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s-ublimewrites · 5 months

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family pulled from the flood (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa finally feels okay confronting that part of herself. as always, you're right there

words: ~1.5k

warnings: swearing, struggles with sexuality, alcohol, happy ending tho dw not unleashing full whump

note: as the resident gay friend, i've received the 'how did you know you like girls?' text so many times in my life. this is an homage to that - because i love it every damn time<3 title from the end of love by florence + the machine

Saturday nights, for you, are generally spent in a sea of your students' paperwork with a glass of whiskey in hand and an embarrassing amount of Wife Swap playing on the television. Tonight is no exception.

It's cold outside and freezing rain slaps against your window, making you shiver despite the warmth of your bedroom.

You're just about to take that first sip of amber liquid, eager to let the warmth settle you from the inside out, when a loud bang bang bang sounds from your front door. You take a few seconds to extract yourself from the vast expanse of Of Mice and Men analyses, and the knocking turns into frantic doorbell-ringing.

"I'm com- oh ow, fucking Christ," you swear, catching your ankle on the coffee table in your rush to stop your visitor from knocking your door down. "Coming! Be right there, hang on!"

You yank the door open, prepared to chew out your stupid fucking neighbor Gene for bothering you at 10 o'clock at night over parking, like, half an inch too close to his precious 2003 Ford Taurus.

The door swings open, though, and you're met with a shivering, soaked-to-the-bone redhead.

"Melissa?! The fuck are you doing here? Christ, woman!" You seize her by her leather jacket's soggy sleeve and yank her inside your apartment.

"Y'know," she shrugs, dripping icy water onto your hardwoods while she kicks her boots off, "was in the neighborhood."

You roll your eyes.

"Okay, you can tell me the truth after you've escaped hypothermia. Coulda shot me a text instead of freezing your ass off out there," you admonish.

You lead Melissa to your room, deposit her on your bed, and make a mental note to apologize to your students for the water-stained papers you'll have to return on Monday. Melissa picks at the skin around her thumbs while you root through your broad selection of sweatshirts.

"Didn't really plan on comin'," she says quietly, probably the quietest you've ever heard her. "Went for a drive to clear my head, and, well... Then I was in your driveway."

When you obtain a sweatshirt and turn to look at her, she's looking at her lap. "What could have been bad enough to force you outta the house in this weather?"

Green eyes flick up to meet yours and she opens her mouth like she's going to answer, but then she points at the well-loved Flyers hoodie in your hands. "That for me?"

You decide to let it go for now and relinquish the sweatshirt with a nod. For good measure, you snag the whiskey glass off of your bedside table and press it into her free hand. "This, too."

Melissa's mouth quirks into a half smile. "Knew I ended up in the right place. Thanks, hon."

The nickname makes you warmer than the liquor ever could have.

You give her some privacy to change and use the opportunity to pour yourself (another) glass of whiskey. You then plant yourself on the sofa, knee bouncing anxiously.

Melissa is clearly struggling with something, something big. Something that really matters to her. And you're friends - friends go to one another with problems, right? Something about it nags at you, though. It feels bigger - like Melissa doesn't just want any friend; like she sought you out specifically. When was the last time you ever 'just ended up' in someone's driveway?

More importantly: when was the last time Melissa had an important problem and sought out anyone who wasn't Barb?

You don't have time to ponder that. Melissa emerges from your bedroom decked in black and orange, feet bare, glass in hand. Her damp hair is pulled back and her eyes are soft as she joins you on the sofa and tucks her feet up underneath her. When you pull the throw from the back of your couch and toss it at her, she ensures you both have equal halves draped over your laps.

Now that she's warm and settled, there's no avoiding the matter at hand.

"Melissa?" you keep your voice soft. You shift to face her and your knee nudges hers under the blanket, and she doesn't move away. In fact, she barely notices you at all. Her eyes are distant, her head propped up by her unoccupied hand, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.

"Mel," you try again, and this time she jerks her head toward you as if she'd forgotten you were there. "Mel, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she says too quickly, nodding, before pausing. "No. Kinda? I dunno, I just-"

Melissa Schemmenti exists in such a permanent state of bravado in your mind that it never occurred to you that it could be false. Your heart clenches and you fight the urge to take her face in your hands and remind her that she's perfect. Instead, you let the silence hang between you, giving her space to continue.

Melissa looks at you properly for the first time all night. Her voice wavers when she speaks. "How did you know that you're into girls?"

Oh. You don't know what you expected, but it wasn't that. You didn't allow yourself to hope it could be that.

"I was young," you start. "Middle school. I cried so hard that I threw up when my best friend started dating this kid in the grade above us. I wondered why I wasn't enough for her. Then I realized that maybe I had a crush on her. And I'd never been more terrified."

"What did you do?"

You snort. "Freaked out for another four years until my next best friend kissed me after junior prom."

She's quiet again. You've decided that Melissa's loudness is your favorite thing about her.

You swallow hard. "Are you... asking for a friend?"

Melissa gazes back at you, eyes watery and voice raw. "I'm askin' for me."

"Okay," you say, and she nods, and neither of you speak again for a little while.

You've gotten questions like hers before, from others. You usually know what to tell them, how to guide them through it, but this is Melissa. Her trust, so fragile, is cradled in your hands and you're terrified of making the wrong move, of cracking its thin shell.

"Tell me what you're feeling." You're asking for more trust and you know it. You hope your sincerity is evident enough that Melissa doesn't flee from the conversation altogether.

Melissa thinks for a moment, and you're patient.

"I feel so fuckin' stupid, Y/N," she admits, and the tears in her eyes spill over. You feel your own eyes fill at the sight. "Who makes it to my age and doesn't fuckin' know who they're into?"

When you scooch closer, she lets you. You both sit criss-crossed, facing one another, and your legs press up against hers.

"You are not stupid, Melissa," you say earnestly.

She rolls her eyes, and when her hand comes up to swipe angrily at her tears, you intercept it and weave your fingers into hers.

"You're not," you repeat. "Mel, something is telling me you didn't have an awful lot of people encouraging you to explore your sexuality throughout your life. It's okay that it's only happening now."

Melissa doesn't reply. Her eyes rest on your joined hands, on your thumb that traces light arcs over hers. But she's listening, so you continue.

"I'm really proud of you, Melissa," you tell her, and that makes her head snap up so she can meet your gaze.

"What? Why?"

"It's hard telling people at first," you explain, "and the first one is the biggest hurdle. But you did it, and I'm proud of you."

She swallows. "I feel like I can tell you anything and you're gonna make me feel better about it."

You squeeze her hand. "You can always tell me anything, Mel. What else do you need from me? How else can I help you?"

"Just... tell me it's gonna be okay. Tell me how super fun being gay is and that during pride we're gonna get super drunk and slash a cop car's tires or somethin'."

You grin. "Well, duh. We can also do that on alternating Tuesdays if you really want to."

Melissa finally laughs and it sets your heart alight. "Thanks, hon."

"It is going to be okay, Melissa. Just trust me on that one."

"I do," she says easily, "I trust you with stuff I haven't trusted anyone with in a long time."

"Like your family's sauce recipe?"

"Not in writing, but yes," Melissa confirms. "But with the big stuff, too. Life stuff."

You grin. "It's an honor and a privilege, Melissa Schemmenti."

There's this look in her eye, one you can't quite place. She sets her glass down on the coffee table and steals your glass to repeat the action.

Melissa all but crawls into your lap to hug you, and you happily let her. She relaxes most of her weight against you, forehead pressed against your shoulder. You dont mention it when you feel the collar of your shirt grow damp, you just let her sniffle against your t-shirt and smooth your hands over her back.

You both know there will have to be more to this conversation, but that can wait. For now, this is more than enough.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter

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pabtsblueliving · 1 year

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You Done?

Daryl x Fem! Reader

You and Daryl had never gotten along since the farm. You two bickered like a married couple, always spewing hatred at each other. What happens when you finally snap?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! smut, some aggression, cursing

God he is just insufferable you thought to yourself. “I’m tellin’ you Y/N if you ain’t gon’ do this right then go help Carol in tha’ kitchen or somethin'!” Daryl yelled at you.

You and him were currently stuck killing the walkers that built up along the face of your new home, a run down prison. You met the group when you’d been staying at the Greene farm, you were an old friend of Maggie’s. Daryl and you had never hit it off, even though you tried, well…tried at first. You soon got tired of trying to be friendly and thus created a fiery rift of tension and annoyance towards each other.

You wiped off your knife and put it in the holster, walking away. “Now where tha’ hell you think you’re goin’, girl?” Daryl yelled after you. You turned around wiping the sweat off your head and holding your arms up, “Going to my rightful place, in the kitchen right? To go help carol?” Your arms slapped against your thighs and you continued to walk back up to the prison, Daryl scoffed. He couldn’t help looking your way again, squinting in the hot sun, watching your lower half as you walked away, he snapped out of it and mumbled a profanity.

You entered the main common room and slammed your knife down. “What an asshole! That redneck, southern little…UGH'' You grievanced, putting your head in your hands. “The hell happened to you?” Maggie drawled as she placed some supplies she discovered on the table. “Daryl happened, that asshole. Why the hell does he even stick around?” You groaned. Carol walks in, “Oh come on, he’s not that bad…” She spoke softly, pursing her lips at you. “Really? Well he seems to think I'm the devil and root of all evil.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, grabbing the box from Carol’s hands and putting the supplies away. Maggie looks at Carol, then you and speaks, “Think there’s some tension that needs to be released between you two huh?” Her and Carol bumped their elbows into you. “Oh come on, guys gross. Never touching his greasy, sweaty…” You lost your train of thought. You hauled another box away, “Not. Happening.” and you continued to your bunk.

Few hours later, you're sharpening your knife in your bed as you hear Rick and Daryl’s voices grow closer. “...your guy’s schedules just line up, and you're my two strongest…I can't change the shifts now..” Rick spoke to Daryl. “Come on, Rick. We can’t work together, she’s the biggest brat…” Daryl drawled. You shot out of bed and opened your curtain, leaning against the banister. “I’m the brat huh?” You yelled down to Daryl as he stood below the elevated walkway. “And you’re an asshole who cares about himself and no one else, dick.” You continued to spew. You made your way down with your towel and such to shower. Daryl followed you, “You got another thing comin’ girl acting like this. Always walkin’ away when it gets hard.” He continued to follow you into the shared bathroom space. You dropped your things on a shelf and shoved him backwards. “You have no respect for me Daryl! Ever since we met you’ve been nothing but a no good, disrespectful, misogynistic assshole.” You turned around, but he pulled you back around with a tight grip on your shoulder.

He got in your face, “You done?” He drawled, “Not even clos-'' All the sudden he grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in to meet each other's lips. You pushed him away, breathing heavily looking at him. You both met in the middle in a violent battle. He gripped your hips and pushed you into the wall, hands traveling everywhere they shouldn't be. “Nngh…Daryl…oh…hold on wait.” You pulled away. He looked at you, “What the fuck are we doing?” You questioned. “I don't know-” he started and you cut him off. “Fuck it.” and you grabbed him by the back of the head. His hands went to your hair and tugged, sweat building up between the both of you. “Maybe…unh..this is what we needed.” Daryl spoke between kisses. “Shut up” You said. His large calloused hands traveled up your tank top, and landed on your breasts. God, you were so touch starved, you can't even remember the last time you got it in. You grab the bottom hem of his shirt and push it off him, the sweat and muscles finally coming into view. He decided to take your tank top off, and his mouth went straight to your breasts. “Unh, ngh, Daryl jesus…” You whispered. You look down, and see his bright blue eyes looking right back up at you. Your head falls back at the view and then you lift his head, bringing his lips back to yours. “What about this down here…this ok?” Your hands trailed down his abdomen, fingers fluttering at his waist band. He looked at you and he nodded, biting his lip lightly.

His hands then started to travel down your pants, going over your clothed mound. As your hand travels around his cock, he plunges a finger inside your wet cavern. He groaned, “Jesus, girl, you always get wet like this?” He kisses under your ear, continuing his attack on your pussy. “Should have done this…ngh…sooner” You moaned. He added a second finger and you moaned out, losing focus on your job taking place under his boxers. “What, now you’re gonna listen to me, honey, hmm?” He drawled and you wanted to roll your eyes, but looked up at him, bit your lip, and nodded. “Yeah?” He smiled slightly. He curled his fingers up and you dug your fingers into his bulging bicep. “Come on, girl, come on I know you, I’ve got you…” He whispered into your ear and you whimpered and moaned into his mouth as he plunged his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl…D, please.” You begged. “I'll get you there, come on, do it for me, on my fingers, girl.” You shuttered and moaned out, biting into his shoulder to hold back. The rubber band snapped and you tensed up on his fingers, “Jesus…christ, Daryl…oh my god” You moaned as you came on his fingers. Daryl held you up, “Still hate me?” He asked. You lifted your head from his chest, looking up at him raising a brow. “I don't know…maybe we each have to do some convincing…” You smiled. “Then we got a long night in for us, baby” he spoke as he pulled you into another kiss.

“You know, it's been four hours and they're still down there. Should we check on them?” Maggie giggled. Rick rolled his eyes, “At least there’s peace between em’ now. Sexual tension was getting too much for me.” He chuckled.

#daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut

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k-marzolf · 8 months

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wanna hold your hand.

(roommates to lovers, fluff with a touch of angst, fem!reader)

I wrote this a while back from a prompt I can’t find anymore. But the prompt was; “What are you doing?” “Holding your hand.”

“What’re you doin’?” asked Billy when you reached over, grabbing his hand as you both walked home from a midnight snack run at the convenience store.

“Want some chips and salsa?” Billy had asked, standing outside your bedroom door, looking like he was modeling sleepwear.

“Only with some root beer. And that we can snack in your bed.” You said, throwing your duvet off eagerly.

“You’re going have root beer comin’ out your ears the way you drink the stuff. And yeah, yeah. We can snack in my bed.” He had teased before booping your nose, making you laugh.

You both ended up with a pint of chocolate ice cream as well. You were gonna get fat the way Billy could snack.

Your cheeks warmed, and your stomach sank as you dropped his hand silently.

Your roommate hummed, and reached over snatching your hand back while he held your six pack of root beer in the other hand, while you carried the snacks.

You looked over at him, and he kissed your head. “What am I gonna do with you, baby?” He asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he squeezed your hand.

You squeezed his hand back, heart feeling fuller than it had a moment ago.

“Let me sleep with you tonight?” You teased him.

Billy smirked, “All this hand holdin’ is just to get in my pants, huh?” He laughed.

Your cheeks heated, “I just meant—“

Billy kissed your hand, “Just teasin’, baby.” He smiled at you.

You ducked your head, but he caught the smile on your lips. “You’re insufferable.” You said, softly.

Billy hummed; for the first time he had something of his own, you, “And you’re soft, but you’re mine anyway.” He said, bumping your shoulder with his.

