- trust me I’m fine” he promises, kissing your tear-stained cheeks, his hands soothing your back, “You do throw a mean punch sweetheart” he chuckles, smiling at the teary giggle you give him

Leon presses another kiss to your temple, “Come on let’s go get some dinner” he says, and you frown at him.

“You said you’ll cook tonight” you remind him, and he smiles sheepishly at you.

“Mm, I did, didn’t I? Well, I think we should get takeout, make up for punching me in the face” he jokes, chuckling as you roll your eyes.

“Yeah keep it up and I’ll do it again Kennedy” you huff slipping on one of his jackets as you grab his car keys, he kisses you, smiling against your lips before you both make your way to his car thinking about what takeout you want to eat.

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little-diable · 1 month

Text

Asshole - College!Aaron Hotchner (smut)

A small drabble inspired by @writethelifeyouwant – thank you for this, Mads! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: pwp, Aaron Hotchner is an asshole, a fuckboy she tried to avoid, and yet clearly fails to do so

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking

Pairing: College!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (1.3k words)

The bar was crowded, a thick cloud of smoke hung in the air, making it harder for her to find her way to her friends. (Y/n) had to keep her groan bottled in, not wanting to push herself past people she barely knew, strange faces, and those she had once seen but rather not come across again.

Why had she agreed to go and meet them here? Why had she left the safety of her apartment when she had an exam tomorrow morning?

“Careful, sweetheart.” Hands shot out to grasp her arms, holding onto (y/n) before she could tumble to the ground. With her thoughts guiding her, she hadn’t noticed the tall frame moving towards her, colliding with her before she could rip herself out of her thoughts. Her hazy eyes focused on the man towering over her, just the sight of his face left her groaning in annoyance.

“Let go of me, Hotchner.” It was too loud for her to pick up on the low chuckle rumbling through him, forced to watch the tall guy step away from her with his hands raised and his lips pulled into a smirk. Fuck, if he weren’t such an asshole, she would have given into his flirting months ago. But yet whenever she tried to give him a chance, he went ahead and ripped her hope to shreds, making out with others right in front of her, and flirting with those she couldn’t stand.

It was a tiring back and forth.

Without sparing him another glance, (y/n) pushed herself past him, sighing in relief as her eyes found the ones of Amy, her closest friend. A small smile made its way onto her lips as she plopped down on the chair next to Amy, greeting their friends with a small wave of her trembling hand.

“You okay?” Concern dripped from Amy’s voice, eyes wandering over (y/n)’s frame as if she was looking for wounds, hoping that she hadn’t been hurt physically. (Y/n) let go of a sigh as she reached for Amy’s drink, taking a sip of the strong beverage before a reply could leave her.

“I ran into that Hotchner asshole, I don’t know how much longer I can hold off with forcing my fist into that annoyingly handsome face.” It took (y/n) a moment to focus on Amy’s wide eyes, leaving her to wonder what had managed to catch her friend’s attention.

“So, you do think I’m handsome after all, huh?” Slowly she turned towards Aaron Hotchner, who was standing behind her with two beers in his hand. She watched him place one down for her before he sat down next to her, arm finding its way around her shoulder. “But we’ll have to talk about that kink of yours one day, do you get off to the thought of hitting me?”

……

“Fuck,” she was heavily panting, eyes pressed close, fingers buried in his raven hair. He had her pressed against the door of her apartment, lips kissing their way down her throat. She couldn’t even remember how they had ended up right here, after one too many beers and one too many cigarettes they had shared.

It had been the first time in months that he had actually been focused on her, flirting with (y/n) until the heat thumping through her veins had managed to burn her wholly. Without a doubt she’d regret doing this when the sun rose above the horizon, and yet she couldn’t care about the future, all she could care about was the feeling of his hardening cock rubbing against her still-clothed cunt.

“I knew I’d eventually turn you into a moaning mess for me.” Aaron rasped the words against her throat, hands tightening their grip on her thighs. He felt her legs shake, wrapped around his waist to keep herself close, silently praying that he wouldn’t let go.

“Shut up!” Her voice trembled, coaxing a loud laugh out of him as he started walking towards her bedroom. It wasn’t the first time he found himself in her apartment, but it certainly was the first time she allowed him to touch her, to push her closer to the edge with a simple kiss. “I don’t want any foreplay, I just need you to fuck me.”

“A woman who knows what she wants, how sweet.” She wanted to call him a condescending asshole, but her words got stuck in her throat as Aaron roughly pushed her down on the mattress. It didn’t take him long to free her from her dress, groaning at the sight of her underwear-clad body, a sight for sore eyes he’d think of in the upcoming weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” His murmured words ripped (y/n) out of her trance, watching him undress with skilled movements. His dark leather jacket was long forgotten, just like that white shirt of his that managed to hide the muscular body she always had wanted to touch. Wordlessly she turned towards her bedside table to reach for a condom, only to turn back to his naked frame. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it fit.”

“Such an arrogant dick,” (y/n) choked on her words, trying to sound somewhat confident. Her eyes struggled to leave his hard cock, watching it twitch in anticipation as Aaron ripped the condom open. She tried to focus on herself and shrugged out of her underwear only to flop back down on the mattress.

“I’ll fuck you now, but I won’t leave without getting a taste of you later, that much I can promise.” His words left her moaning, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock nudging against her entrance. Their eyes held contact as he slowly pushed into her, managing to push deep into her tightness due to her arousal seeping out of her, desperate for him. “Jesus fuck, you feel so good.”

“Oh, god, Aaron. Move!” He didn’t need to be told twice, pulling out of her only to push back in with more force. Within seconds the two had managed to build a fast rhythm, set on their own greedy needs, desperate to feel that addicting high. Aaron’s ringed fingers found her throat to keep (y/n) pinned down on the mattress, fucking her with an urgency she wasn’t used to.

The sound of their bodies meeting echoed through her small bedroom, followed by the sound of her moans and his deep groans. Aaron fucked her as if it was his last day on earth, as if he had to prove a point. And (y/n) happily took it all, every touch, every possessive groan that made her tremble beneath him.

“Touch yourself, baby, make yourself cum on my cock.” With trembling fingers she found her pulsing bundle, circling her clit to try and push herself into the open arms of her orgasm. Aaron watched her with dilated pupils, pleasure-drunken and high on the feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock. He’d struggle with letting her go, Aaron wasn’t one for sticking around, but perhaps he could make an expectation - just this once.

“I’m close, harder, please.” A hum left Aaron at her begging, smirking down at (y/n) as he fucked her even harder. He tightened his grip on her throat as she came, watching her with amazement swimming in his pupils. Aaron fucked her through her high and gave it a few more thrusts before he came himself.

“That was something.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him chuckling, carefully he pulled away, threw the condom away and found his way back to her bed. He found his place next to her, heavily breathing just like she was.

“If there’s one thing to know about me,” with mischief swimming in his pupils he settled between her quivering thighs. “It’s knowing that I always keep my word, and I need to taste you now, baby.”

#Aaron Hotchner smut #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine

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fierymiasma · 1 year

Text

ꕥYou Look Better In Greenꕥ//Sebastian x MC

NOW WITH PART 2: And You Look Fetching in Yellow

Summary: In which Sebastian sees the new transfer student wearing someone else's scarf and proceeds to absolutely lose it.

Word Count: 1.5k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

Ever since the new 5th year joined Hogwarts and knocked Sebastian on his ass (while stealing his heart at the same time), Sebastian developed a new morning ritual. He would arrive, as late as possible as usual, to breakfast, plop down on the empty spot that Ominis had so nicely saved for him, listen to Imelda prattle on about some boring Quidditch news, and sigh and longingly stare over at the Hufflepuff table.

It was always something different every day, much to Sebastian's delight. Sometimes she would wear the most eccentric outfit, a clashing cacophony of mismatched colors that only she could pull off while being the most gorgeous witch in Hogwarts. Sometimes she would arrive late, wiping the sleep from her eyes, tired from their shared late night misadventures.

This morning Sebastian was unlucky. Sitting directly across from Poppy, she was obscured from Sebastian's gaze.

Even more unlucky, Imelda Reyes decided she had permission to sit next to him.

"Did you see what the new Hufflepuff was wearing today, Sebastian?" Imelda teased.

Ugh. "No, why should I care? It's not like I spend my mornings just ogling her."

"Of course not." Imelda said breezily. "It's only been the talk of the entire school. Surprised you were the last to hear about it, what with you practically drooling over her every morning."

Ominis snorted into his porridge.

"I have no idea what you're on about. What she does doesn't concern me in the slightly." Sebastian lied like the lying liar he was.

Imelda shrugged. "Oh, that's a shame. And here I was about to bring you the news that your favorite Hufflepuff is most definitely off the market now. Looks like someone got to her before you did."

"WHAT?" Sebastian bellowed.

Imelda grinned. "See for yourself, pretty boy."

Playing right into her trap, Sebastian stood up, now blatantly searching for the Hufflepuff. He was able to angle his view around Poppy. A part of him was excited to see what ridiculous set outfit she was wearing today. Sebastian didn't see what the fuss was all about. Nothing unusual, her usual Hufflepuff robes, a grey sweater, and-

-And a Red and Yellow Gryffindor scarf.

His mind went blank. The usual bustling of voices in the Great Hall silenced themselves. Sebastian could feel the heat erupt in the back of his eyes. His wand shot dangerous hot sparks, itching for a fight.

Who, in Salazar Slytherin's name, gave her that?

She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf in front of the whole damn school. Anyone who was anyone knew what that meant. Why, it was practically a front page advertisement on the Daily Prophet! Wearing another House's apparel meant you were seeing someone. Off the market. No longer available. Every other day you would see a Ravenclaw girl wear a new black and yellow tie. A Slytherin showing off their newly acquired blue coat. It was a possessive silly schoolboy thing, but if you were an eligible bachelor or bachelorette, you wore your gifted scarf with pride.

Who in Merlin's name would claim what was rightfully his? Who would be daft enough?

He didn't even register that his body was moving, until he was halfway across the Great Hall, making a beeline straight towards the Hufflepuff table.

"Morning." He greeted Poppy and the new transfer student stiffly, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh Sebastian! Good morning! Did you have any of the strawberry tarts? They're especially good today!" She beamed behind the offending Gryffindor scarf that was around her neck.

"Who gave you that?"

"Oh, well, I'm pretty sure the House elves make the tarts from scratch and then they sort of apparate it up here. I'm actually not quite sure how their magic-"

"Who gave you that tacky thing? Was it Garreth? Prewett? I always knew that weasel was up to no good. I should remind him o-"

She looked at him in alarmed confusion. "What on earth are you talking about Sebastian?"

Sebastian felt his jaw clench. So, she had no idea. Of course she wouldn't. She was a new transfer student, immensely popular and with half the school falling over themselves fawning over her. It had to Prewett. Only that sniveling bastard was underhanded enough to trick Sebastian's Hufflepuff into something so nefarious. Practically broadcasting to the whole school that they were dating. Gryffindor chivalry indeed, taking advantage of someone like that. He bet all Prewett had to do is go up to her with his big, ugly nose and manipulate her into wearing that disgusting thing.

"Your scarf," he spat. "Who gave it to you?"

Her eyes darted at Poppy who gave her a bewildered shrug. She blinked in confusion, almost as if she forgot she was wearing it. "Oh, this? It's so cozy and warm, isn't it? I think it really matches with my complexion!"

Sebastian could practically feel his back molar crack.

She continued, unaware of the inner storm brewing inside of Sebastian. "Natty and I were out at Hogsmeade and got caught in the rain. My poor scarf got soaked, and I haven't had a chance to learn the drying charm yet. She was nice enough to lend me hers instead!"

He deflated, wand dropping into his pocket; fight forgotten. "Ah…Natty…the other…transfer" Of course. It wasn't that long ago that Natty transferred and was learning all the nuances of the social intertwining of a different country much less Hogwarts social etiquette. Probably thought all of this was silly anyway.

"Is something the matter, Sebastian?" She leaned over placing her gentle hand on his forehead. "You're awfully red. You're practically burning up!"

Poppy tried to hide her laughter behind her hands.

Sebastian's blush was so strong it practically hid all the freckles on his face. Arms flapping around, he pushed away her hand from his forehead. "Never mind me. It's a miracle you didn't get sick wearing that silly thing. If you really needed an extra scarf you should have come straight to me."

He started undoing his own warm green and silver scarf. And with the most nonchalance and charm he could muster, he gently wrapped it around his Hufflepuff's neck. Green and silver framed her rising blush so nicely. Something deep in his stomach purred possessively in approval.

"There. All better. Those colors match you better anyway. Red and yellow look awful on you." He flushed. "Not that you ever look awful. You look fantastic. One of-No, the best looking person at Hogwarts." His ears burned as Poppy practically howled in laughter unable to hold herself back any longer. "Um, best looking friend at Hogwarts. Much better than that old Ominis anyhow."

His Hufflepuff blushed, trying to hide her smile behind her newly acquired gift. The butterflies in her stomach were practically doing flips. "Thank you, Sebastian. Y-you're not so bad yourself, for a Slytherin."

He nodded stiffly. "Well, if you ever need any more just ask me. Slytherin is a good look on you." He wasn't sure what to do now that his mission was complete. "Um, don't ask Ominis though. He…um…he hates it when people borrow his clothes. Gets all particular about his things. Just come to me whenever you need anything."

Her eyes swam in amusement, and she brought Sebastian's scarf closer to her face, inhaling the rich dark scent left behind. A rich oak wood, some warm-scented cologne, and a slight musk that was undeniably Sebastian. Her eyes never left his gaze as she gauged his reaction. "Oh, how lucky, that I am friends with the most charitable Slytherin I know. It's nice to know that my friends are so concerned about me."

Sebastian's knees felt weak. He mustered up the energy to croak out, "Well, it's not all charity. It's nice having friends in my debt."

She got closer to him, in the mood for something a bit more daring. "Well, I would hate to always be in your debt. There must be some way to repay you."

His mouth gaped open. For once, the manipulative, charming Slytherin was at a lost for words.

"How about I treat my favorite Slytherin to some Butterbeer? My treat? I have to start paying back some of that debt somehow."

Sebastian's mouth was dry. "If I have nothing better to do, I suppose I'll join you. It's not like I'm doing anything." (Ominis wouldn't mind getting ditched.)

"It's a date then." Sebastian choked at her words. "7'oclock. Three Broomsticks. I'll see you then."

Sebastian nodded stiffly and promptly marched himself to the Slytherin table, a bit bewildered as to what just occurred.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Poppy's laughter finally subsided, as she finally got a moment's rest to wipe the tears away from her eyes. "Blimey, I can't believe that worked. I knew borrowing Natty's scarf was a brilliant move."

The other girl smiled, gently packing away the old scarf borrowed from Natty back into her bags, right on top of her very own and very dry Yellow and black scarf that was secretly tucked away. "What can I say Poppy? Sometimes to catch a Slytherin you got to think like a Slytherin."

Part 2

AO3: fierymiasma

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #dark!sebastian #sebastian sallow fanfiction #ominis gaunt #imelda reyes #poppy sweeting #hphl #fierymiasmawork

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strangernstranger · 1 year

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Secrets

Eddie x Fem Reader request

Summary: Could Eddie’s good intentions really be the downfall of you both? Tempers rise when reader suspects Eddie has been keeping their relationship a secret as a means to sneak around with Chrissy Cunningham as well.

Inbox is open for requests! ———

“What are you doing?” Eddie crept to the doorway, hearing the sounds of dresser drawers slam.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing my shit.” You didn’t spare him a glance, you just continued stuffing your belongings into a bag. Eddie shuffled towards you in utter confusion. He had just made it back from practicing with his band to find you in his room like this.

“HEY hey, why are you- what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie’s brows pinched together with concern. “Talk to me. Please?” He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. You tore away from his touch as if it could burn you. Eddie’s face further contorted into a pained expression realizing he was somehow at the core of this. He hadn’t seen you since yesterday. What could’ve changed over night?

“I’m tired, Eddie. I tired of sneaking around because YOU don’t want us to be seen together.”

“Y/N, I’ve already explained it to you. If you risk letting people know we’re together, you risk everything. You-Your reputation…” He stammered, hoping you would finally just accept that this is the way things needed to be. He hated the thought of you receiving the same treatment he endured on a daily basis. Eddie’s skin had grown thick over the years but he worried how the scrutiny of others would affect you.

“Who fucking cares about a reputation!? Do you really think that shit matters to me? What matters to me is you. But you seem perfectly fine keeping me in the dark. A dirty little secret you hide in your bed every other night.”

“NO. It’s not like that!” He couldn’t believe you’d actually think that.

“Is it like that with Chrissy?” You stopped dead in your tracks, looking at Eddie for the first time since all this started. Your eyes burning holes through the man you once considered yours. You wanted to see the look on his face when you said her name.

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

“Chrissy Cunningham. I saw you two yesterday. You snuck out into the woods and she followed.”

