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#v watches nancy drew

john-cardoza · 8 months

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i'll be honest i only got a general outline because i was in a zoom meeting but i think nancy was fully justified in calling to the black door that shit was fucked up like it isn't great morally but how else are you supposed to respond to that

#like idk the magic door is right there!#i was barely watching and i was still like i cannot even think of how i would deal with that emotionally #nancy drew spoilers #v rambles

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beautifulmakkaris · 9 months

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If you're missing Lockwood and Co, don't despair! Here are some recommendations from fans of the show and books to help fill the void while we fight for season 2 - please share far and wide <3

All recs are from responses to this post, myself and things I've seen floating around the internet (ie, Goodreads suggestions/lists). Recs may be based on specific characters, ships, tropes, genres, worldbuilding or just general ~vibes.

Please make sure to check all content warnings before reading/watching any recommendations on this list.

Books (standalone)

Spellbound by F. T. Lukens

The Agency for Scandal by Laura Wood

The Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston

The Cheat Sheet by Sarah Adams

This May End Badly by Samantha Markum

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

The Ex Hex by Erin Sterling

A Sky Painted Gold by Laura Wood

The Hidden Dragon by Melissa Marr

Trouble by Lex Croucher

Books (series - *ongoing)

Shades of Magic by V. E. Schwab

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson

The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir*

Virals by Kathy Reichs

The Shades of London by Maureen Johnson

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Jackaby by William Ritter

Charlotte Holmes by Brittany Cavallaro

The Checquy Files by Daniel O'Malley

Alex Stern by Leigh Bardugo*

Stalking Jack the Ripper by Kerry Maniscalco

Scarlet by A. C. Gaughen

Renegades by Marissa Meyer

The Diviners by Libba Bray

City of Ghosts by Victoria Schwab

Percy Jackson & the Olympians by Rick Riordan

Mokee Joe by Peter J. Murray

Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve

Murder Most Unladylike by Robin Stevens*

Letters of Enchantment by Rebecca Ross*

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London by Garth Nix

Dreadwood by Jennifer Killick

The Empyrean by Rebecca Yarros*

The Bartimaeus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud

Ankh-Morpork City Watch (Discworld) by Terry Pratchett

The Mistborn Trilogy by Brandon Sanderson

Scarlett & Browne by Jonathan Stroud

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman

Books (graphic novels)

Locke & Key by Joe Hill

Television series (*-ongoing)

School Spirits*

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Shadow & Bone

Wednesday*

Stranger Things*

CW's Nancy Drew

Shadowhunters

Locke & Key

The Bastard Son and the Devil Himself

Spooksville

The Midnight Club

Teen Wolf

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

Grimm

Please feel free to keep sending recommendations my way and I'll update this list as often as I can! Also let me know if you enjoy anything you found from this list, I'd love to know if you found it helpful :)

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dindjiarin · 1 year

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Shelter - Joel Miller x Reader (Part Two)

Your easy emotions wreak havoc on Joel, and so do the people you two encounter... good thing you're there to help him.

In which our intrepid hero deals with some shit. And some 👉👌.

Masterlist ->

AO3 Link♥

RATING: Explicit. SEXUAL CONTENT: Consensual P in V, Choking Kink, Attempted Rape (not by Joel). VIOLENCE: Gore, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Death of an Animal (Deer Hunting).

TAGS: Joel Being Absolutely Whipped and Filthy-Mouthed, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Age Gap.

WC: 13k

As Joel steps through the doorway of the mom-and-pop furniture store, the glow of the gas lantern he’d found earlier is a beacon.

He rounds the edge of a gigantic, cheaply-made chest of drawers to see you asleep. The glow of the lantern casts amber light over your face. Your hair is strung across your cheek and Joel crushes a wild urge to crouch and brush it all away. He glances to the left and his heart stops for a moment when he realizes Ellie is sitting up, watching him.

“You found something,” she declares without hostility.

These girls’re too observant for me. Joel lets the silence hang for a moment before deciding how to reply.

“I’m gonna talk to your sister in the mornin'.”

“Yeah, I saw you talkin’ earlier,” she snickers, then levels him with a glare. “You better be careful. I’ve got no problem killing you myself.”

He doesn't grace that with a response.

“I notice everything. I like you, Joel, but I love my sister.” Ellie shrugs dramatically, “I’m just sayin’. I’m on her side if you pull some shit.”

“I’d expect nothin’ less, kid.” Joel’s voice strains as he lowers himself down onto the sleeping bag you’d laid out for him. He wishes you hadn’t.

Ellie shifts her attention back to her book (a new one you’d found and given to her called Nancy Drew) while Joel shuffles down into his bed.

Joel lets the faint lull of the ocean carry away his stress for the night. His eyes close but he feels the desire to look at you, just a couple of yards away. He denies the desire, squeezing his eyes tighter, and focuses instead on what he can hear. A page turns. The wind's howl over the building. The sound of your steady, peaceful breath traps his attention, and he soon drifts away.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“And how do you know it’s legitimate?” You press him.

Joel sets his hands on his hips. “I know my brother's writing.”

You chew your lip. Like Joel, the day is much colder than yesterday.

“That’s a long walk."

“That’s why I’m givin’ y’all the choice,” Joel explains. “Same deal as last time.”

Your eyes twinkle as you ask, “Ah. You’re only trying to hold up your end of the deal?”

But Joel’s desperate to keep himself from falling for your charm like he had the previous evening. Instead of rejoining with a witty comment, he simply says:

“Yeah.”

Taken slightly aback by his mood, you’re quiet. Then you turn to Ellie. “What do you want to do? If you’d rather stay here, look around this area more…” you trail off, waiting for her opinion.

Ellie’s eyes dart to Joel before answering. “I mean, I’ve never seen that far north. And we should make Joel keep his promises.”

Joel can’t help but make a pfft noise at that.

“Do you want us to come with you?” You ask him point-blank. It’s that simple for you.

And he can’t answer that. Yes, he did; and no, he didn’t. Yes, he wants the two of you to come with him. But no, he didn’t need the weakness of his growing attachment to both of you. It isn’t that simple for him, and he bristles when you try to make it so.

He raises and lowers his shoulders in a half-hearted motion. “If you come, you can always leave, but if you stay here for now, you’ll prob’ly never find it.”

Your shoulders sag at the deflection, but you’re not surprised. It had been out of character for him to have gotten so close to you last night, so it should come as no surprise when he returns to his regular, shut-everyone-out attitude.

“Okay. Good point. Ellie, if you’re not interested in staying here, that’s all I care about.”

“It’s fucking nice here. It’s so cool. But I miss people. Decent, normal people.” Ellie cuts to the chase, and you ruffle the ends of her ponytail fondly. “All we got is Joel,” she digs at him with a sly look.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid,” Joel scoffs. “Alright, we’ll set out tomorrow. Spend today gathering supplies.”

“I’ll make a list,” you offer.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That evening, as you say your goodbye to the ocean, you stand on a jetty hugging yourself. It’s the hour of sunset, and you’ve never seen a more beautiful one.

Sunbeams paint the clouds violet, gold, pink, and red. Some clouds in the distance are a heavy gray, pregnant with the storm that will come in the night. The sky behind is a deep blue. And, though none fall, you’re unembarrassed by the tears that well in your eyes.

Your parents never saw the sea. You may never see it again after tomorrow morning. Loss in the face of such grandeur feels more poignant.

Joel stands beside a sand dune, lost in thought once again. How do you maintain the capacity to feel so much and keep getting up every day? He’d spent the last eight years in a cloud of violence, alcohol, and occasionally something heavier. He couldn’t find it in him to care about himself half of the time, let alone a fucking sunset.

Frustrated at his fascination with you, he turns his back to finish preparing for the long walk to come.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Over a week later, the three of you cross the western edge of the state. The slog through the lowlands had been made easier by the discovery of a working pickup truck two days earlier. It had to have been used by someone recently, though no one had been at the rural home when you’d boosted it.

It was old, and the gas gauge perpetually stated it was on E, so Joel siphoned gas every two hours. Because of this, it was necessary to take the interstate or other, passable roads with vehicles laying around like miniature gas stations.

The days spent walking had been hell. There had been no breeze, and the weather had been so mild as to have the three of you sweating under your clothes. You’d had to remove everything but your jeans and your dirty tank top.

Joel hated that. He’d have fought the weather if he could.

He’d been outright rude to you several times. Cutting over you when you spoke, or intentionally asking Ellie a question that you should’ve been asked. Then, sometimes he would slip up. You caught him staring at you, your chest, or your hips. Each time he was caught, he’d withdraw sullenly until Ellie annoyed him with a terrible pun.

He was also caring.

Separately, and more than once, you and Ellie had woken up with his jacket draped over your sleeping form. He answered some of Ellie’s prying questions (“What did you do for work?” “Now or before?” “Both, I guess.” “I was a contractor. After it all went to shit, I transported… contraband.”) without much fuss.

He often kept watch with Ellie, telling her the odd short, humorous story from his distant past. He never told her about his family, nor details on his life after the outbreak.

The first time you'd woken up to Joel's heavy, pleasantly musky jacket across your body, it was like he had cursed you. Your eyes trailed him the entire day as his powerful stride pushed him forward, the lazy confidence of his hand resting on his gun. You watched his throat and the hook of his nose as he took a drink of water, unbelievably parched yourself.

Then he caught you. His eyes, unwilling to see what was flashing neon in your own, tore through you. He refused to give in, but daily he made it worse.

To the unending amusement of both of you, he even delivered the punchline to Ellie’s first joke of the day once. Unpredictable motherfucker, you frequently cursed at him in your mind.

Today, the atmosphere in the cab is stiff - at least between you and Joel - and no one had spoken in over an hour. You knew Joel wouldn’t be the one to break the silence, and you’re unsurprised by the one who does.

“Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?” Ellie asks.

At the odd question, you turn your body to look at her in the backseat, but she’s hidden behind her joke book. Oh, you realize. “Hmm, I don’t know. Why?”

“The answer is: ‘Because his wife died.’” Ellie lowers the book and frowns. “I don’t get it.”

Joel chokingly laughs. It’s so unexpected that you and Ellie stare at him for several seconds.

“He comes in a bottle.” Joel chuckles again and looks at you pointedly.

“Oh.” You cover your mouth and snicker. “Oh.” You sit back in your seat, your cheeks red.

“No, no! Don’t do that - what am I missing?” Ellie yells. She returns her eyes to the page as if the context will appear. Somehow, it does.

“Oh, my god. I get it. I wasn’t expecting a dirty joke; that’s the first one in here.” She muses.

“Thank fuck,” you comment.

The tension between you and Joel had been nearly unbearable, and the slips in his emotional unavailability were driving you insane. Avoiding thinking about… that… was the only way you’d survived being stuck in this enclosed space with him.

“There’s a whole section of them,” Ellie says with awe.

You whirl around to try and snatch the book from her, but she’s faster. She holds the book out of your reach, your seatbelt locking you in place.

“Ellie, give me that.”

“Why?”

“Let her keep it,” Joel interjects.

Ellie looks at the back of his head like he’d grown an extra one.

You ignore him. “Ellie, for fuck’s sake, at least skip the dirty jokes.” Your imploring eyes tell her what she needs to know: Don’t make this more awkward for me than it already is.

“Okay, okay, chill the hell out.” She rolls her eyes and sighs at you as only a teenager can. Then she motions at you, then Joel, then you again.

“I know,” you groan.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s an attractive driver. It’s an odd thing to think, but you can’t help it. He casually holds the wheel with his left hand while his right elbow braces on the center console. Occasionally his obscenely thick fingers stroke the scruff on his face. You wish he wouldn’t.

“Hey, we’re not far from that house with the chickens are we?” You observe as the rolling hills flow by.

“Think it’s about a half-hour that way,” Joel indicates out your window. His hand crosses into your personal space, flustering you. “I doubt the ones we left alive are alive anymore.”

“Yeah - no, I was just wondering. That was good meat, though. What a waste.” It had been so long since you’d had chicken, you’d forgotten how delicious it was.

The day you met him, Joel had killed a couple and cooked the meat that night and the next day. Unfortunately, you’d had no way to transport chicken - live or dead. It wasn’t lost on you, however, that Joel used the word “we” when he had been the one to kill, clean, and cook it.

Ellie breaks the silence again. “Hey, Joel.”

He hums questioningly.

“What’s your last name?”

He responds with automatic promptness, “Miller.”

Ellie contemplates. “Joel Miller. Sounds good, I like it.”

Joel Miller. It does sound good. Everything about him is so attractive, I hate it, you complain petulantly. Why couldn’t he have been ugly?