You looked up at him instantly, but he only squeezed your hand. “Yours, huh?” You mumbled under your breath, but he heard it, squeezing your hand tighter.

He would never trade these late night snack runs for anything he thought, enjoying the feel of your soft fingers laced with his calloused ones.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader

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heresthestorymorningglory · 6 months

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Under Your Spell - Part 2

Good morning my loves!

Part 2 is comin' in hot 🔥If you missed part 1 find it here

A/N: As I said initially, approach with caution; as per usual it’s an 18+ NSFW but on top of that this one has a stalker warning, some voyeurism and also got a tad violent. it’s not TOTALLY Dead Dove, Don’t Eat but it toes that line, so if that’s not for you, just don’t okay?

And of course, again I say,

I can’t post without giving credit where credit is due; this thing took on a life of it’s own and if it weren’t for @ken-dom and @travelerwashere it wouldn’t be what it is; I can’t thank you both enough for your constant support and inspiration (at all hours of the night) and keeping me from spiraling down the anxiety rabbit hole you both know I tend to lose myself in <3

Title credit goes to my fellow Goosecord compadre @webbo0, and he also gets credit for the "If you know me irl and you saw this...no you didn't (you know who you are xD)

Enjoy babes <3

Multiple times throughout the week he had freely let himself into your house, not to do anything malicious…he would never, just simply to sit on your bed and read your journal.

Today was Saturday, and if you stuck to your usual routine, you would be out until well into the afternoon. He had found himself in a bit of a weird routine himself, he would find your journal which lately you had kept on your bedside table, and before taking off his boots (because sitting on your bed with them on was just rude) he would check behind your pillows where you had yet to discover the lacy pink…..they were gone.

He frowned, moving the pillows a little more…he was almost certain he’d-

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

His blood froze instantly and he slowly straightened up, making no moves to turn around immediately. His mind raced with excuses, reasons he would be here, in your bedroom…he had none.

Slowly, he turned around and there you stood, your face unreadable, one hand on your hip, the other holding those pink panties.

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t….what could he possibly say? And yet, there you stood, silently, waiting, blocking his exit.

After a few more excruciating seconds you raised an eyebrow “Well?”

He opened his mouth to speak and couldn’t find the words, so he closed it again; you didn’t seem angry though….or scared. Just…indifferent.

He licked his lips and tried again, looking from your face to the pink garment hanging off your index finger…they were clean, which meant you had washed them.

When he still didn’t speak, you did; obviously tired of waiting for an explanation he didn’t have.

“Do you make a habit of breaking into your neighbours houses?” you asked, the question obviously being rhetorical as you continued “Going through drawers, and journals….”

His brow creased as he listened to your words…how had you known…

You pulled your phone out of your pocket, navigating somewhere before turning the screen towards him.

“But my personal favourite,” you continued, as he watched himself on your tiny screen, back on that first day

“I…” he had started, not really sure what to say next; you had cameras, there was no denying it, no making up excuses, you’d had cold hard evidence in the palm of your hand; he was busted.

You walked deeper into the room, setting your phone on the dresser as you spoke. He was rooted to the spot, even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t move.

“Does it turn you on?” you asked softly, pink panties now swinging from your still extended index finger as you walked, like a lioness, stalking her prey “Watching me?”

He wasn’t sure what to say, so instead of incriminating himself further, he kept quiet; his heart slamming against his ribcage.

“And you read my journal…” you continued, in that soft even tone, that only slightly put him on edge “Which means you read what I wrote….about you”

His nose scrunched slightly in confusion briefly as he listened to you, your journal still in his hands.

You had stopped walking, now standing a few feet in front of him before you tossed the panties at him; instinctively he caught them against his stomach; eyes locking with yours.

You looked him up and down and he watched you curiously. Were you….flirting?

“Do it again”

He cocked his head slightly with a frown; hand unintentionally closing tightly around the underwear still in his hand. “What?”

“You heard me” your voice was still low, even and unbothered “Do it again” you repeated, reaching out and taking your journal from his hand, tossing it on your bed. “Come on,” you taunted, “Or would you rather watch from under my bed?”

He stood face to face with you in this standoff; you were unreadable, was this punishment? Or were you more like him than he had realized?

“I want to watch you jerk off into my panties” you whispered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

You were flirting.

Almost instantaneously, his body felt like it had been set on fire; his cock rock hard and straining against his jeans. He unbuttoned his jeans, very aware that your eyes were watching him, and had before…

"Take your gloves off; I want you to feel them" you smiled up at him from under your lashes.

He chewed the inside of his cheek but did as you asked, pulling them off and putting them in your outstretched hand, his fingers brushing your palm sending shockwaves through his overheated form.

You ran your tongue between your lips, your fingers toying with the worn leather.

"I'm waiting" you whispered and he watched as you took the gloves dragging the leather fingertips down your chest and between your cleavage.

His eyes slipped closed as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft enveloped in that familiar silky fabric.

"Look at me"

He moaned, and opened them, you had moved closer, mere inches between you now.

His breathing had gotten heavier, his knees threatening to give out.

He gasped audibly when your hand closed around his; slender and warm, stroking slowly. You pressed against him and he shuddered.

Your breath was hot against his neck.

"I watch you too" you whispered and he squeezed his eyes shut, a deep guttural moan as he spilled over his hand and yours.

You moaned into his neck, smiling against his skin, as you kissed his jaw dropping the newly soiled underwear at your feet. Your now bare hand, closing around his cock with no barrier between the two. He moaned as you stroked, he could feel himself growing hard against your palm.

"I-I can't…" he breathed

"Can't or won't?" You asked, squeezing gently and he moaned loud "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

You pulled back, and the pout on your lips made him want to bite them. Hard.

"Or do you just like watching me?" You pressed against him "Get naked?"

There was a silence that hung in the air before you spoke again. "I want you" you moaned and he broke.

He slammed you up against the wall, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip before he sucked on it and you moaned against his lips. Your hands tugged hard on his jeans before yanking his jacket off.

His hands pulled just as frantically at your clothes, still not convinced this wasn't a dream. He yanked your t-shirt over your head, both hands cupping your breasts over your bra, burying his nose into your cleavage, teeth sinking into the meaty flesh. You threw your head back moaning to the ceiling, pushing your chest out, fingers twisting in his golden locks, pulling hard.

He sank to his knees in front of you, you had released your hold in his hair, eyes meeting his as he looked up at you from the floor, hands hovering over your hips; you pulled on your bottom lip with your thumb and index finger with a nod. “Do it” you nodded breathlessly and he throbbed painfully between his own legs.

Fingers curling around the waist of your jeans, pulling them down with your panties in one swift motion.

Chest heaving as you kicked them off, his bare hands sliding up your warm naked thighs. He leaned forward, nose pressed against your core; you moaned over him, and he felt your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself on the wall. He licked a hot stripe up your centre and your knees instantly buckled as you thrust your hips forward with a loud cry; He squeezed your hips harder, with a shove, pinning them against the wall with more force before he continued his assault on your most sensitive parts, you were absolutely soaked. He moaned into your folds and this time when your knees buckled he let them, arms hooking under your knees and around the backs of your thighs,your legs over either one of his shoulders, his hands pressing against the small of your back, forcing your core to be flush with his mouth. His boot slid against the polished floor trying to find its grip as he tipped you gently, distributing your weight, you braced yourself against the wall, giving him the leverage he needed to get to his feet; you leaned forward as he pulled you away from the wall just long enough before he dropped you on your back on your bed, hearing you gasp as the air rushed from your lungs.

“God, please” you breathed as he knelt on the bed, head dipping between your now bent knees, placing soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, before his mouth enveloped your entire dripping core, fucking you with his tongue.

Then you started to whimper and it was like music to his ears, heels in a fetal attempt at digging into your soft mattress, as you fisted the sheets underneath you, begging for it not to stop; for him not to stop.

Your hips thrusting forward as your body started to shake, he reached up with his hands keeping your hips steady and your hands covered his, your nails biting into the backs as you arched your back, voice straining with effort as you came unraveled in his hands,

He pulled back breathing hard himself, his head dropped, still between your bent knees, the taste of you on his lips as you swallowed hard, catching your breath. You pawed for him, your mouth claiming his in a breathless needy kiss, pulling him on top of you, your face pink and flushed.

You pulled away first, breathing hard against his mouth as you spoke “More, I want more”

He dropped his head and you pushed a hand through his hair, kissing his face and neck, any part of him you could reach from underneath him it seemed.

“Tell me” His voice was thick with arousal with every intention to draw this out as long as he could. Even if it meant edging himself beyond a point of pleasure.

“I want you to be rough with me”

He sat back slightly, not sure he had heard you properly “What?”

“I want you to be rough with me” you repeated, looking up at him “Bite me, slap me,” you paused for a beat “Choke me…Fuck me”

He moved to kiss you and you pressed a flat palm to his chest, shaking your head sitting up, forcing him to shift backwards.

“Not tonight” you sat up climbing off your bed, grabbing a silk robe and wrapping it around yourself.

He tried to make the words he was hearing make sense; he stood up ignoring the painful throb between his thighs, your soft laugh caught his attention. He turned to look at you as you held your robe closed as you chewed on your lip. “You should take care of that,” you smiled biting a fingernail with a jerk of your chin “It looks painful”

He couldn’t help chuckling then; that’s the kind of game you wanted to play; he didn’t say anything, just ran his tongue between his lips watching as you turned on your heel in the doorway “You found your way in, you can find your way out” and then you winked at him before disappearing; the bathroom door closing across the hall.

#ryan gosling #drive 2011 #driver x reader

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chaotic-mystery · 10 months

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Not A Survivalist Girl Part 6:

“What Was I Made For?”

Written by: @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi

(Joel miller x f!reader)

Summary: After you get too close to the fire that is Joel Miller and get burned, you finally tell him how you really feel and show him was true rage is. In the process, he shows you he actually does have a heart.

CW: Mean! Joel, female rage, heavy on the angst, mild violence, talks of death & murder, child loss, Joel finally finds his heart like the grinch, grief, trauma, heartbreak, forgiveness, making up, fluff, a happy ending for once, +18 minors DNI.

WC: 4.7k

A/N: everything is hitting the fan in the mojo dojo casa house tonight. Enjoy! I love feedback and talking about this so feel free to send stuff to my inbox when you’re done!

When Joel Miller was back in the comfort of his own room, with the 4 walls around him seemingly closing in, he began to pace. The floorboards beneath his feet creaked and groaned with each heavy step he took. He was gripping the tendrils of his salt and pepper stained hair from the roots. He tugged hard, mumbling incoherently under his breath. His eyes were squeezed shut as the images of what just partook in front of the crackling fire raced through his brain. If Tommy were here..Well, he’s not fucking here. He ain’t comin’ back. He left you. Remember? Now you’re stuck with this girl.

I shouldn’t have done that. I should not have fucking done that. What the hell was I thinking? I should have just..I should have stopped myself when I still had the chance.

Don’t tell me you’ve already started to regret it? You saw how eager she was. Don’t stand here and say that you regret it when you know it ain’t true.

Did I have to be so mean? So cruel? I shouldn’t have left her like that. I was too rough. Even if she enjoyed it..I didn’t even bother to see if she was okay after the fact. I just fucking left her there stained with my cum, and retreated to my room like a fucking dog with its tail between its legs?

Don’t tell me that you’ve gone all soft now. For fuck sakes, Joel. You had sex. You fucked her like the slut that she is. She wanted it.

That’s not the man I am. I don’t degrade women like that. I respect them. I always have, I always will—

Well, hate to break it to ya, but you did nothing but degrade her back there. Left her there stained in your cum, tears in her eyes and didn’t even offer to help clean her up? You’re a mean mean old man, Joel Miller.

Oh god, what have I done?

As you laid there on the floor wondering why he got up so fast, you couldn’t help but think it was something you did. Maybe he came to his senses and realized what he did was wrong. Did you come off too strong and he had a lapse of judgment? Even if he did, he was just as guilty with flirting as you were, always stealing glances of you when he thought you weren’t looking, the lingering pauses before he said goodnight because he didn’t want to get off the couch and leave you be. Fuck this you thought to yourself and got up off the floor, immediately wrapping a blanket around you. If Joel wanted to fuck you and leave you there like you were nothing, he was going to hear about it for sure.

“What the fuck is your problem?! How the fuck can you just use me to get off and then leave me on the floor? Are you fucking insane?!” You shouted and bursted though the bedroom door to his room where he was sound asleep, that was until he heard you. You wanted him to hurt exactly how you hurt, to feel so bad about himself like he made you feel but that wasn’t your character. You would’ve never done that to him or anyone else for that matter. Your cold hands riddled with adrenaline grabbed anything close from his nightstand and chucked it at his body that was covered with blankets. The alarm clock went flying across the room and hit him in the shoulder, obtaining a grunt from the old man. Joel shot up out of bed when he noticed the book he started reading a couple days ago was on its way to hitting him in the head. Putting his arms out to stop you, he pleaded with a gruff tone for you to hear him out.

“No! There’s nothing you can say to make this better, Joel. Nothing. You made me feel so vulnerable and special and like you liked me, until you left me there alone. Didn’t even kiss me, not that that would’ve been much better, but it would’ve been something!

You walked over to him, he was standing at the foot of his bed and face plastered with shock and frustration. The look of defeat on your face was killing him inside, he knew what he did would ultimately crush you and make you not trust him again, and yet here you were screaming at him for doing it. Your arm raised up and just as you were coming down to smack Joel across his face, he grabbed your wrist roughly and held it there in place, looking deep into your eyes as if he was trying to tell you something.

“Please don’t fuckin’ hit me. I deserve it, no doubt about it, just..please.” He blew out a frustrated puff of air as he firmly, yet delicately held your wrist in his calloused palm, inches from where it was about to collide with his face. His eyes were pleading with you, begging for forgiveness despite knowing that he didn’t deserve it. “M’sorry. What happened back there? It never should have happened. I shouldn’t..I shouldn’t have done that. I crossed a fuckin’ line and—I know I can’t just go and take it back, but I’m sorry for puttin’ you in that position.”

The tears in your eyes spilled down your warm cheeks and the small ache in your chest finally made you stop in your tracks, completely breaking down in front of Joel. “You deserve so much more than that, you fucking animal. I’ve done so much for you and this is how you repay me? You weren’t even that good, I was faking it.” Your harsh tone was low enough for him to barely hear in his good ear, knowing it was killing him to hear you be so cold. “Fuck you. I don’t ever want to speak to you again and I hate you. I hate you, Joel Miller.” The stare you had on him could burn holes into his face if it were possible.

Joel was taken aback by your words, and the tone you used to deliver them. His brows furrowed as he released your wrist from his grip. “An animal? That’s what I fuckin’ am t’ya? Tell me, sweet girl. What exactly have you fuckin’ done for me, huh?” Sweat pooled around his chest and forehead from the adrenaline-filled-rage that presently coursed through his veins. “Oh, I’m sure you were fakin’ it sweetheart. You hate me so badly? Fuckin’ leave then. What the hell is stoppin’ you? Take what you want and fuckin’ leave.”