“That must mean I’m fucking her then, right?” Eddie scoffed. “It was a drug deal y/n! She’s clientele.”

“Yea? Do you typically bring clients home with you?” You crossed your arms over your chest to conceal your shaking hands. Eddie’s doe eyes startled as if caught in the lights of an oncoming truck. The realization of how that must’ve came across settled in with the sinking feeling that he was moments away from disaster. “You opened the door and let her right in.” You sneered a smile, watching Eddie grip his hair at the roots. You thought you’d surprise him after his meeting with the Hellfire club. You never thought you’d pull up to see him bringing another girl home. You were disgusted. Eddie sat down on the mattress, racking his brain on how to explain himself, already feeling overwhelmed.

“Y/N…it wasn’t like that. You gotta believe me.” He punctuated the word as if it would drive the point home but you weren’t having any of it. There would be no convincing you. You saw if for yourself. “She was only here for-“

“It’s never what it looks like, is it, Eddie?” You cut him off saving his breath and your own time.

“Y/N PLEASE-“

“NO! Do you really think I’m so naive that I’d take any ol’ excuse? That you can just say I’m wrong and I’ll fall happily into your arms?”

“Will you just shut up and let me explain!?” Eddie shouted, clearly distressed. His legs bounced anxiously. His hands shook in his lap. You were irate. Heat flushed behind your cheeks. It was as if a switch flipped in your brain and you could barely contain your resentment anymore. You thought Eddie was someone you could trust. In fact, you were actually falling for him. It hurt you that he wanted to keep things secret. Still, you were willing to accept that if it meant you could have him. But the thought of him sneaking around with Chrissy Cunningham, the perky cheerleader, Hawkins High’s sweetheart, it broke you in ways you couldn’t imagine possible. Another girl. Another secret.

“Fucking cheat! LIAR!” You began tossing your clothes at him harshly, one by one. Eddie jerked his hands up to block the projectiles. He was growing angrier by the second. Angrier with every harsh word you spit at him. His breaking point was rapidly approaching. “You’re a condescending, lying, prick, Eddie Munson!”

“Yea? And you’re a jealous, fucking bitch!” He finally snapped, rising to his feet. “You wanna say hurtful shit? We can do that. You are so goddamn insecure, it’s pathetic. I didn’t fuck Chrissy. I don’t WANT to fuck Chrissy. I was selling her drugs! That’s IT!” His face was red. The veins in his neck prominent from the strain of yelling. “Can you get that through that little head of yours and cut the know it all bullshit already!?” You stood there dumbfounded. Eddie had never raised his voice to you. Your eyes began to sting with tears.

“Karma is gonna bite you in the ass, Eddie. And I hope to God I’m there when it happens.” You managed to choke out. The lump in your throat grew with each passing second.

“Do you really think that little of me?” Eddie’s voice wavered, pained by your distrust. “You really think I’d spend every second with you I could, introduce you to my friends, give you a key to my house if I was just using you? Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!”

Your body vibrated, tears you tried so desperately to stave off finally breaking free. You wanted to believe in him, but you saw it with your own eyes. Could you really have misread things so gravely or was it all a lie? You couldn’t answer him.

“If that’s really how you feel, then GO! HERE, I’ll help you pack!” Eddie grabbed the remainder of your clothes and furious stuffed them into your bag before tossing it to the floor. “Just get the fuck out of my house.” He turned his back to you, running his hands through his hair. His vision blurring with unshed tears he didn’t want you to see. You choked back your sobs as you picked up the bag. You spoke no goodbye. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

———

You cried the entire drive home, catching glances of your glossy, bloodshot eyes in the rear view. The possibility that you were wrong dug deeper and deeper with every mile that passed. The further from Eddie you drove, the harder his words hit. They played on a loop in your head. You weren’t sure who fucked it all up, you or Eddie but there was no saving it now. No taking back what was said.

Meanwhile Eddie sat in silence, fully taking in your absence. Empty hangers in his closet where your clothes used to be. A vacant space on his nightstand where you used to keep your books. The ones he’d beg you to read to him as he was falling asleep. How could you think he would touch another girl? You were all he ever wanted. The more he thought on it, the worse he felt. You thought he was ashamed of you when truthfully, you were the best thing about his life. He was only trying to protect you. Keeping things a secret was meant to shield you from the cruelty of others. But then he turned around and hurt you worse than anyone else could manage. What you needed was reassurance. Instead he berated and belittled you for being genuinely hurt. He dropped his head into his hands, holding back tears. He had to find a way to fix this but he was sure you wouldn’t talk to him again. Not after what he said. He thought on it all night. Time was abundant since sleep was scarce. Every time he’d close his eyes to rest, he’d see your face. Eyes red. Broken. Betrayed. You two needed to talk about it, but that would take some convincing of course…

———

You dragged yourself out of bed. You combed your hair and brushed your teeth like you always did. You followed the same monotonous routine you followed every morning before school. But things felt heavier than usual. There was a weight on your shoulders, waiting for the perfect moment to break you. Still, you sucked it up and caught the bus. Staying home only meant you’d dwell on things.

Eddie’s chair was empty during first period which wasn’t entirely uncommon but given the events from the night before, you wondered why. Would seeing you break his heart or just piss him off? It was all for the better. Seeing him would collapse the collected veneer you were trying so desperately to uphold. You tried putting Eddie out of your mind to the best of your ability and focusing on your assignments.

Back at Eddie’s, the numbers on the clock blinked red ‘10:07AM’

“SHIT! SHIIIIT!” He had overslept after finally drifting off around 4AM. He discarded his blankets in a flourish and launched himself off the bed, clumsily stepping into whatever jeans were closest to him. He rushed down the steps of his trailer, making a b-line for his van. He had to make a little stop before heading to the school…

He burst through the cafeteria doors, practically breathless. A few students jumped in surprise. Others rolled their eyes, assuming he was up to his usual antics.

“Y/N?” An unintentional shout. The room went silent. Eddie zeroed in on your almost immediately. Your heart beat quickened, eyes locked with his as he made his way to you. You hardly noticed that everyone else was staring as well, watching the scene unfurl. Your eyes drifted to the hand Eddie held behind his back, revealing a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “They’re uh- they’re for you.” Your eyes shined bright with disbelief, on the verge of tears. Words escaped you, so Eddie continued on. “I don’t really know what flowers are good, so I tried to get your favorite colors instead.” Eddie’s smile was nervous, but hopeful. He reached the bouquet out to you. You lightly touched petals colored in violet and magenta. He remembered?

“Th-thank you?” You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture although you were still taken aback by it all. This was Eddie’s first public display of affection which of course garnered an audience for the two of you. Your eyes darted around the room, hearing whispers from the other students. You glanced over to Chrissy, curiosity getting the better of you. There she sat with dreamy, bright eyes. As if she were watching a scene from a televised romance. She looked happy. Happy for you. Happy for Eddie. Not at all like a scorned lover or a burned out flame. Eddie took your hand in his.

“Can we please talk?” His doe eyes melted away at the animosity you felt just earlier.

“Looks like the Freak got himself a girlfriend.” Jason jeered from the jock’s table, laughs following.

“Maybe somewhere a little more private?” Eddie sighed, not even phased by the attention. It was new to you but already insignificant.

———

You followed Eddie out to the football field. The spring air was cool but the sun provided just enough warmth. You sat together on the bleachers. You stared at your shoes while Eddie fumbled with his rings.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He grumbled. He dipped his head low enough that his hair concealed his face. “I just couldn’t believe you’d actually think I would even look at someone else the way I look at you. I promise you, y/n, I swear on my life, we were just making a deal. She asked for something stronger while we were in the woods. I-I didn’t have it, it was back at my place. She caught a ride with me, I gave her the stuff and I drove her back home. That’s all it was.”

“I believe you, Eddie. I’m sorry I freaked out. I feel like such an asshole now.” A tear slipped down your cheek, embarrassed by your behavior from the night before. Eddie lifted his hand to wipe it away.

“Hey, no more crying, okay? Everything is fine now. I don’t blame you for getting mad. I would’ve lost my shit if I saw you bringing another guy home.” You placed your hand on his knee. “Why didn’t you just tell me about the deal before hand?” Eddie huffed realizing that would've saved you both a lot of hurt.

“Um, because I’m an idiot? Selling drugs is a quick way to earn cash but it’s not really something I’m proud of, Y’know? I just thought it would be better if I kept you out of that portion of my life. It felt like I was doing the right thing at the time…but like I said…idiot.” He breathed a laugh, admiring your small upturned smile.

“Eddie? No more secrets. If I didn’t think I could handle it I would’ve left a long time ago. You gotta stop acting like I need to be sheltered from you. From your life. I want this, okay? I want you.” Eddie placed his hand over yours giving it a tight squeeze.

“No more secrets, promise.” He looped his pinky with yours. A subtle gesture the two of you often shared. “I’ll tell you everything. Y/n, I was never ashamed of you. Not for a second. The day you kissed me before that pep rally? I had to stop myself from running across the court and yanking that microphone out of Jason’s hands to tell everyone about it.” You laughed at the thought. “I mean it! No one else makes me as stupid as you do.” Eddie snaked his arm around your waist and moved in close, relieved you would allow him to hold you in his arms again. “But no more hiding. Tell me the time and place, I’ll be there to kiss you breathless.” He buried his face into your neck, smiling against your skin in between kisses. You pushed against his chest, laughing at the sensation. “There’s no one else for me, sweetheart. It’s you and only you.”

#Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie Munson requests

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strangersmunsons · 1 month

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read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~ 4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.”

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?”

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone.

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma��am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake.

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies.

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you.

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross.

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers.

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away.

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here?

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?”

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory.

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand.

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them.

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill.

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.”

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant.

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you.

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks.

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship.

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him.

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie.

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table.

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face.

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right.

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away.

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today.

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores.

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.”

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him.

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!!

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

Text

CODE BROKEN (part 5/5) dark!Joel x f!Reader

pairings: dark!Joelxf!Reader (she's you!)

rating: 18+ (scram youngins!)

Words: 12.0k (wtf how?)

Warnings: femdom (if you squint), hands off, cockwarming, sweet dirty talk, Joel whimpers, sweet!Joel, fluff and angst, protected p in v.

a/n: Y’all this was one of those weird stories that I wrote and posted to A03 that no one commented on. Then just as I was giving up all these people on tumblr and then A03 started being like “we want more dark!joel!” and because I can’t deny you anything, I kept going. And now we’re here and I’m actually kinda heartbroken I won’t be writing about these two anymore. Anyway, I thought this concluded things nicely and if you agree (and even if you don’t) please leave me a comment because I don’t make shit on these. It’s all for the love of writing (and getting’ comments).

Code Broken Parts 1 - 4

==========================================

Code Broken: Total Eclipse of the Heart

Trish's wedding is beautiful and sentimental and everything you knew it would be. Seeing her in the dress you spent months making, beaming as she kisses her husband Cliff makes your heart swell.

When the group throws the multicolored confetti and it lands like snow in her rust colored hair you think it's the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

They've decorated the old church basement beautifully. Handmade bunting hangs from rafters; lopsided cakes made from whatever could be spared from the kitchen line the tables. The children of Jackson are shrieking and laughing as they spin around the crowd of people, darting between legs with icing smeared over their mouths.

You're tired after all the lead up to this event. Exhausted after the preparation, the decorating, and the assurances to Trish that it was no trouble to do it all. Trish holds her son in her arms, smiling up at her husband who presses a kiss to her forehead.

You sit back in your chair at one of the tables watching the crowds drinking and dancing as a few of the locals play a surprisingly in-tune melody with the instruments they possess.

"You did a wonderful job," Maria tells you as she walks by. "Wish I'd had you around for my wedding."

You smile and thank her before you lean back; eyes sleepily half-open as you watch the couple nearest to you spin together.

Mark gives you a wave from across the room, his arm around the waist of Jenny, one of the newer people to have moved here. She gazes are him adoringly and this makes you smile as you return the wave.

You’d never say it, but it makes you feel a bit like an outsider seeing all your friends coupled up. Even though you never needed anyone else, the thought of another person sharing in your life has its appeal.

"Hi there."

The husky voice behind you is quiet and careful. Low enough for only you to hear. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Joel is standing there looking down at you seated at the table.

Joel is dressed like most of the men here in jeans and a button up. His hair is combed back and he smells good. Spicy like cologne, a rare commodity in Jackson.

The sight of him pulls at your lower belly. Despite the weeks that have passed since you saw him last, that desire you carry around for him hidden behind your ribs seeps through.

He's staring at you similar to how he was the last time you saw him, dark and heated and you momentarily shrink from his intense gaze.

You haven't seen him since that day in the stables when you rushed off and you expected to be more furious with him. Instead you just feel gentle irritation mixed with a lust you wish you could will away.

"Hi."

He's got his hands in his pockets, standing awkwardly like he's nervous. Joel nervous? You think you must be misunderstanding because Joel Miller is never* nervous.

You've seen him break unruly horses, heard stories of him taking down clickers and Raiders. Why would he be nervous talking to you?

"You look beautiful tonight," he murmurs.

What the fuck?

You blink up at him confusedly. Did Joel Miller just call you beautiful? When you don't answer you see him swallow, eyes going to your shoulder before coming back to your gaze. He looks like he's about to say something but then another voice breaks in between you like a knife slicing through the air.

"Hey come dance with me!"

You both look over to see Mark approaching you with an expectant look on his face, hand held out towards you. His girlfriend Jenny is dancing with some of her friends to the music the band is playing and she gives a cheery wave in your direction followed by a mouthed: "come dance!".

You feel Joel's eyes boring into your profile as you look up to Mark.

"Sure!"

You stand, taking his hand as he tugs you to him. He must notice Joel standing there, half encased in shadows because he starts.

"Oh hey Joel," Mark says with a broad smile. "I didn't see ya there. Just gonna steal this one for a dance."

You can see Joel's cheek tic as Mark spins you away, Joel's dark eyes fixed on you as Mark tugs you around in his arms on the dance floor. You feel strangely giddy at the moment. Almost delighted that Joel is watching you being swept away by another man, even if it is platonic.

You want Joel uncomfortable. You want him to be just as miserable as you've been these past few weeks. Because you can't get him out of your head, you can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking about the softness of your last interaction.

Mark is a very bad dancer, but not as bad as you. He does goofy over exaggerated facial expressions as he kicks out his legs. You laugh breathlessly, clutching onto him when he twirls you around in his arms.

You catch Joel's eyes on you a few times, but resolutely turn your attention anywhere else. You notice Tommy comes up to talk to him, but Joel's eyes never leave Mark's hands on your body. They skim over your hips and you can see Joel's fingers tighten around his drink glass.

Mark guides you towards Jenny and the rest of the group. Trish and Cliff are dancing up a storm and Cliff surprises you by grabbing you by the waist and raising you into a spin that lifts your feet off the ground. You give a shriek of laughter, clutching to his shoulders before he sets you down again. Finally the song is over and you are breathless and sweaty at the temples.

"Thanks, I needed that!"

Mark flashes you a grin before waving you off and going to pull Jenny into a tight embrace from behind.

The music slows and you watch as everyone begins to pair up on the dance floor, hands slinging around waists, heads balanced on shoulders. It makes a tear go through your heart, a sudden feeling of awkward isolation.

You're about to leave the dance floor when you feel the heat of another body behind you. You smell him, wood shavings and leather.

"You wanna dance?"

You turn to see Joel standing there, mouth fixed sternly as he gazes down at you.

Shock floods your system at his words. Is he really asking you to dance with him? He wants to hold you and spin you around on the dance floor in front of all these people? He wants to publically be seen with you?

Joel doesn't dance. He barely attends events like this. You've never seen him at the summer dance party. If he is dragged to an event along with Tommy he sticks to the wall, arms crossed nursing a drink. What kind of game is this?

"Are you serious?"

He allows this insult, amusement clear in his eyes but not the rest of his features.

"I was, yeah."

You think of how shitty he's treated you over the past year. The way he's fucked you every which way and never kissed you. You think of how he's taken you and used you and you sneer up at him, feeling prickly.

"Never."

Joel's mouth twitches into a deep frown and you can see red creeping up his neck. You've embarrassed him.

Good.

Nearby couples are watching this exchange with curious looks. Both of you seem to notice this at the same time.

"G'night then."

Joel gives a sharp nod, backing away from you slowly before his long muscled legs are carrying him out of the church. You watch him leave, your stomach twisting before you throw yourself into a nearby chair, head spinning.

What just happened?

You spend the next hour making polite conversation with the people who pass you, giving Trish a hug when she comes to thank you for the twentieth time for everything.

"I want to have you over for dinner next week," she says, eyes filled with thankful tears.

"You're on."

You make your way back to your house, passing by the still partying group smiling and waving.

When you round on Rancher Street you think about Joel tonight. Of his nervousness and his calling you beautiful. Of asking you to dance in front of everyone. Didn't he care about the gossip? He’s notoriously private.