As the truck crests the hill, a huge valley opens up through the windshield. A loud boom! shudders through the car. Joel clamps onto the steering wheel with both hands, keeping control of the vehicle until the power steering gives out. Fish-tailing onto the shoulder and down into the grassy ditch, the car comes to a jolting stop halfway down the mountain.

“Ellie, y’okay?” Joel spits out the question faster than your mouth opens to ask the same thing.

“Yeah. What the fuck, man?” It’s rhetorical.

Joel’s alarmed eyes rake you over, “You alright?”

“I’m good. What happened?”

“Think the tire blew.” He slams his hand on the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

“Great.” You peek out the window and notice the sun’s position. “It’s going down. I don’t think we should stay in the car tonight.”

Joel grunts in agreement and ducks to look in the rearview mirror. “Those rocks should be safe.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In the blackness of the evening, the three of you lay in a triangle formation upon a large shelf of a limestone cliff. The cliff vaults up to your right, and down to the left. The view of the valley had been beautiful during sunset, but for once you had been too stressed to notice.

You lie on your sleeping bag, Ellie’s head at your foot. Joel lies with his head near yours. Concentrating on either fixing the car or abandoning it consumes you to a point that you don’t notice when Ellie starts snoring. Nor do you notice when Joel moves his bag closer to you.

“What're you thinkin' about?”

“Joel- what the hell," startled from your spiral of anxiety, you jump. "Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

“I can tell.”

Your head turns sharply, and you squint at him in the darkness, trying to determine what his goal was. “What’s that mean?”

“You didn’t say anything about the view from up here. Just wonderin' what you’re worryin’ about.”

Oh. He noticed that? You blush, thankful for the cover of night.

“Oh. Well,” you fully roll over to face him. His head is propped on his hand, and his silhouette is all you can see. “I’m worried about walking so far. Or trying to find a tire. I’m pissed off about the pain in my arm. I’m worried about Ellie.” Your voice fades to a mutter, “I’m worried about- about you.”

It’s quiet for a beat too long. “Why about me?”

“I -” you’re not sure how to say what you want, so you settle for the basics. “You’re unpredictable. I feel like one day we’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. And even though Ellie and I were on our own for so long before, it’s been…” you look for an appropriate word, “It’s been helpful having another adult I can count on.”

And here it was for Joel. He wasn’t stupid. You’re skirting around telling him that both you and Ellie have grown fond of him. He didn’t want that.

No, that isn’t true. The truth is he shouldn’t want it.

Joel doesn’t answer.

The natural sounds of the night replace your conversation. It’s so still, so quiet. You lay your head down and curl into a comfortable position facing the man.

You hadn’t expected him to respond. He’d accidentally shown you cracks in his armor by parenting Ellie occasionally, helping with a task that should’ve been yours or Ellie’s alone like keeping watch or preparing dinner, and laughing.

For fuck’s sake, laughing with us - but still he kept the armor.

Sleep has taken you when Joel quickly pushes a lock of hair over your shoulder and states,

“‘m not goin' anywhere.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sound of rubber rolling on pavement is the background to Ellie’s unceasing chatter. The bright sunshine feeds her mood as though she survives on photosynthesis. She’d left her joke book at the campsite, but she jabbers on about nothing and everything. After trekking for an hour, you managed to find a tire that Joel agreed should fit the truck. If it could shorten your cross-country trip by even a day, it was worth the effort.

Joel hunches over the tire, rolling it back up the highway. His backpack and gun sway with his movements. The awkward angle and the added weight of his gear have his brow dripping sweat.

“So, what if it’s really snowy up there? Will we get frostbite? What if we find a moose - do those still exist? Aren’t they like the size of a house?” Ellie’s exuberance couldn’t be stopped.

“Joel, please…” you murmur as you jog up alongside him. You slip your fingers under the strap of his rifle, trying to relieve him of at least one burden. Joel abruptly straightens at the contact, leveling you with a questioning look. Your lips twist into a reassuring smile. You curl your fingers tighter and tug the strap down his arm.

“I’ll take the backpack, too.” You keep your voice gentle as though you’re trying not to spook him. He allows you to take the gun but jerks away when you reach for his backpack strap.

“No, it’s heavy. I don’t want you takin’ both.”

“I know it’s heavy, that’s why I’m trying to take it from you.”

The gun is slipped from you as Ellie brushes your side. You’d been too focused on Joel to realize that she’d stopped thinking aloud.

“Now she can take the backpack, ya stubborn old man.” Ellie slings the rifle and stalks ahead.

A bead of sweat falls from his temple; he’s defeated. With a groan, he shrugs off his pack and holds it up for you.

“If it gets too heav-”

“Stop pretending to be a gentleman,” you reach for the bag.

Your fingers close partially around Joel’s, rewarding you with the sultriness of his rough fingers. For an extended breath, Joel doesn’t let go; he squeezes it a little harder. Eventually, he unclasps his hand, allowing you to bear the weight.

A couple of miles later, the silver truck is visible among the trees. You quicken your step.

Joel's gotta roll the tire up that hill.

“Can I help you carry it somehow? Rolling it up this isn’t gonna be fun,” you offer.

Joel simply shakes his head, breathing deeply in resignation. He lifts it, grunting, deciding to carry it the last length. You’re glad he denied your offer because, wow, why is that so hot? You stare after him for far too long.

At the top of the hill, a younger blonde man peeks in the truck's window. Ellie hands Joel's gun back to him, then, as you taught her, she circles into the trees out of sight.

"Howdy," the man straightens and calls out to you and Joel. "Got any ammo?"

Joel has his gun pointed at the man before he finishes speaking.

"No."

Deciding that Joel wasn't the best negotiator, you step ahead.

"Are you looking to trade or to steal?" You step cautiously closer and the blonde man gets a better look at you.

"Well, shit, I would've put on my two-day old clothes instead of my week-old ones if I'd known I'd run into you."

"You know this guy?" Joel snaps at your back.

"No?" His tone confuses you. Then to the trader, "Whatcha looking for?"

"I need some nine-millimeter, preferably. Shouldn't be too much of an ask since they're the most common. I do have some food up for trade." He holds up a large, navy duffle bag.

It was obvious to you that this man was used to his good looks and charm winning him points. He was slightly older than you, and you couldn't lie, this guy must've done well for himself in the apocalypse. He looked healthy, attractive, and normal.

The man continues, "I'm Zach. You show me yours and I'll show you mine?" He grins, but it fades fast. "Just tell the attack dog to calm down."

Attack dog?

You turn to catch a look at Joel: he stands with his gun pointed casually and coldly in Zach's general direction. You've never seen such an intimidating, contemptuous look on his handsome face. A shiver runs through you. Your poorly-timed attraction to him heightens. A tumult of terrible things you want him to do to you crash through your mind.

"Are you okay?" You quietly ensure.

Joel gives a curt nod, never taking his eyes from the younger man.

You face the trader. "Sorry, we don't have any nine-millimeter. We don't have anything to trade, really."

"Ah, that's fine. There's another group around this area. Maybe I'll try them."

"A group?" You query, your voice rising in concern.

"Yeah, you ain't seen anyone, sweetheart? There's a whole community of farmers. Rumor is they have chickens."

"Oh," you stutter. "Wow, chickens."

"Yeah. Supposed to be a lot of folks, so I guess that'll be my next try."

Zach looks you up and down, a genuine smile gracing his clean-cut face.

"You sure you don't wanna take a day trip with me? Take you to see some chickens? I'm sure your dad won't mind?" The winsome younger man cocks his head at Joel as if asking permission.

In the span of a second, Joel is a brick wall in front of you. He raises his rifle, his scope trained on the man's chest.

"If you don't get the fuck outta here, I'll give you those bullets you're beggin' around for."

The barely-restrained anger in his voice involuntarily has you leaning closer to him. He sounded like he was speaking to a deadly threat, and you instinctively crave his protection. Your heart races, wondering what spooked Joel.

Zach throws up his hands, "Fuck, man. Okay. I can't hit on her? Sheezus."

He starts back up over the hill, throwing worried looks every now and then, seemingly terrified that Joel will act on his inexplicably violent mood.

When he's gone, Ellie comes popping out from behind a tree.

"Damn, Joel, you made that guy piss his pants," she approves.

"What happened?"

The intense belief in your eyes that Joel had been morally right in that situation almost bothers him. He'd threatened the kid because the kid threatened him. Joel can't put rational words to it, but you're his… responsibility.

"Had a forty-five on him. Not a nine-millimeter," Joel lies.

"Wow, you could tell that?" Ellie's face glows. "That's impressive as shit. Teach me the difference? And how to shoot?"

Knowing damn well that Joel had never seen any weapon on the guy, you tell your excited younger sister, "He will, El, but first he's gotta change the tire and get us going again."

Joel rubs his jaw, sure you saw through him. “Actually, might be good to go hunting here where the woods’re thicker. And I'd gotta go before dark.”

"I'll go with you," you don't let him squirm away. "Ellie, you know the drill. Keep an extra eye out while that guy's around. I think he's-" You wanted to say harmless, but realized that would undermine Joel's actions.

"I think he's gone; but just in case," you hand her your rifle.

Ellie looks from butt to barrel with awed respect.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"So, what the hell was that about?" You interrogate Joel once the two of you are a fair distance into the woods.

"Nothin'," is Joel's forthcoming reply.

"Joel, for the love of-" you grab his shoulder and spin him to face you. "What set you off?"

Joel works his jaw, looking away from you, then meets your eyes with a faintly-playful tilt of his head.

"He called me old." Joel's face is impassive.

You fight a smirk. "Are you being serious? Ellie calls you old all the time."

"He was annoyin' me."

"I annoy you."

"I know, you're doin' it right now."

Sighing, you give up. "Fine, don't tell me."

"You upset I scared off a suitor?"

"A suitor? Damn, you are old." You push his arm in jest as you both continue marching through the woods. "He was too young for me."

"He was older than you."

"Too young." You say again. "Too happy. Too charming."

"Oh, he was charming, huh? That was workin' on you?"

You catch his eye and smile like you have a secret, "No."

Joel knows you're goading him, and his chest aches with exhilaration. He'd point loads of guns at loads of people if you'd keep smiling at him like that.

You breathe out the word, “Deer,” and Joel sinks into a crouch, tugging you down with him. The two of you take cover behind a downed hemlock. His rifle rests on the treebark following the soft footsteps of a large animal.

The way he pulled you down has you pressing into his side and you’re certain even the deer can hear your thumping heart.

But neither of you move. You can feel the unyielding firmness of his body; it’s so incredibly comforting to you that it’s all you can think about. Joel Miller.

He breathes in, and on the exhale he fires. The shot echoes through the woods, sending a handful of crows cawing into the air. Joel retracts his rifle and turns his head to you with a faux-humble smirk.

He’s even closer than he was that night on the beach; your heart stops, then kicks into overdrive. With his hair mussed and his smile lopsided, he looks happy.

Instantly realizing his mistake, but too weak to correct it, Joel risks another glance at your lips. He peers back up at your eyes and he’s dry-mouthed at how blown your pupils are. He watches with confliction as your face changes. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat and drop your eyes.

You pull away and whisper, “I can’t do this.”

And you can’t. The constant heartache of Joel pushing and pulling at you was too much. Today, he’s open, but tomorrow he’d be withdrawn. It was selfish and it was idealistic, but you wanted all of him or nothing. Calling it a crush was trivializing your feelings. An injustice; you knew what you felt for him was stronger than that.

You stand and offer him your hand. If he couldn’t give you what you wanted, that's okay, because you’d love him anyway - as platonically as you could.

“Should we butcher it here? Or drag it? It’s gonna be a chore either way.” Your voice is forced cheer.

Joel clears his throat, thrown for a loop. “Mm. Guess we’ll drag it.”

He takes your hand and you haul him up. He pauses to put his gun back on safety and sling it over his shoulder. As he does so, you stride toward the unlucky deer.

“I didn’t know lovebirds still existed.” You’re several yards from the deer when a man’s taunt drifts on the wind.

A greasy, stocky man in his late-thirties strolls out from behind another massive hemlock. He’s halfway between you and the deer carcass. Twigs snap behind you as Joel hastens to get to your side, but the man raises his handgun.

He aims at your friend, but Joel only slows his pace. The man grunts with irritation and points the firearm at you. Joel’s footsteps stop.

“Ooh, you’re easy to control, huh?”

You picture your gun back at the campsite with Ellie as she kept watch. It’s hard to regret giving it to her, though. She had a weapon and so did you. As long as Joel was around, you’d be okay.

“What’d you want?” Joel grits out; he’s pissed.

“Buddy, I don’t like your tone. Neither do they,” and the dumpy man tilts his chin behind both of you.

Two more men crush leaves and branches below their feet as they materialize. One is older and armed with a small hunting rifle. The other is much younger than both his friends despite his beard; this man foregoes a weapon. Joel rotates to face the new problem, backing up as he does so, but the first man is wise to Joel’s play.