That was the last thing you wanted him to say. You didn’t want him to tell you to go, you wanted him to feel so badly about what he’d done, wanted him to make you stay and fix his mistakes but clearly he didn’t want that. Maybe this was his cop out to finally get rid of you like he wanted to awhile ago. “Why are you so mean?” The crack in your voice only made your tears stream down your face faster, the lump in your throat making it harder to talk with every other word. Finding enough will in your body to move your cemented feet from the floor, you walk over to the one thing he ever had that was yours. Your pink blanket. The soft material poking out from under his comforter made it that much harder to take it, but you needed to. He didn’t deserve your kindness, your warmth, your giving nature. You grabbed the corner of your blanket and pulled as hard as you could and made a mess of his bed in the process. The detangling of the two blankets felt poetic in a way almost, like you were separating yourself from Joel, kind of. Then again, it’s just blankets and you’re just a stupid girl who really thought someone like Joel Miller could change. Holding the blanket close to your chest, your eyes met Joel’s once more, searching for some type of reason as to why he’s being like this.

Joel zoned in on your delicate fingers grasping around the ends of the blanket. That stupid fluffy pink blanket that seemed to bring him a certain comfort that he almost despised, loathed even. It smelled of you, of strawberries of sweetness and honey and all the things that he felt he was ill-deserving of. The softness along his skin was equivalent to what he imagined floating on fluffy clouds must feel like. Just as you had grasped the corner, he was already reaching for the other end, grabbing ahold of it firmly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was tell you about his past, about his daughter and what happened to her on outbreak day. He’d much rather gouge his own eyes out, drown, be shot over and over again than have to relive the night he lost his baby girl. He was facing the realization that there was no talking himself out of this one. No more bullshit excuses for his anger, for his resentment. Joel Miller knew that he had to be raw and vulnerable with you if he ever wanted to heal.

“You really wanna know why I'm so mean? Why I struggle so fuckin’ hard on showin’ you an ounce of fuckin’ kindess?” His jaw clenched tightly as his fingers clutched around the soft fabric. He could already feel tears stinging painfully in the corner of his eyes as he did his best to fight them back and not allow them to freefall. His gaze fell upon you, and your own tear stained cheeks and watery lashes, a pleading look to your irises as he inhaled a shaky breath.

“My daughter was murdered on outbreak day. She was twelve years old when she died. It was my thirty-sixth birthday..it all happened so fast. I did everythin’ I fuckin’ could to protect her. I failed her that night. I tried so fuckin’ hard n’just for her to slip through my fuckin’ fingers. My brother Tommy was there that night. Some fuckin’ soldier gunned us down..I still remember watchin’ her body tumble into the grass, the life drainin’ from her eyes. I fuckin’ clutched her dead body in my fuckin’ arms until Tommy forced me to let go. I screamed, and cried, and screamed some more. She was the best fuckin’ thing in my life, and just like that she was taken’ away from me. In a matter of fuckin’ hours my entire world was ripped from me.” He gripped the blanket tighter, yanking it towards him. “So don’t tell me i’m a fuckin’ monster when you haven’t got a fuckin’ clue what i’ve been through, and what i’ve lost. Bein’ mean and cruel is the only goddamn thing that has kept me alive all these years. It’s all i’ve ever fuckin’ known.”

You could almost hear your heart breaking as his words sank in, the tears free falling down your face still. The lump in your throat only seemed to grow bigger to the point not a single word came out despite how hard you were trying. All you wanted was to comfort him and tell him it would be okay, but nothing was coming out. Nothing. The pain on his face was almost unbearable to look at, it only made it that much harder to not forgive him straight away.

“Joel..” you croaked out, “I’m so sorry that happened, I didn’t know. I wish you would’ve told me sooner and maybe I would’ve been a little more patient with you and your rotten attitude. I’m sorry they killed her, I am. But that was years ago, Joel. Being cruel to me over Sarah won’t bring her back. Give me my stuff and I’ll get out of your hair, I’ll leave when the sun comes up. Promise.” Tightening your grip on your blanket, you gave it a tug trying to get it out of his hands.

Joel’s features immediately hardened at your words. It was one thing for him to know that nothing would ever bring Sarah back, but to hear it from you? It almost felt like a knife was being twisted deep into his heart, serrated and tearing into his flesh. “I didn’t—fuckin’ ask for your pity. You’re right. It was years ago and ain’t nothin’ gonna bring her back, right? Not when her body is 6 feet below the fuckin’ surface back in Texas. Not when i’ve got blood stained on my hands from killin’ so many goddamn people. She’s fuckin’ dust now, and men like me don’t go to Heaven. She’s fuckin’ alone up there..somehwere and i’m never gonna fuckin’ see her again!” His voice cracked as he yanked on the blanket hard, his own tears finally cascaded down his weathered cheekbones as he tugged, and tugged, and tugged.

“Do you think someone like me is going to Heaven either? Not by a long shot Joel but at some point you have to let that shit go and stop hurting yourself over it! You can’t see how well you have it here, all alone by yourself in this cabin that others would literally kill to live in. You were a sad and lonely old man before you met me and that’s exactly what you’ll be again if you truly want me to go. Tell me you want me to go.” Gripping and tugging harder on the pink material, you clenched your jaw in frustration and just wished he would stop all of this.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” He glared at you through his tears, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted 5 heads. “You’re good, and kind, and sweet, and—you smell of fuckin’ strawberries and honey. You’re goin’ to Heaven whether you want to or not, girlie.” He didn’t want you to go, not really. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. The walls of his lonesome cabin once haunted him but now there was a newfound light within them that only surfaced because of you. “Of course I don’t fuckin’ want you to go. I don’t want you to leave, okay? You want me to fuckin’ shout it or somethin’?! Cus’ you’re right, if you leave then i’m just a fuckin’ sad and lonely old man livin’ in the woods. If you leave, then i’m a fuckin’ nobody again.” He gave the blanket one last harsh tug and the friction and yanking of the fabric was enough for it to give way. Before he had time to release it, the threads pulled and teared with a deafening sound as the once whole blanket was now tattered and torn, much like the two people grasping onto the fabric as if their lives depended on it.

Falling back on your ass with a hard thump against the floor, you looked at the now separated blanket in each other's hands. “No…no no no…wha-what did you..” Shock washed over your body and you scrambled to your feet, snatching the other half out of Joel’s hands. You were sure he didn’t mean to do that but he didn’t know what that blanket was to you. It was the last birthday gift from your mom before the outbreak, it was all you could manage to grab from your house before they took you out of your home and into the QZ. Silent sobs came from you as you buried your face in the fabric, not wanting to realize just how fucked up things truly were. A stuffy sniffle came from your nose and you tried looking at Joel through your soaking wet eyelashes, but it was no use. The figure standing in front of you was all blurry and you gave up trying. You dropped the torn half to the floor and walked back to your room, your chest sinking with every sob. The door to your bedroom latched just loud enough for Joel to hear and you laid down in your bed, soaking your pillows with tears.

“Girlie—I’m.” It was too late. You were already gone from his bedroom as he bent down and carefully picked up the two shreds of fabric with a heavy sigh. His heart sunk as the realization of what he had just done washed over him. He knew this wasn’t just a blanket to you. He might have not known the story behind it, or who had given it to you but he knew it meant something to you, just like his one photograph of Sarah meant everything to him. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered through the darkness. He allowed himself to feel for 5 seconds before he realized that maybe there was a way that he could still fix this, that he could make things better because you deserved it. You deserved so much more than he could possibly ever give you, but he had to at least try.

So that’s how he found himself outside your bedroom door with his sewing kit tucked under the crook of his armpit. He softly knocked, resting his good ear against the door. “Girlie? Hey, can I come in please? M’so sorry ‘bout your blanket sweetheart. It was an accident I swear. I never meant to rip it..”

Not wanting to talk to him at the moment, you laid there pretending to be asleep and soon enough the door was opening, Joel making his way inside. It was too soon to face him after all of that. You didn’t want to talk about it and rehash it or explain the blanket situation to him. You fake snored lightly in hopes he’d take the hint and go but in true Joel fashion, he did the opposite.

Joel silently sank down onto the edge of your bed as he set down the two halves of the blanket and the sewing kit. “Darlin’? Are you really sleepin’ or are you just avoidin’ me now?” He whispered and when he was met with silence, he let out a sigh. “S’alright. I understand.” Using what little light he had from the pale moon creeping through the curtains, he threaded the needle through a piece of pink string. “Sarah was always tearin’ her soccer uniform. I started off with buyin’ her new ones, but a carpenters paycheck doesn’t pay all that much.” He softly spoke as he started to sew the blanket back together. “Didn’t help that I was a single dad either. Sarah’s mom left us when she was really just a baby. I had Tommy help out thank god, but I was so scared havin’ to raise her on my own. I just..I wanted to be a good dad y’know? Wanted to make sure she was always happy n’god, was that kid always happy. She had a smile that could light up an entire room. Anyway, I ended up teachin’ myself how to sew her uniform back together. It wasn’t the best job, but she’d always sit with me on the couch while I’d be sewing and I ended up teachin’ her as well. Y’know, I think she was purposely gettin’ her uniform torn up just so I’d have to fix it for her. Not that I minded at all..I’d kill to be able to sew it for her..just one more time.”

Slowly you turned around, half covering your face and your eyes on Joel’s hands as he worked his way down the blanket, stitching up the two halves back together. “She must’ve been a really good soccer player, huh?” Your hoarse voice made his ears perk up and for a split second you swear he looked away from sewing and looked at you. Your cold hand pressed against his knee in an attempt to comfort him and show him in some small gesture you’re listening to every word he’s saying.

“She—she was the best. Always wanted to be outdoors. She loved goin’ for hikes with me. Little shit always told me I had terrible knees, and bad back, which I do. She was a real jokester too. Always pickin’ at me with her uncle. Sometimes I felt like she was takin’ care of me more than I was for her. She always reminded me that I was a good dad, that I was doin’ my best. She was real fuckin’ smart too. If she—lived I wouldn’t doubt that she’d be makin’ the honor roll and goin’ off to college to change the world to be a better place. She loved animals too. Always begged me for a dog and I never gave in..wish I would have if only I had known that we weren’t goin’ to have all the time in the world together.” He sniffled softly as he looked up at you through thick lashes.

You sat up quickly and grabbed his face, rubbing your thumbs gently on his scruffy beard. “Hey-It’s okay. I’m sorry about what I said, I should’ve never said anything about Sarah. I’m glad you still have those memories of her and Joel..” You swallowed back some tears and took a deep breath. “You will always be her dad, okay? Don’t you ever forget that. She doesn’t have to be here for you to be her dad. Cherish those memories you have, I promise she remembers them.” A tear fell onto your thumb from Joel’s eye and you wiped it away before he could.

Joel gently placed his hands over your own as he subconsciously leaned into your soft touch on his skin. “Hey, you don’t—you don’t have to apologize for anythin’ okay? You have nothin’ to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry darlin.’ I’m so sorry for how I have treated you. I just..I’ve spent so many years bein’ angry at the world for takin’ her from me. Your kindness it’s—it’s not somethin’ I’m used to.” He sniffled as more tears began to fall. “I just..I’d do anythin’ to hug her one more time. To see her smile..hear her laugh. She—she haunts my dreams most nights and sometimes I wake up and it’s almost as if she’s there, and I can reach out and touch her. She’s not there. It’s just my mind playin’ a cruel trick on me. She’s gone..” he whispered and suddenly his arms were encircling around your waist, hugging you tightly to him as if he was terrified that you’d slip through his fingers too.

If you could take back anything you said to him, it would be that you would leave. There’s no way you’d ever do that to him, not now, not ever. “Oh, baby I’m sorry..” Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into you, stroking the little curls on the back of his head as you just held him. It was one of those moments you wanted to freeze and stay in just for a little while, just to take the pain away from him long enough for him to feel normal again. What else can you say to a grieving father besides what you’ve already said? There’s nothing. All you could do was hold him and let him know you weren’t going anywhere.

baby

Joel allowed himself to be completely consumed by your soft touches as his tears freely fell after being locked away for years. A relief washed over him as the anger seemed to dissipate through his pores, as if all the hurt and poison that inhabited his veins was being sucked out, filtered through and turned to something pure. His thumbs were gently stroking the sliver of skin visible along your lower back as he slowly pulled his head back so he could look at you. The moonlight casted a pale glow across your tear stained faces as his glassy chocolate brown eyes fell upon yours. “Can I—would I..will you—” he cleared his throat that felt as raw as sandpaper from all the yelling and tears shed. “Can I..kiss you girlie?”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you bit back a smirk, nodding quickly at his question. “Of course, Joel. Please kiss me.” The worry of sounding desperate left your body as you moved some of his hair out of his eyes so you could admire them better. There was that funny feeling again inside your tummy. Fuck feeling like there was butterflies, it was a goddamn zoo in your tummy.

He leaned in slowly, the bridge of his nose lightly nudging against yours. Suddenly he was back in highschool, about to share his first kiss with his crush and his palms began to sweat, his fingers trembling along your skin as his lashes fluttered shut. His lips just barely ghosted against your own before he kissed you fully, slotting his lips between yours as he pulled you in closer.

Since the very first night, this is what you’ve wanted. Underneath all the sexual tension and thoughts you had about him, you just wanted to know the real Joel. The soft one who messes with you about catching worms and saves you from frogs and the one who talks to you about his daughter who means the absolute world to him, even from the heavens. You grabbed the back of his head gently and pulled him as close as you could, deepening the kiss.

Joel allowed himself to kiss you for a few moments longer, his hands splayed across your back fully now before he slowly pulled away, forehead gently resting along your own. “Listen..I can’t promise you I can be perfect. What I can promise you is that I will do my best to..learn your kindness. To see the world through your own eyes in hopes that..I can be good to you, always. All I ask is that you find it in your heart to hold patience with me. Guide me, and I’ll always protect you, n’keep you safe from the world. Okay?”

“And I’ll try to learn from you as I go so maybe one day you can trust me to protect you from the world because who’s gonna protect you if I can’t?” You nudge your head against his and smile at him.

Joel couldn’t help but crack a small smile that showed the faint crinkles in the corner of his eyes, and the indentation of a dimple along his cheek. “I’ll teach you how to be a real survivalist girl. How’s that sound to you girlie?”

“That sounds pretty damn good to me, Joel. It’s getting kinda late, should we get some sleep since we have no idea what tomorrow brings us?” You didn’t want to sleep alone tonight but you thought you shouldn’t push him. You lifted the blanket and held it to his chest, “Here, you sleep with this, I know how much you like it.”

