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trensu · 10 months

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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #i don't even know what to call this #it's an idea i'm playing with but i don't know how well it works #if you're curious about the setting so am i!#if you figure it out do me a favor and tell me what it is #i have more written but it's not done #i'm hoping to post it as a oneshot on ao3 when i finish it #IF i finish it #we'll see i guess #ETA #came up with a title/tag for this #stasis in darkness

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 10 months

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Wayne was staying with a friend who, unfortunately, couldn't house anyone else, so Eddie would have to continue to stay with Steve while they waited for their new place to be ready. Neither one of them was complaining about it. Wayne decided to prepare Steve for living with Eddie.

"You should know that once he's all healed up, he's probably going to go back to sleepwalking. He does some pretty weird shit when he sleep walks," Wayne said.

"Like what?" Steve asked.

"Oh, you'll find out, son," Wayne replied with a smirk.

"Wait, does this have anything to do with the fact that at the trailer, his lock for his bedroom was on the outside of his door?" Steve asked.

"You'll find out," Wayne smirked and left. "Remember, never wake a sleep walker."

"Okay, that wasn't cryptic at all," Steve said and brought it up with Eddie.

"Oh, yeah, I have no idea what that's about. He's always said he doesn't tell me because he doesn't want to embarrass me," Eddie said, narrowing his eyes. "It makes me wonder if he's fucking with me. I don't think I sleep walk at all."

Shortly after he healed up enough, Steve quickly found out that Eddie did, in fact, sleep walk. Steve had gotten up in the middle of the night to get himself a drink of water when he found Eddie standing behind the kitchen island. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and Steve hoped he wasn't completely naked.

"Just shopping," Eddie said in a thick country accent, his eyes closed.

"Shopping?" Steve couldn't help but ask.

"Baby got bit," Eddie said.

"The baby got bit?" Steve asked, smiling.

"By bat," Eddie said.

"Whose baby?" He asked.

"Our Dusty," Eddie said. "Need meds."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that. I found the ointment and put it on the baby. He's sleeping peacefully. If you go to bed now, I'll show you the cutest little hat Grandpa Wayne bought for Dusty," Steve said, struggling not to laugh.

"Mkay," Eddie said.

He moved out from behind the island and started moving out of the kitchen. Yeah, Eddie was stark naked. Steve tried not to look at his ass as he walked behind him to follow him up the stairs, picking Eddie's discarded clothes as he did so. He followed him into his mother's bedroom and watched as Eddie slipped on one of his mother's flowery nightgowns that she never wore and then fell face forward onto his parents' bed. Steve grinned. He could undress him, put his clothes back on him, and bring him back to his room, or he could leave him there. Steve decided to leave him.

"Quick question," Steve said when he called Wayne.

"He slept walked?" Wayne chortled.

"Yeah, why the hell didn't you warn me that he would do it completely naked?" Steve asked.

"Shit, he usually wears his boxers," Wayne said.

"I guess he did that special just for me," Steve said sarcastically.

"Guess so," he cackled.

"You're a menace," Steve said.

"You know, one time I caught him halfway through the park trying to lure a feral raccoon so he could breastfeed the damn thing. Luckily, I caught him before he could get rabies. I put a lock on the door after that, one of those where you leave the key in the lock," Wayne said.

"Last night, he was shopping for medicine because our baby Dusty got bit by a bat," Steve said.

"Boy must be baby crazy. Well, I figure he's your problem now, son," Wayne said.

"Thanks," Steve replied.

Eddie stumbled in, still wearing his mother's dress.

"What the fuck happened last night?" Eddie asked.

"You slept walked," Steve replied.

"I did not! You take that back!" Eddie shrieked.

"You did. You went shopping in my kitchen completely naked and then put on my mother's dress," Steve said.

"Yeah, right," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, what do you think happened? Do you think that tiny elves kidnapped you, brought you to my mother's room, undressed you, and put my mother's dress on you?"

". . .yes."

Steve groaned and slapped his hand to his face.

"Good luck, you're going to need it," Wayne laughed before hanging up the phone.

Eddie started twirling and squatting right in front of him.

"Ooh, I like the way it swooshes around my legs. I wonder if they have this in black," Eddie said and leaned all the way over to look under the dress, his hair falling forward.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Trying to see if I can suck my own dick," Eddie said.

Steve looked at him in disbelief. It was hard to believe that he was going to spend the rest of his life with this guy. He was going to be a part of his life whether Eddie wanted him romantically or platonically. It was going to happen.

Part Two

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #a little bit of a crack fic #wayne munson #he's a good uncle but he's a menace much like his nephew

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celepom · 1 year

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It’s Pride 2023! Time to put up some more comic recs!

This time I’ve put together some stories about discovering one’s own queer identity, outlining a family history of queerness, and several stories where being queer isn’t the focus - queer characters are simply allowed to be.

Belle of the Ball By Mari Costa

High-school senior and notorious wallflower Hawkins finally works up the courage to remove her mascot mask and ask out her longtime crush: Regina Moreno, head cheerleader, academic overachiever, and all-around popular girl. There’s only one teensy little problem: Regina is already dating Chloe Kitagawa, athletic all-star…and middling English student. Regina sees a perfectly self-serving opportunity here, and asks the smitten Hawkins to tutor Chloe free of charge, knowing Hawkins will do anything to get closer to her. And while Regina’s plan works at first, she doesn’t realize that Hawkins and Chloe knew each other as kids, when Hawkins went by Belle and wore princess dresses to school every single day. Before long, romance does start to blossom…but not between who you might expect. With Belle of the Ball, cartoonist Mariana Costa has reinvigorated satisfying, reliable tropes into your new favorite teen romantic comedy.

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The Moth Keeper By Kay O’Neill

Anya is finally a Moth Keeper, the protector of the lunar moths that allow the Night-Lily flower to bloom once a year. Her village needs the flower to continue thriving and Anya is excited to prove her worth and show her thanks to her friends with her actions, but what happens when being a Moth Keeper isn't exactly what Anya thought it would be? The nights are cold in the desert and the lunar moths live far from the village. Anya finds herself isolated and lonely. Despite Anya's dedication, she wonders what it would be like to live in the sun. Her thoughts turn into an obsession, and when Anya takes a chance to stay up during the day to feel the sun's warmth, her village and the lunar moths are left to deal with the consequences.

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Hollow By Shannon Watters, Branden Boyer-White & Berenice Nelle

Isabel "Izzy" Crane and her family have just relocated to Sleepy Hollow, the town made famous by—and obsessed with—Washington Irving's legend of the Headless Horseman. But city slicker-skeptic Izzy has no time for superstition as she navigates life at a new address, a new school, and, with any luck, with new friends. Ghost stories aren't real, after all.... Then Izzy is pulled into the orbit of the town's teen royalty, Vicky Van Tassel (yes, that Van Tassel) and loveable varsity-level prankster Croc Byun. Vicky's weariness with her family connection to the legend turns to terror when the trio begins to be haunted by the Horseman himself, uncovering a curse set on destroying the Van Tassel line. Now, they have only until Halloween night to break it—meaning it's a totally inconvenient time for Izzy to develop a massive crush on the enigmatic Vicky. Can Izzy's practical nature help her face the unknown—or only trip her up? As the calendar runs down to the 31st, Izzy will have to use all of her wits and work with her new friends to save Vicky and uncover the mystery of the legendary Horseman of Sleepy Hollow—before it's too late.

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Until I Meet my Husband By Ryousuke Nanasaki & Yoshi Tsukizuki

The memoir of gay activist Ryousuke Nanasaki and the first religiously recognized same-sex marriage in Japan. From school crushes to awkward dating sites to finding a community, this collection of stories recounts the author’s “firsts” as a young gay man searching for love. Dating is never ever easy, but that goes doubly so for Ryousuke, whose journey is full of unrequited loves and many speed bumps. But perseverance and time heals all wounds, even those of the heart.

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Is Love the Answer? By Uta Isaki

When it comes to love, high schooler Chika wonders if she might be an alien. She’s never fallen for or even had a crush on anyone, and she has no desire for physical intimacy. Her friends tell her that she just "hasn't met the one yet," but Chika has doubts... It's only when Chika enters college and meets peers like herself that she realizes there’s a word for what she feels inside--asexual--and she’s not the only one. After years of wondering if love was the answer, Chika realizes that the answer she long sought may not exist at all--and that that's perfectly normal.

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M Is for Monster By Talia Dutton

When Doctor Frances Ai's younger sister Maura died in a tragic accident six months ago, Frances swore she would bring her back to life. However, the creature that rises from the slab is clearly not Maura. This girl, who chooses the name "M," doesn't remember anything about Maura's life and just wants to be her own person. However, Frances expects M to pursue the same path that Maura had been on—applying to college to become a scientist—and continue the plans she and Maura shared. Hoping to trigger Maura's memories, Frances surrounds M with the trappings of Maura's past, but M wants nothing to do with Frances' attempts to change her into something she's not. In order to face the future, both Frances and M need to learn to listen and let go of Maura once and for all. Talia Dutton's debut graphic novel, M Is for Monster, takes a hard look at what it means to live up to other people's expectations—as well as our own.

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Golden Sparkle By Minta Suzumaru

Himaru Uehara’s first year of high school is off to a good start, minus one problem—he keeps having wet dreams. With only his mom and sister at home—and having skipped health class in middle school—he thinks it means there’s something wrong with him. Thankfully, a new friend has just the remedy and teaches Himaru exactly how to deal with those pesky dreams! But his solution only leads to more confusion, and the two find themselves navigating feelings they’ve never felt before.

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Thieves By Lucie Bryon

Ella can’t seem to remember a single thing from the party the night before at a mysterious stranger’s mansion, and she sure as heck doesn’t know why she’s woken up in her bed surrounded by a magpie’s nest of objects that aren’t her own. And she can’t stop thinking about her huge crush on Madeleine, who she definitely can’t tell about her sudden penchant for kleptomania… But does Maddy have secrets of her own? Can they piece together that night between them and fix the mess of their chaotic personal lives in time to form a normal, teenage relationship? That would be nice.

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Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic By Alison Bechdel

Meet Alison's father, a historic preservation expert and obsessive restorer of the family's Victorian home, a third-generation funeral home director, a high school English teacher, an icily distant parent, and a closeted homosexual who, as it turns out, is involved with his male students and a family babysitter. Through narrative that is alternately heartbreaking and fiercely funny, we are drawn into a daughter's complex yearning for her father. And yet, apart from assigned stints dusting caskets at the family-owned "fun home," as Alison and her brothers call it, the relationship achieves its most intimate expression through the shared code of books. When Alison comes out as homosexual herself in late adolescense, the denouement is swift, graphic -- and redemptive.

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She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat By Sakaomi Yuzaki

Cooking is how Nomoto de-stresses, but one day, she finds herself making way more than she can eat by herself. And so, she invites her neighbor Kasuga, who also lives alone. What will come out of this impromptu dinner invitation...?

Kasuga and Nomoto promised to spend their Christmas and New Year’s together. Now, they find themselves learning more about each other’s families through the food sent by Nomoto’s mother. Cute character bento, salmon and rice, stollen, fruit sandwiches, roast beef…Nomoto and Kasuga warm up to each other over a cheerful holiday season.

#Pride 2023 #book rec #comic #graphic novel #autobio #fantasy #science fiction #high school #queer #lesbian #gay #asexual #intersex #bisexual #romance #book recs #pride #LGBTQIA #LGBT comic

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miradorafterdark · 24 days

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𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖏𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖞

Jake Kiszka X reader, Josh Kiszka X reader

word count; 3,186

warnings; 18+-minors do not interact. Oral sex; male receiving, degradation, begging, pleading, cockiness, unadulterated smut, domination, sub, dom/sub, controlling

“I dont wanna hear it, Lewis!” Josh growled into the phone. “All I wanna see tonight are signs with my name on them. Got it?!” You could faintly hear the line go dead, followed by Josh tossing his phone onto the vanity top. The older of the Kiszka twins, brown curly locks bouncing as he ambled into the room, flexed his hands into fists as he caught sight of where you stood near the crafts services table they’d conveniently placed in the green room whose door was right outside of the dressing rooms.

“How much did you hear, little bird?” He requested in a saccharine tone, honey dripping from his every word as he footed closer and closer.

“Enough to know you may be jealous of your little brother,” you said simply, a mandarin segment held between two fingers as you brought it to your lips. The juice dripped down your fingers as you pushed it into your mouth, smiling ruefully around it and perking your brows as the juices filled your mouth. Josh’s eyes widened, darkening as his pupils blew out, at your admission. Him? Jealous? He’d never admit to it.

“Jea-jealous?” He chuckled, his signature smile turning into almost a pout as his face went stoic. “Say it again and I’ll show exactly why I’m not jealous. I can have anyone I want in this venue, including you.” He pointed a slender finger at you, stepping closer still yet and tapping it against the center of your chest before dragging it up to your chin. “And you’d so willingly oblige, wouldn’t you birdie baby?” He captured your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze softening as he bestowed you with a gentle half smile. You knew the look painted on his face all too well, always pulling it out when he was prepared to get what he wanted without care to the consequence. You could faintly hear Jake’s boots clambering down the hall. Tap, tap, tapping with every step closer he got and you knew the simple fact he were wearing them already meant that he’d already put himself into the black on black ensemble he wore for Miradors performance. Your eyes cut toward the door, expectantly waiting for him to appear when Josh sighed through his nose. A great huff of a noise, his patience already thin and thinning further as you contemplated pressing your luck.

“Looking for him to save you won’t help the cause, dove.”

“Jealous ass,” you muttered softly, encouraging him though you knew you ought not to. This was a road you’d walked with Josh many a time, Jake included. Whenever one found themselves jealous of the attention the other had been bathed in, they’d seek you out in silent revery. Competition between the pair had been at an all time high, the air thick with tension as Jake prepped his side band to open for his main band. Josh simply could not accept the fact the younger of the two had stolen his spotlight.

“I’m not jealous,” he again insisted, pressing himself to you as he titled his head. With his dark eyes hooded, his teeth baring down into his plush bottom lip, he let you revel in silence for a moment as the sound of Jake’s boots drug him closer yet.

“Seem it,” you finally sighed, half scared but incredibly excited at what may happen. You could only push Josh so far before he’d seek out the company of another. In those times you had found solace in his stark opposite, Jacob lavishing you with the gentle attention of a lover who knew your body with their eyes closed. It had been widely known amongst band and crew alike, though you were merely assistant to the tour manager you’d somehow become assistant to the twins as well. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately depending on how sour their moods turned, they’d found many a reason for you to assist them beyond real job duties. It had been like that for two tours now, either one seeking you out when they needed the reassurance that they were the star. They were just as important as the other. And when one seemed to steal all of the attention, it became a game between them to see which one had yours. This leg of tour had been no different, with Jake debuting his new band and walking on stage nightly to belt out a five song set. Josh had, at first, been only mildly annoyed at the amount of Mirador signs he was welcomed with upon the opening show. But by the time night two and three rolled around, his jealousy had grown a head of its own and he’d been on the hunt since for any way he could to steal back his spotlight. Like solar flares in the night, he stood shining on stage lavishing fans with the attention of a seasoned frontman. Because that’s what he was. But you’d noticed the change in him, you’d seen the amount of ‘I love you, too, darling’ he had spoken. Had fallen prey to his neediness every night when he would call you to his hotel room, pinning you face down against the mattress as he fucked you into oblivion and demanded you tell him how much you adored him. How beautiful he was. How very lovely his fans thought he to be, because he was. Josh’s attention was like basking in the sunlight, warm and delicious and so very welcome. But it came with a cost, always, and you’d inevitably crawl into Jacob’s bed after Josh had had his fill of you, the younger twin wrapping you in his arms and nestling back into his slumber without a single question asked.

Josh had caught on too quickly to that, jealous even then that Jake finished the night with you regardless of in what way. Demanding you sleep in his bed, be his own personal alarm clock with a little head start to his day.

“You know, dove, we call you little bird because the only time we hear you sing is when you’re alone with one of us. Quiet as a mouse otherwise, barely a peep heard. And here you are, running your mouth to me throwing accusatory words like jealous around.” Josh smirked as his hand dropped from your chin, finding new real estate grasping tightly to your hip. “Why would I ever be jealous of Jacob?”

“Because, I’m fucking in charge now,” you heard Jake rasp from the door, his lean form stepping into the room. “Because you can’t handle that I didn’t need you to hold my hand out onto that stage,” he continued, a single booted foot pushing the door shut before he tossed his black blazer to the couch. You’d worried over this, knowing sooner or later the tension between them would come to a head and they’d not be able to avoid one another. Words would need to be spoken, and whether they were forced past their teeth or dripping with honey would inherently dictate the way the rest of tour might go. “Maybe because the spotlights on me more now.”

“Jacob,” Josh’s eyes never left your face though yours had already focused in on the guitarist. He stood a few feet away, unbuttoning the wrists of his dress shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows slowly.

“Joshua, I’d like to speak with her alone if you don’t mind. Think your jealousy could take a break and find something better to do while I speak with our assistant?”

“I was here first,” Josh bit out, his cold stare eating through your calm demeanor. “And. I’m not. Jealous.”

“Right. Well you’ve held her hostage since last night and I need to speak with her alone.” Oh. You knew the tone to his voice. Josh may be jealous of the attention Jake had been receiving, but Jake was jealous of the attention you’d been giving Josh. Your eyes cut between Josh and Jake, your throat jumping as you swallowed nervous spit and let your mouth drop open to speak.

“Josh,” you began, feeling his fingers dig into the flesh stretched over your hip bone. “Why-.”

“Don’t even think about suggesting I give you two a few minutes.” His voice dropping low as he spoke, a flash of anger blazing through his piercing stare.

“Come the hell on, Josh,” Jake groaned. “You’re being such a bitch about this.”

Fuck.

Okay, so the words they had weren’t going to be nice, and you’d be stuck in the crossfire of it all.

“Me?” Josh mused, an incredulous tone to his voice as he released his grip on you and spun toward his brother. They regarded one another for a beat before you heard Josh snort. “Maybe I am. The bitch is back, baby! And the bitch gets what he wants.” His words had a sense of finality to them as he stepped closer to his twin and further from you.

“Really, Josh?” Jake shook his head, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk as he glanced beyond his brother to you. “What, you afraid if you let her spend any time with me she won’t come back the doting little dove you so needily demand time with?”