“Stop moving toward her.”

Joel stops once more, his teeth clench so hard that his jaw pops.

“We followed the deer. Been tracking it for a half-mile.”

“Then take it,” the inflection in Joel’s voice is flat, terrifying.

“A’right, a’right, don’t get your panties twisted,” the bearded man jeers. He then shares a meaningful look with the bulkier man near you.

Standing between Joel and the heavyset man, you’ve angled yourself diagonally to see both men. Unfortunately, Joel is not the closest. The stocky man lunges forward and snatches your left arm, wrenching it behind your back painfully. You cry out in sheer agony as his thumb digs into your stitches.

“Don't fuckin' hurt her,” Joel whips out, seething. His mouth pulls into a horrified scowl, his hands raised in desperate surrender.

The man pulls up your flannel sleeve, saying, “Ah, see, I thought you were overreacting. I was so gentle.” His oily nose sniffs your hair, “Did this guy hurt you, baby?”

You twist away from his rancid breath on your neck. It occurs to you to lie, to try to get them to believe Joel was possessive for a reason other than whatever drove him. Basic ethics, most likely.

If you lie, maybe they’d see you as less of a bargaining chip. Joel certainly wasn’t helping. He’s keeping his feelings forefront with that black look on his face.

With reluctance, you mutter, “Y-”

But it’s curtailed by your own scream as Joel stumbles to his knees. The two men stand above him - the butt of a rifle is pressed against the back of Joel’s head. His eyes find yours, and a trickle of blood drips down his forehead. Tears stream freely down your cheek.

How could they? Joel is carefully and permanently on a pedestal in your mind. The peak of masculinity - both good and bad: protective, providing, impenetrable. Seeing him bleed, sagging on his knees was unthinkable. It was perverted, wrong.

You headbutt the man in the nose, a painful crack against the top of your skull. Grabbing the barrel of his handgun, you wrench it loose and stumble away. The man swears and doubles over, hands over his face.

Gasping for breath, you aim the gun at its owner and order, "Make them back off."

"Bitch, I'm not their daddy. I don't control ‘em," the man sounds pained.

The rifleman shoves the barrel of his gun into Joel's temple. "Put it down or I'll kill him."

"Hey, listen. You owe me, now," the stocky man says. "If you set down the gun, turn yourself over, we'll leave him be."

In your moment of hesitation, you lock eyes with the man you'd never expected, fear in his wet eyes. Then a freight train barrels into your side.

The gun's owner was quicker and quieter than his build should allow. It wasn't fair.

“Now, as feisty as you may think yourself, I’m not a fan of that.”

Your cheek is roughly grabbed, squeezed, and you're forced to watch as the rifleman slams the butt of his weapon into Joel’s back. Joel sprawls onto the ground, the wind knocked from him.

Weeping freely now, you beg, “Stop hurting him. Please, please don’t.”

“You gonna do what we ask?”

Joel tries to speak, but he’s rewarded with another blow to the ribs. He groans and falls onto his uninjured side only to have the bearded man deliver a clumsy kick to his stomach.

“Yes, yes. I won't- won't fight if you’ll let him -” you break off at the look in Joel's eyes. “Please, let him go.”

“Goddamn it,” he groans.

Taking advantage of Joel’s attackers focusing on him, and the man holding you being unable to see your face, you mouth: Ellie. Take her. Go.

He growls your name and a curse which earns him another kick to the ribs. He coughs violently, then pushes himself up onto his knees, breathing heavily.

Still staring at you, he softly shakes his head ‘no’. A dead leaf falls from his hair; his brown, puppy eyes are devastated. It crushes your heart into the thousands of pieces you’d been so sure it was already in.

This doesn’t feel real. It’s as though you and Joel had slipped into a nightmare out here in the lonesome woods. None of this was real. None of it except your certainty. If you could save him, you would. You'd tried; and you'd try again. He could keep Ellie safer than you could. It’s simple for you - always had been. The decision wasn’t a decision at all. Love was a practice; a concrete, tangible thing; an action. Love sacrifices.

“‘Course. I swear. He’s not exactly our type. Good news, boys, y’all know I hate a fighter.” The man wraps an arm around you and drags you backward.

He’s deliberately slow enough to let you watch as Joel stands, pained. He punches the oncoming bearded man in the jaw and, using his momentum against him, drops the fucker to the ground. Joel then lunges for the rifleman, but the young, bearded man is up faster than he should’ve been. He snakes an arm around Joel’s throat.

“Joel!” You wail, thrashing in the man’s arms. “You fucking swore, you fucking asshole.” But you know it had been a long shot. You don’t even get to see Joel’s face one last time before you’re dragged over a ridge.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s temples throb with his heartbeat. The near-deafness in his right ear isn’t new, but he feels more like a flash-bang grenade exploded in his face. It had been late afternoon when he’d taken you hunting, and the pale blue lighting he sees when his eyes blink open tells him it's just after sunset.

He puffs out a cloud of the mulched forest floor between his dry lips and pushes his palms down to leverage himself off the ground. The temperature had dropped rapidly and the air stings his bruised lungs.

It’s then that he hears your cry. It’s muffled like someone has their hand over your mouth. He hears feet scrabbling in the leaves, and his body physically stiffens at the remembrance of where he is.

Rage and panic napalm his mind. Those assholes must believe they’d killed him because no one in their right mind would leave Joel Miller alive; not when they had his… his.

He wanted to be mad at you. Wanted so desperately the chance to be mad at you. How could you believe them? Why would they have let him go once you stopped fighting? His heart races and he wonders if he's having a heart attack. He had been right in the beginning about you being too trusting. He had been right this whole time.

He hides his fear of losing you behind blame, anger. But then his own guilt kicks him. You were doing exactly what you’d do for Ellie. For anyone you cared for. He should’ve been stronger. He should’ve saved you.

Joel casts a searching eye for a weapon, though the righteous rage inside him would be enough. There it is. He can’t quite believe it. One of these boys with a room-temperature IQ had left his .22 propped against a tree trunk near the lip of the earthy depression.

Ignoring the pain lancing through his body, Joel crouches and shakily snatches up the gun. He moves to the top of the small rise and peers around a tree.

Sitting on your shins is the bearded man who knocked him out; the sandy-haired man’s grimy fingers are trying to shimmy your jeans down. The second man, the rifleman, whom Joel now notices is wearing a torn band shirt, is seated in the dirt above your head, pinning your arms. The third member of the goon squad, their leader, is straddling you, kissing your neck.

Joel refuses to look at your face because if he does he’ll go insane. Instead, he raises the .22 in a flash and fires a shot at at the music fan holding your arms. His orbital bone shatters, blood spurting everywhere.

Without pausing, Joel launches out from behind the tree and swings the .22 into the head of the man who took you from him. He swings the gun as if he’s winning the World Series with it. The resounding crack is so loud that Joel knows he’s killed the fucker instantly. That pisses him off more. A better death than the shitstain deserved.

Two men are dead before they even know he’s coming. Joel turns on the last one who’s now crab-walking backward from your legs.

“Hey, hey, please,” the younger man holds up a hand in panicked surrender. “You killed my brother, you killed him! Ain’t that enough?”

“You’re right behind him,” Joel grits out. He tosses the gun aside.

“Please, no, listen. No, no,” the man begs.

You retract your knees, hugging them to your chest as you sit up. Your body is a tempest of fear, revulsion, relief, horror, disgust, gratitude, and anger. You’re not sure which one you feel strongest. You’d been hassled before, nearly every woman left in the world had been and the odds hadn’t been great pre-outbreak, anyway. But it’d never been that close.

All you focus on now is Joel. Alive, and standing between you and all the world.

“Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t tell you to run because you’re already in the safest place you could be. You don’t want to close your eyes. If you do, he might disappear. You can't give up a sense while drowning in fear. Take your eyes off the one buoy you had? You just can't do it.

The sounds you hear are worse than what you see. There’s the dull thudding sound of Joel’s fists connecting with your attacker’s face, the man’s primal screams suddenly stopping, and the squelching of blood.

Joel kneeling over the man, his solid right arm rising and slamming down is all you see. It's all you want to see. You'd be lying if you said his violent defense of you wasn't thrilling, wasn't stirring something inside you.

It will haunt you for a while, but the relief of Joel being alive would ease all pain. And in truth, the would-be rapist deserved it. He deserved that side of Joel just as you deserve the other side of him.

You finally close your eyes when Joel's swings slow. Tucking into yourself, you relive the last few minutes and begin to cry.

There’s a hand in your hair. You flinch and your arms go up to protect yourself when you feel a weight sink to the ground beside you. Opening your eyes, you’re unable to move in the sight of Joel’s frenzied face. Freckles of blood dot his skin, and his eyes are wild. His breathing is rapid as his hand combs through your hair.

“You’re okay,” his deep voice is raw, “you’re okay.”

He crushes you to him - his hand cradles the back of your skull while you bury your face in his chest. A pained groan rolls from his mouth but he doesn’t let go. His earthy, leather scent is grounding.

You scramble to match his kneeling position to fit into him further; you push underneath his jacket, wrapping your arms around his torso, needing to feel him. He rests his cheek on top of your head.

“I thought they killed you,” you cry brokenly into his clothing, the inconsolable grief of losing him still pressing on you.

“Never fuckin’ do that again,” it’s too soon for him to be mad, but he tries anyway. He pulls back just enough to take your face in both hands, “If you’re given that choice again, you do not choose me.” His troubled eyes dart between yours.

You know you can’t retort, so you drop your gaze. You can’t promise you won’t take a bullet for him, because you would. Just like you would for Ellie. You slowly retract your arms from underneath his jacket, feeling awkward.

“I’ll try to think of something else first,” you answer him, your voice laden with too many emotions.

You tilt your head up to see Joel’s beautiful face marred by a tortured expression. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your cheeks.

He wants you to be strong, yes. To fight. You are unapologetic joy and he can’t lose that. Joel would happily die if he knew you’d still smile at nature, at all your small reasons, at your sister. He can’t lose you, can't fail you.

In great contrast to the gentle way he holds your face, his jaw is clenched so hard that it looks painful. Concern creases your brow and your mouth opens a fraction to ask if he’s alright, but Joel’s lips are suddenly swallowing your question.

He burns away the swirling mire in your mind. There’s nothing, no pain or fear. Nothing except for him. His kiss is desperate - a leaf clinging to summer. As your hand returns to caress his side underneath his jacket, you can feel his heart beating as fast as your own.

A soft moan is forced from you when his hand fists in your hair. Your hands slide up his flannel-covered torso to cup his scruffy chin.

You part your lips, and breathe, “Joel.”

He moans into your mouth.

Then you delve into him, deepening the kiss. His arms encircle you, one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your ass, keeping your body flush against his. He’s even warmer than you imagined. The night chill no match for him.

A bird tweets in the distant dusk. Then it’s as if he suddenly returns to earth: he leans back, putting distance between the two of you.

“’m sorry. That was… bad. This is -” he stops, looking around, and presses his swollen lips into a thin line. “Not right. Sorry. We’ll go find Ellie.”

With that, he lets go of you completely, leaving you adrift. He stands and offers his hand to you. Confused, more muddled than you’ve ever been in your life, you accept the help silently. He drops your hand as soon as you’re upright.

Holy shit. He kissed me, right? Or did I lean in first? His rejection stomps on the already-broken pieces of your heart. I knew he wouldn’t let me in.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Ellie hops off a rock and slams into you, nearly bowling you over. She tilts her head to look up at you, and you wipe away her tear stains.

“I could hear you yelling. I could hear it, but I promised.” She cries in horror, referring to what you had ingrained into her every day since the outbreak: if you two were separated, she stayed put. She never came if she heard trouble. Ever. No exigent circumstances. She’d hated that promise, fought you on it constantly, but fucking hell were you glad she listened. You refused to even entertain what might’ve happened had Ellie been there.

“We’re alright, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” You smile tiredly. “Everyone’s okay.”

To your right, you see Joel out of the corner of your eye. Ellie leans over and grasps his sleeve, making sure he’s tangible. Joel’s mouth twitches in a tiny but reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, kid.”

“You guys look like shit,” she swipes at her tears.

Joel barks a laugh, the quick change in Ellie’s disposition precisely what was needed.

“I’d like nothing better than a hot shower,” you reply. You can still feel their grimy hands on your body. You shudder.

“Dunno ‘bout a hot shower, but I’m sure we could find a spring tomorrow.”

You sigh, “Guess that’ll have to do.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Are you -” Joel stumbles over his thoughts, “Are you gonna be okay? To sleep, I mean?”

“Unlikely,” you give him an uneasy smile. “I’m happy to take the first watch.”