Joel was already bringing his arms around the underside of your thighs and gently lifting you from the strewn comforter. “No need for that sweetheart. Will..you sleep with me tonight? Only if you feel comfortable doing so..”

You practically leap out of his arms and start heading to his room, “Yes oh my god I’m so glad you asked, I did not want to sleep alone!” You were already in his bed and tucked in by the time he made it in his room.

Joel watched with pure amusement in his eyes when you leapt out of his arms. He did not expect you to be this enthusiastic over his request, but he couldn’t lie over the fact that finding you already tucked under the covers absolutely made his heart swell out of his chest like a balloon. He plopped down on the bed, nearly squishing you with his body weight as his fingers found purchase around your waist and lightly tickled your sides. The giggle he elicited from your lips was contagious and had him chuckling as you playfully pushed him onto his side. Soon enough his arms were secured around your waist with his chest pressed firmly against your back. His lips were gently ghosting across the shell of your ear as he whispered, “goodnight, my survivalist girl.”

#not a survivalist girl #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #hbo tlou #tlou fic

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jungle-angel · 1 year

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His Funny Familiars (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You thought wifey’s familiars were a sight to see?? Wait untill you meet Rhett’s

Tagging: @sebsxphia Hon the video that inspired this was too cute to pass up and I couldn’t resist (lol).

“Fuckin hoodlums,” Rhett muttered as he carefully pulled the prybar from the fencepost for the nine millionth time in a row. Why the hell was Wabang full of so many disrespectful little shits from out of town who thought they owned everyone and everything?

He pulled the prybar loose, his face taking on a pinched look as the pain in his hand shot up into his arm and elbow. “Ya’ll better get that checked out,” remarked a familiar drawl. “Fractures can lead to something worse.”

Rhett turned his head to see Billy Tillerson making his way down the hill with a wicker basket in his hands, his eyes looking more tired than usual. “And you’d better get some rest,” Rhett chuckled.

“Oh believe me, I am,” Billy answered. “Gotta get it now while I can. Shania’s gonna have the baby soon.”

“Six more days,” Rhett assured him. “Six more days and the little guy’s comin.”

“Don’t remind me,” Billy laughed as he set to work, helping Rhett repair the fence.

The two of them bantered back and forth as the early morning sunrise began to peek over the hills, the mists surrounding the hills as the chilly spring morning welcomed the day. Rhett loved mornings like this, cool, misty and with hints of sharp moisture and the smell of grass in the air.

“Oh by the way,” Billy said. “I made a little something for your Ma last week. (Y/n) was kind enough to share the recipe with us.”

“Her Irish Soda Bread?”

“The very one.”

Rhett’s huge grin grew bigger as he hammered in another nail when all of a sudden he caught sight of a familiar ringed tail hanging over the edge of the basket.

“Hey! Meeko, outta there you little ring-tailed thief!”

The baby raccoon chittered and squeaked as though he had understood Rhett perfectly, his chubby little body dropping into the grass and zooming straight to his master like a tame dog.

“That thing’s tamer than our dog,” Billy laughed.

“Probably because (y/n) and I feed him and his siblings all the damn time,” Rhett replied.

Billy’s head suddenly looked up to see a dreaded sight making its way over to the fence along a path from the road. “Uh oh,” he groaned.

“What’s up?”

“Brace yourself,” Billy said under his breath. “The gorgon approaches.”

There she was, Gale Burch, that pinch faced menace from up the road, her grey hair cut into a neat pageboy, her grey dress stiff and without a single wrinkle in it, black shoes holding in her feet while on her elbow was a little black purse hanging from a thin silver chain. God she looked evil, more evil than she usually did when the Abbotts and the Tillersons saw her at St. Mike’s on Sunday mornings.

“Ah just who I wanted to see,” Gale crowed. “The neighborhood heathen and his little accomplice.”

Rhett cleared his throat and mustered all his strength to bite his tongue and be polite for once. “Good to see you Mrs. Burch.”

“Oh spare me the polite façade,” Gale spat. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you Mr. Abbott. In fact, several.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t play dumb with me you brainless sinful little twerp,” Gale hissed. “That disgusting little pest sitting there at your feet went rooting through my trash receptacles looking for his next meal. If it were up to me, I’d have it turned into a hat.”

Meeko chittered and curled around Rhett’s ankle, covering his little eyes with his tiny paws.

“Well, who knows, maybe it’ll cover the bald spot on the back of your head,” Rhett said with a smug little grin.

“Oh you smart mouthed little shit!” Gale hissed. “You’re just like your mother. A hateful, godless little Irish heathen that breeds like a lowly rabbit!”

Rhett’s blood began to boil as Gale walked away, her pointed, beaky nose in the air and an insatiable urge running through him to the core, the urge to bury Gale Burch in a hole so deep it might as well be on the nearest doorstep in hell.

“Now Rhett, I wouldn’t....”

“Oh I’m not gonna kill her,” Rhett said, cutting Billy off. “Believe me, I’ve got something better in mind.”

Back to the house they went, where they found you in the kitchen and tiny little Hannah sitting on the counter, swinging her legs and her little socked feet as you scooped pumpkin cookie batter onto a tray. “Whatcha lookin for cowboy?” you asked him.

“Lookin for that mealworm shit you bought for the raccoons,” Rhett answered as he searched the cabinets.

“On top of the fridge,” you answered.

Rhett gently moved you sideways before grabbing the bag of mealworm and chow mix off the top of the refrigerator. “Might I ask what you plan on using that for?” you enquired, noticing the mischevous look in his eye.

“You don’t need to know darlin, it’s all good,” Rhett answered as he and Billy traipsed back out the door.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you peered out the kitchen window to find the two of them heading down the driveway hill in the direction of Gale Burch’s property.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered, rolling your eyes.

“I know that whisper (y/n),” Cecelia remarked, picking Hannah up off the counter and onto her hip. “What are those two little weasels up to now?”

“I don’t wanna know,” you answered, throwing up your hands. “They told me I didn’t need to know, so I’m not asking.”

“Any idea where they’re going?”

“Over towards the Burch property.”

Cecelia made a face. “Wonder what old fish face did to’em now,” she seethed. “The other day she was giving Mrs. Garcia hell for her climbing roses being too tall.”

“Well,” you said. “We’ll find out tomorrow what they were up to.”

********************

“Alright Meeko,” Rhett whispered to the little raccoon. “Go git’em.”

Meeko climbed straight up the perfectly white picket fence and into Gale’s yard, dropping right into the neatly manicured grass to pick up a few of the mealworms, digging up the miserable witch’s vegetable beds like a kid in a sandbox. Betty Sullivan’s little chihuahua, Pinky, had attempted the same feat but had been met with the unfortunate wrath of Gale’s nasty cat, Gremlin. Rhett prayed that Meeko would make it out without arousing the wrath of that spoiled rotten little furball.

“Ya’ll think he’s gonna make it out?” Billy asked.

“He’s a smart little fucker, of course he’ll make it,” Rhett answered.

The two of them tensed up when they heard the clanging and dropping of old glass bottles from the recycling cans. Their hearts threatened to beat out of their chests when they heard that horrid snarl and hissing that signaled Gremlin lurking about.

“Oh shit,” Rhett said under his breath.

Meeko hissed a second later, the two men only able to guess what was going on behind the fence, too nervous too look for themselves. Finally, Meeko wriggled his way out from under the fence, climbing straight into the curve of Rhett’s arms.

“You little turd,” he chuckled. “Scarin us shitless like that.”

“Holy shit!” Billy laughed. “Rhett, ya’ll gotta come and look at this.”

Rhett peered over the fence, biting his lip as he held back a laugh.

The garden beds were an absolute mess, dug up down to the roots with the vegetables all knocked over and the driveway littered with garbage from the trashcans.

“C’mon,” Rhett told Billy, still holding on to Meeko. “Let’s get outta here before we get attacked by that monster cat of hers.”

********************

Rhett knelt beside the pew in the church, crossing himself before he scooted in next to you, Hannah, Royal and his mother, biting his lip as though a devilish little laugh could escape at any minute.

“Rhett?” Cecelia whispered.

Rhett snickered as the other parishioners began filing into the sun filled church. Sister Bernadette made her way down the aisle towards the front, her white hair completely hidden by her black habit.

“Rhett James, what did you do?” Cecelia hissed, resisting the urge to hit him on the back of the head with a hymnal.

Rhett didn’t answer her. He just kept his eyes on his hands that were folded in his lap, never once daring to look up at his mother.

You and Cecelia cast each other a quick glance before you saw the sour looking Gale Burch walking into the church, mean as ever, muttering something under her breath about a raccoon tearing up her garden. Cecelia turned to Rhett, slackjawed, wide eyed and shocked as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God, you didn’t,” she hissed under her breath.

“I did.”

You laughed a little yourself before Father O’Keefe entered and the service began. You couldn’t wait to hear this one when you got home.

#outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #royal abbott #cecelia abbott #billy tillerson #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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msweebyness · 3 months

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DuPont School for Monstrous Youths- Greenhouse of Terror

It’s ya girl, Weebie! Comin’ at ya with a new Monstrous Youths short! This time around, Adrien’s helping Mylene out in the greenhouse, and he’s about to meet her babies! Enjoy! @imsparky2002 @artzychic27

“Thanks for coming to help me take care of my plants, Adrien! Ivan has band practice, and no one else could make it today and, believe me, my babies can be a handful!”, Mylene said to the blonde boy entering the school greenhouse alongside her with a smile, small flowers blooming in her vine hair at her happiness.

“No problem, Mylene! I’ve been wanting to see the inside of the greenhouse for a while now! I’ve never seen plants like a lot of these before!”, Adrien answered brightly, looking around with fascination.

Mylene giggled softly as she turned on the fluorescent lights in the room, illuminating the tangled jungle of unique and bizarre flora.

“Well, let’s get started then! I can’t wait for you to meet my little sweeties!”, she chirped, leading him to the center of the mass of plants. Adrien quirked an eyebrow at this, but followed her nonetheless.

When they reached the a certain point in the path, Mylene stopped with a smile and let out a whistle, slightly startling Adrien.

“Brutus, sweetheart! Wake up, mama’s here with your breakfast!”, she called, and Adrien watched as a mass of large leaves moved, before a huge, flat head at the top of a thick stalk rose, moving into the light.

Blinking a few times, Adrien stared in wonder at what appeared to be a massive venus flytrap with sharp teeth like those of a lion protruding from its green jaws as it released a happy growling sound and nuzzled Mylene.

“Adrien, could you bring the wheelbarrow over, please? It has Brutus’ lunch in it!”, Mylene said as she scratched under the flytrap’s ‘chin’.

“Sure.”, Adrien said, going over to a fetch the wheelbarrow they had brought with them. He rolled it over and took off the cover, finding a deer carcass within. He swiftly jumped back as Brutus lunged forward and snapped up his meal, downing it in a few seconds.

“Slow down, baby, don’t choke yourself.”, Mylene chided gently, petting Brutus’ thick stem. After a few more minutes of tending, they bid him goodbye and continued on their way.

It was only after they’d walked for a brief time that Adrien began to hear a peculiar sound. A high, vibrating trill that almost seemed to be humming some sort of melody. As they continued to walk down the path, it grew progressively louder, until eventually they came to a tall, hydra-like plant with glowing white feelers at the ends of its long tendrils.

“Adrien, meet Cookie!”, Mylene said cheerfully, laughing softly as the plant gave her ‘kisses’ with its tendrils.

“Okay, Adrien, while I help prune Cookie’s tendrils, could you play some of Jean’s songs? Or anything from Monster SMASH? Cookie doesn’t enjoy pruning, but she does love music, and she’s probably Jean’s biggest fan!”, Mylene then instructed, with Adrien obeying, hooking up his phone to play one of their phantom friend’s rockabilly hits.

Cookie immediately began to trill happily as she swayed to the music. While this went on, Mylene showed him how to gently trim the stray wisps from her tendrils. After this was complete, they bid her goodbye and went on their way.

After another short bit of walking, they ended up in a clearing. In the center rested an unusual tree. It was tall but stout, with blood red bark and a jagged opening in the center of the trunk. Its branches twisted out every which way, brimming with a mix of thorns and leaves. Mylene instructed him to be careful and quiet as they approached.

“Roach?”, she called gently, “It’s time to tend your roots, sweetie!”, before the tree began to stir, letting out a high keening sound, using its branches to greet Mylene with a ‘hug’.

“Okay, Adrien, we need to adjust and massage Roach’s roots. Just be very careful and don’t make any sudden motions. Roach spooks easily and he lets out poisonous gas!”, she cautioned, before they went to work tending to the mutant tree.

Around ten minutes later, Mylene was able to keep Roach calm despite a few mishaps from Adrien’s inexperience, and they completed their task. After assuring Roach that she would be back to see him soon, she and Adrien continued on their way.

It wasn’t long before they were pushing their way through a thick patch of brush, a low sort of rumbling hum meeting their ears as they went on. When they finally emerged from the brush, Adrien was face to face with what appeared to be a gigantic mushroom with a bevy of long spines. As they approached, the spines began to rustle as the creature let out a dissonant thrumming noise.

“Morning, Oggy!”, Mylene told it as she pulled out what appeared to be a bag of organic mulch, “Adrien, this is Ogg. We need to change out his bed, so it’s fresh and he can breathe right.”, and Adrien nodded.

Adrien observed as Ogg’s spines seemed to feel around in the air and on the ground. Smiling, Mylene explained that this was how Ogg observed his surroundings. His spines were full of sensitive nerves that could pick up vibrations in the air and ground.

Finally, they finished with the mulch, said goodbye to Ogg, and trekked back out of the brush. As they circled back near the front of the greenhouse, Adrien noticed that numerous vines now stretched over the ground, and Mylene told him to be very cautious not to step on them.

As the vines grew denser and denser, Mylene finally stopped and called out:

“Gigi! Are you awake?”, and was answered by a low hissing sound, a number of the vines rising and greeting her affectionately. Adrien couldn’t see a specific body of the plant, and figured that Gigi must be the huge cluster of vines itself.

“We need to make sure there are no tangles in her vines that could stop her breathing or hurt her. Then we can give her some water, and you can go get ready for class!”, Mylene explained, and they began to work gently with Gigi’s vines.

After they finished tending to the vines, Mylene said goodbye to Gigi, before preparing to do a bit more housekeeping in the greenhouse, as Adrien began to get his school bag ready.

“So, what did you think?”, Mylene asked, “It’s a lot of work caring for them, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything!”, Mylene said with a blissful smile.

“Yeah…”, Adrien said, smiling himself, happy to have been able to see a unique part of monster culture, “I think I might be back to visit soon!”

These plants may be monsters, but they’re big old softies! Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

#miraculous ladybug #school for monstrous youths #monster high au #adrien agreste #mylène haprèle #monster plants #short #fluff

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thebreakfastgenie · 3 months

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Travelin' Prayer Said now, this song seems strange is just because I don't know how to pray

Piano Man And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar And say, “Man, what are you doing here?”