“You afraid if you don’t intervene now she won’t come back to you at all?” Josh countered, one hand ghosting down over his own hip as he smoothed the front of his velveteen jumpsuit. Black and fitted, a v neck that zipped down the front, he had taken on a new persona when he’d slipped into it. Becoming dark as midnight when he did, if his hair were any longer you’d mistake him possibly for his very twin with the broody way he walked around in it. Jake snorted loudly in response, gesturing for you with a two fingered gesture. You moved near involuntarily, your feet carrying you to him as you stepped around Joshua.

“Good morning and good afternoon dove,” he purred, his hand snaking up and cupping around your neck as he pulled you into him. “You were missed sorely last night.” His last words were spoken against your lips before he kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth as his lips moved against yours. From behind, you could feel Josh’s hands come to rest against your sides as his chest pressed to your back.

“Don’t you dare think about kicking me out of this room for him.” He demanded into your ear, voice so low the vibration reverberated through you down to your toes. Breaking the kiss, Jake used his thumb to push your chin up as he pulled back some to look at you, tipping your head back onto Josh’s shoulder as he did.

“Show him how badly you’ve missed me, little bird,” Jake cooed, his eyes dancing between making eye contact and staring at your lips. “Show Joshua he isn’t the only one worthy of your attention.”

Again, Josh huffed a sigh through his nose, his patience wearing thin as his finger tips kneaded into your side.

“C’mon dove, show me,” he taunted from behind, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his eyes stared unwaveringly at his twin. “But don’t forget to tell Jacob how you called me a god last night.”

You watched Jake’s face redden, deep crimson spreading over his chest and neck as he glared past you to Josh.

“Jake,” you whimpered, his grip on your neck tightening as he pulled you flush against him. Josh followed, unwilling to keep any space between the two of you.

“Show him, dove.”

“She won’t,” the older of the twins rasped. “Sweet bird is too enamored by me to go against that. Aren’t you little precious?”

You pressed your eyes shut as Jake reached his free hand around you, pushing Josh away gently.

“Enough,” he demanded. “She can give us both equal attention, Josh.” Finally, a damn voice of reason, you thought. Until he continued. His attention returned to you as he released your neck, his hands deftly working his belt open. “Forget showing him, show me how much you’ve missed me.” His belt clinked as it fell open and his nimble fingers worked the button apart before rolling the zipper of his slacks down slowly. “Show me I’m just as special as him.” His words were begging, his deep brown eyes matching the way Josh had previously looked at you-hooded and pleading. You couldn’t deny the younger twin, they both knew you had a soft spot for him. Common knowledge between the three of you, something more resided between you and Jake where as for Josh you were at times merely a play thing. Jake’s lower lip pouted out just the tiniest bit, enough that Josh himself wouldn’t even notice but you’d caught it. He was too good at this game. Acting on instinct alone, you dropped to your knees as Jake splayed the sides of his slacks out. The short tuft of hair he’d trimmed down recently peeked out, letting you know for the fourth show in a row that he’d planned to walk on stage without boxer briefs on under his suit pants.

“I like the way it feels,” he had insisted once when you’d scolded him for it, siting that he would ensue panic if he went around slanging dick the way he was. Jacob had only giggled, but somewhere in your mind you knew it was because Joshua had done the same.

“Jacob, no boxers?”

“It’s sir when you’re on your knees, dove. Don’t disappoint me already.” He needn’t say more, his lower lip pouting out even further as he looked down at you. Obediently, you reached up and ran your hand along his inner thigh, squeezing his length as it hardened beneath your touch. “Atta girl,” he encouraged, watching with rapt attention as you dipped your fingers beneath the material of his pants and fisted his cock. Expertly, you removed his length from the confines of his pants and stroked from base to tip slow and firm.

“You’re gonna make me watch you give him the attention I deserve?” Josh questioned from behind you, impatient already as he watched you lean in and pull your tongue along the expanse of Jacob’s length.

“Why are you talking still,” Jake groaned, refusing to take his eyes off of you. For your part, you watched him through your lashes as you worked your mouth back down to his tip-a trail of wet kisses being bestowed upon his beautiful cock. Josh huffed quietly, and without looking you could tell he was already pouting as he padded toward the couch and dropped to the plush surface of it.

“Fucking front man treatment,” he grumbled as Jake’s hand came around and cupped the back of your head, nudging you forward. Instinctively, you wrapped your lips around the pillowy head of his cock and swirled the tip of your tongue around it. Jacob’s stomach muscles danced and flexed, the breath beginning to pant out of him as you fed his length into your mouth. You took great care to work your tongue along his shaft as you did, reveling in the feel and taste of his smooth skin. You had missed him. And Josh could tell based on the way you eagerly gave his twin the attention he so desperately wanted.

“Fuck, dove,” Jake moaned, his head dropping back as the tip of his cock nudged against the back of your throat. From the couch, you could hear Josh roll the zipper on his jumpsuit down before clearing his throat loudly.

“If a shows going to be performed tonight, you’ll show me the same attention.”

Jakes fingers tangled into your hair, grasping tightly at the root as you tried to pull your head back.

“Jus’ jus’a’sec,” he mumbled, mouth dropping open as his hips thrusted forward causing you to gag around his thick length. When he released his grip on the back of your head, you popped off of him as a thin string of saliva kept you connected to him.

“Dove,” Josh beckoned for you as he stood and approached the two of you, seeing you turn on your knees just as he reached you. “Be a good girl,” he ordered, fisting his length and removing it from his jumpsuit as his free hand tapped against your cheek. And so you obliged, your mouth falling open in the same manner as it had for Jake. Joshua, however, didn’t believe in gentle. Not when it came to making the point that he was the better of the two twins, the bigger, the hotter, the more talented. And true to form, it didn’t take long before he was falling apart beneath your touch, his moans and whines growing desperate as he fucked into your throat with quick, sharp thrusts of his hips.

“My sweet sparrow,” Jake cooed, watching you perk up as you were reminded of his presence. “Don’t make me wait.” He stepped closer, leaving only room for you to turn to him on your knees once you’d released Josh’s length from your mouth. You’d known this game before, the twins so demanding of your attention and time that they’d see you between the two of them rather than alone with one. Never touching one another, barely touching you, and both of them eager to be your first taste between them. Thrice they pulled you between the two of them, fucking your throat and twirling their fingers into your hair until you were nothing but a mess. Your hair fucked and your face tear stained from being gagged repeatedly in an effort to prove who could make you the messiest until Josh unexpectedly whimpered in a tone you’d not heard from him in too long. Your face pressed to the smooth, shaved skin of his pelvis as your lips stretched around his base and his length throbbed and pulsed against your tongue.

“Fuck,” he whined loudly as he came, his hot release spurting down your throat as he held your head still and delivered harsh, quick thrusts forward.

“Son of a bitch,” Jacob growled, shoving his cock back into his pants as you pulled away from his twin.

“Jake,” you started, turning to him as he put the button on his slacks together and began working at the belt.

“Save it, I won’t come second to him any more.” His eyes refused to meet yours as you stood, Josh chuffed and chuckling behind you as he stuffed himself back beneath the velvety fabric of his jumpsuit.

“Jacob,” you offered again softly, your eyes cast toward the floor as you stood on wobbly legs. “Sir, please.”

“Later, Dove.” He silenced you with his tone, disappointed and hurt as he grabbed for his blazer and vacated the room, leaving you and Josh alone once more.

“Now who’s the jealous one,” he mused, condescending and cocky as he squeezed your shoulder tightly. “Don’t bother going after the cry baby, he’ll get his rocks off on stage when he’s out there fucking his guitar.”

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #mirador #Josh Kiszka smut #Jake Kiszka smut #Greta van fleet smut #gvf smut

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poeticpascal · 10 months

Text

Stay (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: After being betrayed by a FEDRA agent, losing your belongings and getting severely injured, you have no choice but to steal and kill your way to survival. But when Joel and Ellie become your next targets, you never could've imagined how they'd save you in more ways than one.

Word count: 8.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, MDNI, PIV sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), violence, descriptions of killing, descriptions of injury, guns, blood,

A/n: eek, I'm so in love with this fic! I'd love to know what you think, and if you have any Joel x reader ideas, requests are open so send them my way! :)

As the sun sets beneath the tree-lined horizon, you can’t help but think about how worryingly close to death you are by now.

Spring brought cold winds and heavy rain, washing away the den you’d managed to live in for a few months. It’s a wonder it lasted that long, really.

You could’ve managed. You’ve managed for years now; your whole life, in fact. You never could remember your mother or your father, if you had siblings, if you had friends. All you know is you were 6 years old when Outbreak Day destroyed the world, and you’ve been alone from then on, lucky enough to get brought to a QZ and lucky enough to escape it when you were 15.

You could’ve managed the shitty weather, until you were betrayed, by a FEDRA agent no less. One you’d dealt with for a few months now, smuggling whatever drugs he wanted into his QZ in exchange for the food and medicine and warm clothes they had there. You never wanted to go back, could never let yourself get locked behind those walls again, but you had to admit their resources were far better than any you could attain out here, alone in the infected world, and so you made it your business to get your hands on it.

It was a week ago now. The agent - whose name you never bothered to learn - must’ve been caught with the gear he got from you. Of course, FEDRA let him off easy, as long as they gave him a name. Your name.

So instead of pocketing a new med kit and a crate of food, you got beat, shot at, nearly tortured before you could make your escape into the shrubbery and away from the small legion of agents that came for you. But not before the agent you’d dealt with led them to your base, where they burnt your every belonging, every piece of tattered material and weaponry and sentimentality you owned.

And so here you are, no food, no clothes but the ones on your back, one gun with just a few bullets left and a blunt knife hidden in your boot. And you’re fucking pissed.

Pissed that you’re dying. Pissed that over a decade of fighting, looting, trading had been burnt to ash in just moments. Pissed that the bullet wounds in your torso weren’t enough to kill you, but just enough to let you live in agony, spurred on by hunger and dehydration.

Even the small stashes you’d spent years placing strategically around a good 25-mile radius were useless without a map of their locations. Which you had made, obviously - you haven’t survived this long out of luck. You’re smart, you know how to traverse this world, and you know how to protect yourself. But everything got fucking burnt.

So perhaps you don’t know how to protect yourself at all, because you’ve spent the last week wondering how you could’ve been so stupid as to let this happen.

It’s not like you’d trusted the agent. You don’t trust anyone.

But you worked with him, and somewhere along the line you must’ve slipped, told him where you keep your base, let him choose a meeting point when it should always, always be you to choose. You can’t even remember what it was, what error you made. Untreated bullet wounds do an awfully messy thing to your mind.

You collapse through a string of branches and shrubbery, landing with a wet thud on the muddy path. You’ve stumbled into a clearing, and with as much strength as you can muster, you pull your cheek away from the dirt and look up to see the old building you’ve been looking for. A small, weak smile tugs on your lips. A glimmer of hope.

It used to be a doctor’s surgery, as far as you know. Written on the decayed wooden sign was ‘Dr. Hardman’s Healthcare Services’, though it was so faint it was almost unintelligible, and the cracked blue floor tiles gave a clinical air to the place, even in its decrepit state.

Obviously, it would have been looted beyond recognition within a week of Outbreak Day.

But there were those stupid enough to go in and search it anyway. And that’s why you always came back to places like these over the years.

The first time you did it, you were 16, not long free of the QZ and still getting to grips with life on the outside. With surviving. It was a different building, a warehouse somewhere near Philadelphia as far as you remember. One you hoped would have something left, anything worth taking. It didn’t - but it did have people. Other looters, a small group of around 3, all of whom had split up to search while leaving a pile of rucksacks near the front entrance. It was incredibly easy to take what you needed, and you learned then the brilliance of lying in wait for others to bring their resources to you, and taking, and running.

It was sleazy, and you’re not proud of it. But it’s the only way you could survive those first few years, before you cemented your foundations, able to source your own food and build solid relationships and make decent trades that let you survive.

And now, you have to do it all again, because your shit’s all burnt and your blood’s surely depleting and breathing is starting to get really difficult.

You just hope it’ll be simple, that they won’t even realise what happened, ‘them’ being whichever unlucky soul happens to stop by first. Not because you’re afraid to kill - you accepted a long time ago that it was something you had to do to survive - but because you really don’t think you can survive a fight.

You don’t even pick yourself up from the floor where you fell. You’re just about hidden below the bushes, with a good view of the building, and the mud you’re lying in has warmed up from your body heat, providing much needed comfort as the rain continues to pour.

You spend a few hours like that, falling in and out of sleep, when you finally hear voices. Two, you think, though you raise your head to see properly and sure enough, there are two people making their way up the path to your right. It’s an odd pairing; there’s a man, tall, rough-looking with his beard and messy hair. The other is a woman, a girl even, she can’t be more than 16, you think. His daughter? Perhaps. She’s excitable, almost galloping up to the house, shouting back at the man who seems to only grumble in response.

They’re far enough away that you’re confident you won’t be seen, but close enough to just about hear them, straining your ears against the rain’s pitter-patter.

“This place is creepy, dude. Do we have to stay here?” The girl whines, spinning herself around a pillar that stands at the entrance, childlike.

The man grumbles, stopping before the steps of the building, looking up at it with a hand rested on the strap of his rifle. You’ll have to get them while they’re asleep, you think.

“Yes, Ellie. We do. I’ve gotta stash of some things left here, and it’s the only proper shelter for miles.” His voice is low, southern you think, and undoubtedly appealing. Not what matters right now.

“But Joel-”

“Just get inside.” The man, Joel, enters first, clearly protective of the girl - Ellie, you think he called her - as he finally gives her the go ahead to follow him in. The door shuts, and your head falls back to the ground, knowing it’ll be a few hours yet before you can make your move.

Joel and Ellie. You remember their names as you start to fall back asleep, figuring if you had to kill them later on, it’s the least you could do.

You’re nice like that.

You really regret the whole ‘lying face down in the mud for 6 hours’ thing once it’s time to actually get up. Everything hurts, the rumble of your stomach aches against the wounds that puncture it, and the dirt has soaked through your clothes and onto your skin so thickly that it almost weighs you down.

But it’s now or never, so you all but drag yourself towards the building, doing everything you can to hold back the whimpers that threaten to break through your lips.

You enter the back way, a quieter one, where the frame is empty of a door and - hopefully - where you’d be able to sneak in without detection. The front entryway was too obvious, too bold, and if they expected anyone to come in, it’d be through there.

There’s an upstairs, but it’s pretty miserable, even by the current day’s standards. You’re fairly confident they’ll have stayed downstairs; the reception area was particularly favoured among the less experienced travellers, though from Joel’s apparent knowledge of the area and the gun on his back, you suspect he’s not one of them.

You’re right; they’re not in the reception, so you continue to tiptoe through the halls, checking through windows and the gaps in doors before finally hearing a slight rustle coming from the end of the corridor.

You smirk, slightly endeared to these two; they’d made a good choice. One you always make whenever you spend the night here. They’re in the clinic’s bathroom - for some reason, bathrooms in any building were always forgotten by looters. As if no one would think to sleep there. It’s a small but cosy space, close enough to the front door to make a quick escape, but just hidden out of way enough for it to be easily the safest spot to hide.

There’s also no window into the room for obvious reasons, and while that’s served you well many times while you stayed here, right now you curse as you plan your next move to get in and out undetected.

The rustles are quiet, not the movements of someone awake, but turning in their sleep. You wrap a hand around the door handle, giving you full control of its swing as you open it as slowly as you can manage, your other harm held tight against your aching torso.

The door opens easily, silently, and you’re grateful. Joel is lay closest to the door - his protectiveness on show again - using his bag as a pillow. Dammit, you think. The girl, Ellie, is lay against the back wall, her frame noticeably much smaller than his from where you’re crouched, watching from the small slip in the door.

You search the room, the hint of desperation you’ve managed to push down for this long finally creeping up on you, your head suddenly going dizzy.

Then, you see it.

Ellie’s backpack in the corner of the room, by Joel’s feet, tucked under one of the sinks. Within arms reach if you can just fit in at the right angle.

You push your arm through the gap, trying to find balance with your free hand while not leaning against the door so much that it opens further and inevitably hits Joel, waking him. If the guy’s as experienced as you think he is, your pained, whispered gasps alone may be enough to do that. But you carry on, twisting at the elbow and pressing your cheek against the doorframe, flailing your hand until it finally, finally brushes against the dense material of the bag.

Relief floods you, and for a moment, you almost don’t feel the pain anymore. You strain further, your fingertips pulling the bag towards you just enough to be able to properly grab it, and you’re almost reckless with the way you snatch it through the door and back away quickly.

You stand on shaky legs, not even thinking to check the contents of the bag; you just needed to get out now. You head for the front door, letting the wall guide you there as you lean against it for support, the dizziness stirring in your head once again.

Then, you hear it.

The unmistakable sound of the safety being taken off a gun. One you’d produced yourself too many times to count.

“You’re gonna put that down, and you’re gonna walk away. ‘Else i shoot you.”

It’s him. The man, Joel.

His voice is far more gruff now than it was before, when you were outside. You turn to face him, still clinging to the wall, the bag still in your hand. His expression is a mix of anger and nonchalance; like this was more of an annoyance to him than anything else. He just wanted a good night’s sleep, but here you were, padding through the shadows and stealing from them.

He’s about as happy as you’d be in this situation.

“Put it down,” he repeats himself, louder this time, the unwavering aim of his pistol pointed right between your eyes.

He must’ve woken up Ellie, because you hear movement from the room behind Joel, and next thing you know she’s creeping out the door with her eyes wide open. “The fuck is going on?”

Joel curses, rolling his eyes, and you just watch their strange dynamic unfold. “Get the fuck back in there. I’m just dealing with a little… problem,” he turns back to you.

You really didn’t want it to end like this. You never do. But this is the way it goes, more often than not. Still, the girl’s spunky, with more life than you’ve seen in anyone for a very long time. And he, well… he’s hot, and if that isn’t a good enough reason to feel bad about killing someone, you don’t know what is.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you can pull it off. You’ve been in this situation a thousand times - gun pointed at your head, no escape route in sight - and you’ve left every time with your pockets full and a handful of dead bodies behind you.

You brace yourself to launch, to throw the bag at the man then draw your gun just as fast, but you’re cut off by a shriek-like sound from the girl, “oh, shit.” She’s looking at you, but at your face; you follow her eyes down to your abdomen, and yeah… shit.