“Alright,” he settles on the rock next to you.

You protest, irritated, “Please go rest. You've had a - a bad day, too.” You needed time to process everything and his presence was distracting.

“I’m not gonna rest if you’re keeping watch alone.”

You scoff. “I learned my lesson, okay?”

Was he hellbent on making you mad at him tonight? After he saved your ass? For the third time. Oh, my god. I really am one big problem for him.

Redness flushes your cheeks at the realization. You owe him so much yet all he does is drive you insane. Sorting out your feelings about everything was priority number one.

“That’s not what I m-”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“If you’d let me fuckin’ finish,” he makes a frustrated hand motion. “Got a hard enough time admitting it at all, an’ you want me to just come out with a poem or some shit?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I think we should eat those last two granola bars. Don’t you guys? They’ve been in my pack for, like, three weeks.” Ellie walks over and interrupts purposefully, tired of the argument.

“Well, they lasted eight years, so I don’t think a few days will affect them, but that’s fine with me.”

Ellie trots over to her backpack and breaks two bars in half. She returns and gives you one half and Joel another. Holding her own half from the second bar, she “clinks” her bar with yours.

“Cheers,” she laughs before biting her piece. You smile and take a small bite of yours. Ellie wanders toward the sleeping bags, slowly picking apart her granola bar.

Under your breath, you tell Joel, “Please go get some sleep. I owe you and I’m fine.”

He stamps the butt of his gun on the rock he’d been sitting on in acknowledgment, then mercifully leaves you to your daunting task.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It's still dark when your relief comes. He looks terrible. His knuckles are flaked with both his and another's blood, and his forehead still bears traces of the afternoon.

"There's a stream down there," you indicate to your right. Its babbling could be heard in the quiet air.

"I'm fine," he grouses.

"Joel…" you gently chide.

Pulling a shirt from your pack, you walk off to the stream. You're back less than a minute later, and you point at the rock you'd been sitting on.

"Yes, ma'am," his voice is still monotone.

You position yourself in front of him, his face level with yours. He closes his eyes as you carefully rub the damp cloth across his dirty, blood-streaked forehead.

"It's been hours, why didn't you clean up?"

Joel only shrugs in answer.

"What's wrong?" You stop wiping.

His eyelids open and the flickering campfire reflects in his glassy eyes.

"Can you just keep doin' that?" He closes his eyes once more. You oblige.

He doesn't mean to, he doesn't even register that he's done it until it's too late. He flinches as his sore, bruised knuckles bend to fit his hands around your hips. You tenderly grasp one and begin to wipe it free of residue.

Neither of you speaks, too lost in your own thoughts and in the moment. Joel feels so close and so distant.

You’d sorted through your emotions over the near-assault with brashness. It was the end of the world. Dwelling on things you had survived was pointless.

No, the problem was Joel. You thought you’d got him killed, then he was alive, then the kiss, then he rejected you. Guilt, grief, joy, embarrassment.

You still weren't sure who initiated the kiss, and his defensive coldness led you to believe it had been you. In truth, you supposed you were just back at square one. Joel forever opening up then shutting down again.

It only made you feel worse. Desperately you wanted to cling to him, have him tell you that he didn’t blame you. Have him make the world go away. But even if he did that now, it wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t let you fully inside.

“Thank you,” Joel murmurs when you back away.

“Like I said, I owe you.” Your voice gives away no inflection.

Joel watches you walk over to where Ellie lay. You kiss her forehead, then cuddle in behind her. He sees you whisper something in her ear.

Joel understands. An easy reprieve from your own emotions was to care for another’s.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The silver truck glimmers behind you. You regard it with sadness before trudging onward. The sun beads in your eyes as the westward walk continues. Looking down isn’t a reprieve as the sun reflects off the pure snow. The soft, rolling plains stretch out, but the horizon is jagged with the promise of greater hills or rock formations. There’s not a single car to be seen.

“It got us through, like, four fucking states in three days,” Ellie holds up a map of the Midwest you’d found at a state welcome center.

“You mean I got us through four fuckin’ states in three days,” Joel boasts.

It had been too long since he’d filled the gas tank, but with the broken gauge, he’d been unable to predict exactly when the vehicle would give up the ghost. The answer was somewhere over the border of Nebraska.

“Sure, Joel, you did it all on your own,” Ellie rolls her eyes. She kicks a chunk of snow. “I’m so happy you're here to do everything.”

Since the fight, you’d found it difficult to even look at the man next to you. You had bared yourself to him that day; shown him that you were willing to die for him, that you trusted him with Ellie, that your greatest fear had been his death; and then that fucking kiss. And here you both were: unable to look at each other.

“At least one of you is,” Joel mutters, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

The man could find his way under your skin even if you were wearing a latex bodysuit. You bite your lip to prevent the automatic, angry retort.

Thinks I’m dead weight. You think bitterly. Don't blame him too much. Almost got him killed. Probably thinks of me as a dumb kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to quell the heartbreak. You understood his opinion: you’re weak because you care. You had given up on trying to show him that that was the only way you could live with yourself.

A cloud blows over the afternoon sun, illuminating the land in a new way. The horizon silhouettes a building in the distance, at least a mile out. You shield your eyes, then point.

“Shelter?” Your teeth chatter together with perfect timing and, from the corner of your eye, you see motion. Joel is unwinding the scarf he’d found. He drapes it around your neck.

“Wrap it over your chin,” he instructs.

You do so. It had been a new scarf from the same rest stop where you’d picked up the map. It smelled old, but it was warm. His warmth. You regret curling it over your mouth because on top of the old smell was Joel. At least he can’t see most of your face now.

Joel relished the way something of his - albeit his for less than a few days - looked on you. He’d take what he could get. You’d pried open his hardened heart and nestled inside. Joel had never met anyone like you. So capable and vulnerable and easy to be with. And fucking irritating. And stubborn. God, you piss him off.

You’d been different since that night and Joel hadn’t the emotional intelligence to work out your problem. As far as he could reason, you were upset with him for not saving you sooner, or for kissing you at such a shit moment; or, he worried, kissing you at all. His fear that you see him as a father figure grows larger.

“You and I go in, Ellie covers the front?” You start planning. “Together or me in the back?”

“Could be one of those state historical cabins, so there might be only one door anyway,” Joel theorizes.

“Good point,” you concede.

You evaluate Ellie’s back as she walks in front, wondering if you could get away with a hushed conversation with Joel. The heaviness between the two of you was reaching a breaking point for you. You’re just one state away from Wyoming now, and you can’t let him leave without fixing whatever was happening. Luckily, the wind howls occasionally from the west, so your words are unlikely to carry to her ears.

You drop back, slowing your pace. Joel notices and slows as well.

“Is it because I told them you hurt me? Because I kissed you? Or because I- because I almost got you killed? Is that why you're still so mad at me?” You pepper him suddenly.

Joel couldn’t be more surprised if you had stabbed him.

“No, I know why y’ told ‘em I did that,” he answers. “An’ I know you thought trading yourself was the best option.” His voice drops an octave, “It wasn’t, but I get it.”

“You get it? You don't blame me? Then why are you being so mean to me?” You plead.

“What?” Joel's face turns to yours.

“You’re even colder than usual. You make these little digs at me, you don’t trust me to keep watch half the time anymore. You treat me like a child you’re disappointed in.” The irony smacks into you when you nearly whine that last sentence.

Joel grabs your arm, stopping you and turning you to face him.

"I don’ do those things because I think you’re a child. And I thought you were the one who was mad-” he pauses, unsure how to organize his argument. Snowflakes catch in his gray hair. His dark eyes are stark against the white surroundings. “But I couldn’t feel less fatherly 'bout you if I tried.”

“What - what the fuck does that mean?” You ask, baffled and failing to keep your pitch low. Ellie notices now that the two of you have stopped.

“Can you guys fight in the damn cabin up there?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head back dramatically. “Either kiss or kill each other, I’m so tired of this.” And with that, she spins around.

When you reignite eye contact with Joel, he’s burning a hole through you with every emotion you’ve ever made him feel. There’s a moment when you think he’ll take Ellie’s advice, but then he sighs.

“Go on, girl,” he gestures ‘after you’.

“‘Girl’? You said you weren't infantilizing me.” You scoff.

“Infantilizing? Well, ain’t that a five-dollar word, where’d ya learn that?” he snarks in exasperation. God, you piss him off.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel had been right, again. You were getting tired of that. An empty wooden box with a fireplace on the lower level, the cabin was at least a shelter from the snow flurrying down. It had plain, empty floors and a staircase with no railing but a trapdoor to separate the top floor from the bottom. That was handy in case a problem arose.

There was a great debate about lighting the fire. All three of you took turns arguing both for and against it (Ellie: “But it’s fucking frozen in here,” Joel: “You wanna alert any dumbass in the area to our presence, darlin’, go ahead,”), but in the end, the frigid temperature had the final say. Ellie and Joel ventured back into the growing white swirl outside to look for wood in the tiny shed.

While they were gone, you laid out the camping gear and set about making this house a home for the night. In the corner, you notice an old brochure for the place.

Perfect. Kindling.

You dig through your pack to find your lighter when Ellie shoves open the heavy wooden door with two logs in her arms. She kicks the door closed, despite its weight.

“This was all I got, but I think Joel might’ve got more.” She announces, slamming the logs onto the hearth.

“Was he right behind you?” You ask, laughing preemptively.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

She runs to the door and jerks it back open. There’s Joel standing in the doorway with his arms full of wood. His leveled glare and signature frown send both you and Ellie into fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie chuckles.

Joel’s long legs step over the threshold, and when he gets close enough to Ellie, he shakes his hair over her, showering her in melting snowflakes.

Still laughing, Ellie blocks him with her hands and cries, “You dick!”

Sitting cross-legged next to the hearth, you no longer need the fire, warmed by the scene playing out in front of you. No matter the type of relationship with Joel, you couldn’t care about the two of them any more than you do now. The smile on your face is so wide that you feel like you'll split.

Joel approaches and sets the logs down far more gently than Ellie had next to the fireplace. You hold up the two logs Ellie had grabbed, and together with Joel, start the fire.

After a dinner of canned veggies, Ellie sprawls out on the floor in her t-shirt and jeans. Joel sits with his back to the flames while you lean against the heated stones.

“It’s hot down here,” Ellie complains.

Joel's face darkens with irritation.

“I’m allowed to be hot.”

“You’re the only reason we got the damn thing going,” he accuses. “You got too much energy. It’s got you all -” he makes a shaking motion with his hands.

“I do not,” Ellie yawns. “I’m actually exhausted.”

“That floor upstairs has a trapdoor. Might be cooler, El.”

“Doesn’t heat rise or some shit?” Ellie asks.

“Yes, but this place is airtight and I’m betting it’s colder up there. I don’t care what you do, I’m just telling you.”

“Okay, I’ll go look.” Ellie hops up in a fluid motion and bounds across the room and up the stairs. She’s gone for a few moments, and you picture her standing with her eyes closed acting like a human thermometer.

She stomps down the creaky old steps, “It’s way cooler but not cold so I’m gonna sleep up there.” She starts to gather her sleeping bag, pillow, and her clothes.

Your stomach lurches. Alone with Joel overnight? That’s… that’s never happened.

“Do you want company, Ellie?” You ask, trying to take the coward’s way out.

“Uhh. Do you mind staying down here?” Ellie asks with a grimace. A teenager has to take every opportunity to be independent.

“Course not. Just making sure you’re okay,” you reassure her, though you’re the one who’s not okay.

“Goodnight, then. Love you,” Ellie balances her stuff as she makes her way up the stairs. “‘Night, Joel!” Then the squeak, bam! of the trapdoor hinging shut.

“‘Night, Ellie,” comes his reply.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Let’s get this over with,” you sigh pessimistically.

“Wish I hadn’t kissed you,” Joel blurts out before you finish speaking. It was obvious he hadn’t planned this any more than you had.

Subconsciously, you put a hand over your chest at the stabbing pain of his words. Though you suspected it, it was hard to hear it from those same lips.

Joel looks into the shadowy corner of the cabin. “Everything used to make you happy. Sunsets, mountains, clouds - hell, even I managed to make you laugh once or twice. But you've been so… so angry ever since - since I kissed you.”

Okay, so I didn't start the kiss. One less thing to feel guilty for.

“I wasn’t sure who moved first. Then you said it was ‘bad.’” Your voice curdles to a whisper in embarrassment.

Joel’s head jerks to you. The firelight glows on the right side of his tanned face, highlighting his patchy beard. “You thought I meant your kissin’ skill?”

You don’t reply, a lump in your throat at the memory of all you felt that day and the sting of his rejection.