Ain't No Crime You may love 'em forever But you won't like 'em all of the time

You're My Home It always comes as a surprise When I feel my withered roots begin to grow

The Ballad of Billy the Kid And his age and his size Took the teller by surprise

Worse Comes to Worst And if I don't have a car I'll hitch I got a thumb and she's a son of a bitch

Stop In Nevada And she doesn't know what's comin' But she sure knows what she's leavin' behind

If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You) When the simple lines have all been taken And the radio repeats them every day

Somewhere Along the Line Well, it's a rainy night in Paris and I'm sitting by the Seine It's a pleasure to be soaking in the European rain

Captain Jack So, you've got everything, ah, but nothing's cool They just found your father in the swimming pool

My favorite lyrics from each Billy Joel song

#billy joel #favorite billy joel lyrics

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years

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Favourites

Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you're one of Negan's wives, but you're his favourite.

A/N: Okay so basically this is a rewrite of what I'd originally written, except I wrote a lil bit of smut. And I'm just gonna say, I have literally NEVER written smut in my life, this is my first time writing it. So if it's bad, please just be kind cos I'm new to this. But if anyone has any criticisms, then I'd love to hear it so I can improve aha.

Warnings: Strong language, fingering, little bit of dry humping?

“You’re a dick.” You scowled at Negan, who was currently standing in front of you, swinging his bat beside him.

He just smirked. “Oh, lovely wife. Should you really be speaking to me like that? I just picked you to come back to my room with me. Aren’t you grateful?”

You’d been Negan’s wife for quite some time now. You were one of the first. And the only reason you were still here was because despite how twisted he was, you still found yourself attracted to Negan. Of course, he wasn’t fully aware of your feelings towards him.

He dragged his fingers along your jawline, making you slightly lean into his touch. You hated how it made you feel, his rough fingertips dancing across your skin. You couldn’t help but enjoy the tingling sensation his touch gave you. A menacing grin crept onto his face before he finally spoke again. “Come on. You know you want to. I can actually feel the heat comin’ off of you right now.”

He turned and made his way to the door, and you slowly followed behind him. You almost felt ashamed that you enjoyed your visits to Negan’s bedroom. It was pretty obvious that he favoured you more compared to the other women he’d claimed, but you didn’t let on that you knew. You just savoured your time with him, before returning to your room, and allowing the shame to hang over you.

When you finally spotted the open door to his room, you couldn’t help but feel a little excitement. Every time, Negan would always surprise you with something new. Most of the time, you’d just go in there to have sex. But sometimes, he’d just sit there, watching you intently. That was how you knew you were his favourite. He would never do that with any of his other wives. He felt it created a weaker image of him.

“So...I’m a dick then, huh?” Negan growled, looking you over before closing the door.

You tried to suppress a smile. God, he looked so sexy standing there in front of you. You just continued to stand there quietly, taking in his handsome features.

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” he demanded. He didn’t even move. He just stood there, completely still, continuing to glare at you.

You folded your arms across your chest. “Yeah, you are a dick.” You weren’t afraid of him. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You still like me though, don’t ya.” He smirked, slowly edging closer to you. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The tension between the two of you was growing, and you’d found yourself rooted to the ground.

He carefully stepped closer to you, until his face was just inches away from yours. “Look, I like you, (y/n). But you’ve gotta start cooperating a little more. You can’t just be an asshole to me and then come in here and do fuck all.”

“Who says I’m not cooperating?” You said softly, tracing your fingers along his rough beard. You leaned in closer to him, until your lips were almost touching. He tried to connect his lips with yours, but you pulled away quickly. “Who said you could kiss me?” You teased.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t like the way you just spoke to me. So maybe I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you smirked, seeing a look of frustration appear on his face. You loved teasing him like that. It gave you so much more power over him.

He glared at you. “I don’t give a shit.”

“Yes you do. I’m not stupid, Negan. I can see the way you treat me compared to the others.”

He stepped back a little bit, the devilish grin reappearing on his face. “Oh? And how do I treat you?”

“I dunno. You’re just less of an ass with me.”

“Aw, I’m touched,” he joked, moving closer to you again.

You leaned closer to him, gently pressing your fingertips to the center of his chest. It wasn’t long before his hands found their way into your hair. The feeling of his fingertips caressing your scalp made you tingle with pleasure.

“Ugh, can’t I be in control for once?” You groaned, suddenly realising that he was slowly beginning to take over again.

“Are you being fucking serious right now? Are you trying to piss me off today?”

“I just think you should let me have some control for once,” you suggested, running your hands through his dark hair.

“You’re joking, right?”

You shook your head. “Look, if you don’t want this. Fine, I’ll go.” You removed your fingers from his hair, and began to walk past him and toward the door.

But he caught your arm before you could take another step. “Fine,” he huffed, making you return to your previous position.

You grinned. You enjoyed this. You enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable. And you just loved how much he hated it. But the funny thing was, he was only allowing this in order to get you to stay. He clearly cared about you a little.

You leaned closer to him, gently tugging on the bottom of his leather jacket. You slowly dragged him toward the bed, making him sit down. This was clearly making him nervous, as his eyes darted around the small room.

You quickly crawled onto his lap, securing your legs behind him. You could already feel the heat building between the two of you, as you leaned in even closer, gently pressing your lips against his.

“God, you’re fuckin’ killin’ me,” he groaned against your lips.

You let out a quiet laugh, as you continued to torture him. As your lips met in a desperate kiss, you started to slowly grind your hips against him, causing a muffled groan to escape him. You felt his hands slide around your back, gently nipping at your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You tried to force yourself closer to him in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

But when he went to pull your shirt over your head, you leaned back, stopping him. "Who am I to you?" You breathed out, noticing how his hazel eyes watched you intently.

"My wife." He replied almost instantly.

"No but really-"

"My wife." He repeated, his tone firmer. You could see it now. You could see it in his eyes that he cared for you.

You helped him lift your shirt over your head and you shivered when his hands ghosted over your chest as he covered your mouth with his again.

You started to move your hips over his jeans again whilst he began fumbling with the button on your jeans.

"Fuck." He groaned into your mouth, his hips bucking up against yours in desperation.

When he finally managed to undo your jeans, you lifted yourself off him slightly so that he could roughly tug them down your legs, leaving you in only your underwear as you straddled him.

You lowered back down onto him and you couldn't help the small whimper that escaped your lips when you felt his erection press against your aching pussy through your clothes.

"Jesus." You whispered, causing a wicked grin to expand across Negan's features as he watched you grinding over his clothed cock.

He kissed you again and you gasped when you felt his fingers quickly slipping underneath the fabric of your panties.

"Damn, all this for me?" He smirked against your lips, brushing a finger along your folds. "So fucking wet, baby."

You were barely able to keep your eyes open when you felt the pressure of one of his fingers pressing into you. You groaned, involuntarily rocking your hips against his hand as he slowly started moving his finger in and out of you.

You roughly gripped his leather jacket between your fingers when you felt him add a second finger, continuing to push them back and forth inside you.

"Shit." You breathed out, screwing your eyes shut at the pressure that was building in your stomach.

"You like that?" He said, watching as you started to come apart on top of him.

You nodded, still fisting his jacket in your hands. "Yes."

Your thighs started to shake when you felt him thrusting his fingers deeper inside you and you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you felt your release coming close.

All of a sudden, you felt your body tense and a wave of pleasure crashed over you as you fell forward into Negan's chest.

"Fuck." You groaned, trying to catch your breath as Negan smirked at the sight of you.

"So what was that about being in charge?" Negan snickered, removing his fingers from inside you, sucking them clean as he looked up at you.

"Shut up."

TAG LIST

@neganswoman

#negan #negan imagine #negan imagines #negan smut #smut #negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan fanfic #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfic #jeffrey dean morgan

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flamehairedwritings · 2 years

Text

The Dungeon Master and The Drama Club President: Chapter Two

Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This is a little mini-series dedicated to @herb-welch and inspired by a mini-series @irrelevantwriter has just posted, go and check it out!! A chapter will be posted every other day, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged! (I’ll only tag you if your age or ‘Over 18+’ or something adjacent is in ya bio).

Tags: Enemies to lovers, swearing, alcohol, talent kink? if that’s a thing (it is), sweet little series, sexual references, sexual things in the last chapter.

The Dungeon Master and The Drama Club President Masterlist

Summary: You strike a deal with Eddie Munson that leads to more than either of you bargained for.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

─

Chapter Two ─ The Hideout

Oh, God, I hope I don’t die.

Gripping the strap of your bag, you move through the crowd, and it is quite a crowd.

The Hideout is wall to wall chock full of people, and they’re all smoking, drinking, laughing and talking loudly over the music playing from speakers somewhere.

And, yes, was that the flash of a knife you just saw, tucked into someone’s jeans?

I’m going to die.

And all because of Eddie fucking Munson.

Squeezing past two groups of people, you emerge out into what seems to be the only space here.

Which is right beside the bar.

Pressing your lips together, you zero in on a vacant seat before it which, miraculously, no one is by, and head for it. Sitting down, you place your bag on your lap, holding it in your arms.

Well, here you are.

No one can say you’re a coward. Especially not Eddie fucking Munson.

“Hey, honey, you okay?”

Your head turning, you find a bartender cracking open a few beer bottles as he glances at you. He has a long, bushy beard, tattoos on every inch of skin, as well as piercings, a bandana holding his long hair back, and he’s smiling kindly.

You return it lightly, nodding. “Uh, yeah.”

“You here to see someone in particular?”

“Uh, I’m here to see the band, ‘Corroded Coffin?”

“You a fan?”

“Not particularly.”

He snorts as he places the bottles up on the bar for a group near you. “Ah, I know who you are. Eddie said you might be dropping by.”

Blinking at him in surprise, you then shrug. “Well, here I am.”

Placing his hands on the bar, he arches an eyebrow, still smiling. “Well, what can I get ya?”

“Uh, a lemonade, please.”

“Comin’ up.” As he pulls a bottle from a fridge, you open your bag and root around for your purse. When you pull it out and he cracks the top off the bottle, he then shakes his head, placing the bottle on the bar. “Nah, this one’s on me.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Putting your purse away and zipping your bag back up, you take a sip from the bottle, grateful for it now as you realise how dry your throat is.

It’s perfectly okay to be nervous, normal, actually.

As you lower the bottle, three men suddenly appear, muttering under their breaths about how crowded it is, and they lean against the bar beside you.

“Hey, Chris,” the tallest one says, a blurred skull and cross-bone tattoo on his temple, the sight of which has you swallowing.

The bartender, Chris, smiles as he throws a faded cloth over his shoulder. “Hey, man, what can I get ya?”

“Round of tequilas, please, pal.”

Oh, Christ.

“All righty.”

Swallowing, you let your gaze dart to the stage, staring hard at it so you won’t be engaged in any kind of way.

It’s simple, raised, with a black curtain as a backdrop, and instruments litter it along with a microphone stand front and centre. You hope your eardrums aren’t going to explode, that would be really fucking inconvenient─

“Hey.”

Oh, no.

Your gaze flicks back to the tall man.

“Hi.”

He’s taking you in but there’s... actually nothing seedy about it. In fact, he seems more perplexed than anything.

Chris, pouring out tequila into heavy looking shot glasses, looks up at you, his smile returning.

“Patch, this is Eddie’s friend.”

Perplexion shifts into understanding as Patch smiles. “Aaahh, right.”

Fucking hell, how many of them did Eddie tell? And why? And did he calls us friends?

Passing the shots to his friends, Patch raises his eyebrows. “First time?”

“What gave it away?”

He laughs as he leans against the bar. “You’ll be okay, kid. All the bands are good, and Eddie’s is, too.”

“That’s good.” I’ll be the judge of that.

You watch him and his friends cheers before knocking their shots back, your nose involuntarily wrinkling because you’ve had tequila before and ooff.

They barely even blink, though, and when Patch sets his glass down and beckons Chris to pour another one, you have to quickly drop your expression as he turns to you.

“I get how this place must look and feel to a newbie, though, so if you wanna leave you let us know, okay? We’ll get you out of here. There’s a backdoor that’ll take you through to where the bands are, so you can just go and hang out with Eddie.”

Something tight in your chest loosens, and you give him a small smile. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

... But what has Eddie told them that they think we get along that well?

Patch waves a dismissive hand as he knocks back another shot. “Don’t mention it,” he smiles after swallowing. “And, hey, this is Sonny...” He gestures at one of his friends, smaller, with a dark mullet and a lip ring, hands and neck covered in tattoos, who nods at you. “... and Markus.” You look to the other friend, dreadlocks tied back, gold and pearl beads here and there in them, three eyebrow piercings, heavy gold rings on each finger, and he smiles widely.

You return it, feeling some more of your anxiety slip away. “Nice to meet you.”

Sonny just grunts as Markus says, “And you.”

Licking your lips, you take another sip of your drink, hoping it doesn’t slide into awkward silence as they also all take another shot before Patch orders them all a glass of whisky.

“So...” You’re surprised to find it’s Sonny who addresses you, his hand running down his mouth as he leans against the bar. “... What’s Eddie like at school?”

You blink, lips parting. “Uh, he’s...” Well, you can’t exactly be rude, can you. These guys obviously feel some affection for him, so it wouldn’t go down too well. “... He’s quite a character.”

They all snort or laugh, even Chris.

“Good,” Markus beams, and you can’t stop yourself from parroting, “’Good’?”

He shrugs, accepting the glass of whisky from Chris with a nod. “He’s himself, then. That’s good. High school’s fuckin’ brutal, and I’d hate for it to dilute him.”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage as they sip their drinks.

Well... yeah. You do begrudgingly admire that Eddie is himself through and through. Not to say you yourself aren’t but... Eddie faces a lot more flack than you do for it and, yeah, it is good it doesn’t deter him.

Do I admire Eddie Munson?

... Fuck, I guess I do.

Licking your lips, you allow that strange feeling to settle, and look back to Sonny as he asks you another question about Eddie’s school life. Over the next fifteen minutes, you confirm that all the stories Eddie has told them of his exploits are true, if the rumour-mill is to be believed, and they tell you of some exploits from his gigs here.

The more minutes tick by, the more you relax, and you start to laugh with them, feeling entirely comfortable. You even have to shush each other when someone comes onto the stage and turns the microphone on, tapping it and saying, “Listen up, fuckers, this show’s about to start so shut up. First up, we have Deadly Delicious, give ‘em a hand...”

You clap with everyone else as four women step onto the stage, and for the next ten minutes you’re enraptured by them.

And the same happens with the next band, and the next, and the next.

Soon, beer bottles and your lemonade bottles, that the guys end up paying for, cover your area of the bar, and you’re standing along with everyone else, Patch and Markus taking turns to twirl you and dance along with you to music you never thought you’d enjoy let alone dance to.