You’re bleeding. Like, really bad. You’ve been bleeding for 7 days now but this is a fresh, gushing stream of blood that spurts from the left bullet wound and mixes with the mud that cakes you into a dirty, sticky mess.

The dizziness hits you again, for longer now, and you stumble. Any escape plans are long gone as everything blurs together, nothing but one tall shape and one short one visible before you, and Ellie speaks again, “dude, is she… dying?”

Yeah. Maybe.

The two exchange more words, but you don’t hear them. They could’ve been screaming into your ear, just one inch from your face, for all you know. Your senses cloud completely, you think you feel yourself fall, and then… everything turns black.

—------------------

You groan, fighting the heavy pull of your eyes to stay closed, completely disoriented. Your eyes flicker open for moments at a time then shut again, your brain seemingly not ready to wake up yet. You’re already going into overdrive, though.

Because you feel really fucking weird.

You’re warm. The room you’re in is warm. The bed you’re in is warm. You haven’t slept in a bed in years, and yet here you are, soaked in sheets as light as clouds and laying on a mattress that cradles you like a child.

The pain is gone. A dull ache sits in your abdomen, but it lulls, more like a stomach ache than a week-old and most likely infected bullet wound.

You feel good.

Weirded the fuck out, but good.

You use your strength to lift an arm, groaning again, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a gasp from across the room, and suddenly there are feet hitting the floor and a loud shout, “Joel! She’s awake!”

The voice is familiar, probably the only thing around you that is, but you can’t place where. Its owner has left the room as you finally scan it, pulling yourself to sit upright.

The room’s actually really, really nice. It looks normal, like the bedrooms you saw in those old Hollywood movies you’d managed to find one day. You’re lay on a king-size bed, set inside a carved wooden frame, with matching side-pieces and a dressing table directly across from you. There’s a white wardrobe to your right, and just beyond that, a large window where the curtains are blowing back slightly, letting you see out into the neighbourhood. It’s quiet, but pristine. It’s normal.

It’s weird. To your left is the only door, presumably where the other person who’d been in there with you left from, making that a no-go in your escape route. Window it is.

You swing your legs off the bed with a whine, the ache in your stomach intensifying. It’s only then that you notice the bandages wrapped around your torso, perfectly neat and clearly fresh. Like someone had been replacing them.

You hear two sets of footsteps, one is quieter but quicker, running up the stairs outside your room. The other is much heavier and slower, and the juxtaposition of them both causes a sudden flash in your mind of the pair you recently met -

“Hi,” Ellie says, having reached the top of the stairs and charged into the room before you could even comprehend your own trail of thoughts.

You just stare at her, in what must’ve been the most confused and annoyed expression you’ve had in your life. She stares back, with a mischievous look on her face that both sets you on edge and endears her to you at the same time.

Joel appears then, the same scowl on his face as he’d worn before you passed out, terribly unimpressed as he stares down at you on the bed.

For fuck’s sake.

“Where am I?” You ask, given up on your plans to get out of there. Your body’s too tired.

“Bill and-” Ellie starts, but Joel quickly shuts her up with a sharp glare. “Oh shit, erm, it’s a secret. Can’t tell you where you are.”

You roll your eyes, looking around the room again before setting your eyes back on the two. “Why am I here?”

“We saved your lucky ass,” Joel replies, his tone almost mocking. He shifts from the doorframe, walking towards you and folding his arms, stopping only a metre away from where you sat. “Shoulda’ killed you when I had the chance, but this little pain in my ass,” he nods towards Ellie, “insisted we save your life. After you fuckin’ stole from us.”

“To be fair, she didn’t get very far,” Ellie quips, then addresses you directly, “you fuckin’ fainted, dude. I thought you were dead!”

Joel just grumbles at her interruption.

You squint, leaning your head back in a poor attempt at a stretch. Your body is screaming at you to move, to walk around, to remember how to function. You push the desperation down, not ready yet to try anything, not with those two just staring at you.

You push them instead, unsure, untrusting. “You’re saying you just decided to save me? Just like that? After I stole from you?”

Ellie nods enthusiastically, smiling. Joel grunts again. He does that a lot, you’ve noticed.

You huff, looking away, unsatisfied with their answers. “Should’ve let me die.”

Joel sighs, unfolding his arms and throwing his head back in annoyance. He points at Ellie, as he makes his way out of the room. “Fuckin’ told you this was a bad idea.”

He leaves. It’s awkward. Ellie just continues to stare at you as you hang your head, hands clasped in your lap, trying to figure out what to do next.

“We literally saved your life, you know,” Ellie breaks the silence. You look up at her as she continues, “you were so nearly dead. It was so weird. You were literally-”

“Yes, yes, I get it.” You interrupt her, rubbing your aching head. It’s silent for a little longer, still awkward, and you let out a sigh. “Thank you. For - for saving me.”

She smiles. A big, cheesy grin that somehow lifts your mood with its genuinity. Then she gestures to the door, the one Joel had disappeared from minutes before - “it’s him you need to thank. He’s the one who carried your sorry ass 3 miles to get here.”

You laugh, something foreign to you after all these years, and she giggles back. The air between you both seems softer now, lighter, and the tension that filled your body when you woke up has dissipated completely. You think she can sense that it has, too.

“Frank told me to tell you there’s fresh clothes in the closet, and the shower’s out the door and on your right,” she points in the vague direction she’d described. “We’re having a barbeque later, just come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You nod, and she leaves you with a final smile. You take another look around the room and sigh, wondering just what you’d gotten yourself into.

—------------------

Bill and Frank are fucking lovely. Bill’s a little grumpier than his partner, but just as sweet all the same, and you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the little life they’d built together.

When you came downstairs after your shower, you’d bumped into them in the kitchen, preparing food and drinks to bring outside for the barbeque. Frank explained how things worked, how they live off the land, growing and making everything they could ever need to live happily here forever. How Joel had helped them stay safe, setting up the large metal gates that surrounded their small, solely-occupied community. It sounded like he really cared about them, and then Frank told you about Ellie, how Joel had taken her under his wing and they were travelling together on some sort of mission that they couldn’d built together.

That was a few hours ago. You were alone now, sat in the living room, listening to the soft music of the radio and the laughter of the group outside. You didn’t feel like joining them; they wouldn’t want you there, a looter and murderer, and even if they did you weren’t the type to make friends. It’s a dangerous habit in this world.

So instead, you sit on your own in the house, feeling a little sorry for yourself and really craving the sausages you could smell cooking outside.

You hear something behind you, turning around to see Joel traipsing in through the back door. He kicks his shoes off, making you smile at the politeness from such a rough, grumpy man, and stalks through the house towards the kitchen. He stops when he sees you.

The two of you just stare at each other, for a good few moments, the kind that feel like hours.

“What’re you doing in here?” Joel asks. You can almost sense something honest in his tone. Like he genuinely wondered why you were here, alone, and not out there with them.

“Thinking,” you just reply, quietly.

“‘Bout what?” And there it is again, that earnest intrigue.

You shrug, not sure what to tell him. “What to do next, I guess.”

Joel furrows his brows, and begins to stride towards where you sit on the couch. He walks slowly, hands buried in his jean pockets, before taking a seat on the chair across from you and relaxing into the cushion.

It’s strange seeing him act so casually, so normal, when just days ago he’d had a gun pointed at your head and every intent of pulling the trigger.

You suppose he feels the same about you, sat on a floral-print couch, covered in a far-too-big plaid shirt and - for lack of a better word - sulking.

“So what’re you gonna do next?”

He’s looking at you, fiercely so, his eyes unwavering from yours. You don’t know whether to look at him, or the floor, or your hands fidgeting in your lap - his stare is uncomfortable and intoxicating, all at the same time. You opt for your hands.

“I don’t know. All my shit’s gone. That’s - that’s why I was there. At the clinic. Ste-… taking your stuff.”

Joel pushes out a breath of air, almost a laugh but not quite. It’s not mocking, though - not like his tone was earlier. It’s understanding, like his way of telling you, “I know.”

And then he says it. “I know.”

You just nod, and he continues, “you gotta be more careful out there. Anyone less caring than Ellie woulda let you die there on that floor.”

“I’ve done this my whole life,” you shoot back. “And if it weren’t for - fuckin - this” - you point to the bandages round your torso - “I’d have killed you both and left you with everything you have.”

Joel rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of something playing on his lips, like the beginnings of a smile. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and maintaining his stare. His brow is cocked upwards.

“Well, ain’t we lucky you had your little problem there, huh?” You scowl at him, finally meeting his eyes and being almost surprised by the sheer depth of them. There’s pain in those eyes, you can see it because it matches your own, and yet there’s a kindness in them that you’d not seen in the man until now.

“And what about you?” You ask, feeling bolder now. “Why didn’t you let me die?”

“The kid made me help you,” he answers with speed, like he’d rehearsed it. You can tell there’s something on his tongue, something waiting to spill, and so you stay quiet. Coax it out.

“And… those wounds, you didn’t get them from some average Joe’s gun. And someone your age, someone who must’a grown up in this hell… you don’t go stealin’ from people like me for the fun of it.”

You nod, offering him a small smile, one that says thank you. You think it’s the only form of thanks he’ll accept.

“I did want to kill you, though.” Joel says, so casually he could’ve been telling you about the weather that day.

You huff. “And I wanted to kill you.”

His eyes stay trained on yours, and you don’t look away this time. It’s close, intimate. “I really don’t like you.” He seems to lean in as he says it.

“I don’t like you either,” you reply, mirroring the sly turn of his mouth.. Your answer seems to satisfy whatever it was he was looking for, and he nods.

“Good. We’re on the same page then.”

In unison, you back away from one another. “Yeah,” you say, though it’s redundant. “We are.”

With that, Joel stands, offering his hand to you. You just stare at it, unsure of what he wants. “C’mon,” he says, gesturing outside. “Come and sit with us.”

You think on it for a moment. You still don’t know what you’re going to do next - where you’ll go - and you certainly don’t want to make friends. But here’s this man, with his calloused hands and the scars on his face that tell a thousand stories, and you just can’t seem to say no to him.

So, you take his hand, letting him help you through the doors and onto the lawn where the three others sit drinking and lauging. There are a few burgers and hot dogs left out, which you eye up hungrily, making Joel laugh. Bottles of wine and whiskey sit on the table, a few cans of soda for Ellie, too, and two empty chairs sat round the camp fire waiting for yourself and Joel to sit down on. A feeling of joy spreads through you at that, the fact they’d thought to leave a chair out for you. You try to ignore it.

—------------------

The night is filled with laughter, and drinking, and telling stories of a world long gone that make your heart hurt and your mind spin with wonder.

Joel’s distant, and you have a feeling that’s just how he is, the type who prefers to watch and listen than be the loudest person in the room.

Ellie, for whatever reason, has taken to you quickly. You think it’s because you’re one of the first women she’s hung out with in a long time, someone she can relate too, and for all the attention she gives you, it’s nice in a way. Albeit overwhelming.

That’s what all of this is, really. Overwhelming.

Because you don’t live here. It’s not your home. None of your things are here. None of your things are anywhere but that wretched pile of ash, most likely collapsed in the rain and buried in mud by now.

And though you won’t admit it, it hurts. It hurts to have lost it all. It hurts to have to start again. It hurts to have these people, these great people, showing you so much hospitality and knowing you’ll have to leave because this won’t work. It can’t work. Friendships can’t work, and by god, whatever it is you’re starting to feel for Joel cant work either.

You’ve stayed at Bill and Frank’s for four days now. Three nights from when you woke up. And in that time, you’ve found yourself drawn to Joel in a way you’ve never felt before. He’s distracting. He talks, and even without having to try, you hang on to every word he says. You wonder if he feels the same way. You don’t talk much, at all - only if you absolutely have to. And yet when you do, he’s there, listening.

The one you do talk to, more than the others, at least, is Ellie. You see some of yourself in her, you think. Someone lost in a world that had given up on her before she even had the chance to try.

And that scares you, too. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s someone to look up to, and yet that’s all the kid seems to do.

It’s something you think about as you pack your bags.

You’re not stealing anything, per say. Except the bag. And the things you’re putting in it.

But it’s what you need to do in order to leave, and get out of their way for good. If that means losing a shirt or two and a pack of sandwiches, then so be it.

It’s late, around 3am, when you’re sure everyone will be asleep. You tiptoe down the stairs, holding the back tightly to your side, checking behind you every few minutes knowing that Ellie’s as sneaky as she talkative.

You slip through the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a brick. You curse yourself for not packing a coat, it must’ve slipped your mind as you rushed, but it’s too late to go back now.

You head down the patio steps, your only priority now being to get out of there as quick as you can. You’d managed to disable the security on gate 1, it should mean you can slip out pretty easily, and then it’s back to your old life again. Back to survival.

You didn’t think you’d feel as sad as you do right now. You’ve been alone for so long, convinced yourself that it’s what you wanted… but loneliness never felt like this. It never hurt. And now, as you make haste away from Frank and Bill’s house, away from Ellie, away from him… you wonder if the bullets hurt less.

Until you’re stopped, that is.

“Where the hell are you goin’?”

The similarity to your first meeting with Joel isn’t lost on you.

Except now, as you turn around to face him, it isn’t anger drawn across his features. It’s hurt. Real, deep, hurt. Heartbreak, you’d be inclined to call it, if you didn’t know better. If you thought that was possible.

His eyes drop down to bag you’re holding, clearly full, then up again to meet yours. His expression saddens even more, somehow.

“You’re leaving.”

It’s not a question.

So you don’t answer.

It’s hard to tell if he expects you to or not. But in this agonising silence, he calls your bluff, because he knows you have something more to say.

“I have to.”

He shakes his head, and answers just as quickly as he had a few days earlier in the front room. Except it’s not rehearsed. It’s raw, and desperate, and pleading. “No you don’t.”

Tears brim in your eyes, stinging. “I do. I do, Joel. It doesn’t work. Friendships don’t work. And this-“ you stop yourself from gesturing between you, from finishing your sentence at all. He knows what you were going to say. But he still pushes you.

“And what?” He begins to walk towards you, as slowly, as painfully, as usual.

The words are gone from your mouth, I forgotten but unspeakable, too powerful to tell him. But he knows. He knows.

And before you know it, he’s reached you. It’s the closest you’ve been yet, closer than when he sat across from you on the couch. His breath fans your face. Your fingers brush his, and you tell yourself it’s not on purpose.

“And what?” He whispers, not because it’s nighttime, or because you’re already so close. But because he’s scared.

Then he kisses you, leaning in so heavily you think he’s trying to fuse you with himself, to keep you there forever. And in that moment, that’s all you want. You kiss him back, dropping the bag and wrapping your arms around his neck while his go to your waist, the kiss deepening and his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You moan, spurring him on, his crotch now pressed flush against yours. You let one hand fall from his neck, glide down your bodies and slide between you, palming his already half-hard cock. Joel groans into your mouth, bucking his hips and kissing you so desperately that your teeth collide and you miss one another’s lips at times. Neither of you care.

Before you can realise what’s happening, Joel’s sweeping you up, hooking your legs round his waist and holding you up by your thighs. He’s careful to never break the kiss, to never let go of you, and you hardly recognise the movement as he begins to carry you back inside the house.

Your escape bag is left behind on the grass.

Joel’s careful as he brings you upstairs, quiet, though his need for you never falters. It’s hot, passionate, and his grip on your thighs leaves bruises that you hope will last forever.

He nudges his bedroom door open with his back, letting you fall in, entangled together. He finally breaks your kiss, the both of you gasping for the air that your noses alone weren’t enough to breathe.

You land on the bed, bouncing softly below Joel’s gaze. He’s quick to climb on top, guiding you backwards so your head hits the pillow, just as soft as the one you’ve been sleeping on the past few nights.

And then, for the first time since he discovered you trying to leave, the two of you just… stop. Joel lifts a gentle hand to your cheek, brushes his calloused thumb across it, watching you with a cocktail of amazement and care and the same fear you saw before in his eyes.

It’s sweet. It’s gentle, and soft, and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you it’s something more. The same something you weren’t able to say when Joel caught you leaving.

Now, you don’t know what love is.

You’ve never known what love is. You’ve seen films, old pirated copies you’d been able to find on your travels, that you watched tucked away in a camping tent on the DVD player you looted from some old store. You’ve heard music, sweet tales of love and loss, told through melodies and lyrics that seemed too much like fairytales to be true.

You don’t know what love is, and yet for all the stories you’ve watched and heard, this feels pretty damn close.

You don’t know how, but Joel sees the struggle behind your eyes. The way your mind spins at a million miles an hour.

“Hey. You okay?” He whispers, his southern drawl sultrier than ever.

You nod, but it’s not enough. “No, come on. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay, Joel,” you breathe, and he seems appeased.

“Alright.” He kisses you again, much slower this time, letting your lips slide together like they’d been made to fit just right.

The kiss becomes heated, the same passion rising within you both again, and Joel reaches for the rim of your shirt, pulling it over you with a quick check for your agreement. You lift your arms, letting him expose your already braless chest, and you’d be lying if you said the way his eyes light up and his cheeks fill with blush didn’t fuel your ego.

You take his shirt off next, then reach for the zip of his jeans, but he stops you. You look up at him, confused, and he just smiles before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Not yet.” He murmurs, before kissing down your neck and onto the plane of your chest. You moan, hands tangling in his hair as he leaves marks across your skin, finally reaching the peak of your breast and sucking it into his mouth. Quiet gasps fall from your mouth, sensual, basking in the feeling of his hot tongue on your nipple.

“You like that? My mouth on your tits?”

Another loud moan leaves your lips at his words, dirtier than before and making wetness flood at your core. Joel grins - your eyes are closed, but you can feel the stretch of his mouth on your breast, and your grip on his hair tightens in response.

He finally, finally starts to move to where you want him. His fingers are painfully slow as they work to pull your jeans down, revealing your soaking wet cunt to him, and the groan that escapes his throat at the sight only makes you more needy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.” He moans, spreading soft kisses along your public bone, centimetres from where you need him. “How bad d’ya need my tongue, honey?”

You could scream at how badly he’s teasing you, but you’re able to hold it, responding in a way you certainly weren’t proud of. “So - so badly. Please, baby, please.”

Your hands flex in his hair, tugging on the strands haphazardly, and the way his breath speeds up against your core lets you know he likes it. On your word, he delves into your cunt, dragging his tongue over your folds and burying it in your clit.