What scared you most that day was not what nearly happened to you, but what had happened to him. In a way, you understood him much better now. Letting people in only got people hurt. That’s fine and dandy when you were the one getting hurt, but not when Joel had been near death because of your affection for him.

“No, you meant getting close to me.” You can’t make eye contact with him, but his hand twitches closer to yours.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so rough it could catch on silk. "You an' Ellie are all I got. What I meant was that I shouldn’t have finally let you know that next to three dead bodies after you’d been -” he stops himself, looking away.

Those two sentences in his gruff, passionate voice pick up the pieces of your heart.

It's your turn. “I haven’t been mad, I’ve been hurt. Confused. Taking a page out of your book and building a wall to protect myself.”

Joel frowns, “From me?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I told you I’m not a good man. Tommy and I did bad shit to survive. But... I was worse.”

“Stop fucking comparing yourself to him,” you beg. “I don’t want your brother.”

“An’ you want me?” Joel chuckles darkly. “Old enough to be your dad.”

“You said you didn’t view me like a kid.”

“No,” his brown eyes find yours, giving you the same look he gave you out on the road and before he kissed you that horrible day. “No, when I think about you, it ain’t -” he hesitates. “It's what any man would think.”

You slide closer to him, your hip bumping the rock hearth, and murmur, “I don’t want any man, either.”

Delicately, you rest a hand on his jean-covered knee. Your mind had changed. If he would keep opening himself up to you over time like this, he was worth the risk. Worth the heartache.

He's warm even through the tough material. A summer's day at the lake, and you desperately want to go swimming. Joel's large, deep eyes memorize your face, and the fire blazing beside you pales in comparison.

“I can't. What if I fail you again?” His mind jumps to how close you were to being hurt. The fear shocking his body. The sound of your cry. “I don’t know how to be close to anyone anymore. And I’m-” his voice strains, but he raises his hand to touch your face.

You close your eyes, inadvertently parting your lips as well. His thumb trails and pulls on your bottom lip.

“I’ve killed innocent people,” he confesses, staring at your inviting mouth. "I’m not who I should be."

His eyes snap back to yours as you open them, “I… had a daughter.”

Joel’s eyes are watery, but he refuses to blink and let them spill. It’s Joel’s hardest confession and he does it purposefully while his brain is distracted. He needed you to know why he wasn’t right for you. Why he was stopping this.

“So have I. And…” You pour your heart into your words, “I’m so, so sorry, Joel. Nothing I can say will ease that pain. I- I can't even imagine it." You picture Ellie. You squeeze his knee where your hand still lay, "But I’ll help you carry it all, if you’ll let me."

“Goddamn it,” he growls. “You’re not lettin’ me have any room, are you? Always have to fuckin’ argue.”

His calloused hands seize your face, crushing his lips to yours. You mewl in surprise and the hand on his leg flies to his cheek. He holds you together though you feel like falling apart. The kiss was never chaste, but then his tongue demands its way into your mouth and you reward him with a submissive moan.

Joel feels his entire body ignite. His lips drag you to a state of arousal you'd only experienced in your dreams of him. His hands clutch the sides of your face, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he licks into you. Joel's heat soaks into you, pooling below your stomach.

Not close enough for you, you throw your leg over him, straddling him.

He groans deliciously as you settle on his lap. He runs his hands up and down your back, your sides, wanting to map your body.

You grip his hair, as soft as you always knew it would be, and refuse to let the man breathe. Your kiss is as incendiary as his, and both of you gasp around the other’s lips. You rock against him, feeling the hardness in his jeans.

“Fuck,” his voice breaks along with any restraint he still had.

“Please,” you cry, plain need dripping from your voice.

“Whatever y’want, baby,” he drunkenly promises into your skin, placing openmouthed kisses down your throat. “This gotta go, though,” he grumbles. He slides both hands up your shirt, removing it with a flourish.

His undeniable desire for you goes straight to your soul: a desperate ache for him. He works your bra off and replaces it with his hardworking hands. You throw your head back in relief, but it’s still not enough.

"Yes," you spur him on.

Returning to his perfect, indecently pouty mouth, your hands fumble with his belt. The clink of the belt buckle hitting the stone hearth underneath him is the most erotic sound you've yet heard. Without leaving your lips, Joel hooks your ankles around his waist and lowers you to his sleeping bag.

He trails down your jaw. You hurriedly unbutton his flannel, wanting to feel his skin flush with yours. He lets you slide your jeans off, in fear you might remember the last time a man tried to remove them.

But once they're gone, his hands skate along your hips and hook in your underwear. In a jumble of arms and material, Joel soon covers your nakedness with his own; his hard length throbbing against your hip.

“I can feel your heat, already,” he chokes, his voice gravelly. “Now, you gonna be quiet, or do I gotta cover this mouth of yours?” Joel’s thumb ghosts over your lips.

“I’ll be quiet, Joel. Promise,” you widen your eyes in earnest.

Joel groans, "Shit, woman." He ruts against you.

You lean to kiss his neck and jawline while your hands slide down in excitement to cup him, stroke him. You make a small, satisfied noise at the feel of him in your hands. He moans above you, dropping his head onto your shoulder, and you smirk.

“Are you gonna be quiet?”

He grasps your wrist and pulls it away. “You keep doin’ that and this’ll be a short ride.”

Joel ruts against you again, this time across a spot he hadn’t before - and you jolt with the sensation. He does it again, mesmerized by the way you move. He lines up and teases you, the mere contact sending your eyes rolling. You dig your nails into his biceps.

“Joel, before- I just want t-”

He stops you with a wet, filthy kiss. The throbbing between your legs has you rubbing against him for release. He erases your thoughts. Joel tilts his forehead to yours.

“I know y’do.”

As much as he fought it, worried about it, somewhere deep inside he knows exactly how you feel. He also knows he feels the same.

Written across my fuckin’ forehead, isn’t it?

But, unlike him, you'd never taken a break from loving things. You hadn't spent years denying that you were even capable of it anymore. He could not say it. But he could show it.

Your anxiousness melts away when Joel pushes into you slowly, savoring your expression. Total arousal and concentration has his mouth gaping. You nip at his bottom lip and he chases your mouth.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. For such a short amount of foreplay, you’re gushing for him. He almost gave this up over fear of letting you in? This with a woman who loves him? God, he is a coward.

“Don’t deserve this,” it’s a throaty moan as the patch of hair between his hips scratches yours. He looks down at the place he’s joined with you.

What a fuckin’ sight, Joel feels the spark at the base of his spine and almost comes right there.

“Oh, fuck,” you thread your fingers back through Joel’s hair.

Your breasts press into his hard chest as you arch to accommodate him. It doesn’t even hurt, you’ve been so thoroughly turned on by him. You just need Joel as deep as he can be in you, in all possible ways.

He drags himself out, then slowly eases back in. You whimper with the deviance of a man being inside you. Not just any man, either, as you’d told him moments ago. But Joel. Beautiful, emotionally fragile, powerful Joel who felt loyalty toward you, who protected you, who cared for you.

He drops his mouth to bruise yours, overwhelmed by your reaction to him. His pace picks up until his fingers dig into your waist as you cling to him. You try to keep the need to be silent forefront, but it was so difficult with Joel possessing you, forcing noises to exist. He clasps a large hand over your mouth.

He closes in over you, muttering, “How bad I wanna hear those noises. Wish I could hear how much you like it.” His hand slides up over your breast, manhandling slightly.

“I thought about your hands,” you adjust his fingers to admit in a whisper. "Thought about them all over me."

“Hm, did you?” His voice is thick with lust.

Before you can answer, he wraps his hand around your throat, and, watching your eyes, squeezes the sides carefully. Only enough to remind you how strong he is, what you do to him, and how utterly safe you are with him. He kisses you again, hard, and it's full of those promises.

It’s then that the tense pleasure building in your core snaps into an electric fire in your muscles. Writhing underneath him, he feels it, too.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he slows his thrusts while your body squeezes him.

“Oh, my god, Joel,” you cry as quietly as you can. You’ll never get off him after this.

It's the first time you've sung his name, and Joel knows he is well and truly fucked. He releases his grip. You grasp his hand and kiss his knuckles slowly.

He arches your hips and shoves his balled-up jacket underneath you. Joel places his hand over your mouth and thrusts into you with barely-controlled force, grunting with primal intent.

Your cry is muffled and distorted as he pushes inside you over and over. He rubs against a spot that makes you arch into him and decides that's his favorite. His thumb rolls over your sensitive mound and, combined with his filthy words, you feel him building another wave of euphoria.

All you know is his name, repeated over and over in your mind to remind you that Joel is the one making you feel this good. That knowledge alone shoves you back to the edge.

His lips are at your ear, and his accent is the strongest you’ve ever heard it, “Knew you’d feel like this. Always throwin’ yourself at me. Darin’ me to fuck you. Wantin' me to do it,” he can’t help himself: he tenderly bites and sucks at your neck just below your ear.

“Look so fuckin’ good underneath me,” he praises, his cadence clipped with exertion.

But Joel is tireless in his pursuit. Determined to show you how you make him feel. Determined to take what was already his. Hellbent on fucking you until it hurt to walk tomorrow. Shit, maybe he’d carry you. He felt free, wild.

It’s the way he consumes your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue as he fucks you that has your mind reeling into another realm, or falls off a cliff, or wherever it is he sends you. Your body is as taut as a bowstring before it snaps the second time. The pleasure of Joel playing your body like a guitar fills your bones, your veins.

“Y’still with me?” Joel presses a kiss to your lips. You feel yourself clench a final time around nothing. He sits back.

Absently, you run a hand along your stomach and feel a substance. You raise your eyes to his, and he grins sheepishly. It’s such an intimate smile, it hurts. He takes a shirt and wipes your skin.

“Sorry 'bout the mess. Wanted to pull out in time to come on the shirt or somethin’ but…”

He takes your hand, helping you sit up, and kisses your chin, cradling your face. You kiss him with fervor, and he breaks it to finish, “But you’re too damn much.”

“I’m never just right, am I?” You joke. You count on your fingers: “Too happy, too talkative, too argumentative, and now just too much.”

He grabs and kisses your fingers, saying huskily, “’s the way you should be."

"Put your clothes on," you laugh and follow your own advice.

"Yes, ma'am," he picks up his jeans and pulls them on without buttoning them, and you think about ripping them off and going for round two. You can see the brunette curls poking out invitingly.

He puts his undershirt on, then drags your sleeping bag to his. He unzips both bags to lay flat. A bed and a blanket.

"C'mere," he relaxes on the makeshift bed, holding an arm out to you.

After everything, this was what was going to make you cry? The sight of him, hair a mess, glowing in the firelight, enveloping you into his arms?

All those years staring at sunsets. Wish I could've been staring at this.

Tears prick your eyes as you kneel with him. He tucks you under his waiting arm and lies down, fitting you against him. His breath plays with your hair, and his hand trails up and down your arm soothingly.

"I thought this would never happen," you sigh.

There’s a moment of thought before Joel says, "Ah, shit. You were seventeen when-"

"Yep."

"Oh," he realizes you're a virgin. Or had been up until twenty minutes ago. He feels uncertain. "You okay?"

You laugh, "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

"Wasn't really romantic."

"You and a fireplace? That's way more romantic than I would've asked for. I'd have been happy with you and a backseat or you and a tree."

You feel Joel's chuckle roll through his chest. He viciously revels in your words. All you wanted was him.

"That wasn't what I meant, though. I meant that I thought you'd never - that you didn't feel anything like I did."

"Mm," he tenses. "Course I do."

Communication was not his strong suit, and in this moment, he does not want to fuck anything up.

"Better for me to show you."

"And I prefer that any time," you praise him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Fucking finally, holy shit."

Ellie stands above with folded arms and the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

"You guys must've been freezing down here because somehow you ended up all cuddled together and I know for sure you'd never do that willingly because you guys hate each other," she sarcastically monologs.

Your face feels like you held it above the now-dead fire.

Joel hasn't moved. Maybe he was pretending she couldn't see him.

In the night, the two of you must've rolled over, because you're curled around his back, arm slung over his side. Your nose had buried itself into the waves at the nape of his neck.

"Ellie?" You cover your eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

She just laughs.

"Now does this mean there will be more or less bickering? Because sometimes it's entertaining but sometimes, fucking hell, you guys really go at it."

Joel finally stirs, heaving a massive sigh. "You ain't gonna leave us alone, are you?"

Ellie wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Should I?"

Joel shoots her a glare.

Ellie makes eyes at you and you know she wants to barrage you with questions. You suppose it'll come sooner or later, and it's better if Joel's not there.

"Joel," you start, not sure what to suggest, but then he sits up.

"I'm headin' outside."

The door closes as he tugs his jacket on, and Ellie looks at you with poorly-contained excitement.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Shhh! Shit, Ellie, it's not a big deal." You haven't decided how much you're telling her.