“... And that was Skulls and Boners! Excellent as always, guys, well done. Now, give it up now for Corroded Coffin!”

“Here he comes!” Markus calls to you over the cheers, and your head whips to the stage.

You recognise his friends as they step out onto the stage, holding their hands high and waving, and then...

And there Eddie is.

And he looks...

Gorgeous.

The thought floats into your mind and you nearly have to shake your head to get it out.

Weird. Weird thing to think. Okay.

They nod at each other, and then Gareth starts pounding on the drums with a ferocity you didn’t know he had, and the others instantly start playing their guitars, the sound immense, and people around you scream and cheer over it.

And you want to look at them, for some reason, want to see them smiling and soak it in...

... Except you can’t stop staring at Eddie.

He looks exactly like he does at school, besides having some eyeliner around his eyes and a bandana on, but... there’s something about him now. Something that’s exuding from him now he’s on that stage and performing.

It’s magnetic.

“Good, isn’t he?” Patch shouts into your ear, and you just nod, still unable to look away.

Oh, Christ...

Something is warming inside you, sly and seductive.

It’s the rockstar effect, it’s just the rockstar effect, pull yourself together, get a grip...

You tell yourself that as you look at his hands moving over the strings, at the shouts and yells he gives, at his eyes closing as he feels the music, at how talented he is.

And his voice...

When they finish their set, your heart is pounding, your throat is dry and you might be wet.

... What...

You have to remind yourself to clap, knowing the guys will be watching you. When you call out a cheer, you hear Patch’s voice in your ear.

“Do you wanna go back and see him?”

Oh, boy.

“Uh, yeah. Please.” Turning your head, you smile at him and he nods as he straightens.

“All right, this way. I’ll be back,” he calls to Markus and Sonny who smile and wave their goodbyes at you.

You smile widely, waving back, before you follow after Patch.

He cuts a path through the crowd to a side door, opening it and letting you pass through first. You step out into the cool night air, swallowing down a, for many reasons, much needed breath of fresh air.

“C’mon, honey, this way.”

He takes you round to the back of the building, to a backdoor that’s open and has someone leaning against the wall by it in a long leather coat, cigarette in his hand.

“Hey, Patch,” he greets, blowing out a stream of smoke.

“Hey, Duke, this is a friend of Eddie’s. Can she see him?”

Duke glances at you and nods, jerking his head in the direction of the door. “All right, in ya go.”

You step through with a quick smile, and you take a few steps before you realise Patch isn’t behind you. Turning back to him, you raise your eyebrows.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, smiling warmly. “I’ll see him after. If you’re not still here, it was nice to meet you.”

You match his smile. “And you. Thank you, Patch.”

“Don’t mention it, honey.”

Have I made new friends?

Turning away, you head down a corridor, glancing into rooms as you go. Different bands house them, some you recognise from having played earlier, a couple of others yet to go on.

And you hear him before you see them.

“... fuckin’ incredible, Jesus Christ, that might be the best we’ve ever fuckin’ played...”

You realise you’re smiling, and you have to get it somewhat under control as you peer around the door and knock on it.

“Hey, can I come in?”

The room goes silent.

Gareth, Jeff and Freak are staring at you, frozen in their eating, drinking and smoking, seated, and Eddie is stood, hands half raised, staring at you, too.

Then, his wide smile returns.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, you came.”

You shrug as you step into the room, clasping your hands together. “I said I would.”

“Yeah, but...” You don’t catch his gaze flicking over you as you glance at the others, and when you look back, it’s meeting yours again. “... Shit. Well, I’m glad you came on a night like tonight, it usually isn’t this busy or fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, good. Yeah, the crowd really loved it.”

... How am I still finding him attractive when he’s covered in sweat.

Clearing your throat perhaps a little too loudly, you quickly look down to your bag and unzip it. “Oh, while I have you all here...” Rooting around, you pull out a copy of the script and four music books, one for each of them, and a rehearsal schedule. Smiling, you step forward, handing them to the guys on the couch.

Freak and Gareth seem slightly startled while Jeff beams.

“Thanks,” Jeff says, and you nod, clasping your hands together again.

“No worries.”

“I guess we passed the audition, then,” Eddie says, and you look back to him and fuuck, he’s still attractive.

“With flying colours.”

When did I become a person who says ‘flying colours’.

“Excellent. This’ll be our biggest gig of the year, boys.”

They snort, and Eddie’s smirking lightly, and it just... it just ever so slightly irks you.

Causes a slight pang in your chest that dampens whatever you’ve been feeling.

“Well... to some of us it is, so.” Your smile slightly tight, you look back to the couch. “You guys were great, see you in rehearsals.”

Turning on your heel, you start to head out of the room.

“Woah, hey, hey...” Eddie takes a few strides forward, moving out of the door behind you then darting in front of you and blocking your path as his brow dips. “... Shit, I didn’t mean to be a dick, we are stoked about it.”

Your jaw is clenched slightly and you arch an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that.”

“No, shit, we are. I am sorry. Forgive me? Please? Even though I’m an ass?”

You exhale a long sigh, but for some reason your lips are twitching. “Fine. You’re forgiven. Even though you’re an ass.”

“Yeeess,” he murmurs, knees bending slightly. “Thank you. And I do mean it, we are. Turns out Jeff’s a Little Shop fan, so.”

“Really?”

Your eyebrows raise as you glance back into the room, finding Jeff holding the music book wide open and pointing at various sections as Freak and Gareth nod, eyes a little wide.

“Yeah. Thought he was gonna cry when I told him.”

“Well... That’s encouraging.”

Looking back to him, he smiles, fingers twisting together slightly, and is he... is he nervous?

Well, that’d make two of you.

Silence suddenly settles over you both, and oh, no, if this suddenly goes awkward then my brain will just say anything and I can’t let that happen─

“You headin’ home?”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. I need to finish learning some lines.”

He nods just as quickly, his hair moving with the motion, and stop staring at it and thinking about what it’d feel like.

“Right, yeah. uhm. Well, thanks for comin’. I appreciate it.”

You shrug, smiling lightly. “Thanks for accepting my deal.”

Eddie snorts, scratching at his neck. “I think I’m getting the better end of it, but we’ll do our best.”

You glance back in at Jeff, finding him seemingly very passionately explaining something, and smile. “I’m sure you will.” Looking back to him, your smile lingers. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Have a safe journey.”

There’s that warmth inside you again, and this time it spreads up to your face. “Thanks.”

Leave, leave, leave, leave.

As you head out, managing a slightly nervous ‘goodnight’ to Duke, who grunts in reply, you head round to your car, your heart still pounding a little harder than usual.

As you unlock it and slide into your seat, dropping your bag onto the passenger’s, you then close your door... and sit there for a few moments.

... Well.

Well.

Shit.

─

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future works!

Masterlist

Tagged: @gifsbysimplysonia, @thephantomofthe-internet, @clonecaptainrex, @ali-r3n, @irrelevantwriter, @nuggetti, @hellotheregeneral222, @focusonspn, @hatsunemikuwu, @fabulous-brii, @hanoi15, @hopelesslylosttheway, @actual-spawn-of-satan, @eriseffigy, @godidontevenknowwhat, @sergeantangel, @nohalfpints, @sephmonet, @bitchinsinclair, @ah-finally, @morphoportis, @anetjay, @shouzawa, @hellv1ra, @thescarlettvvitch, @ryswritingrecord, @juggernort, @veesley, @rosegoldrbs, @kingbouji3, @iamburdened, @jascngrace, @cyberfaii, @husherstan, @thepastdied, @xakilicious, @heyjudeinthesky, @vonelle, @colbychu, @fixingcanon

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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angelatmidnight1 · 2 years

Note

Heya! So as an apex player that is also a part of the tk community I’ve had a blast seeing and reading your stuff! It’s so fluffy and perfect ;-; 💞 just wanted to drop a request if that’s possible, feel free to ignore it!

But out of all your stuff, Lee Bloodhound was just what never knew I needed… and with some voice lines between them and fuse I just.. imagine how fluffy.. ;-; ok bye✨

A/N: There was no way I could hear these new voicelines from Season 14 and not write something for it. I kinda also used inspiration from this Apex Legends comic. It's been a while since I've written for Bloodhound, but I really hope you like it!!

Tongue Tied

Bloodhound’s been trying to show more affection towards Fuse, and Fuse is only too happy to return the favor. He gets a kick out of flustering the hunter and tends to leave them speechless. Things heat up after their match, and Fuse tickling them silly doesn’t help cool things down.

Bloodhound loomed over the last downed member of the enemy squad; they knew, since the death boxes did not immediately appear, that someone had a golden knockdown shield. And, seeing how Pathfinder was moving behind a large storage box, they had a good inkling that he had it. They stopped him and brandished their ax, aiming and throwing it to hit right between the optic. Path went down with a crash; and, finally, both his and Mirage’s death boxes appeared at their feet. But, before they could claim the spoils, they had to pick their own teammate up.

Mirage had gotten the jump on Fuse, ambushing him using his ultimate, and Pathfinder had the perfect perch to rain down shots. He would’ve been a goner if not for Hound coming in at just the right time and mowing them down. The hunter knelt down to revive him.

“Back on your feet, my mate.” Hound said. They grabbed his arm and gave it a strong pull to help him up. Fuse, cracking his bones, exhaled a sigh of relief. Then, while he healed, he eyed the hunter with a grin.

“Oho, mate, eh?”

Hound looked up from a box, their eyes widening with realization. “Oh, nei!” They responded, their cheeks flushing with embarrassment. They looked back down and continued rooting through the box. “Forgive me, I am veikr with your tongue--er, language!”

Walter chuckled and moseyed his way over to them. He knelt down at the same box and playfully bumped their shoulder with his own. “Ain’t nothin’ to forgive, Houndy. I wasn’t complainin’.” He hummed. Hound wouldn’t look at him, so he gently bumped shoulders again. The hunter jumped and finally glanced up to meet his eye. Walter’s grin widened. “It sounds nice, comin’ from you. Even if that’s not exactly how we say it…mate.”

Bloodhound sighed. “I will learn how you speak with time, Walter.” They murmured, pocketing a few more stacks of ammo before standing. “This, I promise you.”

Fuse followed suit. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got all the time in the world, ay?” He responded, winking. Hound nodded, a small smile tugging at their lips. But just when they thought they were in the clear, Walter continued. “Now, if it’s my tongue you’re lookin’ to learn, well…I’m down for that whenever you’d like.”

Hound blinked, their blush returning in full force. They whirled around to address them, their mouth open…but they couldn’t come up with anything to say. Finally, they stammered, “T-This is not the time for jokes. Let us return to the hunt.”

Fuse smirked and followed after them. They made their way onto a high hill that overlooked the arena. Bloodhound knelt down and brought the scope of their Sentinel up to their eye. Then, while they surveyed the area, Walter leaned down and got close enough to whisper, “I wasn’t jokin’.”

The hunter yelped and accidentally fired their gun. The sound rang out over the arena and, most likely, alerted any nearby squads to their position. Slowly, Hound lowered their weapon and leered at him. The Salvonian defensively raised his hands.

“Just thought you’d wanna know.” He teased. Just then, a smoke bomb came launching at them from afar, exploding at their feet. Hound flinched and pulled the man down to their level before they used their tactical. Bangalore was pushing up on their location with Newcastle bringing up the rear. The hunter looked at their teammate and huffed.

“The andskoti are aware of our position. I’d like to focus our attention on the hunt now, Walter.” They insisted, swapping their sniper out for their assault rifle. Walter got back up and readied their Mother Lode.

“Alright, I’ll behave. Let’s win this bloody game, ay?”

Walter made good on his promise up until it was his turn to pick them up. Despite their best efforts, Hound’s mind kept wandering, and they weren’t as focused as they claimed to be. And Walter didn’t make it any easier when he said, “You ain’t dyin’ until you take me out, Houndy. Hunting, I mean.”

Bloodhound exhaled as they were pulled back onto their feet. They shook their head, a smile tugging at the corner of their lips. “Have you forgotten your promise?”

Fuse snickered, saying, “I guess I can’t help myself.”

Later, when the match was over, Bloodhound decided to bring Walter two cases of his favorite beer. They figured it would be as good a gift as any, especially since they owed him at least two rounds from previous matches. They descended the drop ship and followed the scent of cooked meat to find him. When they did, they called, “Walter Fitzroy.”

Fuse looked up from what he was doing. He smiled. “Hey, Houndy.” he greeted. “Whatcha up to?”

For a moment, Bloodhound faltered, and the beer suddenly felt heavy. What if they brought the wrong kind? What if Walter didn’t like it? They took a breath and pressed forward, putting both cases on an adjacent table. “I brought a gipt for you.” They answered, turning both cases around so he could see them. “As a token of my gratitude for preventing my defeat in battle.”

Fuse beamed and, turning off the heat on the grill, strode over to them. “Well, cheers very much! You didn’t have to do that for me.” He answered, hooking his flesh arm around their shoulders. He squeezed. “Seriously, thank you.”

Bloodhound chuckled warmly and said, “It is no trouble.”

Fuse moved his arm and reached around them for a bottle, pushing it into their hands. “Come on,” he started, fishing in his pocket for an opener. “Let’s crack ‘er open, ay?”

There was only one person that Hound felt comfortable removing their mask around, and that person was Walter. They sat around the campfire Walter made and removed their respirator. Walter plopped down across from them, popping the cap off of his beer.

“So,” he drawled, his grin illuminated by the glow of the fire. “Whaddya wanna toast to this time? Our win? Maybe health and good fortune? Or…”

Bloodhound tsked, smirking. They knew where this was going, and they weren’t going to follow him. “As I have already told you…” They answered, watching the man’s grin widen. “I did not give a toast to butt smacks.”

Walter threw his head back with a laugh. “That’s exactly what you did!” he insisted, slapping his knee. “I know what I heard. Those words literally came outta your mouth.”

“You misheard me!” Hound protested, snickering. Fuse smirked and, leaning forward, he clinked his bottle against theirs. Then, both Legends took a sip of their drink.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is that if ya ever wanted to smack my arse, you could go right ahead. I wouldn’t mind.” Fuse said. “Hell, I reckon I’d like it.”

Hound choked on their drink. “Walter--” They coughed, putting their bottle down. Fuse chuckled.

“I’m not sayin’ you have to, just that the offer’s on the table.” He responded, winking. Bloodhound cleared their throat and slowly nodded.

“...I understand.” They replied. They picked their bottle back up and took another sip. Walter did the same. His eyes flicked over to the hunter every now and then, noticing that their face was getting red. He grinned.

“You’re thinkin’ about it, aren’t you?”

Hound’s blush darkened and they frantically shook their head. “Nei! I am thinking of no such thing.” They blurted out, slightly turning away from the Salvonian. “I simply underestimated the strength of the flames..”