“Shit, shit, Joel - ah -“ your moans are getting louder, more needy, desperate as he tortures your cunt and licks across your bundles of nerves again and again.

You arch your back off the bed, not even in control of your own body at this point, his tongue now plunging so deep inside you that you can hardly remember your own name.

He fucks you with his mouth, moving his lips against your hole as his tongue curves around your walls, curling in a way that makes you whine so loud you fear any one of the others in the house would hear you. Joel doesn’t seem to care though, his only focus being on you, your pleasure, your screams for him.

“J- Joel, please, I’m gonna -“

You regret warning him. You regret the words as soon as they fell from your mouth because he fucking stops.

“What? Baby I-”

He shushes you, climbing back up to meet your lips, calming their begs with sweet kisses. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. I gotcha.”

His hands roam over your sides, teasing the edge of your breasts, one still wet from his mouth and sensitive in the cool night air. He kisses you again, making you moan as the taste of your own wetness hits your tongue, and you’re sure you can feel his cock swell against you at the sound.

He must feel it too because he desperately pulls his jeans off, throwing them behind him with no care for where they land. He does it without breaking your kiss, a grace to his movements that mesmerises you, leaves you victim to whatever he wants and needs as long as you get to feel his skin and his touch and his taste.

“Have you done this before?” Joel’s words are croaked, broken apart by the tightness you left in his throat, by your words and your touch alone. So much so you hardly hear him, too lost in the realm of desperation to register that he’d spoke.

“Baby?” He taps your chin, making you finally open your eyes and look up at him, drowning in the brown husks that meet your gaze. “Baby, have you done this before?”

You swallow, nodding your head so quickly that it makes you dizzy. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to grind against you, his bare cock slipping between the wet folds of your cunt, threatening to slip inside while leaving you so empty you could cry.

And it was true; you had done this before. Not many times, and only when necessary. The first time was before you left the QZ, with a boy your age who was just as curious about what all these new feelings and hormones actually meant. FEDRA was terrible at many things, and sex education was one of them. Another time was with a FEDRA agent - ironically, you thought - one who’d promised you food and shelter but left you in the dirt as soon as you smuggled in the pills he needed.

You’ve done this before, but you’ve never done this before. You’ve felt skin on skin, sweat dripping down your neck, a tongue in your mouth that felt foreign but explored your body all the same.

But you’ve never felt this passion. The way your body cries when it loses his touch. The way your mind is alive with sensation and need, begging to feel his fingertips and hear his voice in your ear again and again until the coil inside you unfolds and you give yourself, endlessly, doubtlessly, to him.

You don’t know how he knows. And you don’t know how you know that he knows. But Joel’s eyes pierce yours, his breath falls into your open mouth, and there’s just something in the way he looks at you that tells you his every desire is the same.

He needs you like you need him.

And so he begins to pump his cock, moaning into your mouth as you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck once again. Where he feels most secure against you.

“Shit, I-” He mumbles against your lips, half incoherent, and you break the kiss. Your eyes search his, looking for whatever it is that’s tripping him up, and it’s only then that you realise just how much he’s begging for you. How his hips grind against yours with so much need that he could cum right there and then, you think.

And fuck, it turns you on.

“Need your cock, Joel. Need your big cock filling me up so badly.” You moan into his mouth, not even kissing him anymore, just letting your heavy breaths fall into the cage of your lips pressed together, perfectly fit.

He buries his head in your bare neck, revelling in the soft skin that greets him there, a canvass for his touch as he peppers kisses and bites across your throat and over your collar bone.

His hands settle on your hips, draggin you as close to his own as possible, and you wrap your legs around his waist again on instinct. He presses his forehead against yours, willing his eyes open, though you watch how they flutter and it makes you need him more.

Joel whimpers, catching himself from falling as he brings up to your cheek, stroking it gently. “You can do this, baby?’

Your heart warms at his words, blooming flowers only made for him. “I need it. Joel, I need it, I need you-”

Before you can finish, he’s heard you, pushing the bulging head of his cock into your cunt as you try to stop a scrambled scream in its steps. Joel’s head burrows further into the crook of your neck, teeth bearing down on the skin so hard that you’d scream if you weren’t already incapacitated by the fullness of his cock inside you.

You moan in unison, gripping him like your life depends on it as he bottoms out, tears brimming in your eyes as he draws himself away from you and slams back inside again.

“Fuck, Joel, so fuck - so fucking good,” your moans break the thick sound of skin on skin, as Joel slams into you again and again, aching your hips and scrambling your brain into nonsense. He groans, the hand that rested on your cheek now balanced on the pillow beside your head, allowing him to fuck you harder, deeper than before.

Sweat paints your skin, reflecting in the moonlight that seeps through Joel’s curtains, matching the thin veil of the man above you. You wince as the headboard begins to smack against the wall, hitting it again and again, making the unyielding pace of his hips all the more heady as you drown in his sounds and his scent and his thrust.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck,” he’s getting closer, you can tell, and it takes everything you have not to come right there on the spot.

Instead you flex your hips, meet his thrusts with legs still tight around his waist, pulling him further, deeper inside you. “Need to fucking - ah, ah - J- Joel I need to cum.”

His head frantically nods, still buries beneath your jaw, before he musters the strength to emerge from his new-found home in the crook of your neck and meet your eyes once again. He rests his forehead against yours, both sweaty and sliding, but neither of you care as his hips rut faster and faster into the warmth of your cunt.

“You- fuck, you can cum, baby. Need ya to come for me babygirl.”

At his words, your desperation unfolds, tethers of pleasure unraveling from your core and tightening around his cock, still fucking inside you without respite. He groans, his pace finally faltering as he feels your warmth coil around him, welding his hips against yours where he finally releases ribbons of thick, hot cum inside you.

Joel collapses on top of you, careful to rest at least some of his weight on the hand beside your head, but otherwise burying as much of himself into you as he can. His cock stays inside your cunt, plugging you with his cum, and in your post-orgasm haze you can hardly think as you bring a hand to the back of his head, stroking his hair and letting him rest atop your chest.

“Don’t leave.”

You don’t hear him at first. Truly, you don’t. You know he’s said something, felt the vibrations of his whispered pleas on your skin, and yet you’re still so caught up in the sweat and the smell and tingling of his body on yours to even register his words.

But he’s desperate. He’s sad, and hurt, and hopeful. Hopeful that tonight meant as much to you as it did to him. Hopeful that you weren’t about to continue your plan and leave into the night, as much of a ghost as when he’d found you.

“Don’t leave,” he repeats. “Stay.”

For all the shades and emotions and words you’ve seen in his eyes, there’s something in them now that you can’t place. You wonder if he even knows what it is himself.

You just nod, gasping slightly as he takes your small, delicate action as all the confirmation he needs to move, keeping you tethered together as he rolls onto his back and pulls your limp, shaking body on top of his.

Joel’s hands finally move from their vice grip on your waist, one wrapping tightly around your back, holding you to him, the other cradling your head. You crave him, his touch, and leave kisses on any expanse of skin you can find on the scar-riddled chest you find yourself huddled against. The one you wish you’ll never have to leave.

It’s hard to say how you know you’ll fall asleep first. Maybe it’s because he continues to move, to soothe, as you drift off in his grasp. Maybe it’s because he has his mouth pressed against your ear, whispering promises of togetherness that melt into a dream of hope and sweetness, one that stains the very sheets you’re lay in.

Maybe it’s the way he’s fucked you so good, you can hardly keep your eyes open.

Whatever it is, it works, and your eyes drift shut in the wake of his touch. You hold him, sinking into his softness with an ease you’ve never felt before, and his last murmurs before you finally fall into your dreams fall into the air like smoke.

“Just stay. Please, stay.”

#joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller

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iliketangerines · 2 months

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Can I request oneshot of Mk1 Liu Kang x Fem s/o Jinx (Dc comics) whose power is to give bad luck because of this power she always isolates herself in fear of hurting others when she tells Liu about her power he doesn't care and still loves her anyway; she is gentle and soft spoken please?

jinx, jinx again!

a/n: i changed the personality of the reader around, but i think it makes more sense

pairing: liu kang x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

Liu Kang wonders where you are

you were a powerful champion, one with the power to turn the tides of luck and turn the war towards any one side

he had created you in this timeline with the intent to protect Earthrealm, and yet, you’re nowhere to be found on any speck of the planet

and so Liu Kang set out on a journey to find you, going through the sands of time to try and locate you with Geras to bring you to his side before Shang Tsung or anyone else could use your powers for evil

Liu Kang sighs and rubs at the headache forming in his head, it had been days since he had started looking

and yet, you were nowhere to be found, finding the other champions had not nearly been this difficult and yet here you were, unfindable

Geras calls over Liu Kang and points to something in the hourglass, a piece of sand stuck to the side, stubbornly refusing to fall in with the rest of them

Liu Kang raises his eyebrow and picks out the sand and opens its threads to show its life, and there you were

he scrolls through your life memories, searching for where you are, but now he sees why you were so hard to find

your power to change the tides had manifested as bad luck, and it had driven you away from society and only heightened your anxiety

and that heightened your powers, which turned into a never ending cycle of you falling deeper and deeper into your powers

and your powers had kept you away from Liu Kang, from forming connections with the right people to harness your powers

and so you lived in isolation in fear of harming others

Liu Kang rubs his chin as he tries to find your exact location, and he hums as he finds you, isolated high in the mountains, somehow surviving on your own despite everything

he summons a portal and tells Geras that hopefully he will be back soon with you in hand, and Liu Kang disappears

it’s snowing, trees covered in the soft powder, and the birds chirp quietly into the air as Liu Kang makes his way through the forest

he finds your house in the distance, a humble cabin barely holding itself together, and he knocks upon your door

he hears some crashing from within a house and a loud thud before the door unlatches, and you peek out from behind the door, eyes wide as you stare at him

your fingers twitch as you notice his glowing eyes and his lack of winter clothing, and he asks to enter

you shut the door in his face, and he can hear yourself mumbling to yourself, before you open the door again and ask who he is

Liu Kang tells you who he is, god of fire and protector of earthrealm, and he tells you he is here to recruit you in the defense of earthrealm

you raise your eyebrows and then laugh, cackling and howling even as Liu Kang stands in front of you with a stern face

you raise your hand up into the air, and the top of the doorway falls down right into your awaiting hands, as if you knew it was going to happen

you shove it back in place before telling him that that was a funny joke, but he shouldn’t have been able to find you in the woods

you open the rest of the door to reveal the sharp blade you carry, and Liu Kang raises his hands in surrender, trying not to provoke you any further

but he can see the way your hands slightly tremble and how your breath comes out a bit stuttered as you hold the knife towards him

Liu Kang says he truly is a god and he summons flames into his hand to show you

you look at him in surprise and nearly drop the knife into the snow, and you fumble with it, managing to cut yourself in the process

you hiss out in pain and press your thumb into your mouth, trying to clean the wound as Liu Kang looks upon you

he tells you he has the answer to your plight, that he can cure your bad luck if you come with him to train and defend earthrealm

you look up at him with quirked eyebrows, surprised that he even knew of your terrible luck

he summons a portal behind him, one that led to his academy, and he gestures that you can take his offer, to control your powers and make friends and to build connection

your eyes dart between the portal and your rickety home, unsure if you should leave everything behind

you always had bad luck, and it drew everyone away from you

you bounced from home to home, from school to school as your bad luck harmed everyone else and you

now, you have a chance to get rid of your bad luck, to make the human connection you so desperately craved after years in isolation

you spin in a circle and step out from under the doorway as the top of it falls down again

you don’t catch it and let it fall into the snow as you take a deep breath and take Liu Kang’s hands

he’s warm, warmer than anyone you’ve ever experienced, and he gives you a small smile before leading you through the portal to your new life

#tangerine answers #tangerine writes #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mk x you #mk x reader #mk x y/n #liu kang #liu kang mk1 #mk1 liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang x y/n

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mmmichyyy · 12 days

Note

#78 and #57 from the new prompt list?

#57. "we could get struck by lightning, but you want to kiss in the rain." #78. "can you be romantic for once?"

(continuation of this secret spies/assassins' ficlet)

"fuck," ian pants, clutching his chest, "that was close."

"well whose fault was that?" mickey snarls, pushing ian against the damp brick wall of the dark alley. "if you didn't take your sweet fuckin' time cutting me loose, we could've avoided the storm and gotten to the safehouse by now."

"well," ian takes a step towards mickey, reaching out to push wet strands of hair out of mickey's face, to which he annoyingly swats away. droplets of rain and blood from their clothes mix together, painting the cement crimson red. "you know i like to take my time with you."

mickey shakes his head, ignoring the swoop in his chest. "you're impossible."

"thought that's what you liked about me," ian smirks, lips ticked upwards knowingly in a way that simultaneously annoys and endears mickey to no end.

instead, he spits out, "who said i liked you?"

ian hums. "maybe you don't like me. but," he presses his thumb right on mickey's pulse point on his wrist. whispers, "you know you need me."

"i don't." mickey isn't convincing anyone, not even himself. "i don't need anyone."

"is that right." ian leans in, warm breath curling around mickey's neck. they're standing close, too close. mickey shivers. "then what was that earlier? hm?"

"i said what i needed to escape." ian's tongue licks along the shell of mickey's ear, and he has to physically bite back from letting out a moan. "it's... it's your fault for believing me."

"maybe you meant it, maybe you didn't," ian murmurs. "but do you know what i need?"

mickey shakes his head, a lump caught in his throat.

ian cradles his palm against mickey's cheek.

"i need to kiss you."

the heavy thrum of mickey's pulse beats against his chest, threatening to escape, to burst, to combust, matching the beat of heavy raindrops against the rusted metal awning above their heads. "we could get struck by lightning at any second now, but you want to kiss in the fuckin' rain?"

"i want to kiss you all the time, actually," ian admits. "but watching you slice open all of the guards' necks with my knife and smash that giant asshole's head in? has me all worked up."

mickey lets out a snort. "knew you had a blood kink, gallagher."

"maybe." ian shrugs, dropping his hand. "or maybe i just want to make out with my partner because we eliminated the target, killed off pretty much the entire criminal organization we've been chasing for the past few months, and i've never been more hard in my entire life."

"jesus christ, you're the most infuriating person i've ever met."

"i could say the same for you."

"i hate you."

"i know you do."

"you almost got us killed."

"but we're still alive, aren't we?"

"you don't listen to instructions, you keep thinking everything's going to be okay, that you're fuckin' invincible, that you'll survive anything. but what if you don't, huh? what if one day your luck runs out?"

"mickey."

"I should've never agreed to take on this assignment with you. you're too reckless, you dive in head first without taking account of the risks, you're going to slip up one day and–"

"mickey."

"if the agency finds out we've been fucking they're never going to pair us together again, let alone see each other–"

"mickey."

"what, gallagher?" mickey says, exasperated. "what? am i wrong? tell me i'm wrong."

ian looks at him square in the eye, unblinking. "do you trust me?"

the question hits mickey's chest in full force, throwing off his equilibrium and almost knocking him over. "what?"

"i said," ian curls his finger around a belt loop on mickey's pants and pulls him close. too close. "do you trust me?"

"what kind of question is that?" mickey sighs, exasperated. "'course i do. you know i do."

"then," ian gently presses his lips against mickey's cheek, "trust me when i say–" nose "–i won't let anything–" the other cheek "–happen to you–" temple "–okay? i would take a fucking bullet for you before i let you die on me." bumps their foreheads together and sighs. "it's just you and me against the whole fucking world."

it's moments like this, when ian says shit like this that punches the air out of mickey's lungs and fills him with a fire that incinerates his blood. moments that confirm ian goddamn gallagher will be under his skin until his last dying breath.

"i got your back, mickey," ian says quietly. "do you have mine?"

of course i do you idiot, mickey wants to scream. how can you not know that? you're everything to me. how could you doubt me? how?

but then he sees it. the tiniest hint of vulnerability in ian's eyes, blink and he might've missed it. a tiny crack in the porcelain façade of ian's confidence, a startling contrast to his usual cocky demeanor.

and mickey knows. knew it from the very beginning, actually.

as much as he needs ian, ian needs him too.

they need each other.

"i do," mickey nods. "i always got your back."

"so," ian's eyes meet mickey's own, a faint hint of a smile on his face, "can you be romantic for once and let me kiss you in the rain?

the lines between hate and love, truth and lies, rationality and emotions, pain and pleasure - they have always been a thin boundary for mickey. in his way of thinking, his actions, in the way he breathes - a dangerous contradiction constantly teetering between life and death.

and well. how often will he come across a person who will not only accept his flaws and detriments, but also willing to walk the line with him?

"fuckin' do it then," mickey breathes and ian doesn't hesitate to close the distance between them, gently slotting their lips together at first, then eagerly intertwining their tongues and drinking each other in as the rain pours around them.

kissing ian gallagher is careening off a cliff, an adrenaline rush, a rollercoaster ride. it's also soft waves crashing on the shore, a warm cup of coffee in the morning, a cigarette after a long day.

kissing ian gallagher feels like coming home.

and mickey will chase that feeling for the rest of his life.

#didn't expect to write something like this but here we are #thanks for the prompts anon!#gallavich ficlet #ian x mickey #my words #michy ficlet #gallavich fic #gallavich

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coffeeshades · 8 months

Text

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IV

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst (heavy on this i'm sorry in advance) cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone! yes yes i know i disappeared for like 5 months but let's pretend i didn't. i've seen all of your messages and comments and i'm overwhelmed with all the love you've shown to the previous parts. thank you so much to everyone who likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message, i see you and love u. here's a new lil chapter, i hope you enjoy it. happy reading!!

February 28th, 2019

Cort Theater, NY

The day was here. The day he had been eagerly waiting on for months. The anticipation had been building up, and now he was finally going to perform in front of a live audience for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The months of rehearsals and hard work had all led up to this moment, and he was ready to give it his all.

He was starring in the new Broadway production of “King Lear" as Edmond, one of the play's most complex and intriguing characters. The role had challenged him in ways he had never experienced before, pushing him to delve deep into the character's motivations and emotions. As he stepped onto the stage, the bright lights shining down on him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and a sense of purpose.

And just like that, three hours and twenty-five minutes later, the final curtain fell on the play. The audience erupted into thunderous applause, their standing ovation a testament to their incredible performance. Exhausted but exhilarated, he knew he had given everything he had to the role and left it all on the stage.

His mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The rush of adrenaline slowly subsided, and as much as he wanted to hear what everyone thought of his performance, there was only one person whose opinion mattered to him right now: yours.

The last time he saw you was on your last day in Chile, almost two months ago. He vividly remembered the bittersweet farewell outside his family's house—you getting into the car and him closing the door. A door that seemed to separate their worlds. Since then, they had kept in touch through messages and occasional video calls, but it wasn't the same. Of course it wasn't. It will never be.

The distance between them had only fueled his longing, making him yearn for your presence even more. Constantly trying to derail his one-track mind.

He knows you're here. He had invited his siblings and closest friends. However, he was unsure of your attendance until an hour before the show, when he received a text from Oscar:

"She's coming with me. Stop pacing and good luck."

He hadn't really discussed what happened back in Chile with Oscar or anyone, for that matter, but he could tell everyone knew something was off about how the two of you interacted. So when he got the message from Oscar, instead of freaking out about him potentially finding out about you two, he felt relieved.

It gave him comfort to know that Oscar knew him so well that he was aware of the fact that you were the cause of his two-hour pacing in his dressing room. It was also fucking stupid and laughable.

The energy backstage was electric as he walked through the bustling crowd of crew members and performers. He entered his dressing room, grabbing his phone and immediately seeing all the texts from friends and his siblings. He opened one from Javiera: "Felicidades, hermanito! Killed it. See you at The Terrace."

They had planned on getting together afterwards to celebrate. He replied with a grateful smile, saying he'd be there in a few and to get there without him. He quickly changed into a more casual outfit: dark jeans and a comfortable white t-shirt. Wanting to unwind after the intense performance, he made his way to the restaurant. It was only a few blocks away from the theater, so he decided to enjoy the pleasant evening weather and take a leisurely stroll.

Once he got there and stepped out of the elevator, Pedro watched you from across the room. A delicate hand rested on Oscar's shoulder as you chatted and laughed together. He felt a bubble of pride in himself swell; it warmed him to know that you were enjoying yourself and having a good time.

He felt like an intruder in your intimate moment, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. At least I don't have to miss her anymore because she's right there, he thought.

Pedro made his way across the room, trying to appear nonchalant as he approached the table.

"There he is! the man of the hour," Oscar said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

You turned. Eyes meeting, and it was like a car crash. A collision of emotions and memories flooding back all at once. The air between you crackled with unresolved tension, and Pedro's heart raced as he struggled to find the right words to say.

"You came," he said, his voice stern. Not reflecting at all the turmoil inside him. "Thank you."

"Well, you called," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as well. Deep down, though, your heart was pounding just as fast as Pedro's.

Everyone seemed to ignore the palpable tension in the room and how he was losing his mind over these unclear conversations between your glances, carrying on with their congratulatory words to Pedro as if nothing had happened. But for Pedro and you, time stood still.

People settled into an easy conversation, enjoying each other's company as the night went on. As the night went on, Pedro and you exchanged occasional glances, silently acknowledging the shared secret that lingered. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs: We slept together! We slept together, and I loved it! He wanted every single person in New York to hear it. To feel the exhilaration and passion that consumed him.

However, to say it was to make it real, and Pedro wasn't quite ready to face the consequences of that reality just yet. He knew his place in her life. He knew it was better this way. However, the ever-present question of 'Is it better to have something and lose it than never have it at all?' haunted his mind.

The laughter and chatter around you provided a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within both of you. After a couple drinks, the atmosphere became more relaxed, and Pedro found himself engaging in lighthearted conversations with the people around him.

"Ah, man. I need a cigarrette," he said to Oscar, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

"Go, go. I'll keep everyone entertained," Oscar replied with a smile, gesturing towards the lively crowd. Pedro nodded gratefully and stepped outside, the cool night air providing a brief respite from the chaos of his thoughts. As he lit his cigarette and took a long drag, he couldn't help but wonder if the temporary escape it offered was worth the potential consequences.

"I thought you quit," you remarked, slowly making your way to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Pedro turned and exhaled a cloud of smoke, a wistful expression crossing his face. "I did, but you know me. I have a hard time letting go of old habits," he admitted, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

"Care to share?" you asked, gesturing towards the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Pedro hesitated for a moment.

"No."

"No?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't want to be the reason you get lung cancer."

You chuckled. "Ok, so you can do it, but I can't. Got it."

"I'm old; there's no use," he said with a shrug. "However, you have a whole life ahead of you."

"You make it sound like you're on a deathbed," you teased, taking a playful jab at Pedro's dramatic statement. He smirked and took a long drag from his cigarette before responding. "Maybe I am, in a way. But hey, we all gotta go someday, right?"

"That's...dark," you sighed. "mind if we changed the subject?"

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" Pedro asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Anything to distract me from my impending doom," he added with a smirk.

A laugh escaped your lips as you thought of a lighter topic. "How about we discuss your play?" Pedro's eyes lit up at the suggestion, momentarily forgetting about his earlier morbid thoughts.

"How are you feeling about your performance?"

Pedro looked at you for a little too long before finally responding, "It's funny I'm thinking about death because I've never felt more alive than on that stage."

"I could tell. I thought you were great, P."

He shook his head modestly. "Thanks, but I still feel like there's room for improvement. I want to push myself even further in the next shows."

"I get that."

Pedro watched you stare at the ground. His thoughts began to conspire against him, and as he was about to speak, you also looked up and opened your mouth at the same time. Words rushed out in unison.

You both paused, realizing you had interrupted each other. Pedro chuckled tentatively and motioned for you to go ahead. "Sorry, you first," he said with a polite smile.

You bit your lip, seemingly trying to gather your thoughts. "It's nothing. I just wanted to tell you I'll be in Europe for awhile. I got the Nolan movie."

"Woah, another one?"

"Yup. The role isn't as big as in interstellar, but I love working with him so much I couldn't pass up the opportunity." Pedro nodded, a mix of excitement and disappointment flickering across his face. "That's amazing; congratulations. I'm sure you'll do great, as always," he said sincerely. "I'll definitely miss having you around, though."

"Well, it's not like it'll be much different than now," you replied. "I haven't seen you since...since you know," your expression turned somber, cheeks flushed.

You were right. He was so busy with the play and his new role in the second installment of Wonder Woman that he barely had any time. He even had to cut back on his time on set for The Mandalorian reshoots this month and a few scenes for a second season that haven't even been announced.

"Yeah, I know."

"Should we talk about it?"

"I mean, there's nothing to talk about, really," Pedro said with a shrug, not daring to look you in the eye. "We slept together, and we both agreed that was it. No need to complicate things further." he tried to maintain a casual tone, but his voice wavered slightly.

Pedro wanted to scream. The nicotine clouding his lungs was the only thing keeping him from losing control. It seemed like all he was left with was a painful reminder of what could have been. He looked at you as he took another puff of smoke. Your eyes clearly searching for a trace of emotion in his face, but finding none.

A droplet of rain landed on Pedro's cheek as he inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness against his skin. It was as if the universe was reflecting his inner turmoil, adding to the weight of his unspoken words. He watched as you looked up at the darkening sky, the raindrops falling steadily on your hair.

The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, mirroring the storm brewing within him. He dropped the cigarrette from his hand, its ember extinguished by the rain.

"Isn't that the point of love, though?" you finally responded, your voice raspy and drunk with bitterness and resignation. "To complicate things, to make us question everything, to drive us to the brink of madness. Maybe it's not meant to be simple, Pedro."

His body tensed up, and your words clearly struck a nerve. The weight of your statement hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you both. It was no secret that his perspective on love had been tainted by past experiences, leaving him guarded and unwilling to let go of his pain.

"You're right. Which is why I would rather stay away from it. I've seen firsthand the havoc it can wreak on people's lives," Pedro admitted, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. He knows he's hurting you; he can see it by the way your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"So that's it, then?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Is this how it is always going to be?"

But he can't risk it. "I thought we were on the same page with this."

He sees how your jaw tightens at his statement. He knows he's hurting you. He's twisting the knife even deeper. He can't seem to stop just because he believes it's for the better.

Please know it's for the better.

"Yeah, I guess it's better this way," you spat back, your voice filled with anger. Of course, you could tell exactly how he was feeling.

"Guys! What the fuck are you doing outside? It's fucking pouring!" A friend shouts from the doorway. "Get inside!"

You both stood there staring at each other, momentarily forgetting the rain pouring down around you.

“Yeah. What the fuck are we doing?" you say, not even trying to mask the anger in your voice.

He wants to reach out and kiss you. Kiss you so hard that his lips would bruise. Kiss you so hard that your pain will fade away. But that action would go against everything he had just said.

So he just watches you turn around and leave.

What the fuck is he doing?

3 months later

After weeks of shooting in the United Kingdom and the Amalfi Coast, you and the crew finally had a couple of days off. Aaron, John, and Rob had the brilliant idea to take a quick trip to Monaco.

“It’s a Grand Prix weekend,” Aaron said excitedly. “Maybe if we make a few calls, we could still snag some passes.”

“Doesn’t that start this week?” Rob inquired, taking a sip of his drink. Ever since your arrival in Italy, the four of you finally got the chance to eat dinner together at a nice restaurant.

“Yeah, yeah,” Aaron waved his hands in the air, “but if we leave tomorrow, there’s plenty of time to get there and enjoy ourselves.”

You were so focused on your meal that you missed the sound of your name coming from Aaron’s mouth. “Hellooo?” he continued, and you looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you friends with Lewis Hamilton?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, we see each other sometimes at events and stuff. He’s really nice,” you tell him, still feeling a bit distracted.

“Could you maybe give him a call and get us those passes?” he asks, pouting like a puppy. John laughs at him, hitting him lightly on the arm.

“Sure, I can try,” you reply, feeling a bit hesitant. You rarely ask for special favors and don't want to come across as entitled, even more so when you haven't spoken to Lewis in so long.

“Yes!” Aaron celebrates by raising his fists. "Um, one more thing,"

“Mate, you’re pushing it now,” Rob remarks with a playful tone. You can tell he's enjoying the banter between you and Aaron.

“Go on,” you gesture at him to continue, a smile on your face.

“Could we also use your PP?”

“Use her what now?” John exclaims. Laughter erupts from Rob's mouth, making you and John join in.

“Her private plane, mate!” Aaron says, embarrassed.

“Yes, Aaron,” you get out, still laughing. “I’ll let you use my PP.”

"Thank you!"

•••

The flight to Monaco was smooth and quick. You spent most of it trying to focus on a script for a project after this one while the boys all slept. After your dinner last night, you made two calls: one to Lewis to ask about the passes and one to your publicist to let her know about your last-minute adventure.

Lewis was very nice as usual and said that, of course, he can get you the passes, while your agent said attending an F1 weekend would be good publicity and good fun. A win-win situation, she called it. She also said that since you were going to attend the race, you might as well attend all the events that come with it, which meant she had to fly in to assist you.

By the time the plane finally landed and you made it to the hotel, you were worn out. You spent the rest of the afternoon and night sleeping, without a care in the world. The next day, soft knocks on the door woke you up.

"It's me," Taylor's voice called out.

You groggily got out of bed and opened the door to find her standing there with her laptop, a cup of coffee, and a huge smile on her face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

Although you hadn't passed a mirror on your way to answer the door, you had the feeling that you didn't look visually appealing at the moment. Your body ached, like you wrestled with a wild animal all night and lost.

"Did you just get here?" you ask her, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. She smiles and shakes her head. "I got here late last night, but you weren't answering the phone, so I called Renata instead, and she said you were sleeping. And like the great person I am, I let you rest." Renata is your PA/publicist, a great friend, and one of the two constants in your life, along with Taylor.

"Wow, so kind of you," you say sarcastically, but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "Come in."

As Taylor enters, you shut the door behind her. She scans the space in fascination. There are floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall that run the length of the room and the wall to your left, which is behind the dining room table. A broad view of the harbor can be seen between the sheer, white, fluttering lengths of the floating curtains.

"Gorgeous suite," she says, sitting on the plush sofa across the room.

"Ren always chooses the best rooms, so yes," you tell her, sinking once again into your warm bed.

"You're still tired? You've slept for like 16 hours already," she chuckles, pouring herself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher on the side table. "I know, but I guess the jetlag is hitting me harder than I thought," you reply with a yawn, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of the fragrant flowers on the nightstand.

"You didn't come to Monaco to sleep, did you?" Taylor chuckles, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes?"

"No! We have a full itinerary planned for today, starting with breakfast at Café de Paris across the street with the boys. And then we're off to the Hotel de Paris for a F1 brunch event. There will be lots of food, drinks, and hot guys. Specifically, hot F1 drivers," you groan-laugh inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out of bed so early for the sake of hot guys. "You know that's the last thing on my mind, right?"

"Well, not on mine!" she replies with a wink. "But seriously, it's not just about the eye candy. The event is also for a good cause, raising funds for a local charity. And it's also a great place to network and meet new people—you know the drill." You nod in agreement, feeling more motivated to attend, knowing that it's for a meaningful purpose.

With a determined sigh, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Okay, I'll shower."

"Let me call Renata and tell her to prep the car and get the glam team in here."

"Thank you," you tell her, disappearing into the bathroom.

•••

Two hours later, you find yourself entering the venue of a charity event with your very impatient and rather enthusiastic co-star and best friend, Aaron. The venue is buzzing with excitement as you take in the elegant decorations and the well-dressed attendees. Since it's Monaco in May, you're sporting a light blue strapless top and white linen pants that complement the warm weather and the sophisticated atmosphere of the event.

"I can't believe Rob and John sat this one out because they were 'too tired', Aaron remarks, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well, they don't have the energy of a 5-year-old, unlike you," you tease, playfully nudging him. "But hey, more champagne for us," you add with a mischievous grin as you grab two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. "Cheers."

The bubbles tickle your nose as you take a sip, savoring the crisp and refreshing taste.

Camera flashes illuminate the room as people mingle and engage in lively conversations. You're stopped every 5 minutes by someone wanting to take a picture with you. You oblige every time with a smile, posing for each photo and exchanging pleasantries. After all, that's why you're here for.

Everything was going smoothly until someone bumped into you, causing you to spill champagne all over your clothes. The cold liquid seeps mostly through the fabric of your top, leaving a sticky sensation against your skin.

"Oh, my bad," you hear a thick Australian accent apologize. You turn to see a rather tall, tan-skinned, handsome man with a sheepish grin on his face. Did you say how handsome he was? And what the fuck was he smiling for?

Once he realizes who you are, his eyes widen in surprise and anguish. People start noticing the commotion and turn their attention towards the two of you. The man quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the crowd, his grip firm but gentle.

"Hey! Where are you taking me!" you protest, trying to free your arm from his grasp. His grip tightens slightly, but he maintains a calm demeanor as he leads you towards a quieter corner. As you reach a bathroom, he finally releases his hold on you and takes a step back, his expression filled with concern.

"Relax, I'm not kidnapping you."

The chaos around you fades into the background as he shuts the door and starts grabbing paper towels. "Shit, here," he says, handing you one. "Sorry for ruining your clothes."

You start wiping the spilled drink off your clothes, a little annoyed at the inconvenience. You can feel his gaze burning into you without looking.

"Do ya want me to give you mine?" he offers, gesturing towards his own shirt. "It might be a bit big on you, but at least it's dry." he pauses, waiting for your response.

You stare at him. "And what? you're going to walk around shirtless?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. He chuckles. "Yeah, I have a banging body, so I'll just be doing everybody here a favor here, really," he replies with a smirk.

You roll your eyes at his cocky remark. "I think I'll manage without your shirt, thanks," you say sarcastically. "But I appreciate the offer."

He laughs as he observes you. "Okay, then let me find another way to make it up to you."

"There's no need."

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"I'm fine."

"Does 7 p.m. sound good to you?"

"Listen—"

"Where are you staying?"

"I don't even know you."

"It's Daniel."

"Okay, Daniel. I don't know you, so no."

"But you could," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. "And who knows, it could be the start of something new."

"Are you quoting High School Musical to me?"

"Hey, it's a classic. And it was right there."

You chuckle, unable to resist his charm. Something lights up in his eyes.

"Listen, I won't push you anymore. It's up to you. Can't blame me for trying, though." you raise an eyebrow, considering his words.

"I'm going to go now," you tell him, pointing at the door.

He nods understandingly. "See ya later."

•••

After about 30 more minutes of indulging everyone in conversation and enjoying the party, Lewis Hamilton finds you. "Hi sweetie, there you are," he greets you, ever so polite. "I heard chatter that you were here. I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow's practice sessions."

"Oh yeah, but you know duty calls," you say with a smile as you lean in to hug him. "It's so nice to see you. Thanks again for the passes."

"Oh, it's nothing. You would've gotten them without me, but I'm glad you called me instead. How have you been enjoying Monaco so far?"

"Good, good—" you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, a burst of laughter you recognize from earlier erupts from across the room. "Actually, do you happen to know him?" you ask Lewis, gesturing with your head towards the source of laughter. Daniel is joyfully engaged in conversation with a group of people. Lewis follows your gaze and chuckles, "Ah, that's Daniel Ricciardo. He's a fellow Formula 1 driver and quite the character, to be honest. He's a cool dude."

"Huh," is all you manage to say as you watch Daniel animatedly tell a story, his infectious laughter filling the room.

"What are we looking at?" Renata and Aaron find you and join the conversation; their curiosity is piqued.

"Nothing," you quickly respond. Renata immediately caught on to your evasive response and followed your gaze. "Oh, Daniel?" she exclaims, voice hushed and her eyes glinting with excitement.

"Wait, you know who he is?"

"I did my homework on the plane. He drives for Renault, and he looks great doing it."

Lewis and Aaron chuckle at Renata's enthusiasm, sharing in her excitement. "I think Renata will be watching a few races from now on," Lewis remarks, causing everyone to laugh. Renata shrugs, a proud smile on her face. "Trust me, I will, but not for him. Have you heard of Charles Leclerc?"

You're still staring at Daniel, dumbfounded. Wheels are turning in your mind.

Aaron's voice interrupts your thoughts. "So...why are we still staring at him?"

"I'm going on a date with him tonight."

Your own declaration surprises you.

"Wait, you are?" both of your friends say in unison, their eyes widening with curiosity.

"Yes," you say, setting down your drink. "You guys ready to go now?"