Her glare could kill a horse. "Not a big deal? It's Joel. Mr. Antisocial. And you've been pining after him this whole damn time."

You shush her again, "He's going to fucking hear you."

"You think he doesn't know?" She asks incredulously; your affection for him was so obvious that she thought even Joel couldn’t have missed it.

You exhale sharply, "No, he definitely knows that now. I mean he doesn't know how long. It's embarrassing."

"So, he… knows now?"

Shit.

You physically deflate. You'll have to tell her. She'll wheedle or smart it out of you eventually.

"We… worked it out."

Ellie starts laughing.

"You FUCKED HIM." She laughs harder at the new territory. It was funny, and kind of bizarre to have a man come into the picture after all of these years and change everything.

You can’t help but laugh resignedly, "Don't be so crass. You don’t need the details.”

“I don't want the damn details.” She looks nauseated at the thought. “I can’t believe I leave you alone for one night and you pounce on the poor man.”

“I didn’t pounce on him,” you retort, even though you literally did. “We talked about some shit that went down in the woods last week and… and some other things. It was a mature conversation. I hope the bickering will be much less.” Then you add, “But I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Just don’t forget I exist.” Ellie semi-jokingly requests.

“Ellie,” you stand and hug her tight. “Don’t even say that. It’d never happen.”

“I know. I guess if anyone had to be as wonderful as me, I’m glad it’s Joel.”

“It’s not a competition. I’m also happy to know you're not mad,” you chuckle.

"Mad? It's like I got a brother. A… much older brother." She makes a face at you. "More like a dad."

"You never heard of DILFs?"

"You're gross."

Continue ->

#my fics #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 months

Text

Tag game: tag 9 people you'd like to get to know better

Thanks for tagging me, @sergeantpixie!!

Last song: "Flight Director" - Jeff Russo (For All Mankind score)

Currently watching: Percy Jackson and The Bear

Three ships: Midge x Lenny (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel), Bess x George (Nancy Drew), and Max x Lucas (Stranger Things)

Favorite color: Kelly green

Currently consuming: hot choco

First Ship: Rory x Jess (Gilmore Girls)

Relationship status: Whoopi house quote, etc.

Last Movie: Scream V rewatch, I think!

Currently working on: multi-chapter fic for dodgerfox week :)

Tagging: @mjonesing @spiderman-homecomeme @karinaisloud @wildwren @bethanyactually @jonairadreaming @cadetcama @memyselfandwifi @myladyofmercy

#about me #tag game #am watching #am listening #am writing

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munsonmuses · 5 months

Text

Noise Complaint

Modern day AU

College Boy Eddie Munson x RA Reader

Inspiration credit to my dear friend Bug, who listens to my ramblings about being an RA at my teeny little university. And dropped the idea of Eddie being a resident. Thank you @munson-blurbs

Warnings: Shameless smut with light buildup, definitively just a bunch of hate fucking, p in v, oral (reader receiving) reader has female anatomy but isn’t referred to directly as a woman, light choking, creampies, light amateur bondage, Eddie is a shithead and kind of a bully (and kind of a kinky mf)

Word Count: 2.6k

This is mostly to tide y’all over until the next chapter of Spiritual Reserves

——

You carefully walked your weekly Thursday night rounds of the building, each floor more boring than the last. A menial task between desk shifts, programs, door decs, duty phone calls and staff meetings. Lightly drumming your hands along your hips as you listened to your music through your earbuds. Humming along to Moonwalker as you finished your rounds on the fifth floor. Keying into your room and flipping down on your bed, going to close your eyes.

Until violently interrupted by the incessant ringing of your duty phone, picking up and frowning deeply to yourself. “Thank you for calling the Creel Hall Duty Phone, what seems to be the problem?” You spoke in a customer service voice, carefully waiting before hearing a familiar sigh as you quirked a brow. “Nancy?”

Your coworker, Nancy Wheeler worked the front desk while you did rounds, and called you every Thursday around midnight. Each time it was the same thing.

“Hey um, Jason Carver called again, about being unable to stay in his dorm room, as his roommate is playing music too loudly, as always…” she spoke softly as you pushed yourself to sit up, sighing in frustration.

“Room three forty nine right? Down the west wing…it’s Eddie Munson? Again?” You asked, earning a confirming hum as you wished her goodbye and pushed to your feet. Slipping on your house shoes and making the trek down to the third floor.

As you descended the stairs, the loud screeching of an electric guitar through a well abused amp grew louder. Causing your brain to rattle as you grit your teeth. Pushing down the hall and stopping at the door. There was a white board stuck to the front, with a messily scrawled poll on it, something that changed each week. Likely Munson’s doing. Although a bit of a social reject, he took attention in any way he could get it. Much to your chagrin as you pounded on the door.

And again…

And again.

By the third knock, the playing stopped as the door flew open, Eddie Munson stood with a shit eating grin. Currently chewing on spearmint gum that wafted on his breath as you crinkled your nose. Wearing nothing more than black sweats wearing the schools logo, his rings, and his hair in a low bun. Tattoos littering his arms and chest, a tattoo of gnashing fangs on his ribs as you rolled your eyes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did someone narc again, or do you just wanna see me that bad, trying to sneak a free concert mmm?” He asked with a grin as you cleared your throat.

“You do this every goddamn Thursday. If it’s not loudly playing music? It’s you and your idiot friends racing the halls. Or you holding the main lobby hostage, or losing your id and getting locked out. It’s only ever on Thursdays. If anyone wants to see anyone bad, it’s you wanting to see me-“ you hissed as you jutted your chin towards the inside of his room. Signaling you wanted to be let in as he gallantly threw his arm out, gesturing for you to enter as he bowed lightly. Earning a sneer from you as he relished in your contempt. He drew a sort of joy from your anger in him, the attention was invigorating. In being refused love so much by his peers in high school, he’d learned to adore the hate that was sent his way.

Hate festers, it meant he was always in the minds who despised him, like a catchy commercial jingle from the early 2000’s.

He watched as you poked around his half of the room. Littered with posters, lewd art, and piles of clean and dirty clothes. The light smell of sweat, spearmint and pine coming with him as you scoffed lightly at him.

His amp was in the center of the floor right by the foot of his bed, something you clearly missed as you fell, landing flat on your stomach and chin on the cold tile with a sturdy thud. Groaning in pain as Eddie’s smile faltered and he immediately walked over, offering a hand to help you up.

“Holy shit I am so sorry, are you okay?” He asked as he held his hand out to you, watching as you took his forearm in your hand, before yanking him down as he met the same fate. Harshly hitting the floor as you laughed at him harshly. Snorting at him as he held his mouth, his two front teeth having lightly punctured his lip. Not enough to split it, but enough to draw blood.

“You are the only resident I have problems with…” you started as you glared at him harshly. “You’re loud, messy, pushy, you torment the hall-“ you continued as he glowered at you while sitting up.

Licking the blood from his bottom lip, he looked at you bitterly as he quietly listened, cutting you off.

“You’re a prissy, shrill, overly sensitive brat-“ he hissed, big eyes dark as he looked you over as you hummed.

“I’m doing my job Munson, I get paid to do this-“ you hissed as you looked at his lips. Full, pouty, with the crimson stain of fresh blood.

“You need to get fucking laid, maybe then you’ll pull the stick out of your ass-“ he snapped as he leaned in closer. “Stuck up bitch.”

“Idiot.” You hissed back, getting closer as you bumped the tip of your nose with his own, earning a growl from Eddie.

Your skin was prickling with heat as you stared him down. Trying not to fold as you felt his breath fanning across your lips.

Before you could fully process, he pushed his lips against yours. Harsh and feverish as you groaned into his mouth. The light taste of iron mingling with the spearmint in his mouth as you shuddered lightly. Letting him pull you in tight by your sweatshirt as you ran a hand up the back of his neck. Undoing his bun as you tangled your fingers into the base of his scalp, brown trellises of hair tangling around your fingers.

“I fucking hate you,” you hissed as you pulled back for air, glaring at him as he rolled his eyes. Discarding his gum and pulling you to stand with him.

Backing you up, he pushed you up against the metal and wood bed frame that held his shambles of bedding. Continuing his kissing at you as he pawed at your sweatshirt, getting it off and over your head as you shuddered. His hands so warm opposed to the cold trapped within the room.

“For a total bitch? You have great tits…” he murmured as he lightly took hold of them. Large and calloused hands groping and squeezing, earning soft whines and heavy breaths from you as he laughed. His thumb and forefinger taking hold of your stiffening nipples, lightly pinching and twisting as you whined out his name, clearly worked up as he laughed lightly to himself.

“You’re a lot nicer to listen too when you’re not bitching at me…” he mumbled in your ear, lightly nipping at the lobe as you shuddered harshly.

Trailing your hands down his chest, you worked your fingers down, stopping over the stiff outline of his cock as you lightly ran your hand over him and earned a light but deep groan from him. Working your other hand into his waistband as you went to work his sweats off. Earning a harsh pinch on your left nipple as you looked at him.

“We’re doing this my way. I’m in charge now.” He insisted harshly. “Now, up on the bed.” He pat your hip to motivate you, watching as you used the step stool to get up and sit on the mattress. Watching as he rooted around in his closet quietly.

He apparently found what he was searching for, coming over with a well worn black belt in hand. Quietly climbing into the bed alongside you as he hummed.

In silence, he took your wrists, wrapping the belt around them firmly, and around the wooden bar at his headboard. Pulling tight as he checked to make sure they weren’t so tight he’d cut off circulation. Once sure, he hummed in approval and lightly pat your cheek. “Good, you look so pretty like this…” he cooed down at you, watching as you chewed on your lower lip and nodded lightly. The confidence in you dwindling.

“You’re a lot prettier when you’re not making everyone’s ears bleed you cu-“ you were cut off by a harsh kiss, his hand lightly making its way up your stomach and chest. A gentle pressure applied to the sides of your throat. A gentle choking sensation applied as you moaned lightly into his mouth. Feeling his cock twitching against your thigh as you gave into the kiss.

Eddie pulled back for air, lightly patting your cheek as he released his light hold on your throat. Sliding his way back down to the edge of the bed.

His hands took hold of your waistband, working off your shorts and underwear agonizingly slow. Eyes trained on yours as you whined lightly.

“Hurry the fuck up-“ you hissed out as Eddie smacked your inner thighs lightly. Glaring at you as he rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking impatient…” he muttered before working his hand further in, humming as he lightly cupped you in his hand. Running his middle finger up your slit. Stopping at your clit as he worked in small, circular motions. Watching your face as your lashes fluttered and your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ shape. “There we go, see? I can do a lot more with these hands besides playing guitar like a fucking god…” he hummed out softly as he continued. Drawing soft moans from you as he nodded.

Applying a bit more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves, he laughed lightly as he gently worked on getting you relaxed. He was a dick, but he was considerate. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this…all pink in the face, mouth open…let’s give them some real noise to complain about,” you could see him cringe a bit at his statement, cocky and a bit cheesy.

He pulled your legs apart slowly, bowing his head down as he placed soft and deep kisses along your inner thighs and trailing inwards. His lips stopping at your clit as he pressed a slow and deep kiss to it, humming lightly as he tentatively listened for your reaction. Wanting to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable or unhappy with his actions.

“Eddie don’t tease…fucking hell.” You hissed as he laughed lightly. Taking it a step further as he lightly sucked on your clit, circling it slowly with his tongue and applying tentative amounts of pressure. Earning a full moan from you as he carefully worked on his middle finger. Pressing in slowly as he curled and flexed his finger. Getting you to cum first was his goal.

He kept his ministrations going, refusing to let up unless asked as he laughed lightly. Sending vibrations through you as you arched your back lightly, pressing further into his face. “Fuck! Eddie keep going-“ you demanded as he eased in a second finger. Beginning the slow thrusting and curling. Flexing his fingers apart as he increased the pressure on your clit. Feeling your walls flutter around his fingers as he sped up. Getting a bit overeager as your thighs clamped around his head and squeezed.

Your eyes rolled back as you cried out desperately, babbling. Eddie was right, you did need to get laid. The stress of the job was melting off your shoulders as the knot in your lower abdomen came undone. Earning a desperate cry from you as you came, soaking his mouth and chin as he hummed. Pulling his fingers out as he worked in his tongue slowly, humming as he made his way back up and eventually pulled away entirely. Sitting up as he looked at you.

“So fucking good…” he eased both fingers into your mouth, urging you to taste yourself as he hummed. “See sweetheart,” he crooned, laughing lightly to himself as he pulled his digits from your obedient mouth. Patting your cheek lightly and getting to work on removing his own bottoms.