You can see a light is on in his house and this gives you pause. You consider going home and forgetting everything. Ignoring him for the rest of your days. But then something unknown sends your pulse spiking, something that leads your feet to his door and commands you to knock loudly.

You hear his footsteps pad slowly to the door, opening it and looking at you with surprise. He looks tired and you wonder if you’ve woken him. He’s wearing the same clothes though so you assume you caught him napping on the couch.

"What're -"

You push your way inside, not waiting to be invited. Joel allows this, watching you in confusion as you go to his sofa and shrug off your jacket.

You're looking around at his place, at the empty fireplace and the cracked mug on the coffee table, the book tented beside it. Your fingers absently strum his guitar as you pass it, a small smirk on your lips.

Joel walks towards you slowly, footfalls heavy as he regards you from behind curious eyes.

"Take a seat," you say casually motioning to the sofa as he approaches.

Joel doesn't move, doesn't indicate he hears you. You watch his wide hands twitch at his sides, his dark eyes set on you. You tilt your head back, face serious.

"You owe me this much, Joel."

Joel's tongue goes to one side of his cheek as he considers this. This feels like a standoff, a battle of wills. You wait until he finally gives a nod and lowers himself to his sofa, eyes never leaving yours.

You feel such a mixing confusion of emotions for the man looking at you. No, he's gazing at you. Eyes that were always cold and peering now seem softer around the edges. It confuses you.

You're still standing by the empty fireplace, holding your trembling fingers against the mantle. You take a sharp breath in, quietly.

"Take yourself out of your pants."

Irritation flares there in Joel's features. You've pushed too far.

"N-"

"Joel if you ever want to see me again you'll do this," you say sharply. "I mean it."

You hope that it doesn't come out as breathless as you feel because right now you can barely breathe. This is a big gamble. There's a very good chance he's going to kick you out as he's always done.

But then you think of him calling you beautiful and asking you to dance. You think of the looks he gives you when he thinks you're not looking and you consider that perhaps he might acquiesce.

You school your features, sure not to look shocked when Joel's hand finally goes to his belt, undoing it with one jerked movement of his hand. Then he stills as if waiting for you to admit that this is a game that he doesn't have to continue.

But you square your jaw and cross your arms in front of you. You raise a brow and find yourself getting aroused at the power shift. For once you're telling Joel what to do and much like you were that night in his house, kneeled in front of him, he wants it just as badly as you do.

Slowly his zipper is lowered, his jeans shifted and you watch as he brings his cock from underneath his boxers. You blink slowly.

"Already hard," you say approvingly as your eyes scan his already weeping cock. "Good."

Joel isn't smiling, but he isn't furious either. He's just sitting there, arms moving to either side of him on the back of his sofa. It's as if he's relaxing, about to watch the TV he doesn’t own. He continues looking up at you with big brown eyes, his cock rosy and resting on his lower belly.

He isn't trying to look intimidating. He just naturally is.

He watches you tug down the panties from under your dress, stepping out of them and shoving them into your dress pocket. His eyes move from your pocket to your face as you move to the sofa on trembling legs. He watches as you stand in front of him, knees touching. You take a deep breath, lifting one leg over his until you bracket his thighs.

"What is this?" Joel asks tone icy even as he shifts to accommodate you.

"I need something to come on tonight," you tell him. "And I've decided your cock will do nicely."

He says nothing. He doesn't move, doesn't deny this request. He simply continues to stare up at you. His lack of reaction unnerves you, but you plunge ahead regardless.

"You got a condom?"

Joel reacts slowly, tongue pushing into the side of his cheek once more. He considers your question before his hips shift up as he reaches in and pulls the square foil from his back pocket. He holds it out to you.

"Expecting to get lucky tonight, Joel?"

"Nope."

You raise a brow in disbelief. Joel sighs through his nose irritably.

"Was hopin', not expectin'."

You make a scoffing noise in the back of your throat before you motion to the condom with your hand. You expect defiance from him but he slips it on without question, his movements slow and measured as you watch.

You've always thought his hands were beautiful in a large, masculine way. Tonight is no different watching him hold his thick cock as he pinches the end of the condom before rolling it down.

When he's finished you move him to your entrance, eyes fixed on his face. He continues to stare in silence until you slide your already dripping cunt down his cock.

Then he reacts.

"Fuuuck," Joel groans, head tilted back and eyes slammed shut. You work your way down him, humming as his ridges bump inside, creating delicious friction before you come to rest against his hips.

You can tell he's waiting for you to move, to make noise, to do something. But you just sit there with your legs on either side of him, wrists balanced lightly on his shoulders. For once you'll be the one watching him unravel.

You peer into his face, your eyes sliding along the strong nose, the creases at the corner of his eyes, the fullness of his lower lip. You long to reach out and nibble it. It's sinful to have a mouth that kissable on a man so recalcitrant.

Joel's eyes remain closed, his pulse ticking away in his neck. You see his throat bobbing and then he groans. His broad hands rest gently against your waist, urging you against him. His hips shifting upwards to fuck into you. Your hands go to his chest and you push back from him.

"You don't move. You don't touch."

Joel's eyes snap open, head lifting to stare into your face. You're on his lap, almost at eye level now. You see the fire starting, burning in the dark coals of his eyes. The air is thick with tension, his body almost vibrating against yours.

"And if I do?"

"I'll jump off your lap so quick it'll make your head spin," you tell him sharply. "Then I'll leave and never come back. And I'll make sure my bedroom window stays locked."

This heavy threat hangs between you. To your credit you say it all without trembling. You sound self assured, confident. Even with Joel buried to the hilt inside you, his thick cock pulsing, you manage to stay composed.

Joel considers your proposal but not for long when he feels you begin to rise up off of him. His hands remove themselves from around your waist, returning to the back of the threadbare sofa.

You watch him tense before nodding, his mouth in a grim line of frustration.

Good. He fucking deserves it.

You lower yourself slowly back fully onto his lap, his cock warm and thick as you welcome it between your thighs once more. You sigh softly as it nestles there, filling you deliciously. He always feels so good.

"So I just sit here?" Joel murmurs; his eyes shuttering as he forces his hips to remain still.

You find that his voice is just as potent as his cock, your head tilting forward in order to catch every syllable that passes between those pouty lips of his.

"Uh huh," you say plainly.

Joel gives a solemn nod at this, his eyes not leaving your mouth. His arms are still hanging along the back of the sofa but his hands are tightening against the ridge of it. He braces himself, watching with hawk-like focus as your hips begin to shift again.

You smile at the way he struggles to remain still when your thighs spread over him, flashing the glossy sheen of your inner thighs and cunt. You're already drenched with arousal.

You groan as his length grazes your clit when you move. Your wrists once more go to his broad shoulders for purchase as you begin to bounce slowly in his lap. Your head falls forward slightly, your back arching as you slide along his slick cock. You feel his mouth at your ear, husky and deep.

"M'I allowed to ask for anythin'?"

You pause your motions in surprise by this soft utterance by Joel. You shift your head slightly to find his face inches from yours. He doesn't let anything show in his eyes good or bad. You regard him, body stilled atop his, almost breathing into his mouth when you speak.

"What do you want?"

"A kiss."

The sibilant sound of his request echoes in the following silence. Joel's eyes register hope now, a subtle kind of need that you haven't seen before in him.

You find you can't answer him.

Instead you take him deeper into you and Joel makes a soft humming noise, it seems like it slips past his lips unwillingly. He bites down on his full lower lip, stopping himself.

You can see he's trying not to give in, not to make a sound as you slide up and down on his hips in achingly slow movements. His eyes are closed and his jaw is clenched so tightly you're shocked he doesn't break a tooth.

Your head moves forward, lips grazing his temple.

"You like that, Joel?" You huff against his ear. "You like me using this cock of yours to come on?"

He lets out a shuddering sigh, chest heaving.

"F-f..fuck. Yeah."

Then you feel it, his hand creeping between where you join. His fingers desperately sliding over your clit.

You stand abruptly and he slides out of you so rapidly his hips stutter midair.

"What are you---"

"I told you. Tonight you don't move and you don't touch."

Joel's neck is a blotchy red, his forehead is dotted with perspiration and he looks absolutely wrecked.

When you step back towards him he inhales sharply, eyes on the glistening vee of your legs. You align him to the entrance of your cunt and then slide back down the length of his shaft almost angrily.

"Fuck.... Fuck ... " Joel groans helplessly, doing everything in his power to keep still. You hear the squelch of your cunt as you ride him.

You grip the back of Joel's neck, fingers harshly digging there and forcing his gaze down to where your bodies join.

"You fucking watch," you tell him, cunt squeezing him as you rock against his hips. "You watch and you don't touch."

Joel watches the slick of your cunt drooling down his cock and he almost whimpers, but it's overtaken by a groan.

"Why are you punishin' me?" Joel asks through clenched teeth, eyes fixated on your clit dragging along the hairs at the base of his cock.

"I'm giving you everything you gave me," you tell him with poison dripping from every word, sliding up and down. "Using you to make myself come."

"I never did that," Joel says breathing heavily, eyes now fixed on yours. You can see how they roll slightly back with every twist of your hips.

"Never, Joel?"

"Once," he relents. "Only once. Rest of itttt---"

He breaks off into a guttural grunt as your hips swivel. You feel his cock nudge that sweet spot deep within you and your hips rut against him. You make a whining sound of surprise that you think goes down his spine because he quivers.

"The minute you come I'm fucking you over this sofa," Joel warns, mouth at your throat, lips grazing your jugular.

"I don't think so," you tell him, fingers laced behind his neck. "Once I come I'm going home and going to bed."

Joel's head is heavy against the back of the sofa, his lidded eyes on your face. You move slower over him, wanting extend this. Needing to watch the flicker of his eyes when you hit a good spot, needing to relish the moans that turns into deep pants. When you ease off a moment, your cunt slippery with want his voice drops an octave rumbling through his chest.

"You ever think about me fucking you in your bed, pretty eyes?"

"Yeah," you admit after a pause. "Sometimes."

"I can do it now," Joel purrs up at you. "Make you feel so good."

"Nice try."

You've started to swirl back around his cock and he moans lowly. Your thighs are starting to burn with the effort of bobbing up and down on him. Joel's eyes snap to your mouth, watching it part as you pant and give soft little whines of pleasure.

Joel's eyes blow wide, desperation and hope mingled there. His hairline is damp, his restraint obviously hanging by a thread.

"Wanna come for you," he says, voice quiet.

Having Joel at your mercy feels good. Having him looking at you in the same way you looked at him over the passing months feels like vindication. All too soon you've pulled back, only allowing the tip of his cock to graze your clit.

"Beg for it," you tell him as your hips roll, making him grunt and pitch forward. His hips rise, plunging deeply into you, his body unable to stop itself. You allow it, jolting from his thrust a few moments before you pull yourself off of him, scowling.

"I'm not saying it again, Joel."

Joel groans and his body trembles, actually physically trembles. His head is sagging forward, his eyes looking up at you through his dark lashes.

"I don't ... I can't keep goin'," he says raggedly. "I'm gonna come."

"You’d better not."

Now you turn and face away from him, lifting your dress to bunch at your waist. You look down over your shoulder at him, seeing him looking over your exposed ass with awe. With your back to him you slowly back up and your legs bracket his again.

Joel whispers something urgent under his breath as you lower yourself onto his cock, sitting in his lap. Your legs spread widely, hinging over each of Joel's thighs.

His cock hits you different now, tighter, nudging that pleasured core inside that makes you cry out. Your hands go to Joel's knees, bracing there as you urge his cock deeper into your slippery cunt.

"Please," Joel says through gritted teeth. He's panting now, breath sweet like peppermint huffing against the back of your neck. You twist, eyes cast over your shoulder at him.

"Please what?"

Joel's head lolls forward, eyes slowly cracking open. You looks absolutely ruined and to you, Joel Miller has never looked sexier.

"Please lemme make you come," Joel all but whimpers. You can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. "Then let me fuck you properly."

There is a wild moment where you consider denying him. Where you think of pulling yourself off of him and never seeing him again. Making him ache for you the way you ache for him in those dark, quiet times.

"Please baby," Joel whispers, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are almost translucent. "Fucking need to make you come. Please."

Joel Miller is begging you.

Begging.

Something snaps in you, desire licking between your legs. You tilt back until your spine is flush with his front, his cock still buried in your cunt.

He's gazing down at you, steady and dark and if you didn't know better you'd say your pose could almost appear loving. Your head balanced back on his shoulder, your palm going to stroke his cheek. He swallows at the contact, his mouth drifting towards yours.

"Go on then," you tell him, lips nearly grazing his. "Make me come, Joel."

The words aren't even out of your mouth before he thrusts his thighs apart. Your legs are slung over his, so you feel them parting luridly, exposing your glistening sex to the night air.

One of Joel's hands is sliding up your dress to cup your breast, the other slipping over your thigh to thumb your slick clit between your puffy pussy lips. You quiver at the immediate pleasure of the sensation his touch brings, your cunt tightening around his cock.

"Goddam you feel like heaven," he groans into the back of your neck making you preen.

His hips begin a slow but deepened pace, jostling you in his lap. You groan against his neck, eyes closed languidly.

"That's right," Joel croons when you gasp deeply. "Fucking go on, baby. Take it. S'all for you."

You begin to whimper, shaky needful sounds as your hand clutches at his neck, your forehead braced against the side of his jaw as he fucks into you from behind, holding you there in his lap.

"So good," Joel says in that husky drawl of his. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this."

All too soon you feel that heavy thump between your legs, the building crescendo. Joel groans as he feels you edge your climax, his body quaking under you. He holds you against him tighter, his rumbling moans vibrating against your spine.

"Wanna make you feel so good," Joel rasps in the shell of your ear. "Wanna give you everything. Please come for me, baby. Lemme hear you."

At his last words you begin to shatter against him, an unholy sound breaking from your throat.

"Oh yeah- just like that pretty eyes," Joel says grinding deeply into you, his voice husky in your ear. "Fuck, just like that, yeah. Yeah, fucking use me, baby. Take what you need."

Your hands grip his tightly against your front and you both move together in some carnal dance. Him thrusting deeply into you as you arch back into him. Your throat is exposed and your mouth parts, an inchoate cry on your lips.

"That's my girl," he groans in your ear before pressing sloppy kisses to the side of your bared neck. "That's right baby, you keep goin' just like that."

It's cathartic and overwhelming as everything that has been tensed in your body suddenly releases. It momentarily frightens you in its severity and you cry out.

"Joel!"

"I've got you," Joel soothes, arms holding you tightly against him almost in a bear hug. "Just ride it out. There you go, there you go. Feel all of it, c'mon baby. I've got you."

You do. You ride it out, body shaking against him as you chase your pleasure chanting his name over and over as he murmurs gentle praise against your temple.

"So good....so fucking beautiful... All for you..."

Finally the trembling ceases and you sag in his arms breathing deeply. You feel wrung out, totally exhausted in both body and mind. Joel's soft mouth is on your shoulder blade pressing a long kiss to it. You melt into the sensation, warmed by the feel of his lips on your body.

"Mine."

It's whispered, not meant for you to hear, but you do. It makes your spine straighten and your body lurch from him.

On jellied legs you struggle to a stand, tripping over your own feet as Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, cock still hard when he pulls off the condom.

"Baby, wait -"

But you don't. You're not his baby. This isn't love. This was payment, this was retribution. This wasn't an act between partners or even friends. You're practically strangers to one another.

You push his door open and stagger home, muscles tight. You still can't believe what you just did. The way you just demanded pleasure from Joel. The power you'd felt when he begged to come. You feel heady, you feel...

Empty.

Empty because now as you collapse onto your own sofa you feel tears prick your eyes. Yeah, you fucked Joel Miller. But it doesn't change anything. You're still here in your house alone.

All alone.

You go to the bookshelf, bringing down the album you so often flip through. You open it to the photo of you and your sister at age eight, arms linked as you squint in the sunshine, gap-toothed smiles on display.

You love that photo because you can sometimes remember that day. Remember how the sunshine felt on your bare shoulders, how your sisters arm linked in yours was coated in coconut-scented suntan lotion.

You flip to a photo of you both bent over a pink frosted cake, your sister's sixteenth birthday party. The last photo you took before the outbreak. You think of that night spent laying on the trampoline out back, looking up at the stars.

"I wanna marry a man that looks just like Johnny Depp," your sister said, cheeks red from the days sun. "But he'll be a model too. And he'll take me all over the world."

Your sister had always been about flash, just like your mother. You were so different from them, more serious, more thoughtful.

"What about you?" She asked, candy-scented breath next to your face.

"I want someone who reads and likes the same music, as me," you replied, eyes trailing dreamily over the night sky. "Someone more serious…Someone like Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre."

"You're so weird," your sister had announced, giggling in your ear.