“Then why’d you turn away from me?” Fuse pressed on, getting up to sit beside them. Hound dismissively waved their hand, mumbling something, and still refused to turn back around. Walter gently poked their back. “Houndy~”

Hound fidgeted, but otherwise didn’t respond. Walter poked them again, this time aiming for the back of their ribs, and he heard them gasp. He kept on doing it, keeping up with their squirming, until the hunter finally reached an arm around. They batted at his hand.

“Enohough..” They tittered. Fuse grinned and slowly moved closer to them.

“Hard to hear ya when you’re givin’ me the shoulder. What’d you say?”

Hound felt Walter’s presence getting closer. They turned around right as he jabbed at their hip, making them yelp loudly. They threw their hand over their mouth, praying to the Gods that no one heard them.

Then, still snickering, Hound whispered, “Plehease dohohon’t do that…”

“What? I still can’t hear you. Move your bloody hand outta the way!” Fuse laughed. He kept on advancing towards them, boxing them in between himself and the corner. He reached for the hunter’s wrist, but they pulled it back. Now, just within an arm’s length of them, Fuse warned, “I ain’t gonna ask again, Houndy.”

Bloodhound raised their free arm, preparing to defend themselves. The playful glint in the Salvonian’s eye was undeniable. And, they realized that they didn’t have any escape routes where they didn’t have to go through him. The hunter slowly extended their arm out, gently pushing him. “Walter, please. Give mehehehe a mohohohment—”

Instead of going for their hips again, Walter returned to their ribs, attacking them with light pokes. Hound flinched and moved their hand from their face, squirming more vigorously.

“Noohohohoho!” Hound whined, belting out a laugh whenever Fuse got a sensitive rib. They grabbed onto his hands to keep them at bay, but Walter kept getting one hand free and resuming his attack. So, Hound pivoted their body to the side, using their free arm to block some more. “Stohohohp it, Wahahahlter!”

Instead of complying, Walter wrenched both hands out of their grip, pushing them under their arms. He prodded at their armpits, earning a yelp of laughter. His hands ended up trapped under their arms, but it didn’t stop him from tickling. Hound yelled and laughed harder, making the Salvonian grin.

“Ah, there ya are! Thought I lost ya for a second.” Walter chuckled. It wasn’t easy to bring the hunter down; they were strong, and he had to really worm his fingers along their armpits before they finally fell. Then, he kneeled over them, working to get ‘em pinned down. He scooped their wrists up into his metal hand and pulled them above their head. Now that there wasn’t anything hiding their face, he could easily see their flushed cheeks and wide grin. “What’cha blushin’ for, mate? Was it somethin’ I said?”

Hound’s eyes widened and they struggled harder to free up their hands. They turned their head away from Walter’s teasing grin. “I already tohohold yohuhu…” They panted, tugging against his grip. “I became overheated…”

“Heh, that’s a hell of an understatement.” Walter, keeping their wrists in his metal hand, resumed his tickle attack on their armpits. This time, he took his thumb and dug it into their hollows, earning more laughter. “And you’re sure it has nothin’ to do with what I said? Nothin’ at all?”

“I ahahahm cehehehertain!” They repeated. They arched their back and laughed louder when Walter scratched his thumb around in circular motions. “AHaha! PLehehehehease dohohohohn’t!”

Walter snickered; getting Hound to laugh was a treat on its own, but being able to see their smile was the icing on the cake. “Fair enough,” he shrugged, dropping his hand onto their rib cage. This time, he scratched between the bones giving extra attention to the spots that made them yell. “I still ain’t lettin’ you go, though.”

“Whyhyhy?!” Bloodhound yelled. They drummed their legs against the ground when Walter switched from scratching to kneading in between their ribs.

“Because! I didn’t know you smiled like this when I make you laugh,” Fuse responded, suddenly gripping their hip bone and squeezing. Hound, bucking their hips, screamed and cackled. Walter did it again, having to sit down on their legs to keep from falling off. “Haha! I wouldn’t miss this for the world, mate.”

“NOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAP!” Hound yelled, writhing under his weight. They bucked again when he drilled his thumb into their hip. “REHEHELEASE MEHEHEHEHE!”

“Fine, but only cause I like you, ay?” Walter grinned. He let go of their wrists, as promised, but went right back to attacking their hips. This time, he grabbed onto each hip and dug all ten of his fingers into the bones. Hound thrashed against the ground, trying to get him off of the awfully ticklish spot. Their hands shot forward and gripped onto his wrists, pulling frantically, but he wouldn’t budge.

“THIHIHS IS NOHOHT WHAHAHAT I MEHEHEANT!” They laughed, squeezing his wrists. Fuse laughed along with them and pinched just above the hip bones. Hound yelped and threw their head back, laughing harder. “WAHAHAHALTER!”

“What? I let you go, didn’t I?” Walter playfully tutted, continuing to tickle the spot just a hair above the hip bones. Hound bucked again, dipping into hysterics, and made it that much harder for Fuse to keep tickling. “Now what’re you whinging about?”

Hound was laughing too hard to answer him. So, after re-pinning their arms above their head, Fuse poked at random spots along their armpits. The hunter panted, their hysterical laughter dying down to heavy giggles.

“Plehehehease stohohop tickling meehehehe…” They gasped, flinching when he flicked his nail at the center of the armpit. Fuse scoffed.

“Nope, what’d I say? I’m lovin’ this smile you’ve got.” He said, poking their cheek to make a point. When he smiled again, it was a kinder, gentler smile, unlike the previous teasing ones. “It suits ya.”

Once their breathing regulated, Hound nodded politely, slightly bowing their head. Although they were comfortable in removing the mask around him, the compliments were new, and it gave them butterflies. “Thank you, I appreciate you saying so.” They replied, smiling. They moved to pull their hands down, believing he was done tormenting them…but Walter hadn’t loosened his grip. Fuse smirked at them and squeezed their wrists. That was all the motivation Hound needed to renew their squirming. “B-But surely there are other methods…!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Fuse agreed, poking a finger back into their ribs. Hound recoiled to the side and yelped. “But they wouldn’t be as fun as this.”

“No! Wahahahahahait!” Hound pleaded, jumping again when he poked the opposite side of their ribs. They tried to reel in their giggles and focus on escaping…but Walter wasn’t making it easy for them. They shook their head, twisting from one side to the other, while his hand danced across their rib cage. “Yohuhuhu dohohohn’t hahahave tohohoho dohoho this!”

“Like I said, it’s too damn fun.” The Salvonian repeated, raking his nails along a particularly sensitive rib in the middle. He wasn’t tickling very hard but, from the way Hound was giggling, it was hard to tell. He chuckled. “I’m barely touchin’ ya! You’re just a cute lil’ bundle of nerves, aren't cha?”

And just like that, Hound blushed again. They opened their mouth to answer, but ended up arching their back again when Fuse poked a finger into their hip.

“NOHOHOhohoho I am nahahahat!” They argued, yelping out a laugh when Fuse poked into their other hip.

“Liar,” Walter shot back, smirking. Although it was easier to tickle them when pinned, it kept him from getting to both of their hips at the same time. So, he let their hands go again and went for the spots, latching on despite Hound grabbing his wrists. He squeezed again, again, and one more time for fun, leaving the hunter in stitches.

“WAHAHAHALTER PLEHEHEHEHEASE!” Hound yelled. They bucked their hips repeatedly and pulled at his wrists with all their strength, but it didn’t deter him. Their laughter echoed into the night as they kicked and bucked. Just before their laughter could go totally silent, Hound noticed that the flames of the campfire were dimming, and it was their only usable life line. “STAHAHAHA! THEHE--THEHEHE FLAHAHAMES!”

Fuse halted their tickle attack, arching a brow at them. “What?”

Bloodhound breathed heavily, blinking the tears out of their eyes. “Yohuhuhu need…tohoho relight thehehe fire…”

Fuse glanced over at the campfire. “Oh, right. Don’t go anywhere, ay?” He responded, giving their hips one more squeeze before he let them go. The fire had gone down a lot, and it’d take some work before he could get it bright again. Bloodhound rolled onto their side, still trying to catch their breath. By the time they did, Walter was still working on the fire, and they’d gotten up to finish their drink. Fuse heard the shuffling behind him and glanced over his shoulder.

“Houndy, where’re you off to?” He called, having to squint in the darkness. Bloodhound, however, was accustomed to the dark, and could see the Salvonian just fine. They opened their mouth, but then closed it, toying with the idea of revenge. They remained silent and began approaching him from behind. They were quick to grab their respirator and attach it back to their mask. Their steps were slow and deliberate, as if they were stalking prey, and they made little to no noise. Walter whirled around to where he thought he heard them, but he still didn’t see anything. “Alright, very funny, mate. I can’t see a damn thing! Can’t ya just tell me where you are?”

Hound smiled and refused to say anything…until they were close enough to attack. “I am right here, Walter.” They whispered, suddenly seizing his side and squeezing. Fuse yelled in surprise, turning sharply, and falling flat on his butt. He didn’t land anywhere near the fire, but his scream kind of made him wish he did. Bloodhound snorted.

“I apologize. I thought you heard me approach.” They said, snickering. Fuse narrowed his eye.

“Oh no, you’re not laughin’ at my expense! Come here,” He shouted, grabbing their leg to pull them down. Bloodhound went down, again, but not without a fight. For a while, both of the Legends’ laughter filled the night sky. But ultimately, because Hound didn’t get Walter’s metal arm off in time, the Salvonian won the tickle fight and re-pinned them down. He squeezed and tickled all along their waist and hips, making them howl with laughter.

“STOPSTOPSTOP!” Hound cackled, but Fuse refused to let up. If they wanted to laugh, he’d make them laugh.

#bloodhound apex legends #bloodhound #bloth hundr #bloth hoondr #apex legends #fuse apex legends #fuse #walter fitzroy #ticklish!bloodhound #lee!bloodhound #ler!fuse #ler!walterfitzroy #fusehound #bloodhound x fuse #fuse x bloodhound

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fanficphoenixed · 8 months

Note

Garden Warfare, it might sound quite absurd Plants and Zombies are rising from the Earth They all look goofy If that's what you prefer But don't forget that it's the End of the world

I'm your Captain, I demand respect Avast me hearties, all hands on deck When I man the cannon, every plant will panic One Barrel Blast and I'll send 'em scramblin' A pirate's always got his Parrot Pal With a trusty spyglass, I'll shoot ye down See my pistol? She's a gleaming beauty I've got a peg leg, but I still kick booty

Have a glass of OJ, you look thirsty Sounds like you got a bad case of scurvy I'm cutting through the horde With my Orange Beam Got an EMPeach to wreck your machines Now clear the path, cuz I'm rollin' in Knock you on your ass like a bowlin' pin This ain't Vitamin C that I'm dealin' out After I get my bounty, I'll be peelin' out

Garden Warfare, it might sound quite absurd Plants and Zombies are rising from the Earth They all look goofy If that's what you prefer But don't forget that it's the End of the world

To be a zombie, oh, what a shame I'm a rose by any other name A true sorceress of the organic sort But my magic thistles are filled with thorns Put you in a Time Snare and watch you squirm Before I put you back under The dirt with worms turn you into a goat So you don't ba ah ah-other me Look, Clark Kent got a lobotomy

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's Super Brainz

That's stupid, you don't even use the cape

Hey, if I'm the hero, you're the bad guy See my jumpsuit? (Damn, is that tight) Don't make me tell you where I'll put my boot I'll beat you to a pulp and cut your roots I'm flyin' high, shooting super beams I'm in every female teenage zombie's dreams

Garden Warfare, it might sound quite absurd Plants and Zombies are rising from the Earth They all look goofy If that's what you prefer But don't forget that it's the End of the world

Kernel Corn, comin' in hot You better be ready for my Butter Barage With a jumping Husk Hop and A well-aimed Shuck Shot You wouldn't believe I'm only Made of one stalk See the trickshots that I'm poppin' off? I have a hard time keeping it on the cob I'll give you a show, so grab your popcorn (I just ran out) Well, I've got a lot more

You're the worst, what a corny verse

Shut up, you dwarf!

Being short can work Size doesn't matter, ask my blasters I'll crash this party like a bad disaster Come get a load of my brand new toy (Standby, Z-Mech's been deployed) Launching missiles while I stomp around Hey, which one of us is the smallest now?

Garden Warfare, it might sound quite absurd Plants and Zombies are rising from the Earth They all look goofy If that's what you prefer But don't forget that it's the End of the world

Have no fear, Super Brainz is here! Seriously, that get-up is ridiculous At least he doesn't eat Compost for breakfast! Coming from the midget who eats brains Arr! Lame comeback let's see you do better Arr, I'll admit Your scurvy line was pretty good Hey, uh thanks actually dig the outfit, man Aye! Thank ye yeah, it's pretty cool

#phoenix responds to asks #i look over at discord and see HEY SQUIDWARD ARE YOU FINISHED WITH THOSE ERRANDS #the asks are inescapable...

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rosiehunterwolf · 1 year

Text

The evening air was cool, settling down into the earth with a soft sigh after a hot day. Vibrant oranges spilled across the sky like an ink bottle that a careless hand had knocked over, bleeding into deep, blushing shades of ruby. He closed his eyes, inhaling the day’s dying breath.

“Techno!” A loud shout shattered his sanctuary, and, with a last, flickering smile, he got to his feet and turned to face the boy racing- rather ungracefully- through the grass towards him, a large white dog bounding at his heels. The boy narrowly avoided tripping over a root, and when he arrived in front of Techno he was out of breath and his shock of blond hair was tousled by the wind. The dog standing next to him looked rather similar, panting with a stupid grin on his face, fur ruffled by the kid’s grubby hands no doubt. And to think he was supposed to be an attack dog. So much for the intimidation factor.

“Are you coming, dumbass? You’re gonna be late!”

“I’m comin’ Tommy, would it kill you to learn some patience?” He chuckled, shoving the blond’s head away from him. The boy spluttered indignantly. He tried to lick Techno’s hand but Techno caught it from a mile away, having seen Wilbur fall victim to the same trick one too many times, and yanked his hand away. “Nobody’s goin’ anywhere.”

“Well, they’re waiting! And you’re being slow! So come faster!”

Techno shot him a glare. “Don’t tell me what to do, child. My dog could rip your throat out at any second.”

“Apollo likes me better than you, bitch!” Tommy cackled, before turning heel and sprinting off towards the house. Apollo looked slightly conflicted as he glanced between them, but as Techno shook his head and began to follow, the dog bounded forward, baying eagerly.

His boots crunched in the dry grass as he reached the front door, running a quick hand down Carl’s nose before slipping inside, where Tommy was (loudly) recounting whatever exaggerated story he had come up with this time. Phil was his victim of choice, a slightly strained smile on his face as he distractedly listened to Tommy’s animated words while trying to frost the cake.

“It’s bad manners to be late to your own party, y’know.” Wilbur was leaning against the wall, smirking.