They nodded, not wanting to press further but clearly intrigued by this, and you said your goodbyes to Lewis, promising to see him on Friday at the track. As you made your way to the exit, you grabbed Daniel by the arm and pulled him aside.

"Hotel Hermitage, 7 p.m., Room 303. Don't be late," you whispered, voice calm and steady. Daniel's mouth curled into a smile, but he maintained his composure and nodded, a feeling of excitement in his gaze. With a final pat on his shoulder, you rejoined your friends and headed out of the venue, eager for the evening ahead.

•••

You don't know what the hell you were thinking when you said yes. You could feel your anxiety building as the time approached—face flushed, stomach twisting in knots. James and Liz, your hair and makeup team, paused, laying out brushes and curling wands. "Everything okay, love?" James asked. "You want us out?"

"No, keep going. You're almost done, anyway. I'm just internally freaking out a little."

"You're great and look beautiful," Liz replied. "There's nothing to worry about."

You give her a tight smile and try to believe her words, but the nagging doubts continue to linger in the back of your mind. As the final touches are applied, you take a deep breath and say your goodbyes to them.

"Good luck and have fun!" James says as Liz winks at you and closes the door. You chuckle at their enthusiasm. You walk back into the bedroom and pick up the black cocktail dress hanging on the closet door. The soft fabric feels comforting against your fingertips as you slip it on. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, accentuating your best features. You grab your clutch and check yourself in the mirror one last time.

A knock on the door startles you. "Coming!"

Breathe, you remind yourself.

"Wow," Daniel says with a warm smile. "You look absolutely stunning. Are you ready to go?"

You're sure your face must look like a tomato as you thank Daniel for the compliment.

"Yes, let's."

As you reach the entrance of the hotel, Daniel hands the valet a ticket, and he opens the door of his car for you. "My lady," he says with a playful bow. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you step into the very flashy luxury car. For an F1 driver, you didn't expect anything less. The soft leather seats hug your body as you settle in, and the sleek interior design adds to the overall opulence of the vehicle. Daniel starts the engine, and the car glides smoothly onto the road.

"Where are you taking me?"

He looks at you with a mischevious grin plastered on his face. "My friend Max is throwing a yatch party tonight, and I thought it would be the perfect way to spend the night," he says, revving the engine slightly. "But I intend to dine and wine you before we head there."

"Oh," you reply nonchalantly, "Nice."

"Still playing hard to get?"

You shrug and give him a grin.

"That's alright. I enjoy a good challenge," he replies, his eyes sparkling. "But I have a feeling that by the end of the week, you won't be able to resist my charm." He winks at you.

"You're quite confident, aren't you?" you say, raising an eyebrow. "But don't underestimate my ability to resist." You smirk back at him, ready to prove him wrong.

The car pulls up to the entrance of the restaurant, and you both step out onto the bustling street. You make your way inside. "Oh, I've been here before," you say lowly, feeling a little satisfied that it is something you've experienced already, so it's harder for him to impress you.

You couldn't have been more wrong, though.

The hostess greets you with a warm smile and leads you to the main dining area. As you follow her, you can't help but notice it's....empty. Not a single table is occupied. The dimly lit room feels intimate and cozy, with soft music playing in the background and red roses adorning each table.

The hostess gestures towards a table in the middle of the room. "The waiter will be with you shortly," she says before leaving you alone.

You turn around, facing Daniel. "Did you rent out the entire restaurant for us?" you ask, slightly surprised. Daniel chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I just made a reservation for a quiet evening," he replies.

"You're an awful liar."

"I just saw how hectic everything was for you this morning, with all the pictures and people clamoring for your attention. I wanted to give you a break from that and create a peaceful vibe for us to enjoy tonight," Daniel explains, his eyes filled with sincerity.

You smile. "That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

"I have my moments."

The night continues with the two of you enjoying the delicious food and engaging in fun and light conversation. The peaceful atmosphere allows you both to relax and truly connect with each other.

Just what you needed but didn't realize until now.

"You're literally always smiling," you tell him. In the very short time you've known Daniel, there's something constant about him: his distinctive smile. Daniel chuckles and replies, "It's amazing what surgery can do. Formula 1 pays really well, and I was able to put a lot of that money into permanent smile surgery."

You burst out laughing. "Well, they did a great job," you say, still chuckling.

•••

You glided arm in arm onto the yatch, dry martinis in hand and a revolving stream of waitstaff to refill your drinks as soon as they emptied. You feel more relaxed and comfortable now. Maybe it was the three glasses of wine you had at dinner and the drink that's currently in your hand, or maybe it was the contagious laughter and carefree attitude of your date.

Cote d'Azur was a smooth wash of precious stones at this time of year. The ocean's deep, smoky blue stretched out like a shiny carpet. Loud music blasted from the speakers, and the upper deck was transformed into a vibrant dance floor with people spinning and swaying to the beat.

You wished you could rest your head on Daniel's shoulder without looking like you were already drunk.

He excitedly introduced you to his friends, who instantly made you feel like part of their tight-knit circle. As the night progressed, you found yourself effortlessly blending in.

"So how did this insufferable clown manage to take you out on a date?" Max asked, his voice loud over the booming music.

You shared a brief glance with Daniel. "He spilled champagne all over me."

"And then she couldn't help but fall for my charming personality and good looks," Daniel interjected with a playful grin.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Daniel puts a hand on your lower back, and you mindlessly lean into his touch. "You wanna go outside for a bit?"

The need for some fresh air and a break from the crowded room causes you to hum in agreement. You leaned over and observed the white waves as they cut through the water as you came across a section of railing near the stern of the yatch.

The sound of the waves crashing against the yacht provided a soothing soundtrack to your conversation. As you leaned against the railing, Daniel's playful banter continued.

"Are you having fun?"

"Very much so," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"So I'm winning sooner than I thought I would."

"Winning what exactly, Daniel?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. "The game of enjoying this beautiful yacht ride? Then yes, I suppose you are."

He laughed, but it wasn't his usual boisterous laugh. It was a softer, more genuine sound that made your heart flutter.

He came closer. "Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?"

As he leaned in, you could feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you. His eyes were locked with yours.

"You're falling for me," he whispered, his voice husky. The words sent a shiver down your spine, confirming what you had been trying to deny for the past hour or so. Not because you didn't find him charming or attractive, but because you felt like you were betraying the person who broke your heart months ago.

How can someone break your heart if it wasn't theirs to begin with?

You push back those thoughts.

The playful banter that played out all night faded into the background as a new energy filled the air, sparking a connection between the two of you that was impossible to ignore.

You give in.

"You think?"

He nods, his eyes dark. Your hands were encircling his neck, one at the nape of his neck and the other against the side, where you could feel his heart pounding beneath the pads of your fingers. Your fingers scraped at bristled hairs as you held onto his curls, and you enjoyed the feel of them rubbing against the pads of your fingers. You were tightly gripping him in your hands, not allowing even a millimeter to pass.

Daniel couldn’t decide where to touch you. You huffed a breath against his mouth as the lightest of touches - the barest featherweight of fingertips, like your skin was made of silk, traced along the curve of your jawline. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more of his touch. His fingers continued their exploration, trailing down the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

He had pressed you against the railing at your back with no warning, and you felt the firm pressure of it. And now you arose from it, attempting to cling to every bone-hard surface of Daniel's body. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that consumed all rational thought.

"People are watching," you whispered breathlessly, breaking the kiss reluctantly. Daniel's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of desire and mischief. He smirked, his hand sliding down your waist possessively.

"Let them."

You were so fucked.

•••

You’d barely been able to breathe these past couple of days with events and rendezvous with Daniel consuming your every waking moments. It was fast paced and you found yourself completely swept up in the whirlwind of emotions. He was showing you his world and you were willingly diving headfirst into it.

It was Saturday morning, which meant is qualifying day and despite all of the media commitments and preparation that Daniel had to do, he’d promised breakfast as a way to make up for it. So here you were at a cafe only a short walk from the circuit, chewing your way through a delicious stack of pancakes while Daniel sipped on his coffee.

It felt oddly comforting to be sitting there with him. He was a stranger to you just a few days ago, but now he feels like a familiar presence. The conversations flowed effortlessly between you; he was funny, attentive, and attentive, but most importantly, he wasn't afraid of showing you off and telling you how much he liked you.

From the moment you crossed paths, he showed interest in you and made an effort. You haven't questioned whether he genuinely liked you or not. It was nice to be with someone who didn't play games or hide their feelings.

Your mind has also found a new way to torture you: whenever you felt happy with Daniel, a nagging voice in the back of your head would remind you of him.

Him. Him. Him.

You couldn't even say or think of his name. It was too much.

And yes, you were content, but you couldn't help but think about it.

The first time you tasted Daniel's lips, you were let down it wasn't the same. That feeling of disappointment lingered, but as days passed, it dissipated more and more. Maybe one day it'll be gone completely, you thought.

"So let me get this straight," you say, putting your fork and knife down on the plate. "You were on your way to winning in 2016, but a pit stop error cost you the race?"

Daniel nods. "It haunted me for so long. I couldn't shake off the frustration."

You grab your coffee and lean back on the chair, listening intently. "It was very dark. I should've been happy because I was on the podium in Monaco, and that's huge, but I was miserable. The whole time, all I wanted to do was smash everything to pieces and scream, which is something you do not want to do in front of Monaco royalty, by the way."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by Daniel's emotional upheaval. This was clearly a pivotal moment for him. "So, what finally helped you move past that?" you ask, curious to hear his response.

"Well," Daniel begins, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I won last year."

"Yeah, that'll do it."

You both laugh, and he places a hand on your knee beneath the table. "But honestly," he continues, his voice softening. "It wasn't just about winning. It was about proving to myself that I could overcome my own limitations and achieve greatness."

"So...winning basically," you respond, teasingly.

"See, I wanted to be humble about it, but let's be real, winning felt pretty damn good," Daniel admits with a sheepish grin. "I love winning."

You snort in amusement, "Well, I guess a little bit of bragging rights never hurt anyone."

You two carry on with your meals. His left hand still on your knee, and the air filled with contentment.

•••

While Daniel returned from the qualifying weigh-in, you waited at the back of the garage. You had gradually gotten to know the Renault team over the previous two days. Everyone, from the mechanics to the media team, has been friendly and welcoming to you. You're still trying to decide whether it's because of Daniel, your status, or that they were just nice. Pretty sure it was all three.

You were aware that it would be best for you to stay out of the way as the team worked and the broadcasting teams were filming in and around the pit lane, but you were unable to hide in Daniel's prep room. At the back of the garage, you found a calm area where you could watch the busy activity without being a nuisance.

You were aware that, although you might have been in the VIP sections, you couldn't be that far away from him. You were able to feel more connected to Daniel and the team's spirit by spending time in the garage.

The phone had been ringing nonstop all day in the back pocket of your pants; the screen frequently flashed with new notifications from your social media accounts or texts or calls from friends and family. You were aware that the countless pictures of Daniel and you parading through Monaco were the root of the problem.

It was truly a sight to behold to be watching him race around the track and walk around the paddock.

He was in his element.

"You look cute, baby," he says, referring to the oversized headseat on your head. His face flushed from the heat, and yours from the compliment. His hair was messy and a little damp from sweat, evidence of the intense racing. He looked perfect.

Fuck.

He leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing against yours, electricity rushing through you.

Fuck.

"I think you're winning," you say, your eyes fixed on him.

"Aw, that's sweet of you, baby, but I didn't qualify that great," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"That's not what I meant."

His face is puzzled for a moment before realization dawns on him. He smirks, his signature smile spreading across his face. "Oh," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

"Yeah," you say, barely above a whisper, your eyes never leaving his.

"I told you so," he replies, his voice filled with confidence and pride.

"Shut up," you say playfully before kissing him again.

Fuck.

You were falling for him.

a/n: oh oh pedro...someone's stealing your girl. are you guys team pedro or team daniel?

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it! thank you for reading :)

#happy october 1st 🎃#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 2 months

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Part 12

MASTAPOST

huge credit for their support and betaing to @brekitten

And credit to @adonneniel for sam’s last line :3

Tucker’s fingers flew over the keyboard as sweat rolled down his eyes. The cave was supposed to be cool and damp, but he felt as if placed under a heat lamp. Lines of code, addresses and file names filled the screen. New windows and notifications popped up faster than he could chase them down. The presence of his giant in the hacking world crept closer and closer. His chest cramped from heavy breaths. Sam was barely a few feet away, muttering an incantation, but the distance felt like miles. Each new line of code seemed to shift the walls of the cave inwards or outwards depending at random. He kept going. He couldn’t stop. Not with Danny out there and alone.

He always thought himself as good at hacking. Good with tech. The guy who could turn Skulker’s suit into puppetry. The guy who could out-hack fucking Technus. But maybe he was always just a small fish in a small pond. As the enemy hacker closed in on Tucker, each wave surrounding him, infiltrating like rats into a battered house of cards.

Tucker knew it was inevitable, but to see it happen was something else.

The enemy hacker got it. Got everything Tucker had ever stored on this laptop. His location, his destroying of evidence. His tampering with the sonars to ignore Danny. His attempt at erasing the video footage showing Danny sneaking off. Everything was in the hands of a stranger whose face Tucker would never see.

The only thing keeping him from fully breaking down was the comfort that the real incriminating data was safely locked away in his room, on a server that would brick itself if anyone other than Team Phantom tried to get in. That he made sure of, not just with tech, but with Sam’s spells.

It was cold comfort, though. Not a complete catastrophe, but still fucking awful.

Tucker sat back, watching glumly, helpless to do anything more. His deletion program ran in the background, destroying everything, but it was too late anyway.

Sam growled in frustration. “It’s not working. This stupid Mercator Projection map is fucking with the spell. I can’t tell if he’s in Hawaii or Mexico City.”

She crumpled up the cheap map they’d bought from the tourist shop and stomped on it with a thumping vengeance. They would’ve brought an entire globe, the bigger the better, but that would get them noticed, and flying under the radar was the whole point.

“Any luck?”

Tucker gestured to his computer, about to be bricked again. “This guy’s a monster. A monster. I’m like a tiny ant compared to him. Every time I make a move he’s made fifteen more.”

“There’s gotta be something else we can do. Come on, Tuck-”

Then the waterfall sprayed over the cove, revealing the Fenton Family SAV.

Shit.

He and Sam locked eyes in a second. Then they broke eye contact. They and Danny had gone over plans for what to do if certain things happened. If someone stole the files on his servers. If someone followed Danny without noticing. If someone found their cove.

Above all else, above everything else, don’t tell them about Danny. Don’t even hint towards it. Play dumb and obfuscate.

Tucker realised belatedly that they never got to practice all of those plans.

Mrs Fenton leapt off the bow, and marched like a woman possessed. Her eyes narrowed. Her shoulders squared up. Her jawline set.

Tucker felt like he was going to die.

“Where’s Danny?” Mrs Fenton all but ordered. “Where is he? Is it true? Is it true that that- that- that Phantom brainwashed all of you into helping him!? What did Phantom do to him?! What happened to my baby?!” Each question echoed louder, more panicked than the last.

What was the rulebook for this situation again?!

Tucker’s mouth dried. Every millisecond not responding put the fear of God into his heart. “Who the heck is Phantom?”

Mrs Fenton’s expression hardened further, if that was possible. Wrong thing to say, fuck.

Sam stepped in front of him, pose defiant, but arms shaking just enough for Tucker to notice. “That’s what we’ve been doing. We’ve been looking for Danny because the adults sure as fucking hell won’t.”

Looking for him, and Damian Wayne, but maybe bringing him up was going to be more trouble than it was worth, seeing as behind Mrs Fenton, Danny’s dad and holy shit was that Bruce Wane trailed up behind her. If it weren’t for the situation, Tucker felt like would’ve died anyway from meeting his idol.

Mr Wayne spoke up next. “I’m sorry we neglected the case of your friend, but you should’ve informed the authorities as soon as you suspected. How long have you known and not told anyone?”

Because telling people about Danny would land him on a VIP seat in the operating theatre! Because it was your freaking son he was trying to save?

Tucker couldn’t tell them that. What could he tell? He clenched his jaw like a vice, searching for a way out of this…

“You guys don’t get to tell us what to do.” Sam ground out. “We’ve been helping Phantom protect this freaking island from the sirens for months, with no help from any of you.”

Right! Good work Sam. Just a tiny hint of the truth and the real secrets stay hidden. Sam, he could kiss her right now (not that he’d ever want to).

Mrs Fenton raised her voice. “Samantha, we’ve been over this. Phantom isn’t a hero like Batman or Wonder Woman or Superman. He’s an inhuman monster staking claim over a territory. He’s tricking you kids!”

“Phantom’s saved us more than we could count! He’s risked his neck for this town.” Sam spat out, squaring up to Mrs Fenton on her steel-toed boots.

“He’s protecting his assets! If Phantom is such a protector, then why would he threaten the mayor, lead the invasion of town and work with Showenhower!?”

“It was all just a m-misunderstanding, Mrs Fenton, I swear!” Tucker said.

Mrs Fenton continued. “And now Danny’s gone. We know he’s been supplying Phantom with our inventions. Don’t you try and play dumb with us, young man. We’ve seen the footage of Danny sneaking out.”

Tucker’s blood ran thinner, and thinner. The cold sweat returned in full force.

Mr Wayne came between them, trying to put space between the two, without much success. “Please, if Phantom is hurting or threatening you in any way, it’s ok to tell us. We can keep you safe. We just need to know what happened to Danny.”

Sam gulped. Loud enough that even Tucker could hear it. It was at times like these Tucker wished Danny’s parents were as inattentive as they were made out to be by the public.

Their silence spoke volumes enough. Tucker wasn’t Batman, and neither was Sam. They didn’t have the chops to talk their way out of this, not enough Charisma to hit the DC checks, but they were also cornered here by the adults. One way or another, Tucker feared for Danny’s secrets.

Mr Fenton spoke up next, his voice uncharacteristically contemplative. “When I showed Danno the new security system and cameras in the lab and arsenal two weeks ago, it felt like he wasn’t as pumped up as I was. At first I thought it was nothing, but looking back it almost looked like fear.”

Well duh! You were showing him all the stuff you were gonna use to tear him into itty bitty pieces! Who wouldn’t be afraid for their life?!

Bruce Wayne crouched to their level, eyes soft like they were traumatized orphans that he was gonna adopt or something. “Did Phantom threaten Danny into giving him wea-”

“NO!” Tucker shouted instantly. A beat passed. His voice echoed through the cave. Shit. With the way the adults were looking at him, he might as well have said yes.