You look at the album; your sister’s laugh still ringing in your ear. You look at the empty house around you. You think of how much you lost in the outbreak, how little you have now and then you allow yourself to cry.

///

Later that week you go to work, mechanical and distracted. You work only half your shift before telling your co-workers that you'll finish up the rest at home. That you're feeling a bit under the weather.

You gather the fabric into your arms, bidding farewell. Your mind is full, stuffed to the brim with thoughts of Joel Joel Joel as you wander the streets back to your house.

You're so distracted that you don't notice the tall woman in front of you until she calls your name. When you see who it is you stop abruptly, eyes wide.

"Hey," Tess says giving you an awkward wave as she saunters over to you, a bag of bread in her arms.

"Hey," you say equally uncomfortable. You struggle to find something to say, terrified that she's going to start a scene. Does she know about you and Joel in his house?

She can't. There's no anger in her expression or disgust. Just a polite smile that you yourself would use on any other member of Jackson City. You shift the fabric awkwardly in the crook of your arm.

"You uh, you weren't at the wedding."

Her light eyes drop to the ground before slowly making their way back to your face.

My guy was on patrol," Tess shrugs, blushing prettily. "Wanted to be there for him when he got back."

You smile at this, recalling what Trish told you about Tess. Her new partner.

"Besides I still don't know many people actually," Tess forces a smile. "So it seemed weird to go."

A new kind of guilt assaults you. The kind that reminds you all the time she invited you over for drinks, all the walks that you declined with her. The desperate bids for friendship that she threw your way and that you continually ignored.

"Everyone's invited to everything around here," you say, shifting the fabric to your other arm. "Next event we'll go together. I'll introduce you to the group."

"Yeah sure," Tess says with a real smile. "I'd like that."

"Good."

Tess looks momentarily uncomfortable licking her dry lips before fixing you with a serious expression.

"You know you and Joel don't have to hide that you're together for my sake," she tells you with an earnestness that makes you feel choked up. "I'm happy for you both. That's what I keep telling him! But he keeps telling me to mind my own business."

It's like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown over your head. Tess seems to want to say more when she registers your reaction but she stops, wan smile on her face.

"There is no me and Joel," you finally tell her flatly. "Never was, never will be."

Tess, looks completely flummoxed. Her hands stem at her hips as she looks at you, her brows heavy.

"You sure about that?"

You open your mouth to say something but then pause. Tess waits, head tilted. You find your voice, but it's quieter than before, less certain.

"I barely know him, Tess."

"He's worth getting to know," Tess says simply, no guile in her eyes. "Even if he doesn't agree. He'll show you though if you give him the chance."

You're struck by the woman's sincerity. Guilty about what went on with Joel, ashamed that you could have done it. Confused because it's like Joel is tattooed on your insides, a continual reminder that he exists every time you draw a breath.

"Joel doesn't let a lot of people in," she adds when she sees the conflicted feelings clear in your face. "When the old world ended it changed how we all saw the future. I don't think Joel ever really saw one where he was gonna be happy again. Makes it hard to be pleasant sometimes."

You don't say anything further, unable to come up with a worthwhile end to the conversation.

Tess decides that she'll be the one to end things with a nod and a murmured goodbye. You watch her leave, amazed that Joel could ever let her go.

///

That evening you watch the sun set outside your window. It's a beautiful light orange that sets everything it touches in golden rays.

It's the kind of night where you want to curl in bed and read with the window open. But you haven't unlocked that window in months.

You won't. You can't.

But you think about heading down to the river in the back lots. It's a trek but maybe you need to clear your head. Everything that test told you this afternoon is replaying in your mind over and over.

Did Joel say something to Tess about caring for you? Why did she assume that you were together?

A knock at the door draws your attention. You towel off your hands and stride over to it, pulling the door open slowly.

Joel stands there on your doorstep, a nervous look on his face.

"Can we talk?"

His hands are thrust deep into his pockets. You can only assume that he's here to pay you back for your visit to his and the thought sours your stomach.

"I'm not fucking you, Joel."

"S'not why I'm here."

He seems earnest when he says this and it gives you pause. You see the sweat dotting his forehead, the strain in his expression. This isn't the face of a man who wants to demand something from you.

Silently you open the door further, signaling with your tilted head for him to enter. He does, shooting you a quick, thin-lipped smile and nod before his broad-shoulder-ed frame is inside.

You watch him enter into your home, his tall frame loping towards your fireplace. He glances at books resting on your mantle. His forefinger goes to touch one, the spine of one before he moves on.

He moves around this place casually as if he belongs here. As if he isn't an interloper in your home.

His eyes dart down to your coffee table.

He points at the album opened up to the page you had paused over last night.

"Family photos?"

"Yeah."

"You're lucky you have so many," Joel murmurs, his dark eyes roaming over the many faces of your family.

"My mom grabbed the album before we left," you shrug. "The only thing I still have from before."

You don't know why but you allow Joel to flip through your family album. He smiles gently when he gets to a picture of two girls with missing front teeth holding ice cream cones on the beach.

"You and your sister?"

"Yeah."

He nods, brows heavy. He doesn't ask but he seems to know all the same.

"Watched her turn," you tell him regardless. "Watched my mom kill her."

Joel is staring at you, eyes wide. His hands twitch at his side. If this was the world before, he would offer condolences but on this utterly broken earth they serve no purpose. Instead he stares at you looking both uncomfortable and overwhelmingly sad.

But you don't care how Joel feels. You're tired and you want to go to bed.

"What do you want Joel? Why are you here? You wanna learn about my family? You wanna hear how after my mom killed my sister she killed herself?" You shake your head. "Is this some new game for you?"

Joel shakes his head. "Was never a game to me."

"Right."

Joel can tell you don't believe him. He frowns deeply before lowering himself onto your sofa. He looks expectantly at you, tilting his head to the empty seat next to him.

"I'll stand thanks."

"Suit yourself," Joel says tightly and you can see that familiar need for control in his features. It pleases you to upend it.

"S'never a game to me," Joel repeats. "Can't say the same for you, though, sneakin' into my house to move my shit around. Why'd you start that by the way?"

Now it's your turn to look sheepish. You consider sending him away just so you don't have to answer. But then you think of him coming here after everything that’s gone on the last few days and you relent.

"You hurt my feelings and…I wanted your attention, I think."

"You already had it."

"Not that kind of attention with you being all grumpy," you roll your eyes. "I wanted you to look at me without scowling. I wanted to be friends. The first time you ever noticed me you were so rude!"

"Noticed you long before that," Joel promises. "Noticed you the first week I moved in."

"Huh?"

Joel sighs, as if what he has to say physically pains him. His foot absently taps against your wood floors, giving him time to collect his thoughts.

"I was carrying boxes upstairs to the bedroom. Your window was open I think. I just glanced over cuz something caught my eye. Maybe your curtains or somethin' moving in the breeze." Joel looks almost embarrassed at all the ancillary information he's offered.

"Anyway I saw you sittin' on your bed and you were readin'. Totally focused, didn't even notice me watchin' you while I unloaded boxes."

You narrow your eyes on him with suspicion. "Why would you watch me read?"

"Was relaxin'," Joel shrugs briefly, honestly. "Whenever I caught sight of you, you were just so comforting. I can't explain it properly. . . But then time went on and I happened to see you when you were readin' or cookin' or just out walkin', you were just so calm to look at."

You feel your mouth parting. Joel had been watching you for so long. Much longer than you even had begun to watch him.

"And it wasn't just calm I felt. It was happy. It made me happy to watch you, especially when you smiled," Joel's mouth curves into a small grin as if recalling a specific memory. "You got such a gorgeous smile. Makes your whole face light up."

You're openly gaping at him now. Shocked at these ready admissions of a truth hidden for so long. Confused at this softness, this tenderness.

"I've never seen someone smile so fucking much. Sarah would have just loved you. You and that friend, you smiled and laughed all the time." Joel grows somber, brows saddling. "But you don't smile half as much anymore.. is it cuz of me?"

Yes.

Because I hate that I want you.

"If it is... Tell me," Joel insists. "I don't wanna be the reason you stop smiling, pretty eyes. I'll leave you alone forever if it gets you smilin' again."

He's got puppy dog eyes now. Wide and sorrowful looking. They almost don't fit with the harsh planes of the rest of his face.

"Why do you call me that?" you ask exasperatedly. "Do you not remember my name or something?"

"Course I know your name," Joel says, whispering it now. The sound of it slides over your body like a silk sheet. "S'a beautiful name."

"So then why-"

"I call you pretty eyes because you see beauty in everything. Nature, animals, people. You always wanna help. You want the whole shitty world to be a better place," Joel is shaking his head. "You know how terrifying that is to someone who's given up?"

You don't know what to say.

Joel stands, reaching into his back pocket. He closes his eyes, wincing before he crosses over to you and forces something into your hands. You hold it to your face. It's a photograph, a small one, the kind you yourself used to get in school, sent home glossy and overpriced for your mom to purchase.

It's been folded, creased, lovingly looked at thousands of times, you can tell. It's of a young girl with bright eyes and a brighter smile. A girl with a dimple in her cheek that matches her father. Your finger traces the sweet curve of her face.

"That's Sarah," Joel tells you after a beat. "My daughter."

"She's beautiful."

“She was, yeah.”

Joel's face holds a myriad of emotions all at once. The most prominent of them all however is regret. There's a story there likely similar to your own. You hand him back the photo and he places it back in his pocket.

"I kept going after she was... Taken from me," Joel explains, obviously not wanting to use the real word. "I didn't wanna keep going. But I felt like I had to. I did what I thought I had to and I survived. And when I got here to Jackson I was all alone and all I could think was what was the point? What did I do all this for?"

You nod. Understanding more than you think he'll ever realize. Joel moves back to sit on the sofa, his body tense.

"I thought existing was enough. But then that night I caught you in my closet.... It's like I felt alive again. The good kind of alive- not just needing to live for survival. The kind of alive that has my heart hammerin' and my blood pounding. Makes food taste better for Christ's sake, I don't know how, but it does," Joel is going pink at his neck and cheeks.

"S'like you brought me back from the dead."

You feel the tension, the animosity, the agitation that has been tightening your muscles suddenly release at his words.

"I did?"

Joel nods and he doesn't move closer to you but you have a feeling he'd like to.

"The day after we... The first time," Joel has the good graces to look embarrassedly down at his shoes. "I thought it was better if I stayed away from you."

"Why?"

"Because I was ashamed of myself for how I'd treated you," Joel looks sick as he remembers it, eyes lowered. "But then I saw you that day in the shop lookin' at books and...I just... I was shaking when you walked by me but I just wanted to be near you. I just couldn't stop thinking about you."

You feel like your stomach is doing somersaults. You've never heard Joel talk so much. It makes your head spin. It makes the world feel tilted. Joel is looking at you, concern clear in his features.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you croak, feeling your legs growing wobbly. You slowly lower yourself to the sofa. Joel joins you and you swallow when his knee brushes yours.

"I've done a lot of things," Joel says. "Things I'm not proud of. Things that someone like you shouldn't have to be around. But I wanted to be around you."

Joel takes a deep breath and you're surprised to see the sheen to his dark eyes. You allow his hand to slowly cover your knee, his thumb giving you soothing rubs.

"I thought about you every day."

Your heart is pounding at his husky admission. But then as those words settle within your mind you grow sullen.

"What about Tess?"

"You were suddenly all chummy with that Markus. The two of you looked like a couple n' you were always with your friend and her husband. You seemed happy and I didn't wanna interfere." Joel frowns. "I knew Tess from way back. Thought it made sense. Wanted it to work. But I couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

You make a scoffing sound.

"I really couldn't," Joel insists, his voice pained. "The night you left my place? I told her I was..." Joel swallows. "I told her there was someone else. She said she'd figured."

"Did you tell her we-"

"No," Joel shakes his head. "You can call me a coward if you want. But it seemed cruel to tell her. Almost as cruel as doin' it in the first place."

You nod in agreement.

"I was terrified when you weren't at home after that. Took a lot of askin' around to find out you were staying with your friend." Joel frowns, eyes limpid. "Was it cuz you didn't wanna see me?"

You can see real fear there in his eyes at your answer and you know that what you say next could potentially devastate him. But the anger you've been carrying around with you like a second skin has fled. Right now you want to be honest like him.

"Not completely," you answer truthfully, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. "I was also scared I was pregnant."

Joel's head ducks slightly and his voice drops so lowly you don't hear what he mumbles. You ask him to repeat it and Joel exhales slowly.

"I was hopin' you were."

What. The. Fuck.

That was about the last thing you ever thought you'd hear from Joel Miller. You stare at him unblinking, unsure that you've heard him correctly. The entire lower half of his face is flushed, like he's just exposed his biggest secret. Which in a way, you suppose he has.

You think back to that night. Of Joel emptying himself into you with a groan and disgust crosses your features.

"Did you mean to-"

"Fuck no!" Joel answers, the truth immediately apparent in his horrified expression. "Just got carried away that night. No fuck, I would never ... No. Not on purpose. Not without talking to.. Was just after... when I was thinking about it that the idea just .. If it did happen... It maybe didn't seem so awful to me..."

"Jesus, Joel."

Joel nods, grimacing. "I know. I just. . . Thinking of you carrying my baby? Belly swollen and everyone knowing you were mine? That I made you a mama? I wanted it. Wanted that life. I know it was selfish, I know it's fucked up, but it's the truth. I'm trying to be as honest as possible here. No lyin'."

You hate the way this pulls at your lower belly. The desire that licks there. Joel wanting to put his claim on you in the most permanent way possible has you slick between your legs. Despite how fucked up it is, despite how wrong, you can't help but feel turned on.

What is wrong with me?

Logic and reason prevails and you feel your resolve strengthening. You tilt back from his hand on your knee, pulling your legs against your chest as you press against the arm at the other end of the sofa. Joel watches you retreat from him, face falling.

"Joel you just like fucking me." You spread your arms wide. "That's all this has ever been."

"For you maybe," Joel shakes his head. "S'not just that. Not for me."

"How would you know?"

"Cuz I wanna spend time with you," Joel explains, bright eyes on yours. "Be near you. Not just fucking."

You don't know what else to say. How would you ever know if that was true? Too much has happened between the two of you.

"Can I show you?"

You glance up at Joel, brows raised. Show you?

"Show me what?"

"What I wanted more than anything since the last time I saw you?"

It's a trick. A way to let him further into your home. Payback for what you did to him.

No no no. Don't let this happen again you fool.

And yet you barely hesitate. After everything he's confessed to you there is no ire left in you.

"Okay."

Joel's sudden smile is wide and warm and so damn grateful that it pulls at your heartstrings. He stands, holding his hand out to you. You look at his palm briefly before you take it, feeling as his large, warm hand wraps around yours.

He holds you tightly and the both of you pad upstairs. The stairs creak under your combined weight but you barely hear it over the rush of blood roaring in your ears.

Joel is in your house. Joel is touching you. Joel is being tender. Joel Joel Joel. The man you couldn't stop thinking about. The man you hate yourself for wanting because he’s so cold. But tonight he’s so warm.

You reach the threshold of your bedroom and stop, looking at him curiously. He gives a nod, silently asking for your trust.

Despite everything you give it, walking into your bedroom and waiting as he follows you.

"Where's your nightclothes?"

You point to a dresser drawer. He nods, going over to it and pulling it open. You watch in quiet fascination as he pulls out a pale yellow nightdress with ruffles at the shoulders.

"S'pretty," he murmurs looking at it. "You like this one?"

"Yeah."

You're confused when he takes your hand in his again and walks you to the bathroom. The wide, aged tub in there is turned on. A luxury you don't often take advantage of because you prefer showers.

While the warm water is filling, Joel places the nightgown beside the sink. He turns to you and you can see him take a nervous inhale.

"Can I undress you?"

Again you barely hesitate. You nod and he closes the distance between you.

His blunted fingers move slowly over the buttons of your cardigan, your skirt. You watch Joel's face the entire time, taking in the way his mouth twists lightly to the side as he concentrates. He undresses you with quiet patience, his eyes warm and soft. Your clothes are slipped gently from your body, folded (much to your gentle amusement) and placed on the counter next to the nightdress.

You watch him take a deep inhale before his hands skim around your bra to unhook it. Your breasts fall, released from the cotton fabric. Joel looks at your flushed face, his breathing shuddering. But he slips the bra off your shoulders and places it with the rest.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. You feel your nipples tightening as his eyes fall over them, a look of reverence in his features. You wait for his mouth to descend, or his hands to knead them.

But instead his fingers come to rest on your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your panties. You feel your breath growing uneven at the thought of being completely bared to him. He hears it, registers it and his dark eyes flit to yours.

"This still okay?"

You nod, trying to steady your breath. Joel smiles, eyes going to your mouth. You know he wants to kiss you but instead he blinks and lowers himself to kneel in front of you.

There on his knees before you, like you're his own personal altar, Joel slowly begins slipping your panties down your thighs, your calves, until you step out of them with your hand on his shoulder for balance.