His cock was undeniably hard, unable to be ignored as he hummed and slowly stroked himself. His other hand grabbing your chin and tilting your head down to get a look at him.

“Watch me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, I want you to watch me fuck you…” he ordered as you nodded your head lightly, watching as he lined himself up, and got to work.

Pushing into you, he groaned lightly. Watching as your mouth fell slack and lashes fluttered. Grinning in pride as he eased in inch by inch. Panting and rambling praise as he bottomed out within you. Holding your hips firmly in his hands as he lightly rolled his hips.

“So fucking gorgeous, you take my cock so well honey…” he took hold of your calves. Bending your legs up and back before pulling them upwards over his shoulders. Pressing light kisses to your ankles and calves, before biting down lightly as he took a deep and long thrust.

Your head fell back, eyes rolling back as you moaned desperately. Unable to fight the pleasure that washed over you in overwhelming waves. Moaning desperately as you clenched your fists and whined desperately. “Don’t fucking stop, good god-“ you growled out as you took each bruising thrust. Eddie was filled with lust and stamina, his hips knocking into the backs of your thighs as you grinned. “So good-“ you whined lightly.

Eddie laughed to himself as he listened, his thrusts deep and overdrawn as he rocked into you. Each thrust felt deeper than the last, the pressure building up was addicting. His necklace thumping with each thrust against his chest. Your breasts lightly bouncing as he drank in the sight of you. You were gorgeous underneath him. Fucked out and pliant as he pat your cheek.

“Don’t stop looking at me sweetheart. Look at what you do to me…look at how good you make me feel.” He ordered as he felt himself getting worked up, losing a bit of control as he grinned to himself:

He leaned forward, pressing your legs into your chest as he angled your hips upwards. Causing him to reach deeper inside you, grinning. “You’re squeezing me real good, see, you can be real nice to have around…nicer to look at from this angle at least~” he cooed in a patronizing manner as he grinned.

The cacophony of moans, thrusts, panting, and the creaking of the mattress felt ridiculously loud. Flooding your brain and making your brain feel like putty as the pressure in your abdomen grew. Stomach growing tight as you whined.

“Eddie? I’m gonna cum-“ you whined as he laughed lightly.

“Not yet honey, not till I say…” he insisted as he kept his thrusts going. Making sure to hold you firmly in place beneath him. He was drunk on you.

“I’m getting close sweetheart, so what you’re gonna do is cum with me…okay? Can you do that?” He punctuated each question with a harsh thrust as you nodded your head obediently. “Good-“ he hummed as he carefully sped up, leaning down ad he pressed impossibly deeper.

Nose to nose with you, he hummed. His breaths growing ragged as he held onto your chin. “Now-“ he pushed.

You let go, whining as a searing white wave of pleasure rolled over you. Your orgasm rocking you as you whined. Coming back from your delirium as you felt the heat of his own orgasm filling you. His light rutting causing some to spill over as you whined and groaned.

Pressing a light kiss to your lips, Eddie hummed. “Same time next Thursday?”

——

Taglist: Open

@munson-blurbs

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

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kk095 · 11 months

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Hannah’s Head Injury

Hannah Dansby was a 28 year old web+app developer. She was the cute, shy, nerdy type who had shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, and stood at 5’6 with a slim build. Sadly, Ms Dansby was brought into our emergency department recently after sustaining blunt head trauma in a high speed collision.

The young lady laid on a backboard in a c-collar. She was intubated, had EKG electrodes on her chest, and IV lines going in both arms. She had a large seatbelt shaped bruise across the front of her chest, while there was a large laceration above her right eyebrow. On the side of her head above her right ear, you could see an accumulation of blood soaking her hair in that general area, with some blood droplets coming out of the right ear. Hannah’s eyes were wide open upon arrival even though she was intubated, and was actively convulsing while medics Stephanie and Tracy wheeled her into the trauma bay. Hannah’s toes scrunched at the other end of the gurney, showing off the fresh black nail polish and the cute, prominent wrinkles in the soles of her size 8 feet. “28 year old female, restrained driver in a high speed MVC. Intubated en route, vitals all over the place. Started seizing just as we pulled into here.” Medic Stephanie tells the trauma team, giving them a quick summary of what to expect. “ok, let’s transfer her on my count. One… two… THREE!” Dr Lindsay ordered.

Hannah was transferred onto the trauma room table underneath the large overhead light. “Push a unit of ativan, and run stat trauma labs. Page radiology, I’d like to get a head CT sooner rather than later.” Lindsay barked out to the members of her trauma team. Nurse Nancy pushed the dose of the anticonvulsants and drew the trauma labs. Dr Lindsay shined a pen light in Hannah’s eyes, revealing her pupils were fixed and dilated. “well, she’s already braindead. What a shame.” Dr Lindsay announced, shaking her head. “she might be a good organ donor. But don’t let transplant surgery know just yet. We don’t need them hovering over this poor girl like a vulture.” Dr Jose added. “amen to that.” Nurse Nancy replied in agreement.

The ativan took effect and stopped Hannah’s seizure. However, Hannah’s heart also stopped. “damn it, someone start compressions!” Dr Lindsay shouted while taking a look at the monitors. Hannah’s eyes remained wide open, staring expressionlessly across the room while Dr Jose started pumping away at her chest. His compressions were intense and forceful, causing Hannah’s chest to cave in and her belly to ripple out. Her small, perky breasts jiggled and one arm hung off the side of the table, bobbing and lolling around. Blood shot out of her right ear in sync with each individual compression. What happened was the temporal bone of her skull became partially displaced and slashed open the temporal artery within the subarachnoid space. A lot of blood in such a small space is always bad, so the pressure inside her skull built up rather quickly, squeezing her brain, causing her brain death, and the only way out for the excess blood was through the ear canal.

“Epi and atropine in Linds” nurse Heather called out. “ok, I’ve got v-fib on the monitors. Charge the paddles to 250” Dr Lindsay called out. The paddles were charged, gelled, and pressed up against Hannah’s bare chest, and a shock was delivered as soon as Jose stood clear. KA-THUNK. The young woman’s broken body tensed up and flopped for a moment. “no pulse, recharge to 300.” Dr Lindsay called out, placing 2 fingers on Hannah’s neck for a carotid pulse. The defibs were readied, and shock #2 was delivered. Hannah’s feet kicked around on the other end of the table in response to the shock, wrinkling the soles of her feet. “She’s still in v-fib. Charge to 360.” Dr Jose ordered, closely looking at the heart monitor. The third shock caused Hannah’s chest to shoot up and her back to arch, while her eyes remained wide open, looking almost as if she was watching the team as they coded her.

A fourth shock was delivered shortly after, sending Hannah into PEA. Nurse Heather took over chest compressions this time, and the next doses of epinephrine and atropine were pushed into the young lady’s IV line. Medics Stephanie and Tracy stood behind the yellow line in the trauma room still watching the code. “what a shame.” Stephanie says, knowing how this code is going to play out. “yeah, I hope they find the SOB that hit her. Someone on scene said it was a hit and run.” Tracy replies. Tracy and Stephanie’s conversation is interrupted for a moment. “excuse me, coming through.” A female voice said. Sure enough, it was Dr Amy, the hospital’s transplant surgeon. “hey, is this the head trauma patient? I need an A+ liver for a hemochromatosis patient and a kidney for a little girl.” Dr Amy says, forgoing any greetings or any social graces associated with conversation. “ugh. Amy. Can this girl just die in peace?” a frustrated Dr Lindsay replies. “I know you have your patients to look out for, but I have mine to look out for. This beautiful girl woke up this morning not knowing it was gonna be her last day, and I wanna at least try for her.” Dr Lindsay added, trying to reason with the transplant surgeon. “alright, just try to make it quick so I can get the ORs ready.” Dr Amy replied, more or less disregarding Dr Lindsay’s heartfelt reply before walking out of the trauma room. “wow what a bitch.” Medic Tracy said, surprised at the exchange that took place.

Hannah converted back to a shockable rhythm, so the paddles were charged to 360, gelled, and pressed back up against the patient’s bare chest. Hannah’s body jolted violently in response to the shock, but v-fib displayed on the monitors. “hit her again at 360. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Lindsay shouted, pressing the paddles onto Hannah’s bare chest. KA-THUNK. “no change, shocking again. Everyone stand clear!” Lindsay barked out. Hannah’s body thrashed around on the table for a brief moment before going limp again, but she was still in v-fib. Lindsay shocked her again, causing a quick, but violent reaction out of Hannah. This time, the monitors went completely flat. “asystole…” Dr Jose said in a defeated tone. Lindsay let out a sigh, and placed the defib paddles back on the crash cart. She started to peel her gloves off, making the dreaded announcement. “time of death, 4:07pm.”

The ambu bag was detached from the ET tube and the flatlined monitors were switched off. Nurse Nancy gently shut Hannah’s eyes for the last time, while nurse Heather started disconnecting the EKG electrodes. “let Amy know. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled…” an upset Dr Lindsay said, heading out of the room.

Hannah’s organs were able to be successfully extracted and were credited for saving 3 different lives. Unfortunately, the alleged hit and run driver that killed her has yet to be located by law enforcement. If you have any information regarding this incident, please reach out to the authorities.

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gorgugplushie · 3 months

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BAD KIDS GAMING HCS

Nobody asked but i cant stop thinking abt it so

Fabian - canonically doesn't know what mobile games are, much less actual videogames. He sort of sees them as pointless (why do quests and adventures in a videogame when he could just do them in real life?) Of course the bad kids pull him into their gaming sessions, though he spends most of them asking what the controls are again and raising an eyebrow at their shenanigans. Ragh sits him down and makes him play some sport based video games which he does enjoy, he can get really into it if you give him time (he yells so so loud) he also gets into ddr style games bc he likes beating the other bdkds at them. Videogames are a good excuse to hang but he'd rather go out and play football irl.

Kristen - coming from a heavily sheltered and what i assume monitored family, kristen probablyyy isnt all that into videogames. At most i think she'd have some mobile games like idk candy crush on her phone, like fabian she'd get confused and spend her in game time running around and just watching the others play, she goes along w the others shenanigans v easily tho and loves doing silly bits while playing.

Riz - Riz is the type to play window games on their families shared computer for hours on end. Stuff like sudoku, pinballs, or solitaire. He'd love those games like the nancy drew mystery ones, or those games where you find items like I Spy. The only downside is he gets unhealthily fixated and will spend 3 days getting to lvl 100+ on Tetris if you let him, obsessed w 100% games and making funny number go up. Surprisingly good at rhythm games.

Adaine - into open world games, like fallout or outerwilds. Will spend days writing and churning out backstory and lore for her in game character. Veryyy picky and wants every decision to be true to their newest ocs backstory, will spend a solid hour on the character creation screen. She also loves more violent shooting games, although playing online with strangers gives her anxiety and she cannn get gamer rage, she'll get fixated on getting stuff like headshots and Winning and Being a good teammate that she'll start shaking and have to step away from playing for a bit. Single player fighting games w blood where she can turn her brain off and just fight are more cathartic for her. I feel like she ends up doing insane shit in them like saw and hack off limbs and go full dark story mode route and then regret it so so much and lie awake at night not sleeping bc of it and delete the save file. Its her dark secret shell take to the grave.

Fig - plays a large range of games, mainly more colorful and silly goofy ones she can play with the badkids. Shes sort of a little nuisance in games tho, she will troll and grief a lil bc she finds it funny. In singleplayer games she does love being a huge stinker and do silly stuff like pickpocket and get caught or accidentally set a bomb off in the middle of a cutscene or glitch her character to a-pose, she does a bunch of shit and laughs and doesn't take it seriously at all. Like adaine she also gets gamer rage. she gets them both banded from online for a month bc they team up to cast a spell on someone thru the screen. LOVESS shit like guitar hero and skater games sooo much, also into those wwe type games. Cant stomach horror at all but will make the rest of the kids sit down and play horror games w her so they can laugh and scream together.

Gorgug - he tends to like more older games, say in the style of star fox/loz and stuff. His parents gave him and older gaming system when he was younger n he still has it around and collects games for it, its seeing a lot more use than it originally did bc now he has friends to play with. The type of guy to still carry their ds around. I feel like hed also modify and rom hack stuff for his friends. He likes going to the arcade in person and playing there than sitting in front of a computer.

Ayda - yes im including her shes a gamer girl in my heart. I feel like she loves life sims/complex puzzle games, stuff like slime rancher, portal, animal crossing. She has 1000+ hours into a single sims save file. She spends hours and hours building and working on the most elaborate farming system for whatever new sim shes getting invested in. She especially loves organizing in games, she gets a bit antsy playing more survival based games with the bad kids because they leave their systems so unorganized (shes def the type to redo the entire base from top to bottom in dont starve while the rest die off screen). neat and orderly decoration is soo fun for her and the bad kids try not to step on her turf too much. refuses to play multiplayer if it's with anyone else but the badkids, but if anyone would start a gaming channel its her. will do obscenely gay cutesy stuff w fig n game. They build their own little base and junk and pretend to hosts weddings n stuff. Shes also very into speed running and breaking games with glitches to figure out how they work.