Sam pushed Mr Wayne away, or at least she tried to. The man barely budged, so she just stepped back from him. “Why do you care?! Already looking for another kid to replace the one you lost?”

The Fentons’ eyes widened, their faces in shock. Mr Wayne looked like he’d been punched through the gut and made into a donut. Ouch Sam, what the fuck?!

His voice lowered into a dark timbre, his expression steely cold. “I don’t want any more kids to get hurt. This Phantom needs to be stopped.”

Sam clutched his hand like a clamp. Tucker’s heart sank. What had they just done?

Please be alright, Danny, and Damian Wayne…

In an ocean far far away…

Damian sniffed the water as he clung to Danny’s shoulders again, his tail wrapped around the black and white boy’s waist. The kid had been doing that a lot lately, sniffing. Claimed it was to hone his senses.

“I believe I can smell Atlanteans nearby.” Damian said. Danny took the moment to verify his suspicions with his whole whiff.

“Yeah, looks it.” Danny said. He was a little suspicious though. Damian had refused to speak about what happened in the Atlantean outpost and how he got all this cool stuff. Surely he could’ve have fought them off, so he probably snuck around. Danny couldn’t imagine how terrifying that kind of thing would be. At least he knew his parents and what they were capable of when sneaking around the house and Amity. This kid was literally just some normal rich kid until all this happened.

“Why do you mention it?” Danny asked.

“I believe we it would be beneficial for us to partake in raid.”

Danny blinked.

A raid.

“You raided the Atlanteans and got this stuff. Like, legit raiding.” Danny said, dumbfounded.

“I met little resistance.”

Danny needed a moment to breathe here. His gills flexed open and closed.

“And now you want to raid another settlement. Why? We’re still good on food, and we even have veggies!”

Damian shook his head. “We need a map.”

Danny huffed, fins straightening. “We have a map literally up there!” he pointed up at the orange and purple sky over the sunset. The brightest stars were already beginning to show, with many more on the way.

“The Atlanteans likely keep maps of the local area, including human settlements and islands. There we can find further resources, and establish contact with the human world again.”

Huh. That was actually a pretty solid plan. His friends, sister (and maybe parents, if they noticed) were likely worried sick. A phone wouldn’t do them very well in the water, but even just a call letting them know they were ok would do wonders for their mental health.

That still left one teensy, tiny little issue, though.

“But how did you raid them the first time?!”

“It matters not.” Damian said, fins puffing up with pride. “All that matters is that with your skillset, such a mission will be as easy as breathing underwater.”

This kid was having way too much fun boasting of things no kid should’ve been able to accomplish. Then again, he showed some pretty insane marksmanship with the Wrist Ray the other day, so maybe he really did have the chops to back the ego up.

That acknowledgement did not stop Danny from pulling Damian to his chest, and administering a thorough nooggie, however.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #bruce wayne #good parents jack and maddie #good parent bruce wayne #tucker foley #sam manson #tuck and sam are doing their best lol #it's a stressful situation #they're 14 and they've only been Team Phantom for 6 months #sirens

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 11 months

Text

❤️ Loved By You ❤️

Summary; Eddie's ghost haunts Hawkins, Lovers Lake, The Hideout, the benches in the woods near Hawkins High, and especially the Trailer Park.

All your life you've heard of the poor souls who died in Hawkin's earthquake of 86.

Most passed on, Eddie wasn't so lucky he's been stuck in limbo for thirty-four years, fading in and out as time passes, trying to find companionship but failing.

That's until he meets you.

Love transcends death and happy endings can happen even when all hope seems lost.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. 18+, minors dni. Soulmate au

I don't give anyone permission to copy, repost or reuse my work.

If you enjoyed this pls consider reblogging, etc. It's much appreciated. ❤️

I hope you all enjoy it, it's a long fic and I hope you all love it as much as I do. ❤️✨

❤️

All your life you had heard about the great earthquake of 1986 that happened in Hawkins.

Every year the town held a vigil for those that died, your best friend's parents Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington held a special service along with Dustin Henderson and Robin Buckley for one person in particular.

Eddie Munson. The ghost of Hawkins, an urban legend whose name was whispered about by adults and whose legend was infamous.

Once accused of killing three high school students from Hawkins High, those of whom were in his (third) senior class.

Until Jim Hopper, Hawkin's most famous sheriff for a whole lot of things, the most amazing being coming back from the dead- or escaping the prison he was held at in Russia.

Anyway, Jim had cleared Eddie of any wrongdoing after his death, in fact, according to Dustin, and many others he had died a hero, helping save others during the earthquake.

Dustin told a lot of stories about Eddie, you'd heard a few when you hung out with Alice, it was bittersweet though because you could see how much pain it caused Dustin to talk about Eddie but he said he had to talk about him because he never wanted Eddie's memory to be forgotten.

You wondered what Dustin thought of the Urban Legend regarding Eddie's ghost. Over the years many people claimed to see Eddie, some were stoned, drunk or a little bit of both.

Others were curious, trying to find out if the tales of Eddie's ghost were true. Double dares to go deep into the woods and call out his name, mentions of the faint sounds of a guitar playing when everything was silent at The Hideout, the cave in Lovers Lake was a hot spot for activity too.

Some part of you yearned to know if it was true, even though the logical part of your brain dismissed it as nothing more than an urban legend.

Plus, you had seen how upset the rumours made Dustin, how much he hated that his friend was used as a laugh for dumb teenagers and even some adults looking for a scare.

Unfortunately, as much as you didn't want to entertain the rumours, some people were all for finding out if the ghost of Eddie Munson was real or not.

❤️❤️

Todd Carver was your ex and to say he was a dick was an understatement. You had dated him for two months and grew tired of his arrogant and boastful demeanour.

Graduation was fast approaching and you wanted more out of life than Todd and his asshole tendencies.

It was just your luck he was still part of your friend group however you did your best to avoid him.

He had been trying to get you to date him again but you just weren't interested.

You hear him goading someone and your stomach fills with anger when you notice its Dustin's son Ben.

He was exactly like his dad, you were very protective of him and follow Todd as he and his friends Calvin and Sam push Ben into the woods.

You can hear their laughter and it infuriates you.

"Come on dude, call out for Munson, didn't your daddy give you Eddie for a middle name? Talk about morbid man"

"Shut up" Ben snaps and you hear those morons laugh again as they tease Ben.

"Leave him alone!" you march up to Todd and he snorts.

"Come on Babe, we're just messing around" you glare at him. Steve said he was like his Uncle Jason in miniature, he didn't like to speak ill of the dead but apparently, Jason was an asshole, Todd was just like him.

"It's not funny Todd, Get lost asshole" Todd snorts.

"What? we just wanna know if Eddie Munson's ghost is real or not? What's wrong with that?" he replies innocently but his eyes are full of malice.

He imitates a ghost and at that exact moment, a branch falls and hits Todd, leaves fall on him and his eyes widen in shock and a small hint of fear.

"It's Munson! Let's get out of here" he rushes away with Calvin and Sam at his heels.

Ben smiles, relaxing as he watches them go.

"Thanks for helping me" You ruffle his hair and tell him to get back for his last lesson.

As he heads away you turn to look at the fallen branch and leaves and frown curiously. There's no wind? Was it an old branch or something else? Something spookier?

Then there's a voice behind you and you freeze on the spot.

"God, that Todd dude was a dick right?" when you turn around he's standing near the benches, arms folded across his chest.

His hair is wild, dark brown and long. Big brown eyes filled with annoyance, some of his tattoos visible and he's wearing a Hellfire t-shirt and jeans just like you saw in the pictures Dustin has on his mantelpiece.

What the fuck.

"He's related to Carver? Can spot that asshole smirk anywhere" Eddie grins at you.

"Shit, you're really... I thought you were a myth or some urban legend passed around by stoned guys and campfire tales" he snorts.

"I'm as real as it gets princess... The smile falls away from his lips, still very much dead though, which is shit"

You sit down on the bench feeling a little bit dizzy, you can barely believe what's happening.

"The branch" you ask faintly and he smiles, it's heart melting, all dimples and a hint of cheekiness.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Just that dick Carver. You dated that douchebag? Could do a lot better princess" you stare at him still processing everything.

"How did you know that?" he shrugs and sits beside you, the temperature drops a little.

"I'm a ghost, I hear all kinds of shit. Disappear for weeks on end, then come back again. It's confusing being stuck in this limbo world"

"I'm sorry" you reply feeling his sadness so acutely that it takes your breath away for a second.

"It's kay, not your fault. It's nice sticking around sometimes, even if I can't do much. Haunt the dickheads that come out here sometimes though the bullying little shits, keep track of Hellfire Club which is cool, amazing how massive it is now" he looks so proud.

"I know Dustin, Steve, Nancy, Robin. They've told me all about you. You died a hero" he gets up and smiles faintly.

"Decided to stop running, sometimes I wonder if it was sheer stupidity more than bravery"

"Bravery, not stupidity" you assure him and there comes that dimpled grin again. It makes you feel out of sorts, tingly.

"Must have been an awful earthquake" you sympathise and Eddie nods wincing.

"Yeah, was more concentrated on dying at that point though" this confuses you and you say so.

"It wasn't the earthquake that killed you?" he stares at you puzzled.

"No, it was the bats that killed me' he points to the tattoo of the bats on his arm. Ironic right?"

Wait... What?

"Bats?" his eyes widen.

"Shit you don't know?" he cringes and then turns on his heel and disappears. You call him back, curiosity piqued.

What the heck didn't you know? What was going on? More importantly, you just talked to Eddie Munson.

It's a thought that should terrify you but it doesn't and you find yourself anxious for the chance to speak to him again.

❤️

Eddie must be as curious about you as you are about him because he appears again at the edge of the woods while you are talking to your friends.

Anticipation fills you and you want to talk to him so badly, quickly.

You're a little breathless as you catch up to him and sit on the bench.

"Can you tell me what you meant about the bats, please? If you're okay to talk about it. I understand if you don't. The memories must be awful" he pauses for a few seconds then nods.

"Okay, I'll tell you but be warned. This shit is crazy. You might not believe me" you pay him rapt attention.

"Try me" and with that he begins to tell you everything.

You just talk a lot, he opens up about what really happened in Hawkins in 1986 you're stunned and have so many questions.

Demobats, Vecna, The Upside Down, The Mindflayer, The earthquake that rocked Hawkin's was caused by Vecna killing four people, their friend Max was the last death and it literally opened the gates to hell, where The Upside Down bled into Hawkins.

There was a massive group in Hawkins including Dustin, Nancy, her brother Mike, Steve, Robin and a super powers girl named El that fought against the monsters.

The evil was defeated but Max passed away and that caused a huge fracture in the group as well as Eddie's death.

"Sucked watching all the shit going down, doing my best to help when I could. When I wasn't vanishing for months at a fucking time" Eddie murmurs and his tone hurts your heart.

"Thank you for telling me Eddie. I really appreciate it" he offers you a warm smile and sighs as he looks to the darkening sky.

"You should get home, it's been hours" the darkened sky surprises you and you swear.

"Shit. Dad is going to be so pissed" You gather your things and Eddie clears his throat.

"Can I see you tomorrow sweetheart?" your heart melts at his hopeful expression and you find yourself aching to see him too.

"Count on it" you assure him. He sticks around to make sure you get to your car safely, he's gentlemanly and it's so sweet that you are smiling all the way home.

❤️

Even though you are still stunned about talking to a ghost you enjoy talking to Eddie, you talk a lot about many things and even though he disappears sometimes he always comes back.

The time between his disappearances begins to shorten as he mentions to you one day.

It's the first time he appeared outside your window you were just in your nightie and it was kinda cute watching Eddie stammer out his apology and turn around while you pulled on your robe.

If he could blush you're sure he would.

"Come in" you call to him and it's still pretty cool watching him go through things. He's beaming, something has made him happy and it makes you smile too.

That cute grin of his is infectious.

"The disappearances are shortening princess. It's like an hour now compared to hours or even weeks before we met"

It's amazing this is happening because you miss Eddie like crazy when he isn't around.

"This is amazing" You reach out without thinking and grab his hand, you except to feel cold, nothing at all.

Instead there is only a tiny chill as your fingers interlace through his and he is gazing at you in shock.

"You can feel me?" he whimpers and you nod tightening your grip on his hand as he squeezes your hand back, both of you are at a loss on what to say but it's also so wonderful what happened that you're both grinning at each other in a happy bubble.

❤️

Betty stares at you curiously as you doodle in your notebook, you don't mean to but you're doodling Eddie's name in little hearts.

Fuck. Over the weeks and weeks you had been getting to know each other, his form more solid with each passing day you're feelings are deep and growing by the day.

The truth was you were in love with Eddie.

"You've been lost in thought, daydreaming and smiling to yourself. What's going on? Are you in love with someone?" she asks excitedly.

Your heart speeds up but then comes crushing heartache and tears spill down your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter. It can't ever happen" she looks so confused as she rushes to comfort you.

"I don't understand honey" she wouldn't be able to.

How could you explain that you were head over heels in love with a ghost?

💕

It was a quiet night. Just you and Eddie. His body so close to yours, you bridge the tiny gap between the two of you and lay your head on his chest.

He feels so solid so real and for a few precious seconds you forget that you don't hear his heart beating. That it can never beat. All that matters is that Eddie is here with you.

That's until your doorbell rings and you groan getting up, you can hear that its Todd before you even see him and feel pissed. What the hell did he want?

You open the door just wanting to get this over with.

"Babe! It's been weeks and weeks. Graduation is next Friday! I've been super patient but when are you going to take me back?" you gape at him.

"Uh, how about the first of never? We broke up for good Todd because you're an arrogant bully" he looks stunned for a second.

"This is bullshit! You've met someone else haven't you" There's a shadow upstairs near your room, it's Eddie.

He's protective and you know he won't take Todd shouting at you lightly. However you're well versed in dealing with this dumbass.

"It's none of your business. Go away, Todd. You and I are never going to happen again" he scowls and reaches towards you to grab your arm.

"What are you doing! Let go!" his eyes darken and your heart sinks but then he comes to when you wrench your arm away and he snorts.

Then the next second he's literally flying out the door and lands right on his ass outside. You slam the door shut and head back upstairs knowing Eddie is annoyed.

He is quiet as you head into your room, still fuming that Todd thought you would ever want him back.

"Of all the arrogant, conceited assholes" you huff and you turn to Eddie who is resting on your bed his face blank.

"Eddie?" he gets up, he looks so tense and you move closer to him and gently take his hand.

"Eddie?" he turns to you and he looks forlorn, it makes your heart ache so deeply when he hurts, you hurt.

"What's wrong? Is this about Todd? I don't want him back. You know that right? He's such a douchebag and... He turns away and when he turns back to you his gaze is cold.

"Yeah, he's a dickhead but not every guy you meet will be. You'll find someone special, look at you. You're amazing, sweet, kind, beautiful" his words warm your heart and yet you still feel anxious.

"I don't want some guy. I... You're all I think about Eddie" It's the first time you've admitted out loud even though it's been obvious between you two for a while now.

He shakes his head, his eyes shining but his face set and angry.

"You can't sweetheart. I'm not even here, not really. You can feel me and I can feel you, yeah but it doesn't change the fact that I don't even have a fucking heartbeat"

"It doesn't change the fact that you have no future with me"

There's silence and he begins to fade.

"Please don't go" you beg and he smiles sadly.

"I can't be selfish sweetheart, you deserve someone real, someone who can be with you properly, that can't happen while I'm hanging around. Goodbye princess, thank you for making me happy for the first time in thirty five years" his hand gently strokes over your cheek.

"No, no" you beg but he disappears completely and he doesn't come back, not even for your heartbreaking calls.

Even if it breaks the heart that no longer beats inside of him, he knows he has to stay away.

❤️

It's been a week since Eddie left, sometimes you think that you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, smell his cologne when you wake up in the night but it's all just wishful thinking you realise.

You can't even explain to anyone why you're heartbroken, you feel so alone.

Graduation passes by and while you're happy that you and your friends will be together at the newly built Hawkins academy, there is still a heaviness in your heart that is left by Eddie's absence.

For a second you swear you see Eddie at the edge of the forest but he's gone the next second and you're sure much to your disappointment that you imagined it.

He really wasn't coming back. The thought broke your heart all over again.

❤️

The next night you find yourself wandering around Lovers Lake. All your friends are here and it's a massive party for all seniors.

As they party you head off on your own and find the cave that Eddie supposedly haunts, you just want to feel close to him for a little while.

The tears you've been holding in since yesterday fall and you cry it all out, all the heart ache and pain.

"Please don't cry," you think you imagine Eddie's voice but when you look up he's watching you, he looks agonised.

"What are you doing here, I thought you were staying away?" you wipe your eyes and stand up shakily. He swallows and moves closer to you.

"It's hell. Like a physical constant ache, it never goes away, the longing to be with you. When I'm not with you I'm in agony. Didn't know being dead could hurt this much. Hurt even worse than when I died"

Your whole body shakes with tears.

"I feel the same way, it feels like I can't breathe Eddie, it hurts so badly" he reaches out to you and his hand rests on your cheek.

"How can I stick around though? I'm just keeping you from moving on, finding someone who...who can really be with you" he spits out the words, the devastation in his eyes breaks your heart.

"This isn't fair. Life sucks ass you know that?" this brings a smile to his face and you cuddle into him, then you peer up at him.

"I love you Eddie, I'm in love with you" his expression changes, it's like happiness radiates from him and it fills your heart with joy.

"I love you too sweetheart, I'm so in love with you" his lips meet yours and you kiss passionately, pouring all of your love for each other into the kiss.

The kiss is incredible, perfect. You kiss for what seems like hours until you slowly part, Eddie's lips press to your forehead.

Then something weird happens, and Eddie's eyes widen. He stares at you for a second and whispers "Princess"

Then he's just gone.

❤️

Eddie expects to disappear and then re appear within an hour or so.

Instead of an hour it's barely a minute and something feels wrong. One minute he's in The Upside Down and he's bones and dust, the next minute, as if by magic he can feel his body coming back together, bones forming once more, skeleton then his body piecing itself back together, he opens his eyes and he can hear the most wonderful sound that he's heard in thirty five years.

The sound of his own heartbeat. He can't even comprehend how this happened. How he is alive once more.