Finally you stand there in front of him naked. You feel vulnerable and turned on all at once. He's still kneeling, eyes drifting everywhere as if he's trying to memorize you. Your face heats as his wide eyes slide over every piece of exposed flesh.

His finger trails over the scar at your ribs, unseen to him before now. His eyes go to your face as he stands, hand coming to drift over your cheek.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he murmurs huskily. But he doesn't make any further move to touch you.

You think that this is what he's been after since you arrived back home. That he's just wanting to fuck somewhere new. That this was an elaborate way to break down your barriers. You fold your arms over your breasts, hand coming to hide your sex.

You watch in confused silence as Joel strips as well, tugging off his shirt and jeans and boxers until he's standing there in front of you naked, his cock semi hard. He stands waiting, letting you have your turn at gawking. Despite the vulnerability of his nakedness, be excudes a powerful dominance, his frame large.

His masculine body is beautiful, his shoulders broad and the skin golden and littered with pale scars. You can't help but touch the swell of his biceps, fingers trailing over and down to his wrist. He shivers when you touch him and you see his cock hardening. He goes to cover himself.

"You're gorgeous," you blurt, heart swelling when you see him give a shy grin at your words. He tilts his head away from you, his face pinking. Shy.

Joel Miller is shy.

The tub is full now and Joel turns the tap to stop. He steps in first, testing the heat before holding a beckoning hand to you. With a quirked brow you take it, allowing him to lower you both to sit in the tub. You go in front and his long legs go to either side of you.

You marvel at the gold skin of his legs and the dark hair that grows there. This skin, previously a mystery shown to you up close. You can't stop yourself from reaching a hand to his ankle and brushing the delicate bone there. His damp hand skims up your spine, he too marveling at this new piece of you exposed to him.

Eventually he urges your back against his chest and you let out a small whisper of a groan his fingers come to your neck and begin to massage.

"This okay?"

"Mhmmm."

You go boneless as Joel's hands work your neck and shoulders as the water surrounds you. The warm bath feels so good and Joel's touch is so comforting.

Finally his hands are removed, once more going to urge your back against his front. He holds you loosely, fingers trailing over your forearm.

You sit for several moments in the quietly lapping water, feeling Joel's chest constrict and expand as he breathes behind you. Your eyes fall shut, lulled by your surroundings and you hear him fumbling with a bottle before you hear the squeeze of your shampoo bottle.

His wide hands go to drag the shampoo through your hair. The sensation of his fingers carding through your tresses makes every hair on your body stand on end in pleasure.

"You've got beautiful hair," Joel says softly, marveling at it as he rubs your scalp. "Thought so the first time I saw you."

You think of that day with the book when Joel had approached you, when he had smoothed a wayward strand of your hair between his fingers.

"Thanks."

You go limp against him, body melting into his light touch. When he talks it reverberates through your back. You muse that you could fall asleep like this. His chin grazes the top of your head.

"You enjoy that Jane Eyre book?"

He speaks gently as if he doesn't want to disturb your serenity.

"Yeah I did," you say smiling genuinely. "It was one of my favorite books from before."

"Mine too."

This surprises you a moment that he remembered until you recall the books he was going to lend you months ago. He'd had so many that you yourself had loved.

Joel seems so closed off, a hermit, almost a luddite in your mind. But he plays beautiful music and he reads wonderful books. There's so much to uncover about him.

"What do you think is Bradbury's best work?"

"Easy," you can feel Joel smiling behind you as he continues lathering. "Fahrenheit 451."

"You're crazy," you insist with an amused laugh. "It's the Martian Chronicles!"

"Never," Joel insists with a playful tug of your hair. "I bet you'll say Dandelion Wine was good."

"It was!" You insist, craning your head to face him with a faux outraged expression. He's grinning back down at you, his face glowing in the gentle light of the sunset outside the window.

"S'okay," he murmurs with his soft eyes sweeping over your face. "We don't have to agree on everything."

You nod, and he turns his attention to the pitcher next to the bathtub.

"Tilt your head back, pretty eyes."

You do so, eyes closing as Joel scoops water up into the jug and rinses the shampoo from your hair.

You feel at ease here in the water with Joel, you both just existing in the gentle warmth. You wish you could straighten your body out over him. You feel like a cat longing to stretch out in a sunbeam.

It makes you feel soft and gentle towards Joel. You find yourself wanting to know more about him, about the life he had before everything went to shit.

"What did you do before everything?"

"Contractor." His fingers make sure not to miss a strand of your hair with the water. "Tommy n' I had our own company."

He tells you a bit about the construction company, about how it was fun and exhausting being his own boss. It's easy to imagine Joel hammering away at wood planking, driving a beat up old truck down some winding streets.

He asks you about yours and you muse that the only job you had before the outbreak was working at a video store.

"Must be why you like those movie nights here," Joel muses. You look up at him, grinning, delighted that he remembers this fact about you.

"Yeah."

His eyes drift lazily down from your eyes to your mouth and you know what he wants because now you want it too. Desperately.

He won't make the first move, you can tell. So it's you that tilts up to press your lips against his. You feel your entire body tingle as he sighs against you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind.

It's a sweet, soft thing that ends with him pulling back and pressing another gentle kiss to your cheek and forehead before he moves back to working on your hair.

You talk quietly back and forth about life before the outbreak. He tells you that Sarah always fell asleep during movies, even the ones she picked out. He tells you that he was almost married but then his fiancée backed out and left him with his infant daughter. You tell him that your sister was your favorite person. You tell him that your first kiss was under the bleachers at school.

When he begins to massage the conditioner into your scalp your head falls back and you let out a whimpered moan. It feels heavenly to be cared for like this. You've never had this.

At the first strains of your cry you feel Joel's cock hardening further against your lower back. Arousal pools in your belly and your hand moves under the water, instinctively going to grip him. He twitches at the contact.

"Not tonight, pretty eyes," Joel murmurs, gently urging your hand off of him and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

You continue sitting there between his legs confused as he rinses the last of the conditioner from your hair, his hardened cock pressed between your bodies.

He's hard and he doesn't want you to touch him?

He shampoos and rinses his own hair before he stands, pulling you from the water tenderly by the hand. He drains the tub, moving to grab your towel from the hook by the door.

With a softness you didn't expect from him, Joel gently towels you off, drying each inch of your flesh before tugging your nightdress on over your body.

He pulls on his boxers before you both pad back to your bedroom. He pulls back the covers of the bed, urging you to crawl in. You do so and you look expectantly up at him, noticing his hesitation as he lowers the blankets around you, tucking you in. He takes a moment to look at you, cheeks pink from the steam of the bath, eyes sleepy.

He leans over, kissing you full on the mouth in a way that's all sweet. It's a kiss of tenderness that has you exhaling into his mouth.

This version of Joel is so fucking appealing. This open, soft Joel that talks to you about everything. This Joel that touches you with no aim other than to make you feel good and cherished.

"I'm gonna get dressed and go," he says in a whisper as he pulls back from your lips. His knuckles trace your cheek as he smiles serenely down at you. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

You realize that the bath, that tenderness is what he'd wanted. He hadn't been expecting sex at all and for that reason alongside many others, you want him to stay. You reach out from under the covers, grabbing his wrist.

"I don't want you to go."

He pauses, his dark eyes scanning yours. He's hesitant and you know that he's worried you'll see this evening as transactional when you know it's been anything but.

"I want you to stay, Joel."

Joel contemplates a while longer before he finally nods. He pulls back the covers, climbing between the sheets beside you. He's warm from the bath and you instinctively snuggle back against him. His arms eagerly wrap around you and in them you feel a security you haven’t felt in decades.

Joel strokes your arm absently, kissing your shoulder only once before his head is back on the pillow, the two of you watching the moon hanging low in the sky. From where you lay you can see the roof of Joel's house. You think of how this started and you hold in a laugh.

"Sometimes I'd watch your house as I was falling asleep," he tells you, feeling bold in the darkness. "If your light was on I felt like everything was okay in the world. S'like your light was my moon."

You smile at that. Under the covers you're both warm, your hair damp. It feels domestic, not rushed or dirty. It makes you feel vulnerable as your bodies press next to one another in the bed.

You look behind you at Joel in the blue darkness, your hand brushing an errant curl from his forehead as you twist to face him. Your mouth finds his again and you sigh as your lips move against one another.

You assume that this is when he'll fuck you or at least make gentle love to you, but he does neither. He just holds you, bringing you against his body and curling around you, as if he's protecting you from the elements. It seems natural to him, to be a protector.

"You told me you weren't a good man," you whisper to him in the darkness. "But I think you might be."

"I'm not. I've done terrible things," Joel grimaces. "You know firsthand."

He strokes your hair, hand heavy before he continues.

"I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I.... I didn't know how to act. I'd wanted you so fucking long and you were there and I couldn't help myself. But s'not a good reason. I was a fucking asshole. I don't blame you for hating me."

"I don't hate you Joel," you say with honesty. "Don't hate anyone, really."

"That's what I lo- like about you," Joel says, voice catching. "Not a mean bone in your body."

"I dunno about that," you shrug. "Took great pleasure in refusing to dance with you the other night."

You can hear Joel smile at that behind you. "S'okay. I deserved it."

The silence stretches on a little longer.

"I'd say yes," you say in a quiet voice. "If you asked me again."

Joel doesn't reply, but he pulls you tighter against him, burying his face in your damp hair.

You've never slept with someone in this bed. You think that it will be a hardship and you're shocked at how easily you fold into his embrace, how calm you feel and you drift into a peaceful slumber.

When you wake up the next morning he's still asleep, dark lashes fanned over caramel cheeks. His arm is slung over your waist, as if in sleep he's worried about you leaving.

You watch him breathing slowly, his full mouth parted. You think that he looks so peaceful like this, so open. You can't help yourself and you graze a kiss against his lips.

Joel's eyes flutter open to see you staring at him with glossy eyes. His mouth curls into a sleepy smile and he brushes his knuckles against the curve of your cheek.

"Mornin' pretty eyes."

His voice is low and rumbling with sleep. It's a sound that feels good in your ear. A sound that travels down between your legs and pulses.

You kiss him again, a little longer this time. His hand is at your jaw, holding you lightly. There's no harshness in how he touches you now. You pull back, resting your head on the pillow next to his.

You both gaze at one another, eyes locked. You think you can see eternity in the dark galaxy of his gaze.

There's something about this moment that feels safe to you. Safety. And something else. Something that feels too early to speak aloud. A feeling that eluded you for so long. Tears spring along your waterline.

"Joel .. I-" you don't know what to say or how to say it. But Joel understands because he feels the same. His smile turns serious and you watch as his own dark eyes begin to grow damp.

"I know, baby," Joel rumbles. "I know."

With tears in your eyes your mouth seeks his out again, your hands going to his bare shoulders and gripping.

He holds you against his chest, both of you kissing for what feels like hours. He holds your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. As if he's trying to atone for all those times he never kissed you, never cherished you properly.

"I want you," Joel murmurs against your ear as you nestle against him. "Want you to read with me on my couch in front of the fire and sit next to me at those movie nights. I want everyone to know you're my girl. Wanna make up for all those times I was an idiot. Wanna make you laugh and smile like you used to. Can I?”

Your heart expands, your own hands cupping his cheeks. This man that you've wanted, that you've denied yourself wanting. He's looking at you with those big eyes, the ones that often seem so sad and so serious.

"I want that too," you murmur. "Want you to teach me guitar too. Promise I won't hide it anymore."

Joel grins against your lips, recalling how all of this first began. He licks into your mouth as you whimper, the desire for him overwhelming you. There will be more discussions, more moments where Joel will fight to prove himself worthy of you. But for right now you simply want him.

Languid movements against each other turn into both sets of hands seeking bare flesh and moments later after your gentle urging of a condom into his hand, Joel raises himself above you, mouth on yours as he slides between your thighs slow and sweet, murmuring how much he wants you, adores you. His voice holds you, warms you as you keen, arching against him.

He takes his time, brushing the thankful tears from your eyes with his lips. You kiss his away from the corner of his eyes. He watches your body move underneath his with awe, as if he's actually seeing you for the first time. In a way it's like you both are.

And much like the bath last night Joel holds you tenderly, makes you feel beloved. He doesn't take, he just gives, over and over kissing praises into your skin, pressing devotion between your legs.

"I want you to take it," he whispers against your neck as your thighs bracketing his hips begin to tremble. "It's all for you, pretty eyes. Everything."

You know what he means.

When you two fall back against your pillow breathing unsteadily a short while later you can't help but smile in disbelief. You tilt your head to see that Joel is doing the same and you roll into his waiting arms, giggling.

Your window stays unlocked after that.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #dad joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #smut #mean!joel #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel #dark!joel miller

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yorshie · 1 year

Text

APPY SLICES

Bayverse turtles x fem reader

Turtle fluff, kinda petty jealousy, nothing sexual

Second Person, no Y/N.

Inspired by a pinterest post I saw about having an office turtle and the punch line was "does the big man want his appy slices?" and it just snowballed from there

Aged up turtles

APPY SLICES

Second View Person, Nicknames no Y/N

Your first vacation in a year, and you were stuck with a house guest for part of it.

Well, sort of a house guest.

You stared at the blue, plastic kiddie pool taking up half of the living room, shoved between your TV and the L shaped desk you used as a work space. A sandy colored shell was moving slowly around as Romeo explored his temporary digs, the large tortoise taking everything in with long, slow blinks.

“Boy, does your mother owe me one,” You informed him lowly, shaking out tired arms that still ached from carrying the large cat carrier up the stairwell. “Though, I guess she should be worried you won’t wanna go home on Monday. After all,” you leaned down, watched as Romeo turned those large, multicolored eyes in your direction, “I seem to have a growing collection of turtles.”

He let out a loud huff, the air whistling through his nostrils, and you snorted. “Sorry, tortoise, though I’m pretty sure the rest are turtles.”

He turned back to ignoring you, making slow movement towards the heat lamp you had attached to the back of a stool and swung over a part of his pad.

You hummed, watching him, then glanced over at your phone when it dinged from the couch.

Orange Crush: Hey babycakes, we still good to come get you after patrol? Donnie got ahold of that movie you wanted to see.

Uh oh. You bit at your nail absently, thinking, then typed back:

You guys are welcome to stop by, but I might have put a snag in movie night. I’ve got a house guest I have no idea what to do with.

You hit send, waited a beat, then hit accept before it even rang, expecting Leo’s name.

“Everything good?”

You decided not to comment on the speed dial. “Yea, everything’s fine. I’ve just… got a house guest.”

A beat of silence, “are you in danger?”

You frowned, stared across the room at Romeo, then had a light bulb moment as you replayed what was said. “Oh, god, Leo, no I’m fine. This isn’t a ‘help, there’s someone in my apartment’ type of thing.”

“Well that’s good,” he breathed, and you could hear his dry humor creeping in, “Though you almost gave Raph a heart attack just now.”

“Spiders almost give Raph a heart attack,” you deadpanned back. “But seriously, I’m just babysitting a pet for a friend. Um… actually.” You squinted at the tortoise sunning himself. “Don’t- don’t be weird when you guys get here.”

A longer beat of silence. “O-kay.” The word was drawn out. “We’ll be over in ten.” He hung up before you could squawk about cutting their patrol short, and you was left holding the phone comically to your ear.

Romeo chose that moment to let out a questioning chirp, his beak opening and clicking shut, and you turned your attention back to him. “Hm? You hungry, big boy? Let me go get your food.”

You got Romeo his salad, watching with slight amusement as he once again slowly moved toward the plate of offerings next to his sunken water bowl, high pitched chirps coming from him as he started to eat.

A light tap at your window pulled your attention, and you crawled over the couch to unlock the window, letting Leo do the heavy lifting to actually get it open.

“Heeeyyy,” You said, smiling brightly, trying to block the view behind you while leaning against the frame.

Leo rolled his eyes, “hey yourself. You gonna let us in?”

You pursed your lips, looking over the four of them crammed onto the fire escape, Donnie half hanging off the railing as he avoided Raph’s shell. You held up a finger threateningly. “Don’t be weird.”

You heard Raph scoff as you moved to press against the couch cushions, letting them step in over the furniture. “‘Don’t be weird’ she says to the mutant turtles.”

“Uh.” Leo pulled up short, one foot still on the couch, letting Mikey bounce off his shell as he noticed the kiddie pool.

Romeo looked up from the salad, took in the towering turtles staring back, and let out a low grumble that somehow managed to thrum through the room.

“Wow. That’s impressive.” You popped up on the couch, leaned over the arm, watched as the four turtles spread out a little, all still watching the kiddie pool.

“Sheesh, that’s nothing, babycakes,” Mikey said over his shoulder as he backed to the side to perch on the couch next to you, baby blues fastened on the tortoise like he’d disappear if he blinked. “That little rumble ain’t got nothing on Raph in the morning.”