“Woah, woah, who said anythin’ about a party? I thought we agreed, small-gatherings-of-people-that-I-guess-I-think-are-okay only?”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, trying to fight back his grin. “Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s still rude.”

“Tommy,” Phil said firmly, interrupting the boy’s ramblings.

“Tommy, leave the poor old man alone before you give him a migraine. Come over here and help your dear brother instead.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, coming over to them. “What do you want-”

“Thanks.” Techno dumped his cloak off his shoulders, onto the boy’s head, and Tommy yelped, scrambling frantically as he tried to free himself from it. Wilbur and Techno both burst into laughter, and Tommy managed to stick an arm out from under the cloak to flip them off while his face was still buried in the fluffy collar.

There was a gentle knock at the door, but before anyone could get it, it was already swinging open and Tubbo was barging in, yanking a flustered Ranboo by the wrist behind him. Niki followed them, smiling sweetly as she closed the door behind the boys. She took one glance at Phil’s cake before raising up the basket she was holding. “Don’t worry, Phil, I brought cupcakes.”

The man groaned. “It’s not that bad.”

“Sorry, Phil,” Techno shrugged, taking a cupcake from Niki’s basket and thanking her with a nod. “But Niki makes way better cakes than you do.”

Phil grinned at him. “Last time I ever try to do anything nice for your birthday, then.”

“If you’re even around for the next one,” Techno muttered around a bite of cake as Niki tried to stop the man from lunging at him.

“Happy birthday, Techno!” Tubbo cried, every bit as loud as his blond-haired counterpart, shoving a small, shoddily wrapped box into his hands. “Just don’t open it now, okay?”

“Tubbo, you better not have brought nukes into my house, young man,” Phil scolded, and Tubbo stayed suspiciously silent and he scurried off to pull the cloak off of Tommy and, subsequently, mock him for it.

“I got you something too,” Ranboo murmured, handing Techno a pink carnation. “I know it’s not much, but… it feels right for you.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” Techno smiled at him, giving the flower a gentle sniff. “I love it.”

Techno sat down on the couch, scratching the top of Apollo’s head as he gazed around the room. At Tommy and Tubbo bickering, at Wilbur trying (and failing) to steal another cupcake from Niki without receiving a slap to the back of the hand, and at Phil putting little braids in Ranboo’s hair where they chatted by the fire.

Somehow, he had a feeling that all of them were going to be alright.

“Techno?”

He started, realizing he had zoned out for a second. Phil was looking at him.

“You alright, mate?”

“…Yeah.” Techno looked down at the flower for a minute, then back up at all the people he had somehow found himself loving looking back at him. “…Yeah. I think everything’s going to be just fine.”

Happy birthday, king.

#we all miss you.#rosie writes #drabble #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #sbi #niachu #ranboo #tubbo #my fic #happy birthday technoblade

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1whimsicalgal · 4 months

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Pam Lives!

Pam Lives! Part I

Saturday, August 18, 1973 The Sawyers It was on a Saturday it all happened down at the old Sawyer place, hot as hell, a real scorcher. That’s when it all went down. Old lady Faulk said she's seen 'em stop off at the cafe earlier asking for directions. Bob Hewitt, today, 81 years young, and sharp as a tack, saw 'em that day, too. "Them girls stood out, half neked, short-shorts, no brassiers. That shit didn't fly, least ways not back in '73." Hewitt, as it turned out, proved to be a wealth of information when it came to the Sawyer family history. You can judge for yourself. This is what Bob Hewitt related to me about 'em, word for word . . . "First big mistake was leaving him home alone, him bein' "Leatherface." They'd called him by that ever since, oh, it wuz years ago. Freddie first showed off his handiwork ta young Jed. Jed, well, he wuz so impressed, he slipped, n showed it off to Pop and Grandpa, something he sorely regretted later on. Pop and Grandpa, now they'd always favored Freddie over Jed. That wadn't no secret, bragged to anybody who stopped in at the cafe about him, and 'specially out at the slaughter house. Not Jed tho, no sir, pissed Jed-off-no-end, kept him on a low simmer ninety-nine percent a the time. "Assholes" I 'member he'd say, n as he got older it all jest got worse.

Back in '64, that was when Frederick “Freddie” Theodore Sawyer, become "Leatherface"… least ways around the Sawyer house, anyhoo. Give it to him more like some rite a passage. It wuz one that had some roots in one of Sawyers' deep… well, some real dark family secrets. Pop and Grandpop Sawyer both liked the name right off, heard 'em both call him that down at the cafe, droppin' hints they give it their o’fficial Sawyer sanction. It wuz one day I wuz in eatin' my dinner there, an' they wuz laughin' about their lil ol' party the night before, sayin' how it wuz includin' lots a Jim Beam n plenty a hootin’ n a holler-in.' Neighbors confirmed it ta me later on, but here they were a settin' right in the cafe, Red n ol' Grandpa, the two of 'em jest hootin' n kindy howlin', then talkin' low, goin' on 'bout the full moon. It wuz like they wanted me ta hear some stuff, n then they'd get ta whisperin' so's I couldn't hear the rest, n they'd look sideways over at me n smile tagether. Ta be honest I couldn't wait ta git outa there. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. Somethin' wuz off… jest couldn't put my finger on wat it wuz, know what I mean?

Didn't all start out that way though. Jed, always wuz a little weird, kindy "off" you might say, but he seemed polite, nice enough, quiet . . . always kept his head down, as I recall him. He even baby sitted for the Lanky kids now n again, n for Sheriff's kids, too. So did Freddy! Never saw it comin'. Never. Nothin' like what happened to him later. Nothin'. I 'member Freddie as a kid used to walk together with Jed to school, took care of him, ya know, like protective and all. Both of 'em wuz always dirty, n covered in bruises. I always wondered if that was a "birthmark" on Jed's face, like they said, or if somebody hadn't burnt him. Get right down to it, truth be known, Jed jest downright hated Freddie after he wuz around twelve or thirteen, hated him, 'specially after their momma, Lorrine, run off and left 'em all alone with their Pop and Grandpa.

Who can blame her? Woman wuz covered in black n blue many a time, n they worked her like a damn dog over at the cafe. There's lots a stories floatin' round 'bout how folks seen Grandpa comin' up behind her, tryin' to feel her up, kissin' on her while she wuz sweepin', her a cryin', n the whole time, her own damn husband, he'd jest be laughin' 'bout it. She run off twice n Red 'd go find her n haul her back.

BBQ wuz so good, folks didn't stay away tho. Fact is, startin' 'round '64… '65 'ish they did a pretty damn good business, cuz a the location, right on the highway n all, folks passin' through to Austin n Taylor n such. Hell, they didn't know 'em, n it wuz the only place ta git any good BBQ anywhere for twenty miles around, any that tasted like them Sawyers could do it. Nobody could beat it. Juicy n tender… mmmm-hmm, it jest melted right in your mouth. Old Pa, "Red," we called him, cuz his face wuz always so damn red, he'd laugh, tell his jokes, n flirt with all them young girls, right there big as day in front a poor Lorrine. She wadn't bigger n a minute. Lorrine wuz left orphaned after her folks wuz washed away down in Galveston in that 1915 hurricane. Somebody found this poor little squallin' baby right on the beach after it hit. She never even knew her real name, cuz nobody could find no trace nowhere of her folks, nor any family… nothin'. Red met her when she wuz about 14, brought her up here. Folks said Grandpa wuz pretty excited, I remember hearin' that.

Grandma Sawyer wuz taken to Terrell Institute for the Insane way back in 1915, lost her mind early. Now, that wuz real sad. She came back home here n there, n he'd send her back. They dropped "Insane" from the name in '25, switched it ta "State Hospital." My grandma knew her, grew up with her, over in Kaufman. She lived at the hospital off n on fer almost 30 years, finally died there. I guess you already knew about her though.

Red, liked the young girls… the tighter the tops n shorter the shorts. He'd eye 'em up and down, give 'em his slick wick-ed crookety ol' smile, n pop 'em some extras n freebies in their bags. The local boys caught on quick, got smart ya know? They'd drive 'em up, git the girls to go in n pick up their stuff to-go, tell 'em ta jest work it a little, "jiggle it," they'd all say, n have a big ol' laugh watchin' Red oglin' 'em. Round about '68… '69, cafe got ta be so bleepin' busy you had to git there early, or you'd be waitin' a half hour, or more. Weirdest one was that durn red haired kindy baldy-boy, some cousin or somethin' from the Gein side a the family. They said he come down from Plainsfield, Wisconsin, n they had him washin' windshields n turnin' meat. Odds n ends, I guess. First time I laid eyes on him, I said, "Wut-Is-That?" Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, needed a check-up from the neck up… if you git ma drift? He disappeared one day just like that. Makes a body wonder, don't it? What I wanna know is where's all that BBQ money. Never kept no bank accounts. I guarantee ya it's buried somewhere on that property.   But ever body talked 'bout them poor boys, n wut must be goin' on at home. After Lorrine left, that's when they quit comin' to school. Somebody said they saw her climbin' into a semi headed south on I-35, late one night. "bout two years later, somebody else told me she wuz livin' in Needles, California, but I don't know. She never showed up here again that's fer sure. Freddie… funny, hard for me to call him that now. I jest call him, Leatherface now days. We all felt bad for them boys, but you didn't screw around in Sawyer's business. Funny thing, just like all kids that git beat, they still want their daddy's to be proud of 'em. Know what I mean? Damnedest thang, but, it happens a lot. Sad.

"Big goddamn bully," Jed told everybody around town, "… ever since Pop got him that first chainsaw." They'd all worked out at the slaughterhouse at one time or another. Had to 've changed 'em. Somethin' did. Later, Jed didn’t sleep in the house no more, he wuz just too scared of him. That wuz no secret. Slept in the barn, or in good weather in a tent he set up in the woods, down near the tank on the edge of their back property. You know, down near the Simpson place? Town joke was: Jed liked old Leatherface just a little bit less the day that semi splattered him from Austin all the way to Waco.

Freddie, that is, "Leatherface," he had what they said wuz "special talents." Freddie might be two beers short of a six pack, but he sure as shit had talents, always showin' off out at the slaughterhouse. Skinnin' things. Yessiree, he did. Talk buzzed out at the old slaughter house about him. You could tell Red n Grandpa admired him for them talents. Jed did, too, but he was jest too damn jealous to ever admit it, ya see. It just made him boil over, bore a hole in his measly little 'ol soul. Jed wuz warped. As I come ta wrap my mind around it, only later you understand… it wuz that way with Jed only 'til they got the bodies home. Then he got some kinda kick or somethin'. You know we had many a grave robbin' went on here fer years, all of 'em wuz middle aged ladies, n no-body-wuz-ever-caught. Came together better when we found them masks n . . . well . . . let's just say, body-parts. They wuz all over the house. Yes sir, I went with the sheriff and saw it fer myself! They had all sorts a contraptions n thangs we found in that house afterwards . . . made me so sick ta my stomach, I went outside n upchucked. Hell, we found that poor kid's damn heart n liver in a pan on-the-stove! We both jest had ta go outside ta breathe finally . . . smell wuz somethin' I can't ever get off me.

Anyway, the story is, Leatherface stayed home all alone with Grandpa that day, while Jed and Pop were gone. Pop Sawyer off to the cafe, and brother Jed, off to who knows where, up to no good that’s for sure. Course, there was Grandpa, upstairs. Back in the day, Grandpa was more mo-bile and he could kindy keep an eye on Freddie, most a the time. OK that is anyway… when he started to go a little crazy, ya know? But, not by ’73. That day it was just Leatherface, left all alone with Grandpa. Well, he did have one thing to keep him company, his evilness… and his “devices." We’ll just never know. Maybe that day would have gone down differently if only those poor youngsters hadn’t wound up running outa gas.

Leatherface said it was all their fault, “those snoopy fuckin’ kids,” after we got 'em all back to the sheriff's office. That’s what the sheriff and the rangers said set him off the worst, n then all of a sudden he'd break out a gigglin'. Red kept yellin' at him ta shut-up. Pretty quick we wrestled Red out and took him over ta the Taylor jail. Once Red wuz gone, he got back ta blabbering on about it, then makin' them squeakin' sounds, n gruntin' like a pig, only got one oar in the water, that one."

With that, Bob gave me a wink, bobbed his head, n clucked his tongue. You can bet they weren't any too happy to get Red Sawyer over in Taylor. This wuz Round Rock's problem and they wanted no part of those Sawyer creeps.

Pam’s True Story Before Jerry opened the freezer and was instantly killed by Leatherface, Pam slipped in and out of consciousness. When Leatherface pushed her back in the freezer, she was awake. Dizzy, her head pounding, her back throbbing, but awake. She began to slowly realize the terrible horrors that had occurred in the last hours that day,

Then, it came back to her. Kirk, oh, God, no! Kirk! The memory ran through her veins… Kirk lying on that putrid table, that other room, the chicken… and were those bones? Human bones? That monster! Suddenly she felt herself sweating, and an overpowering desperation to escape. Frantically, in the dark cold, Pam began to feel around clumsily for the freezer latch. There! There it is!! It was then she realized: the latch was broken! It was broken! The lid was not locked, it was open! Hyperventilating, Pam sucked in her breath, and tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry. She held back a cough, as she laid there in fear… for minutes, but what seemed like forever to her.

She wept silently, listening in agony to Sally's pleading, begging, her screams, men laughing at her, taunting her. Oh, Sally! Dear God, please help us! Who were these other voices? Where was that monster with the chainsaw? What was IT, human? One of the voices, she thought she recognized. She’s heard that voice. But who? Who was it? Had she met him? Where? She felt utterly and completely helpless. Then she remembered the voice was that scuzzy idiot hitchhiker!

In her gut, Pam knew exactly what she had to do. There was nothing she could do for Sally, her beloved friend, not alone. No way, not now, not with all of them there. How many were there? She then knew, she had to escape to get help. Now! With all the courage she could muster, Pam made what would be the most prophetic, and the toughest decision she would ever make in her entire life. The decision, she would escape.

She could hardly move with the enormous pain shooting through her battered body, but carefully, ever so very carefully, with all the strength she had left, she slowly pulled herself up, and climbed out of the freezer. She shook in panic every time she heard their movements, cringing at their grotesque laughter. Afraid even to breathe, little Pam, slipped soundlessly out the kitchen's back door. Dizzy, numb, frozen, heart pounding, hardly breathing, in her desperation and sheer terror she began to feel her feet as they began to run. Run! Run! End Pam Lives! Part I

🚀💋🎥🪝🪚⛓ 🐓 Cover Designs by Desmond Ambrose Root "Pam Escaping" - Drawing by @Tadeo Mendoza ** (Inside stories)

#texaschainsawmassacre #horrormovie #horror #leatherface #marilynburns #trailblazers #teri mcminn #gunnarhansen #dpearldp #kimhenkel #williamvail #Black Maria #meathookgal @screamqueensinhorror

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