Maybe magic did exist? If those creatures, the demobats, MindFlayer, Vecna and another dimension under Hawkins then who's to say that magic wasn't real?

A miracle had happened that's for sure. Tears burn in his eyes and he knows so much has changed over the years, his friends are grown up, his uncle an old man.

And yet he was given a second chance, another chance at life and he wasn't going to waste a single second.

At first he's unsteady on his feet, he cuts himself some slack. Shit he's been dead for so long.

Somehow though he gets out of the cold desolate world of the destroyed Upside Down.

He crawls his way out of hell and into the light.

❤️

It's a couple of hours later, you're at home and the sun is beginning to rise. Bird sing fills the air as sunlight fills your room.

That perfect kiss with Eddie fills your mind. Was it a goodbye kiss? Something didn't feel right when he disappeared and it's troubling you what it is.

"Princess" you peer up and Eddie is at your window, you race over to open it and he comes in.

"I thought you were gone" tears blur your vision and you throw your arms around him.

It takes a second for you to realise that he's warm, so warm, Eddie smiles through tears as he says something to you.

He's beaming, absolutely radiant,his whole body is solid and through your haze of tears you hear the words he's been saying to you.

"Princess, listen" he places your hand on his chest and you lean in close.

Thump, thump, thump.

You can feel the steady thump of his heart beat. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"How?" you're barely able to gasp out and he shakes his head, he has no idea either.

"After our kiss, I woke up in that place, everything was desolote and there was barely any sign of an exit but I crawled my way out of where my Uncle's trailer used to be" he closes his eyes.

"I was down there in the upside down but then I got to the surface, I could feel the sunlight, hear birds singing and could feel my heart racing, by some fucking miracle I was brought back"

"I've been given a second chance to have a new life, connect with Dustin and the others, spend my life with you if you'll have me, you're the woman I want to spend my life with" you kiss him elated.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll be by your side through all of it Eddie". His eyes darken in a delicious way that makes your whole body tingle.

"There's so many people I want to see but first I really want to spend the morning making love to my girl. Does that sound good to you Princess?"

"Yes", you manage to say as his arms wrap around you pulling you close to him.

For the first time you make love, feeling Eddie's body close to you, the way he makes you feel is everything.

Mind-blowing orgasms sweep over you both but the absolute best part is when you cuddle into his arms sleepy, when you wake up he's dozing peacefully, there's a smile on his face and you sigh content as you rest your head against his chest.

His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep once more, a smile on your face as you slumber.

❤️✨

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst

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kiwisa · 1 year

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brew-tiful ✩ dr03

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem! Barista! Reader

fluff • 500 words

IN WHICH... daniel should look at what he's ordering instead of making eyes at the pretty barista.

Anyone who happened to cross paths with Daniel every morning at 8:38 sharp, in that little cafe whose name never interested him, thought his caffeine addiction was beyond reason.

Mistakenly, but he could see where they were coming from.

If the black liquid was, indeed, an integral part of his life now, it was only because of the woman behind the counter, who he sacrificed a few dollars to every day. And God knew how much those little coins spent on this drink amounted to a fortune.

Even though money had never been an issue, let alone now ⏤ thanks to Red Bull and his new contract ⏤ he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the receipts piling up in his wallet. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the sum spent between these four walls. Otherwise, a few tears would paint his face blue. For sure.

He didn't even like coffee... For that demonic liquid — seriously, who could drink this and enjoy it? — to slide on his tongue without making a grimace appear on his face, its bitter taste had to be drowned in milk and at least three sugars.

So why bother? You must wonder, dear reader.

“Ah Danny! I was starting to believe you weren't coming today!”

It was for that voice, full of joy, tenderness, and that laughter whose notes must have been put end to end by angels. It was for you, Y/N L/N, that the Australian man came here daily, even when his wallet was crying in pain, even when coffee was the bane of his entire existence.

“And not see my favourite barista? Impossible.”

There was something about you that made his heart panic, warmed his soul, and made him want to throw up sometimes because of your kindness. A rather interesting mix: some would call it “feelings.” You were the personification of happiness, a ray of sunshine in his life constantly marred by the routine of travel and racing.

Cheeks flushed, mind wandering to fantasies of his hand in yours, his lips against your forehead, he didn't notice the almost loving gaze you placed on him, nor did he feel your fingers brushing against his as you gave him the cup. An espresso. Hell in liquid form.

Not in your eyes, however, who constantly praised it. You had suggested it to him on his first visit ⏤ saying that it was your favourite way to drink coffee ⏤ and since then he had not yet broken this unspoken rule to order one daily.

Thanking you, avoiding your gaze, Daniel hastily left the cafe, like every morning at 8:46.

Like every morning at 8:47, he tried to take a sip of this infamous brew.

Like every morning at 8:51, he dropped the still hot drink in the bottom of the closest trash can.

Like every morning at 8:51, he didn’t notice the number written in a messy way, as if in a hurry, on the cardboard cup.

Better luck tomorrow, you thought.

✩ taglist !

@sad1esgf @muglermami @i0veless @16solace @kenanlotus0 @till1am @itsnotgray @lilsiz @starkwlkr @missflobelova @mehrmonga @fxllfaiiry @crimeshowjunkie @anicega @kosmosgalore @lovemarvel16 @charles-dimple @hiding-behindmy-glasses @exatse @serenityleah @flowerchild-96 @hopiiex @ivegotparticulartaste @jivas0 @screechingtrashkid @gxp30 @lauren--maex

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo blurb #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 rpf #formula one fanfiction #formula one oneshot #formula one x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo fanfic

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onbearfeet · 3 months

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Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend

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kenzuieee · 1 year

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ran haitani x spoiled gf

nothing..just some ran headcanons

ran haitani who doesn’t even try to hide the fact that hes staring at you while being behind the wheel of his bugatti la voiture noire.

ran haitani whose eyes glance from the street infront of his eyes to you. he practically undress you with them anytime theres a red light as his left hand grips the steering wheel whilst his right hand caresses your plush thighs.

y/n who has to constantly remind ran to focus on the road as he keeps losing focus due to y/n quite literally seducing him without even knowing it.

y/n who constantly runs up ran’s bank card almost every day without a care in the world ? why should she care ? her boyfriend is ran haitani for fucks sake !!

y/n who puts her pretty feet painted white on ran’s dashboard as she mindlessly scrolls on instagram.

“rannn, do you think this would look good on me ?” you ask as you show the older haitani the most basic dress ever with a big smile plastered over your face.

“baby..that dress is so plain and simple for $2000.” he chuckles as he eyes the short black wool and silk dior dress on your cracked iphone 14 pro max. “and when did you crack your phone love ? i just bought it two months ago.”

you huff and pout as you lean back into the black seat of his luxury car. “so you’re saying it’d be ugly on me ?” you roll your eyes and continue, “and its the screen protector idiot.”

“i didnt say that love, anything looks good on you. i just dont think its worth that price.” ran mutters.

“whatever ran, im still going to buy it” you roll your eyes again while putting the dress in your cart, along with the DIOR ADDICT LIP GLOW OIL and some simple red bottom heels to match the dress.

ran haitani who would definitely buy his girlfriend skims okay ?

you never have any luck with skims drops, as if anyone ever does. so you find yourself constantly complaining to ran about how what you want is never in stock or everything being sold out before you can even get to it. honestly, you weren’t TELLING ran to buy you skims, you were just complaining about the unfortunate situation thats been happening for months and months with each drop. so when you and ran haitani left another bonten meeting at a bonten owned club, he told you about how he had a surprise awaiting you at your shared penthouse.

a series of “rannnn, what is it ? will you tell me please ?” flooded his ears during the car ride home that he simply smiled and answered with a simple “you’ll see.”

uppon arrival you see two large delivery boxes sitting upon the doorstep and you question what it could be. ran carries them inside with ease. ran removes his shoes after taking the boxes inside and tells you to sit infront of him and open the packages. you look at him with a puzzled face but nonetheless, you open the first box.

anticipation kills you as you remove the loads of packing peanuts and tissue to finally see a clear bag that says “SKIMS” on it and you almost pass out.

“babeee” you look at him with puppydog eyes “did you really ? is all of this for me” you look at him as hes pouring some tequila into a clear glass with a cigarette between his lips. he looks at you, winks, and tells you to try everything on for him. of course, the first set you try on for him is the “fits everybody micro thong” and the “fits everybody micro triangle barlette.”

hi pookies, first post ig :3 this is the first “fanfic” i’ve written ig (?) lmk how i did and should i write a nsfw part 2 ? idk !! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

#ran #ran haitani #bonten #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #ran x y/n #ran x reader #skims #spoiled reader #passenger princess #rich ran haitani #anime #manga

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peetapiepita · 8 months

Note

Who was the most lucky and un-lucky person from The Hunger Games trilogy?

Why do you pick them? Please give reasons.

You can interpret the luck and un-luck thing however you want.

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

I've posted about this several times, actually. It's a topic I like to rant about.

The most lucky person is, of course, Gale Hawthorne.

For the most unlucky person, I'd say Prim and Peeta tie for this one.

Gale is obviously a very lucky SOB. First of all, he got dozens of slips in the ball but was never reaped, especially when you think about how Prim and Peeta both got minimal slip(s) yet were both reaped.

Yes, his family suffered for quite some time because of the mine accident, but they were lucky his father taught him some hunting skills that kept them fed. And his mother is a really loving parent who genuinely cares about her kids from what we can see. That's something both Prim and Peeta never had.

Not only was Gale fed in this poor district, but he was apparently in a pretty good place where he got to make out with multiple girls and thought it wasn't such a bad idea to have kids. That's something Katniss couldn't afford to think about.

Then all the events with the games happened and the war started, all his family members survived the bombs while most of District 12 didn't. Gale was all hot-headed and went head first. But somehow, he never got severely injured. The only real injury he got was in the tunnels in the Capitol and Katniss was basically like, ahhh, I really don't want to deal with his injury but I have to. That to me means it wasn't life-threatening, at least not immediately.

In the end, he never got any consequences for the war crime he committed. He even got a nice promotion! That's some uncanny level of luck.

All in all, Gale never lost a family member, a limb, or his life, compared to Prim and Peeta, that was lucky as hell. AND all of his family members got names! Unlike Prim, whose parents went both unnamed; and Peeta, whose entire family went unnamed.

As for Prim and Peeta, I think anyone who read the books would know how unlucky they are. They both suffered their entire lives, yet they remained nice, kind, loving, and optimistic overall. I think that's part of the reason why they make Katniss happy and she loves them so much.

#answered #gale hawthorne #gale slander #hunger games #the hunger games #thg #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #primrose everdeen #everlark

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junkiespromise · 1 year

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𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐩𝐠𝟏𝟎

pairing: pierre gasly x fem!reader

summary: All the love she ever knew was one that hurted and burned but at a Parisian coffe shop on a wednesday she realized that maybe that was not all that love had to offer.

warnings: some angst mentioned because of the subject of the song.

notes: hey! my first story for the eras masterlist is finally here, so sorry it took me so long, i had a bit of a writers block, hope you enjoy it, also remember that if you want to ask for anything the requests are still open <3

masterlist

Took a deep breath in the mirror

Her apartment felt lonely now that he was gone, she was so used to the always present sound of his voice or some football match none of them paid attention to that now, in the quiet of her bedroom she also felt lonely.

Y/N felt as if a part of him was still trapped with her in that apartment, his things were still there and his smell on the shirts lingered as if they had been worn only a few days ago. It was unhealthy, she knew, that to keep reminding herself of him and what they could've been was probably one of the most self-destructing things she could do, but her mind just couldn't do anything else but go to the back of her mind and bring out memories of them.

She had spent hours looking at their room, now only hers; the feeling of his hands on her body still lingered over her every day. But she knew she could not hold that lifestyle for much longer because people would start worrying and she hated when they asked about her life; she thought she could solve her problems on her own with no help needed from anyone.

He didn't like it when I wore high heels

But I do

But ironically she found herself accepting the proposal of her friend to have a date, a blind date with a guy she had never met before and whose only information she had was his name, Pierre. She didn't really have good luck with the french but Y/N reminded herself that she needed it, she needed to meet new people, hiding away from the dating world and encapsulating herself in the same routinary life couldn't happen anymore.

Lily had set them up for a coffee date. While Y/N ended the last touches of her makeup and looked at the clothes she could wear, she put as a background sound, which was always needed, the multiple five-minute long audio messages she had sent. Where she told her trivial things but just one thing truly stuck around; "Wear your favorite shoes, those heels you love, the black ones"

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, she could only see her face and top as she bent down to check her makeup. Taking a deep breath in, she sat on the edge of her bed and slipped her black shoes on. And in the action, she remembered how he didn't like it when she wore high heels, and the hour-long arguments about what she liked and what he didn't like her to wear.

She shook her head slightly with the intention of blurring out those memories and got up from the wine-red sheets that decorated the twin-size bed and started pacing around the room, thinking about all the possible outcomes of the date and trying to find the courage to go.

. . . . . . .

The weather in Paris was not the best on those days, it rained too often for her and her hair's own good and even when she told herself that the cold days were not that bad, they were. The cobblestone streets were still humid from the midnight rain of the prior day, making her do an effort to get to the cafe without slipping on them. Her shoes click-clacked on the sidewalk's grey tiles and stopped when she reached the corner of it where a small coffee shop stood.

Y/N took a deep breath in and walked inside, the chime rang inside the small cafe, a few heads turning to look at her hastily before focusing once again on their prior actions. It wasn't too crowded, usual for a Wednesday afternoon. A warmness hugged her when she stepped in, the heating of the place suddenly replacing the before feeling of coldness.

Walked in expecting you'd be late

She was six or seven minutes late, used to her ex-boyfriend always arriving late to the dates he planned but reproaching her when she showed up a few minutes after the clock hit the hour they had agreed upon. She didn't know how she was supposed to know who the guy was, her friend didn't even give her a physical description of him.

Y/N approached the counter and quietly asked for a Latte and a Croissant. While she waited she looked around, paying attention to the people, imagining their lives, what they worked as if they had studied something and what, and then she moved on to the furniture, the trinkets that decorated empty parts of shelves and the antique tables covered by sheer white tablecloths.

"Order for Pierre" She heard who she assumed would also give her the order say, the name made her head turn, and right there was when she connected with probably the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she had ever seen. He was now looking back at her probably after feeling her stare.

But you got here early and you stand and wave

I walk to you

As she approached him, Y/N couldn't help but realize how handsome he was, Lily had told her that he was but she didn't imagine it. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the rays of sunshine that faintly reached his face also making his hair seem blonder.

"Hey, this is weird, I'm sorry I'm not the best at blind dates but, I'm Y/N, Lily's friend." She said and as the realization that she was the girl he had been waiting for settled in he warmly smiled, making Y/N's nervousness slightly dissipate.

"Ah, yes, bonjour Y/N. It's great to finally meet you, truly. You are even more gorgeous than I imagined" Her cheeks flushed as the words left his mouth, the man in front of her offered his hand to her to shake and she accepted gladly.

They both sat down at a corner table beside one of the windows. The conversation started rather awkwardly, as most first conversations on blind dates do but both of them easily connected, faster than she thought they would.

"So, how do you know Lily," He asked before taking a sip of his cup "She's the first person that I friend-shipped I guess, when I first got to Paris" Pierre nodded, noticing that she was going to keep talking, not wanting to interrupt her. "How do you know her?"

"Well, she's the girlfriend of a friend of mine and, by the way, she talked her tongue out about how amazing you were, that's how she convinced me to come" She laughed at his words, Lily could certainly be a lot sometimes "Yeah, she was like that with me too, I haven't dated in a while so when I told her I was coming she was more excited than me" He laughed at her words "Not like I wasn't excited to come you know she was just super happy I am excited yeah but-" Her rumbling was rapidly stopped by his voice that told her not to worry and he understood what she meant.

And you throw your head back laughing

Like a little kid

As they chatted Pierre couldn't help but notice the way Y/N's eyes sparkled each time she talked about her passions, making him want to know more about the girl, to explore every inch of her mind and soul, something he hadn't felt about anyone ever, especially not on a first date, and Y/N couldn't help but notice how he laughed at her jokes and didn't roll his eyes at them like he used to do each time she did or said something relatively funny.

We tell stories and you don't know why

I'm coming off a little shy

But I do

While the chat went on she found her heart skipping a beat when he laughed or touched her hand that was resting above the table and she began to feel a sense of hope in his words, Pierre's presence warmed her wounded heart, and found herself opening up to him in a way she hadn't with no one else, not even her stupid ex-boyfriend.

I think it's strange that you think I'm funny, 'cause

He never did

"Sometimes my mind wonders if I will ever find love again you know." She confessed, and their conversation had turned to a deeper tone now. "But also starting something from scratch is so hard"

"Trust me, I know the feeling ma belle" The nickname made her blush "But I'm certain that sometimes love comes knocking on your door so suddenly you don't even realize it"

I've been spending the last eight months

Thinking all love ever does

Is break and burn, and end

As the afternoon set in and those who had entered the cafe while they talked had left she realized she had never felt that way before about anyone on a first date, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way.

Their conversation continued until the cafe started to close, obligating them to leave, but they couldn't end it there, and as if it was natural they left the cafe still talking and what was supposed to be a two-minute-long walk to her car turned into a walk around the city; they strolled through the cobbled streets laughing and chatting

And we walked down the block, to my car

And I almost brought him up

But you start to talk about the movies

That your family watches every single Christmas

Both of them ended up sitting alongside the Seine River watching the water flow past them. They enjoyed the comfortable quietness of the moment. Eventually, Y/N turned to him and said "I have to admit, I was nervous about this date, I haven't been to one for a while, but in all seriousness, I'm really glad I came."

Pierre felt a warmness in his chest as she pronounced those words. He knew he felt the same way she did but he couldn't find in his mind the right to express them verbally. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her lips, softly, to which she quickly responded in the same way.

As they pulled away from the several-second lasting kiss, Pierre whispered "We should go on a second date after this, right?" She giggled and nodded before kissing him again.

And I want to talk about that

And for the first time

What's past is past

They both now knew that their blind date had been something they would never regret and the start of an endless connection. And they were also endlessly grateful to Lily for setting them up, who by the way, would never shut up about how it was thanks to her that they had happened.

They found love in the most unexpected of places, and they knew they would cherish it for a long time.

But on a Wednesday in a cafe

I watched it begin again

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