“Huh. Really?” You glanced at the red turtle, but he shrugged, moving towards the kitchen counter and the cans of soda you’d set out while waiting for them.

“It ain't nothin special, sweetheart. How long you watchin mr. grumpy pants?”

Leo still hadn’t moved from his spot half on the couch, and with a huff Donnie pushed past him, the only one to take a step closer to the kiddie pool and crouch down to get a closer look.

“I have Romeo until Monday morning.” You tried not to sound too intrigued with what was happening, or not happening, but you probably failed judging by the quick look Raph threw your way, slight smirk curling his mouth as he watched you peer between Romeo and Donnie.

The tortoise had one eye on Donnie and the other on Leo, his head swiveled to the side to keep them both in sight as the ominous grumble sounded once more.

“Oh, goodness.” Donnie chuckled, perched as close to the plastic lip as he could get without touching the tortoise’s turf.

Raph whistled, long and low, as the noise lowered deeper until it was a threatening burr. Romeo snapped his beak at the sudden noise from Raph.

“Ok. What’s happening?” You asked, looking from Mikey to Raph for answers.

Mikey winced, fingers drumming out a fast staccato on his bent knees, so you turned your question to Raph, who simply shrugged.

“Donnie,�� you whined, and heard him hum in answer. “What’s with the weirdness?”

“Oh, well, I suppose we’re making him a little uncomfortable.” He supplied, twisting around to address you from over Leo’s hip. Romeo let out an angry hiss, and Donnie swayed back out of sight. “Oops.”

“Now you done it,” Raph joked. “Touched the big man’s pool.”

“So I should have coached him instead of you guys?” You smirked, the notion that the bigger turtles were all being trash talked by Romeo amusing.

“Eh, probably wouldn’t have changed much,” Donnie chirped back at you, pulling another threatening beak snap from Romeo.

Raph chuckled. “Careful, Don. He might think you’re after his girl.”

“Oh so now I’m part of the problem?” You put as much sarcasm into the query as you could, moving to sit up on the couch, swaying into Leo’s space.

“Sure.” Leo answered, finally moving his foot off the couch as you brushed against him. “Bunch of big ugly rivals come into his place, touch his home, chirp at his girl. I’d be pissed too.”

“Would you?” You tried not to sound too amused, hand coming up to press against your mouth at the uptick in Leo’s cheek even as his gaze was kept on the tortoise. “So is he gonna get even more cranky if I leave with his ‘rivals’?”

“I’m sure he’ll live,” Raph pushed away from the counter, snapped his fingers under Donnie’s glasses. “Genius, quit harassing the poor dude. He’s stuck in a pool, we get to go watch a movie with his girl. Don’t rub it in.”

“Pretty sure I’ve known you guys longer than him,” You kicked out at Raph playfully as he passed close, connecting with his thigh and making him sway to avoid the pressure. “Think that makes him the interloper.”

“Ah, ok, I see how it is, you’re our girl. You want us to avenge your honor, teach this creep a lesson?” He jerked his head toward Romeo, grabbing your foot with ease as you went to kick at him again. You let out a quick giggle, jerked your foot away from his grip, leaning towards Mikey for protection as Raph made a grab for your retreating foot again.

“Hey, it’s all good babycakes, I’ll hide you from your loverboy’s rival.” Mikey lifted his arm, flashing the charm as he let you wedge yourself between his shell and the couch, feet tucked in the cushions where the larger brother couldn’t reach.

“We better get going before we rile your house guest up even more,” Leo commented, ignoring the playful banter as he stepped sideways out of Raph’s way. “You have everything you need?”

You hummed, twitching further behind Mikey as you felt the youngest brother’s fingers reach back and ghost your far side. “My bag’s in my room. Obviously, I’m gonna have to come check on Romeo tomorrow, but I think he’ll be ok for the night.”

“Especially if he doesn’t have to deal with us,” Donnie added, straightening and stepping around the pool to head down the short hallway leading to your room.

“Oh, shoot, hold on. Can’t forget.” You popped out from behind Mikey, wildly grabbing onto Leo’s arm to steady yourself as you overcorrected on the couch cushion. His forearm tensed under your hand, giving you something steady to push off of as you headed for the counter.

As you turned around with an apple and a knife, Mikey gasped. “He gets appy slices?”

“Yup, every Friday.” You responded, not looking up as you carefully started cubing the fruit.

“He’s get a treat after being an ass?” Raph sounded incredulous, and you blinked, looking up finally to find all three staring at the apple in your hand.

You took in the various looks of envy and mild offense, and reached behind you for the bag with the rest of the apples. “Do… do you guys want some?”

Donnie rounded the corner at that moment, stopped so hard his shoe squeaked on the floor. “He gets appy slices?”

“O-kay.” You pulled the word out long and slow, conscious as they tracked you and the dish of apple cubes across the room to the kiddie pool. It had to be your imagination, but Romeo almost looked smug as he hurried over for the treat you set down.

Behind you, Raph made a noise of disgust deep in his throat, and you fought to keep the smile from your face as Mikey echoed the sentiment.

“I promise,” You rose and turned to face them, “I will bring the whole bag and make you guys as many appy slices as you want tonight.”

Raph took the few steps to the kitchen, grabbed the bag of apples, and crossed back over to the couch and window. His brow raised as though daring you to laugh as Mikey opened the glass and hopped out onto the fire escape.

You fought it successfully until Leo purposely bumped into you, a gentle reminder to get moving, and you followed Donnie out into the chilly air, careful as you pulled yourself over the edge of the window.

Donnie offered you a hand, grip cool and firm as he tugged you up the flight of stairs and passed you off to Raph, whose arms you curled into as he picked you up effortlessly.

“Where’s Fearless?” He asked, stepping up to glance back over the edge, and you gripped tighter as the buildings swelled down to meet the street.

Leo stuck his head out of your window as though summoned, taking a moment to close the latch before he scaled up to where the others were waiting. At Raph’s questioning look, he huffed, the lights catching briefly on his teeth.

“Just reminding Romeo down there that he’s only a house guest.”

You blinked, your face going loose with shock, “Leonardo, did you growl at that poor tortoise?”

The only answer you got was a smug smirk, and Mikey’s bright belt of laughter.

Much later, in the lair, you sat slumped in the middle of the couch, fingers sticky as you peeled yet another apple. You didn’t even bother to lean forward as you offered a slice over the edge. You weren’t sure how they knew it was there, the only light coming from the soft jewel tones of the older movie on the big screen, but the slice was always accepted, much larger fingers grazing your palm the only indication.

You smiled, and cut off another slice.

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

After Work Relief

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: M (no explicit smut but my blog is 18+ only, soft!joel, nudity, hints at sexy times but no actual sexy time, foot rubs bc joel is a saint)

word count: 1.5k

joel masterlist

“There you are,” Joel smiled, looking up at you from his spot on the couch besides Sarah, the two watching some low-budget action flick and enjoying heated up leftovers you made for dinner last night. Letting out a sigh, you kicked off your shoes by the entryway, your bag quick to follow. Hobbling over to join them, Joel welcomed you as you sat on the arm of the couch beside him. “You alright?”

“It was a long shift,” you grumbled as your feet throbbed with pain, your return to retail after a year-long hiatus not going as smoothly as you hoped. “My body hurts all over. I can’t walk—actually, I think I’m stuck here. Just like this. Going to wither away on the armrest of our couch.”

“And yet I’m supposed to look forward to becoming an adult?” Sarah quipped, earning a chuckle from both of you. “Both of you are either always tired or always in pain.”

“You ain’t wrong,” Joel smiled at her in a mixture of amusement and pride, impressed by her wit at such a young age. Turning his gaze back to you, he reached his arm around you and rubbed your hip over your clothes.

“I really need to shower but I can’t move.” You gave Joel an intentionally exaggerated frown, earning an adoring pinch to your chin.

“Need help?”

“Ew,” Sarah gagged, earning a playful pinch at her side from her father.

“I meant help up the damn stairs.” Sarah pinched him back, Joel scoffing at her before attacking her with both hands, the two now in a back-and-forth duel.

“I think I can hobble my way upstairs by myself,” you answered after Joel and Sarah’s pinching match ceased after a particularly good sting on the back of Joe’s arm. Joel’s pain lingered as he looked back to you, his hand still rubbing over the spot that stung even minutes after the grab. Finally finding the strength to stand, you leaned over the armrest and pressed your lips to Joel’s temple, Joel’s arm moving to hold you around the hip. “No promises on coming back down, though.”

“I’ll be up to bed soon as the movie’s over,” he promised while slipping his hand on your hip just a bit lower, giving you a loving pat.

“Guess this is good night, kiddo,” you turned to Sarah who was nearing sleep, her head resting on her father’s shoulder.

“Night,” she yawned, “Don’t die on your way upstairs.”

“I’ll try not to,” you assured with a chuckle.

After stalling your exit from the soothing heat of your shower that you took sitting down on the tub, you finally forced yourself to your feet just in time for Joel to peel the curtain back and sneak in behind you. You hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder, swaying you a bit in his arms.

“You’ve been on my mind all day,” he confessed in an exhausted rasp.

“Me or these?” You slid his hands up your stomach to your breasts, Joel gladly cupping their weight and chuckling.

“Both.” He kissed the back of your neck and slipped one hand down your front until he was cupping your pussy. “This too while we’re at it.”

You giggled and spun around in his arms, grinning at him as you leaned in to hover your lips over his.

“I hate to say it but I think I’m too exhausted for sex tonight,” you kissed his pout as he hummed in acknowledgment, his hands kneading at your lower back. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be,” he kissed your apology away and continued to rub your back. “Go get comfy in bed, baby, I’m right behind ya.” Joel kissed you again sweetly, deeply, the kind of kiss that you swore actually held the power to heal you. “And don’t bother gettin’ dressed, gonna give you a massage so you don’t wake up gruntin’ like me.”

“Is this your way of hinting that you’d like more back rubs?” You scratched beneath his chin, Joel’s smile lighting you up inside.

“If you feel so inclined,” he replied, earning a chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you pinched his chin before stepping out of the shower.

Quickly drying yourself off, you threw on your robe and went through the motions of your skincare as quickly as you could manage before brushing your teeth. You hopped into bed the minute you were done, the ache in your feet returning after the soothing effects of the shower began to fade away.

The shower creaked as Joel shut the water off a few minutes later, his naked form visible from where you sat reading in bed as he stepped out of the tub and toweled off his hair. You bit your lip as you marveled at him, debating on changing your mind as your eyes lowered to the mouthwatering sight of his hefty cock hanging between his thighs.

“Gettin’ a good look?” he teased you as he wrapped the towel around his waist and moved to the sink to brush his teeth and throw on the moisturizer you recently began training him to implement daily.

“Just admiring you,” you chirped back with a smirk, your eyes turning back to your book.

Joel’s feet padded into the room, the sight of his broad and muscular back distracting you from the paragraph you’d been trying to read as he grabbed his favorite sweats from the dresser and tugged them on.

“It’s not fair that in order to seduce you I have to put on a fucking g-string and lace while you just have to throw in a pair of grey sweats,” you playfully complained as Joel crawled up into bed, resting his body between your legs and plucking the book from your hands so that he could lay his head on your stomach.

“You ain’t gotta do shit to seduce me,” he mumbled as you started raking your fingers against his scalp. “Just you breathin’ around me gets me hard as a rock, baby.”

“Where’s that massage you promised me, huh?” you smirked at him as he lifted his head and gave you a sleepy smile.

“Feet or back?” he asked, sitting back on his haunches.

“Hmm,” you contemplated your pain for a moment. “Feet.”

“Alright, hand me the lotion, baby doll,” he tossed the blankets back and got into position at the foot of the bed. You handed him your lotion, smiling at him as he got to work kneading away every sore and tender muscle in your feet and calves.

“How was work today?” you asked, not wanting him to go neglected just because you had a hard day.

“It wasn’t too bad, actually,” he shot you a smile. “The concrete guys came on time, so Tommy and I were off by four. Think we should be finishin’ this place up by the end of the week.”

“Your first build,” you beamed with pride, Joel having been working so hard this past year to start his construction company from scratch. “We should celebrate.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled as though it was a joke.

“I’m being serious!” You gave him a laugh. “This is a big deal.”

“It’s just a—“

“No, it’s a big deal. And we’re going to celebrate it on Saturday. Me, you, and Sarah.” Joel surrendered with a tender smile and a nod.

“Thank you, baby,” he set your foot down to work on the other. “And by the way, you know you don’t have to work, right? We’ll be fine. It ain’t worth all this stress on your body.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I want to help out. It’s not fair that I get to stay home while you’re out breaking your back for us.”

“Baby,” he let go of your foot and crawled up the bed, pulling you into his warmth as he laid beside you. “I enjoy breaking my back for the two of you. It makes me happy knowing that I get to come home to your sweet smile every night, and ever since you started workin’ again, it’s gone away. I miss it.”

“I miss it too,” you sighed and nuzzled into his neck. “I’ll give ‘em my two weeks tomorrow.”

“Good,” he kissed your cheek. “Now I’m the only one who needs foot rubs.”

“I should’ve known there was an ulterior motive,” you poked his stomach and earned a laugh.

“Always,” he smiled against your cheek as he nuzzled his stubble against it. “I love you baby.”

“I love you more, Miller.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

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erwinsvow · 2 years

Text

𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫.

summary: eddie munson is smitten and you're a little clueless.

notes: a little pining, smitten eddie munson to ease the nerves <3 it's just cute fluff. first time ever writing for st so don't laugh at my dialogue. i love eddie that's all.

wc: 2.7k

Sweet. A word that Eddie Munson thinks is perfectly suited to describe you.

He starts to notice the little things, things he never cared to pay much attention too before, but now can hardly escape his attention.

The way Dustin Henderson never shows up to a Hellfire Club meeting without a packed lunch. The way you fit four to five teenagers into your tiny, beaten Ford Fairmont every other weekend, splitting so-called babysitting duty with Steve Harrington.

He doesn’t miss the way you have a lot of affection—paired with concern—in your eyes when you wave hello to him, and watch the kids head out from the back of your car. Once or twice, you even call to him with a faint ‘Take care of them’ before you drive away.

Eddie is smitten. It’s not a state that he often finds himself in, since his interaction with people that he could potentially be smitten with is fairly limited. He’s sold to some, sat next to others in classes, but this might just be the first time that he’s smitten.

The writing love songs, playing guitar outside your window, spending his days and nights with you kind of smitten.

He’s not used to this, not at all.

A nagging feeling in the back of his head reminds him continually that if he was going to feel this way about anyone, it shouldn’t be Dustin Shithead Henderson’s older sister—but no, the heart wants what the heart wants. And for the first time in a long, long time, he knows exactly what his heart wants.

He wants mornings where he picks you up, evenings spent listening to the newest Metallica album that he’s trying to learn, and more unforgettable moments where his heart pounds in his chest and his hand twitches with the overwhelming desire to brush your hair behind your ear. Moments like this.

He stands in front of you, the kids disappearing into the background as they chatter amongst themselves. All Eddie can focus on is you, in front of him, looking lovely as always, if not a touch more concerned than usual.

Your eyes look a little tired—like you haven’t been sleeping enough. That’s strange since it’s the summertime and he would expect you to be more rested than usual. You should be well rested and content and happy—tan and maybe a little sunburned on your nose, doing the things you love and not being concerned about the little shithe-Dustin.

Eddie is suddenly so concerned with the idea of you worrying that he forgets to answer the question you’ve asked him, until you repeat it back.

“Eddie?” you ask, with a soft voice that feels hesitant. Almost as if you don’t want to bother him for the answer. “Do you know when you guys will finish today?”

“Oh-uh-” he stumbles over his words. He hasn’t done that in a long time. Damn it. “Not too late, I promise. I know the little shitheads make you come back here to get them.” You smile at that—mission accomplished. “Y’know, I can always drop them off, if you’re busy. With other plans, or something. I don’t mind.”

He’s lying. He does mind. Actually, it’s a white lie—he minds them, and at the same time, he wants to do anything he can to make your life a little easier.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to drive all the way there just to drive home again. But thank you,” you say, and he knows your words are genuine. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“Ah, come on. Pretty girl like you? I can’t believe that.” Heat creeps over your face and you have to turn away for a second. Flustered. Another victory.

“No, no, I’m serious. Just me and maybe another rented movie from Family Video since Steve gives us a discount.” There’s a little smile teasing on your lips that Eddie thinks is the most precious thing he’s ever seen. It’s a mix of sincerity and honesty—you’ll be watching a movie tonight, but there’s nothing wrong with that.

“Sounds like a good time.”

“Really thrilling. I might even go out of my usual genre range tonight.”

“You’d dare to be so bold? I underestimated you, Henderson,” he says, and another laugh from you draws the attention of the other Henderson.

“Eddie! Hey, Eddie! Can you get your grubby paws away from my sister and come help us set up?” Dustin’s voice calls from the doorway.

Damn kid.

“Well, duty calls,” Eddie says, taking a step back. You fiddle with your car keys for a moment.

“Yeah, it does. I hope you have fun tonight.” The sincerity in your voice is close to killing him. He’s never felt so much affection for someone over something so little as a sentence uttered in a tone that makes him feel like his heart is being squeezed by a hand inside his chest. “I hope they’re not too much of a bother.”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Henderson. You have fun too, going crazy with your rented movie.”

One last smile and laugh from you before you head back into your car—a third glorious triumph for him today—and you’re taking off, and he’s heading inside. He can’t wait to see you next.

Eddie can’t remember the last time he acted like this—all clammy hands and anxious foot-tapping. He’s waiting at the counter of the Family Video, Steve and Robin discussing something or other in the background. His attention is fixed firmly on the entrance, since according to the two idiots behind the counter, you always come to rent a movie around this time on a Friday night.

“Come on, you guys, she’s still not here—what if she has a hot date or something, huh? And I’m just the chum waiting here like a-a stalker or something,” he said, meeting Steve’s blank expression.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Robin said, cocking her head slightly as if deep in thought.

“What—Robin, you’re not helping, okay? If this doesn’t work, you know he’s gonna come bother us every single Friday night, right?” Steve’s reply is met with a laugh from Robin and a disgruntled look on Eddie’s face.

“Gee, Harrington, thanks a lot. Loving the help here, it’s really great.”

“Listen, Munson, getting a girl is not as hard as you’re making it seem. You just gotta have charm, y’know, be funny. And the hair—that helps a lot. I mean, it’s not exactly on the same level as mine, but it’ll do the trick, probably-”

“Still not helping, Harrington,” Eddie said, shaking his head again.

How had he ended up here?

That was right—Dustin not shutting up about Steve’s expert advice on all topics related to women—pursuing them, acquiring them, keeping them. So here he was, seeking that very same advice, until he suddenly had a thought.

“Wait, why are you qualified to give me advice about getting Henderson’s sister when you don’t even have a girl yourself?”

“Hey!” Steve said sharply—offended at the mere idea of being labeled as such. “I can get a girl, if I wanted—I’m just picky. Robin, back me up here. How many dates have I been on in the last month, huh?”

“Well, how many second dates have you been on in the last month?” Robin replied, absentmindedly organizing a stack of movies.

“Still not helping, Robin, okay? And by the way, Munson, if you don’t believe in the effectiveness of my theory then why are you here wasting a Friday night on trying it, huh?”

Eddie didn’t have an answer to that. Steve’s three part plan consisted of some things that Eddie supposes wouldn’t necessarily hurt his chances with you. The first was accidentally—on purpose—run into somewhere you frequent, where he could strike up a conversation. That was his mission for today.

“Oh-oh, there she is! Eddie, get ready, act natural,” Robin spoke up, directing her attention to you. Eddie scrambled, taking off in the direction his feet led him in. His instinct told him to hide, for some reason, and so he did, behind a purple velvet curtain. He was gone so quick that he didn’t hear Robin and Steve whispering frantically after him—Not there!

“Hey, Henderson!” he hears Steve call to you. “Whatcha looking for today?” “Hey guys,” you say, and Eddie can almost hear the smile in your voice. “I’m not sure yet, I’m just gonna look around. I’m gonna be crazy, maybe, pick a new genre or something-” and now Eddie’s the one smiling wide, leaning against a shelf.

He doesn’t realize how he looks until a man walking by shoots him a strange glance. It takes about ten seconds for him to process which part of the Family Video he’s stumbled into—the 18+ section—before he’s running out.

“What the hell, Harrington, I thought this place was a Family Video!”

But Steve’s not in front of him. You are, with a slightly confused and surprised expression gracing your pretty face. The surprise seeps away as you take in that you’ve supposedly coincidentally run into Eddie at the movie store, but the confusion sets in as you notice which section he’s just come from.

“Eddie,” you say, mustering a smile and trying not to laugh.

Eddie nods nervously. This is not what he wanted.

“Henderson.”

You hold up the movie in your hands—A Nightmare on Elm Street II—and try your hardest to ignore the blush settling across Eddie’s face.

“I took your advice, I-I’m being a little more spontaneous than usual. Horror is not my usual genre.”

“I’m so proud of you, that-that is really something.” “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just grabbing Breakfast Club as a backup incase spontaneity doesn’t work out for me.”

“Can’t go wrong with that,” he says, and suddenly his usual wit and general sentence forming abilities have disappeared. He must have left those behind the curtain in the adult section.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Eddie.”

“Enjoy-enjoy your movie. Movies, I guess.”

You smile back at him one time before walking towards the desk. Technically, he had talked to you, and you had smiled, so he had partially done what Steve told him to do.

You walk out shortly after, and he turns to see Steve and Robin doubled over with laughter, nearly in tears.

…

“What the hell am I supposed to do next? How do I ever recover from that whole-” he gestures wildly in the air, “fiasco?”

“You don’t,” Robin says.

“Thanks, Buckley. Real helpful.”

“It’s time for the second step, Munson, okay, using the resources you have available,” Steve says, tone as if he was directing his lead general in battle.

“What resources?”

“Okay, what does Henderson love?” Eddie stares blankly at him. “Her brother, you idiot. It’s time to make the little shithead do his part—y’know, some payback for free rides and shit.”

“I don’t think Dustin is going to be interested in setting me up with his sister, Steve-”

“No, no, we aren’t gonna tell him. We’re gonna play the kid like a fiddle, okay, he’s not even gonna realize that he’s helping us—”

“Us?” Robin questions, to which Steve stares back at her.

“You, okay. Helping you get the girl and maintaining my reputation, so here’s what we’re gonna do—”

In hindsight, Steve’s plan was a lot simpler than it seemed. For some reason—a reason Eddie could not grasp for the life of him—he could not maintain being a normal person around you. His words got jumbled, his hands got sweaty, and he managed to look like an idiot every time he was within ten feet of you.

The less than foolproof plan involved bringing Eddie to the Henderson household for dinner and using Dustin to sing his praises. Again, in hindsight, Eddie should have known it wouldn’t go as planned.

“Uh, why?” were the exact words Dustin uttered when Eddie asked if he could hang around for dinner. Damned kid.

“So I can, uh, y’know. Spend some more quality time with my favorite freshman. It’ll be fun.”

Dustin stared quizzically at Eddie.

“Al-right, I guess. I’ll be back.”

Dustin takes off before Eddie can say something—yelling after his mom and you.

Eddie faintly overhears a snippet.

“What do you mean mom’s not here?”

“She went out, so it’s just me and you for dinner. What do you want?”

“Eddie’s staying for dinner too.”

“Oh.” Is that a good or bad ‘oh’? God I hope it’s a good one. “Well, what do you two want to eat then?”

“I don’t know, whatever’s fine, just call us when it’s done—” and before Eddie can pull his ear back from the door that he had pressed up against, Dustin’s back. He stares once again at Eddie.

“What are you doing?” “Me? Nothing. Listen, why don’t we go help your sister make dinner, y’know, so she’s not alone.” “She doesn’t need our help—besides, I thought we had stuff to work on for the campaign-”

“Shouldn’t we help, though?”

“If you want to help, go help, no one’s stopping you—” The attitude on this kid.

And that’s how Eddie ended up in the Henderson kitchen.

He’s pouring pasta into a pot while you cut up something on the counter. The silence is awkward, though not entirely uncomfortable. You both have the bright idea to start a conversation at the same time.

“You really don’t have to help-” meets “So how was your movie?” and you both fall silent.

You let out a laugh. Eddie’s blushing already. He feels his grip on the pasta box slip.

“I just—you don’t have to help with this. Really, it’s no trouble at all.” Your remarks have this quality about them—he believes every word you say, instantly. He doesn’t feel like an intrusion in the slightest. You make him feel like he’s exactly where he should be.

“Oh, well, what kind of a guest would I be if I didn’t try to help. And I mean, with these pasta-boiling skills, it’s a shame to let my craft go to waste.” You laugh again. Music to his ears.

“Unfortunately it’s nothing special when it’s just Dustin and me. I wish he had invited you when we were making something better.”

“Whaddya mean? This is plenty special. I’m a big fan of-” he picks up the jar of pasta sauce. “Off-label, unnamed red sauce.” Another laugh. Either he’s America’s next big comedian or you might feel about him how he feels about you.

You reach over and take the jar from his hands, fingers brushing for a second. He wishes seconds lasted longer.

“I’m not used to company in the kitchen, okay, usually I’m just making grilled cheese or something.”

“Oh yeah, that kid’s a handful.”

“Yeah but he’s a freshman. Everyone’s like that when they’re fifteen.” A brief pause. “Thank you, by the way.”

Eddie is confused.

“For… what?”

“Y’know. All that stuff with your club and Dusty’s new friends and stuff. I know it wasn’t easy for him. I’m glad he has you as a friend. I think it’s helped a lot more than he lets on. And there’s only so much I can relate too, so, thank you.”

It takes every muscle in Eddie Munson’s body not to kiss you right then and there.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

You smile at him before turning back to your chopping board.

“The movie was good, by the way. I’m a real risk-taker now.” “Is that so?” Suddenly the food cooking for dinner and Steve’s three-step plan doesn’t matter anymore.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“How would you feel about taking another risk?” He’s turned towards you, facing your back. You keep chopping as you reply.

“I’m not sure I've rebounded from this one yet, it might be a few days to make a full recovery. Why, what do you have in mind-?” you turn, just for a second, to see Eddie. He’s looking at you with big eyes, and a smile that you’re not certain you’ve ever seen on Eddie before.

“Go on a date with me, Henderson.”

You smile brightly at him, almost beaming—mission accomplished—and just as you begin to say yes, another voice interjects.

“Dude, gross. Wait—is this why you wanted to stay for dinner?”

#wrote this for no reason i just love him your honor #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader

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flowercrowngods · 6 months

Text

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

#stranger things fanfic #steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #<- mentioned but established #byler #<- implied & yearning #i am projecting HARD with this one #i’m so so convinced steve and mike are directly juxtaposed in their development with very similar trauma #this probably makes sense to no one but me but alas #let them be fucked up while life continues and let them be unable to handle it #i feel like it’s all over the place but if you’ve ever had a single vulnerable conversation then you’ll know this is how they can go #dio words

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hannie-dul-set · 1 year

Text

CAN’T HANDLE THIS — N.JM.

SUMMARY. how are you supposed to explain that you and na jaemin started dating just to prove each other wrong and ended up catching feelings.

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader GENRE. strangers to lovers, college! au, matchmaking! au, yet another richkid! au, jaemin is an asshole again, romance, humor. WARNINGS. excessive swearing, a near death experience, drinking and smoking, more than a handful of illegal shit, mentions of vomit, again jaemin is kind of a dick but he’s an attractive dick, jaemin also likes it when you tell him his personality is trash. WORD COUNT. teaser: 490 | full fic: est. 10k. RELEASE DATE. next week.

NOTE. i’m sick and tired of jaemin being a sweetheart so i’ve made it a mission to turn him into a piece of shit for this fic and the next. idc if you tell me it’s out of character idc idc i am forwarding my asshole! jaemin agenda once again and no one can stop me.

also, don’t worry about getting blueballed because i’ve already drafted and outlined most of the fic. once i finish my last final exam this week, i’ll be free enough to go feral and finish this.

send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist. preview under the cut.

“This the girl you’re trying to set me up with this time?”

Your expression falters, but it’s fine because the way his voice just sounded can forgive the disrespect he just rendered for referring to you without even sparing you a greeting. It’s a raspy flavor, almost a mumble in his throat. One offense— you can take it for now. If he can behave for the next hour or so and prove the rumors wrong, you might actually grace your dad with approval that you’re going to give this a shot.

His mother lights up, giving him your name and a brief introduction.

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” you smile. Jaemin’s eyes stay on you for a good five seconds. This is dangerous. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that.

Heat swirls around your cheekbones, giddy from the prospect of your love life finally flourishing after all those failed matchups. If only Jaemin decided to shut up for the rest of the night, then maybe the heat in your cheeks wouldn’t have shot up into your head and triggered a nerve.

“She’s pretty cute,” he says, and you’re almost hopeful. “But I doubt she can handle me. I’m going. Don’t wait for me to come home.”

Your smile twitches. Oh. Oh, so he’s like that.

His mother tries to stop him, but Jaemin is already up, not caring about the collateral damage of clattering plates and glasses on the table from his careless movements.

There’s no way you’re gonna let him leave like this after injuring your ego like that.

“What makes you think I can’t?”

Jaemin freezes, his back turned towards you but his neck slowly cranes, revealing the side profile of his face. His eyes are narrow when he looks at you. There’s a subtle quirk of his lips. He breaks into a scoff. “What makes you think that you can?”

God damn, if only he didn’t start acting up, you would be on your knees.

“I don’t know. You look pretty easy.”

Something tugs on the corners of his mouth, then he fully turns around, walking back up to the table. He plasters his hands on the tablecloth, slightly leaning forward that his head blocks the chandelier light and his shadow hovers over your face. “Free tomorrow?”

“I can make time.”

“Great.”

Jaemin leaves behind a choking, arid tension when he exits the booth. You look at your father who seems like he can’t choose between feeling horrifically alarmed or pleasantly surprised. Clearing your throat, you take another sip from your drink before resuming your meal. You’re sure you’re going to get indigestion, but you can’t think of another way to get your parents and his to move on from the events that just transpired.

Eventually, the tension was swallowed by the clatters of knives and sauces and conversations once again. The only conclusion you can come up with is that this time, their matchmaking failed successfully.

#na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios #na jaemin au #jaemin au #nct au #nct dream au #can't handle this

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itstheghostofmypast · 14 days

Text

Thanatophobia

Idol Choi Jongho x (F)Reader

Summary: How long does it take one to actually give up on you? How long does it take the other to realise that love is more than just an act of receiving, where bottled-up fears and insecurities may be enough to pull someone away from you, especially the someone Jongho had begun to take for granted.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.4k

Est. Read Time: 20 min

Warnings: Strong language, thanatophobia (fear of losing someone you love)

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Choi Jongho was anything but heartless, he was arrogant at times, he was stubborn most of the time, he was emotionally clueless sometimes, he was sarcastic most of the time, he was petty at times and he was straightforward most of the time, but what he was not, and he quotes, was a ‘heartless moron’. Now, he wasn’t one to fight, in fact, they’d barely ever get into a fight, usually because she would be compromising or choosing to accept defeat, but tonight was not one of those nights where he was given this privilege, where she would easily accept defeat and brush off his sarcasm, no, it just escalated into something ugly and gruesome.

It all started when he came home early for once, the dorm was empty too, or so he thought, for the moment he had flopped down on his bed, face forward, someone had jumped on him, scaring the daylights out of him.

“Boo!” “HOLY SHHHH- what are you doing here?” he whined, rolling over when she rolled off him, both of them lying on their backs, staring at the ceiling, well, he had his eyes closed, she turned her head to look at him with a pout, scooting closer, wrapping her arms around his arm as she pressed her cheek smush against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of her baby bear, “I had the spare key, Wooyoung gave it to me last time I came over but you were out, so he was like I should have it, gave me his saying he’d get another one and-” Cracking open an eye he scoffed, “You sure talk a lot to Wooyoung huh?” turning his head to meet her gaze, she had stopped her monologue, to stare at him in utter shock, “What? I’m not wrong, I didn’t even know about the key thing- Sitting up she glared at him, “That’s because you weren’t home, Jong.” The tension between them was getting thicker, he was tired physically, but she was tired mentally, “You haven’t been responding to my texts or answering my calls, so I doubt you’d know- “I have a job, you know?” he scoffed, following suit, as she sat on his bed on her knees, frowning at him, and he sat at the edge of the bed, both in a heated stare off, he was actually waiting for her to avert her gaze, or mumble an apology or whine cutely to end the fight, so he’d feel like he’d won like he had control, some form of dominance, “I can’t just respond to your every whim.” That was probably what set it off, because the next thing he knew she got off the bed and snatched her phone off the side table, slamming the bedroom door shut when she marched out of the room, her tantrum just set the whole forest on fire as he marched behind her, slamming the closed door open and calling out, “Yah? Are you in your senses? Why are you being like this!?” reaching out to grip her wrist he turned her around, ignoring how she was trying to pull away, “What is your problem? Are you mad about the Wooyoung thing? Cause I’m right about that! You’re my girlfriend, not his!” by now he was yelling, furious, frustrated, fed up, but at what? At his hectic schedule or her? Or perhaps he was upset over how he was unable to spend time with her and the time he had been given was ruined by his own pride. “Y-You think I don’t know that?” she yelled back, snatching her wrist out of his grip, “I know you’re busy too, but the least you can do is leave me on read, can’t you? You don’t even open my texts! I can’t magically guess your schedule!” He should have stopped there, he should have, he had realised that he was in the wrong, but was he willing to accept it so easily? No. Why? Because he was jealous, he was upset and more importantly this was the first time she had ever ignored him, ever chosen to show how his nonchalant attitude had upset her, this was not what he expected, he just thought they’d go on for ten minutes and she’d probably change the topic, not list down why he’s a bad boyfriend. “Doesn’t mean you get all cosy with Wooyoung.” “I-” she stared at him standing in the hallway for a good minute before taking off her ring and throwing it at him, the clink of the gold ring hitting the ground resonated within the silence, before her words cut through it, “You’re a heartless moron.”

That was three hours ago, three hours ago when he had let her walk away like she didn’t even matter to him, instead, he stood there watching the ring on the tiles, the ring she had gotten for them on their first anniversary, it wasn’t a promise ring, but more of a ‘just know when we’re far apart across the world, you’ll always have a piece of me and I’ll have a piece of you’ kind of ring- why’d she throw it at him, shouldn’t she have taken it with her and asked him to give the one he was wearing back to her?

“I love how that’s the only thing you’re worried about.” Wooyoung sighed, climbing up the stairs, his phone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he carried two bags full of groceries up the quiet staircase, “You’re a real idiot you know, she did come over three times last week, the poor thing sat outside the apartment for an hour the third time and that’s when I gave her my key…Hongjoong told me that was the right thing to do too.”

“I- I was busy.” The youngest huffed, staring at the gold band, twirling it around in his fingers, “It’s not like she told me, I was too busy to read her texts, so she should’ve understood-”

“Understood what? That you’re a shitty boyfriend?” Wooyoung stopped at a step, the step that led to their floor, someone was sitting on the floor next to the door to the hallway (Yes Woooyoung had used the fire exit to come upstairs, San had told him this was a great way to work out- he’d kill the bastard for that tomorrow), hugging their knees, head resting against the wall, puffy eyes closed- was she asleep?

“What? Why!?”

“Jongho, did you even call to make sure she reached home safe?”

“Well… I…no.”

“I’m amazed you found someone who loves your useless a**.” With that Wooyoung hung up, sighing as he walked over to her, placing the grocery bags on the floor to crouch down and gently shake her shoulder, “Excuse me miss, but are you in your senses- how are both of you this dumb?”

Jongho slammed the front door open, not even bothering to put on his mask as he hastily made his way out of the apartment, only to bump into a smaller form, hearing a familiar yelp he instinctively reached for her, wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer, pressing her against him. He let out a breath of relief, at the realisation that it was in fact her, she was too tired to pull away or even push him away, and that was why she just stood there, letting him wrap his arms around her, resting her forehead against his chest, too drained even to protest. He looked behind her to spot Wooyoung standing there, grocery bags in hand with the most disapproving look he could muster, “Found her on the staircase, poor thing cried herself to sleep there- then there’s you, a bastard with an ego as big as the sun-”

“H-her phone was powered off.” He quickly defended himself, pulling her even closer as he tightened his arms around her, not wanting her to escape. The moment Wooyoung hung up on him, he realised how bad he had f*cked up, Wooyoung was never one to leave a conversation hanging, that is until he completely gave up on the person, and if Wooyoung had given up on him, did this mean his patient, compassionate, honeybee had done the same? Though his question was answered with a loud sniff, causing him to look away from Wooyoung and look down at her, only to meet her teary gaze, his gut twisted at the way she asked the dreaded question with her voice trembling, as if it was being thrown around by her pestering insecurities, insecurities that he had brought to life, that he had helped manifest within her, by constantly pushing her to the sidelines, by ignoring her beckoning calls, by looking right through her even though she stood right in front of him, with a warm smile and a heart of gold- one he was not worthy to call his own; “D-do you not love me, anymore?”

It was this very question that had him look up at Wooyoung in panic, a cry for help, though the fox-like man shrugged and walked past them, mumbling, loud enough for him to hear, because he knew the girl crying in the younger man’s arms was sobbing so loud, the floodgates of all that pain and anxiety that was slowly drowning her had now enveloped her completely, leaving her a mess, a mess he was supposed to fix, so she couldn’t hear him, she didn’t hear him, when he side-eyed the youngest, and walked past them, “You f*cked up, fix it yourself,” slamming the main door shut behind him, finally leaving the two alone in the corridor.

An eternity later the two were sitting on the same staircase where Wooyoung had found her, the two were staring at the window ahead, she thought she was tired before, but all that crying just amazed her, at this point, she felt like she’d faint if he pushed any wrong buttons. Though they had been sitting quietly for the past hour, he had not uttered a word, which meant he wasn’t going to be the first to break the tormenting silence, as usual, it would be her, to kneel and-

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened at the foreign choice of words, slowly turned her head to stare at him with shock through her puffy, swollen, eyes, licking her dry lips before speaking. Still, he cut her off again, this time turning to face her, the determination in his eyes somewhat scaring her, she’d only ever seen that look when he was going to sing a song that wasn’t the easiest when it came to the number of high notes, perhaps he was going to sing a perfect melody that was just for them, in tune with their pent up love for each other- for his locked up love for her, a symphony she wouldn’t mind hearing over and over again.

“I- I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you need to understand I did not doubt your loyalties or misjudge your character, I was only self-projecting my insecurities, I know you’d never do such a thing, I know you love me and I- I” he paused, watching how her breath hitched, eyes widening in expectation, biting her lower lip unsure of how he felt about her, “I love you so much it turns me stupid- it scares me how much I want to be around you, I- I want to be vulnerable around you and…what if you don’t like it? You don’t like me when I’m not my at my strongest or my best…and I- I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he reached in his pocket to pluck out the ring, showing it to her, “Could you please find it in you…to give me another chance- you don’t have to say yes right away, I won’t force you, I could never…just…let me drop you home this time…yeah?”

She stared at him quietly, blinking slowly as his words processed before letting out a sigh, scooting closer as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck as she placed a soft kiss against his warm skin, sighing when she felt him pull her closer, gripping him tighter when she heard him sniff, feel his body trembling against hers, letting him finally let it all out against her, but never looking up, her face buried in the crook of his neck, mumbling sweet positive affirmations or kissing the skin as she let him have his moment, only to feel him slowly push her away, looking down at her with puffy eyes that matched hers, and a nose pinker than hers, “Please…stay.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, you dummy.” Sighing she pulled off him, taking the ring from him but he didn’t let her, instead, he slipped it back on her finger, “I was waiting for you to come and give this to me…if I wanted to leave you for good, I would’ve told you to give me the ring you’re wearing back.”

Letting out a dry chuckle he shook his head, he was an idiot, one who couldn’t read situations as well as he boasted that he could- he guessed he was clueless when it came to love, at least he had someone as patient as her to help him pull through his minefield, frolicking through it like it was a field of daisies.

“Thank you…” he sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, before leaning closer to capture her lips in a kiss, only to realise how long it had been since he had kissed her, making him pull her closer, cupping her face as he tried to make up for lost time.

Finally pulling back she smiled at him out of breath, watching how he took in equally deep breaths, his cheeks all puffed out and pink, “I’m out of practice.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got all night.” She smiled.

“I prefer taking things to the bedroom, not a voyeurism guy.”

“Choi Jongho.”

“I love you” he chuckled, watching her shake her head in defeat as he pulled her up to her feet, laughing when she whined at how he was speed walking to the apartment, mumbling, “Do you want me to carry you? Because I will, for as long as you want, honeybee.” And that’s what Wooyoung saw before Jongho closed his bedroom door, carrying her half-asleep form in his arms, bridal style as he mouthed a thank you to Wooyoung before going to finally cuddle up next to her like she had originally planned for the night.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,069

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Part 6 ∇

A faint drizzle coated the window, blurring the view of the cluster of winding cobble streets and sparkling river that ran through Velaris. It was hard to imagine yourself strolling this city, browsing shopfronts and dining at restaurants, arms linked with your friends, your family, even your mate.

But as impossible as that felt, it had been your life – or so your family told you. You hadn't the faintest idea of your life before Hybern, your favourite past times, music, food, genre of books – all of it was as foreign to you as the people that insisted on helping. But the way they described it, the way they described you, it was clear you had been happy. Overwhelmingly so.

“Does that book not interest you?”

Behind you, Rhys and Feyre stood together, friendly smiles on both their faces as the High Lord wrapped an arm around his mate’s waist. You looked down at the book in your hands, forgetting you had even come here to read.

After many weeks of treatment, seeing their faces and hearing their voices had become more bearable. You were no longer triggered into episodes of violent hysteria that you could not remember, instead a dull headache would throb behind your eyes, but you managed to stay composed, forever fighting those voices in your head.

The journey to come this far had been exhausting and painful, but you were proud to have moved from the medical wing to your own chambers. Outside of the ongoing treatments with Feyre and Mor you were free to explore the townhouse, the library being your favourite sanction despite how often you were too tired to read. The Inner Circle would check in frequently, all except Azriel. As you were told, his presence was too high of a risk to unravel the progress you had made. You tried not to think about how that must hurt him.

Turning to the couple now, you forced yourself to return their smile before clearing your throat. “I’m not sure romance novels have my interest.” Despite her good intentions, Nesta’s taste in books were not something you could indulge in at this time. It took just one chapter for flustered-ridden heat to stain your cheeks, and you were far too shy to explain that to a house of strangers.

Feyre laughed softly, while Rhys’s smile grew to a grin. Your High Lady walked over, gently taking the book from you and instead held your hands in hers. You couldn't help the thud of your heart. While you found Feyre to be the most approachable of them all, her kindness and empathy radiating just as her beauty did, it was hard not to associate her with the physical and mental labour it took to undergo your treatments.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at your High Lady. “Are we due for another session?” you asked, cursing your child-like vulnerability. You hated being like this.

Feyre smiled softly in return, understanding written all over her face. “No, not today. I actually wanted to invite you to an event. An afternoon tea, tomorrow.”

You cocked your eyebrow, glancing back at your High Lord, who offered a nod of assurance. “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, at our house by the river.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your heart’s thunder. “That’s very kind,” you forced yourself to say.

The High Lord and Lady waited for more. You hadn't left the townhouse yet, and the world beyond that was so unfamiliar. What if you were triggered into another episode? Who might get hurt this time? You would hate yourself even more if you harmed any of these kind people again.

Feyre, catching the spiral of thoughts that twisted in your mind, spoke quickly to reassure you. “It will be a small group, Mor, Nesta, Elain and Amren. Just an afternoon with tea and cakes. We would winnow you there and back, and you can leave anytime you want.”

You swallowed as you tried to picture what that must look like. An afternoon tea – with friends. It was hard to imagine yourself talking and laughing amongst them.

“It could be fun,” Rhys added, walking over now.

Looking at Feyre’s hands that still held yours, you didn't want to offended her by rejecting the invitation. Trusting that she always had your best interest at heart, you forced another smile. “I think that would be nice.” Both of them shared a small breath in relief, almost unnoticeable.

“Excellent!” Feyre clapped, before moving to her mate and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to check on Nyx, but I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N. Try and get some rest.”

You offered a short smile back before she bounced out of the room, and waited for Rhys to do the same. Instead, he kept his violet eyes fixed on you. There was a moment of silence before you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Please don't use your mind magic right now,” you asked softly. Again, so child-like. You were weak still, and all you could do was plead for your own privacy.

“I wouldn't without permission, unless the situation is dire,” he replied calmly.

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the window. You believed him, at this stage you had no reason not to. To your surprise the rain had stopped, but tumbles of grey clouds still plagued the sky, dimming the vibrancy of the outside world.

“I’m curious,” Rhysand spoke, drawing you back to the room. “This is the third day you’ve sat in this chair, staring out of this exact window.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and you tried to hide your annoyance. You knew you were under surveillance – every behaviour, every quirk assessed and judged and analysed. Despite your families best intentions, it was completely alienating, and served as a constant reminder of how dangerous you truly were, and that you could not to be trusted.

Rhys waited for you to respond, his gaze patient, as if he would wait forever until you told him how you truly felt. “It’s a nice view,” you shrugged, not really sure of what else to say.

“The Sidra is spectacular,” he agreed.

“I care more for the shopfronts and restaurants,” you added, nodding your chin to where they splayed miles away.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, moving to lean against the arm of your chair. “Why’s that?” he asked gently.

You shrugged again, suddenly self conscious. Had you overshared? Or maybe it would be used against you? Did he think you had intentions to harm the people of Velaris, and were plotting from his very home? The breath that left you then was heavy, weighted. How could you convince him, all of them, that you never meant them any harm?

Rhys waited for an answer again, his patience admirable. With a sigh, you gave in. “I suppose… it’s where life beckons.”

“Ah.”

You looked up at him now, the High Lord so casual with his arms folded across his chest. His friendliness and ease was not a forced thing, that much you could tell.

“We must have been close friends,” you noted. You could be observant too.

A half-smile formed on his face as he flicked his eyes down to you. “We attended education lessons together. 486 years ago.”

486 years. Gods, knowing how many forgotten memories laid in that span of time made your mind reel. You bought a quick hand to your temple, clenching through the pain as your mind sifted to remember just one of those moments. You drew up blank.

“Shall I ease it?” Rhys offered, his magic serving as useful pain relief these past months.

“No, no. It’s bearable,” you replied, rubbing your temples before blinking your eyes open again. You were well practiced at recovering from the headaches. “Classmates then?” you spoke through a tight jaw.

Rhys’s grin returned, as a wicked memory flashed in his eyes. “You were a bad influence,” he laughed, nudging you in the arm.

“I was?”

“Always trying to convince me to skip class and take you flying instead.”

You let out a small laugh, dropping your head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” was all you could say.

“Don’t be. I didn't need much convincing.”

“Still trying to relive the glory days Rhys?” a gruff voice chimed in from the doorway. Cassian didn't wait for an answer before he walked to the other side of your chair, peering out of the window you all faced. “What are we looking at?”

“I was just telling Y/N about how we used to spend our time outside of our lessons.”

Cassian chuckled with a knowing nod. “I always said you should have been born with wings yourself Y/N. You’re the only non-Illyrian I know who enjoys flying as much as we do.”

You gave Cassian a smile. It was comforting to hear them both speak about you so knowingly. “I’ll admit, it does sound exhilarating.”

“Well, what about a quick flight now?”

You almost gawked at the tall male. You hadn't even left the house yet, could you truly handle something like flying? It was instinct to cast an unknown glance at Rhys, who was already smiling at you.

“You don’t need permission Y/N,” Rhys levelled your look. “Do as you feel comfortable.”

“Besides, you need the fresh air,” Cassian added, his tone teasing.

You bit your lip as you pondered your choices, excitement brewing in your belly – a unique, distinct feeling that called with such familiarity. “Alright,” you said tightly.

Cassian whooped, before extending a formal hand to the door, the other offered to you. “Your flight awaits,” he joked with the wiggle of his eyebrows. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you might have laughed.

Cassian escorted you to the nearby verandah, flexing his wings as he prepared to take off. “I’ll go slow sweetheart, and if at any point you want to stop, just say the word.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as strong arms scooped you from your knees, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Why don't you do the honours. You do remember how to count, right?”

With a roll of your eyes, you began. “One.”

Wings flared then – dark, massive things, their breadth consuming the space around you.

“Two.”

Cassian braced himself, his knees bent for takeoff.

“Thr–”

Your words were cut off as you were launched into the sky. You clung tight to Cassian, who laughed freely in your ear. The flap of his wings was faint against the roar of the winds, you hair whipping this way and that.

Cassian speared higher and higher before momentum paid off and he was able to glide.

You dared to look beneath you. The city of Velaris, while faint under the overcast clouds, was still vibrant and bustling, full of life. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air feel your lungs. Cassian had been right – you did love flying.

“Enjoying yourself?” Cassian spoke loudly, at competition with the winds.

“Very much so!” you yelled back, your smile widening every minute you spent in the air. For who you were now, this was your first time flying. You had never known such exhilarating joy.

Up ahead, rain clouds loomed in threatening darkness. “I’ll have to turn us around,” Cassian spoke, steering his body sideways as he made for a wide turn in the sky. You knew it was a half-excuse, and he likely didn't want to push you physically. But you didn't mind, this wouldn't be your last time flying – that you would make sure of.

Soon enough, Cassian had landed you safely back at the townhouse.

“You look healthier already,” he grinned, flicking your nose. You couldn't help yourself as you rushed at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Cassian took a moment of surprise before hugging you back, placing a few firm pats on your back.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

No longer able to hide the bite of the cold that nipped at you, you pulled away from Cassian, offering him another wide smile before heading inside. He watched you enter the house, his breathing heavy from the exertion of the flight.

It was heavy enough that he didn't hear the Shadowsinger approach.

Cassian didn’t have enough time to dodge the scarred fist that swung for his face.

--------

Part 7 >>>

AN: Thank you for all of the kind feedback for this story so far, and I’m sorry this took me so long to get out! Appreciate each and every one of you ❤️ Comment to join the tag list 💕🌙

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