#fh #fantasy high #gorgug txt.

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kekaki-cupcakes · 9 months

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I dare you - Leo V x gn child of Nike/Reader

part four

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

“Please don’t tell me Jason bit someone again-”

“Are they okay?” Leo asked, pushing passed an exhausted looking Will and scanning the infirmary. There was only a bored looking Ares kid playing with a lighter in the corner as Austin put a bandage over his broken nose. “Where are they?”

Will waved his hand casually and motioned to the door at the end of the room, “High on drugs, we had to sedate them to stitch it all back together. They just woke up.”

Leo had already pushed past him, tripping on a stray bandage and peeking behind all of the plastic curtains in the back room. One of the daughters of Hecate was reading a comic, their skin a bright purple, but there was no one else, until-

“Drewy, Suey, Flooy, Pooey, hey! We should call you Nancy Drew, except you’re not smart enough to be- Ow!”

“I could be a detective if I wanted to.” Drew shot back, and Leo peeked around the curtain, watching as the girl picked some dirt from beneath her nails. “I just don’t care enough about other people's problems.”

The patient, whose bed she was sitting on, stuck their tongue out. “You can stop showing off that you’ve still got nails and shit, Nancy Drew-y, Suey-”

“Holy shit, you're awake! Are you okay?” Leo asked, stepping forwards, but once he got to their bedside, he wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. He just hovered, giving them a weak smile.

“Fine,” they waved their hand, which was bandaged heavily, like a big white canvas mitten, a loopy grin on their face. “I’m finey, piney, siney, miney…”

“Stop waving your hand around or Will’ll strap it down.” Drew snapped, and then turned to Leo with a smirk. She picked up a tote bag with Margot Robbie in a pink jumpsuit on it. “Your turn lover boy. Oh, and they aren’t allowed to eat anything, just water.”

“Why can’t-”

There was a crash as they turned to the plastic bag next to them and emptied their stomach of the nine strawberries they’d been able to eat. “Bleurgh…”

Leo blinked. “Oh.”

“Oh it’s you!” They grinned, looking up from the bag of vomit like nothing was wrong, when in fact everything was. “Hey, Drew Suey, look it’s the- oh she’s gone.”

Leo narrowed his eyes at her “It’s the what?”

“The kinda cute and literally can’t fight and, and…I forgot what the last one was guy.”

He felt his heart beating as fast as the machine in the corner, and wiped his hands on his pants with a gulp. They thought he was kinda cute? Him? He [the kinda cute guy] pulled one of the tissues out of the box on the bedside table and leaned forward hesitantly. He thought they’d hate him, he’d got their hand cut off for the gods sake, but here they were calling him kinda cute.

“You got a bit of,” he started motioning with the tissue to their face, but was only met with a blank look. He just sighed and wiped the pink stuff off their face gently, tossing the tissue in the bin. “There.”

He glanced down at their hand, which he couldn’t even see any of. He felt guilt creep in again. “Is it, is it attached? Did Will fix it, or are you gonna be, like, an amputee?”

They squinted at the wall vaguely, “uh…like, the fingers came off apparently, I dunno, there was a lot of blood. Or strawberries. I love strawberries!”

“I know,” he sighed, trying not to smile at the slightly hazy but innocent expression they had as they cocked their head at him. “I asked if your fingers are back on your hand-”

“Guess what? They came off! Will said that I grabbed a circularlarler saw thingamabob but I’d never do that, I’m not stupid!”

“No way,” Leo breathed sarcastically, and shuffled onto the end of the bed. He watched as they chewed on the fingernails on their other hand and stared out the window absently. “Are… are you okay?”

“I mean my hand kinda yeeted away for a bit,” they started animatedly, “but it’s all better now, Will sewed it back on.”

Leo gritted his teeth, but he wasn’t really annoyed, their excitable face was too cute to be angry at, and he didn’t see it much. Usually they were just waving spears around and glaring at him.

They tapped his shoulder though, like they just remembered something. “Oh, I forgot, two of 'em decided they didn’t wanna go back on, which is kinda mean of them, but now I got three fingers. But they're the important ones, so it’s all okay.”

He blinked. “All of them are the important ones.”

“Nah,” they waved the wad of padding and plaster in the air casually, nearly knocking it into the wall, but Leo managed to scramble across and stop them from reversing all eight hours of WIll’s work. “I only need the middle one.”

Somehow they hadn’t noticed, or they didn’t care, that Leo was pretty much laying across their lap.

Instead they just rested the now safe hand on his shoulder and kept talking. “And I don’t need the ring finger, because it’s my right hand, so I can still get married. And who needs their little finger? I can make pinky promises with my other hand!”

“Right,” Leo breathed, his cheeks red as he sat up a little, but the way they were still holding him a little, stopped him [not physically, he just wanted it to stay that way] from moving away. Instead his legs were sprawled across their lap as he sat next to them on the plastic-y bed.

“Did you know I never break a pinkie promise,” they gasped, like they’d only just found out as well. They extended their left hand eagerly, “I can prove it, gimme a promise. I’ll never break it.”

Leo grinned up at them, ducking his head as he extended his pinkie. “Uhm, I dunno, promise to never grab a circular saw to save my life again?”

They scrunched up their nose, rubbing it a little, “boring, I promise to always save your life again! Ha!”

“Oh, okay…” he pretended his voice didn’t crack as they shook on it.

They smiled at him, then a vague look passed over their face, and they sneezed into his shoulder, only to sneeze again. He watched as they rubbed their nose sniffling. “Why do you sneeze so much?”

“I’m allergic to sawdust.”

Leo’s smile froze, “you’re what.”

“I’m… allergic… to…-”

“Yeah, yeah I get that,” he cut them off. “But why didn’t you mention it? You were in bunker nine for hours! I’m literally always covered in sawdust! I'm like a walking ball of allergies!”

“... But I like hanging out with you.”

“I’m not saying you can’t- wait you like hanging out with me?” Leo cut himself off this time, eyes widening. They liked hanging out with him? And they thought he was [kinda] cute? How lucky could he get?

“Of course I like hanging out with you,” they scoffed, and then smirked in a loopy way that was probably because of the painkillers and everything else in their veins. “You think I'm actually that obnoxious? I just wanted you to argue with me, and I’m actually, like, super duper whooper good at not challenging other people now, I just wanted to-”

A grin wobbled across Leo’s face, and he looked away, feeling his face grow hotter. He poked them in the side gently, “You’re so manipulative.”

“No, I’m a mastermind.” They nudged him back.

“What if I told you, I’m a mastermind!”

“Jason!”

“And now you’re mine, it was all by design!”

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #leovaldez #Leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x oc #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n

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unclefredandjohnnierutter · 7 months

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#8: The Haunted Carousel

To be told a truth long since put away, bring me the silvery remains of a four-bit day.

A Nancy Drew inspired playlist // listen here 🎠

↓ tracklist and more below ↓

Featuring:

Do You Remember - St. Lucia

I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside - Gavioli Fairground Organ

Carousel - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Brass Ring - Tigers Jaw

Engineers - Gary Numan

Jewel Thief - The Kills

Artists Only - Talking Heads

Ice Cream Heart - Remember Sports

Deep Sea - Snail Mail

Barnacle Beat - The Growlers

Rollercoaster - Dear Nora

Mr. Zebra - Tori Amos

Smile, Smile, Smile - Wurlitzer 146 Carousel Organ

Memory Lane - Minnie Riperton

Glory Days - Bruce Springsteen

Genres include theme park rock, sad girl hour indie, some band organ tunes! and more

One of my first memories of nancy drew awareness was seeing the haunted carousel in a scholastic book order and then watching my sister play it so i think of it fondly, joy’s story is so sad but its all revealed v tastefully imo and its such a nice story at the core of the mystery and i <3 miles and his scary voice

#playlist #car #the haunted carousel #ccpt23 #cluecrewplaythru #still trying to catch up before the enddddd #but still unemployed so maybeee i can

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jicklet · 4 months

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I just noticed that Nick goes through all the stages of grief in this one gif.

#oh these boys.#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #ned nickerson #ace [redacted]#v watches nancy drew #v posts things #tunji kasim #Deserves all the awards

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john-cardoza · 10 months

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does anyone have recommendations for a place to watch the cw live without a tv

#we're having a family emergency so im not home #but i would really like to watch the new nancy drew ep #v rambles

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brimbrimbrimbrim · 2 years

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Hellllo 👋🏻, I follow you on Ao3, I hope this isn't annoying or anything, just genuinely wanting to know. I really enjoyed the LowRes and Josh and Nancy Drew series, was just wondering if you're still writing for them or if it's done. You don't have to answer.

Ya'll some thirsty bitches... here's a sneak preview of what I'm writing for Kinktober. <3_<3

You strum your fingers on the metal door frame and make a face, “Jesus… this guy’s baby dick energy is so massive it probably never occurred to him that people like us existed.”

Inside the van, behind you, Wrench grins loudly, “Did you seriously say baby dick energy? Now all I can picture are penis lasers,” and, with robotic static, adds, “Pew-pew-right in the dick!”

You roll your eyes, backpedal inside the safety of the van and plunk down on the swivel chair and desk setup bolted to the floor. There’ll be enough mansion ogling when you’ve finished Ray’s algo anyway and if you get Wrench riled up too fast, then nothing productive is getting done today.

Wrench stays quiet for two-point-three seconds, then collapses into a playgirl-esque pose on the computer desk in front of you. Before he can knock over your milky coffee drink with his elbow, you scoot it out of the way with a pointed glare, all without taking a hand off the keys.

“Ya know you’re supposed to be the lookout, right?”

Pixel arrows point at the ceiling happily, “Nothing’s happened since we got here. The prodigal son is out,” he waves a tattooed hand like he’s brain farting on a particular word, “prodigality-ing… or something, and you’re waaaay nicer to look at than the adult LEGO set that fucker calls a house. Plus, you still owe me for losing that bet last night.”

While Wrench can be insufferable at times and you actually take pride in your work ethic unlike ‘someone,’ he is utterly charming to a fault, so you hide a smile and ignore his finger-gunning crotch motions.

“You so would pick something sexual for that,” you respond as dryly as possible.

Watching his emotes go from seductive hearts to underscores then inward slashes like a sad puppy dog was worth the finger flick he lands on your cheek, especially when the movement makes the hem of his hoodie ride up his stomach, exposing a sliver of hard abdominals, inked with scatch-hearts. It wouldn’t be all that wise to get distracted this way, but Wrench is a jack of all trades and a master of many; he’s mastered the art of LowRes seduction very, very well.

You blush a little, but only after he readjusts the denim creases around his junk, rubbing at what looks like an oil stain from the events of last night. The algorithm from T-Bone gets typed in a tad slower due to some minor ‘distractions’ but all in all, this lil’ mission Marcus sent you both on is going swimmingly.

“Gotta admit,” Wrench wonders aloud, “this dude’s got way too many lemon-flavored goodies to not have some sort of protocol against hacker babes like us.”

You nod while typing in the final line of code, then throw down the enter key with a puff of breath, “No shit. It’s almost too easy. Like, suspiciously so.”

“Hmm, want me to check the digital keypad while you run that thing?”

“Probably a smart move,” you agree, lifting your laptop and drink off the desk as he wiggles like spawning salmon off the edge - heels smacking the metal floor with a lurch over the wheels. He kicks open the back doors - ever the subtle criminal - and starts judging the keypad.

The van and the two of you are currently stationary in Ahed’s four-car garage which is unsurprisingly empty since the McMansion was still being shown to high-end clients for future mass development. Rich assholes weren’t always the smartest people, as much as they thought they were. Opening their lives up to hackers through everything from toaster ovens to smart showerheads was only gonna make groups like DedSec stronger. Bring it on, you think with a tiny smile.

“Ooooh, looks like fart boy had his dingleberries install a monitoring chip,” Wrench’s voice crackles from around the van, “I could just… right…” something metallic stabs and clicks, “there!”

He swings himself back inside the van, close enough you can feel the furnace that is his body temperature lather on your right side. Double-carets smile at you as he hunches over, presenting a little, toothy microchip between his fingertips.

“See, it’s all in the wrist.”

“Mmhmm,” you can't help but smile, “your technique is not in question, don’t worry.” His skills are never really in question, at least not when it comes to you, but you add a little insinuation to your words considering he’s been threatening you with a good time since this morning.

Your tone does not go unnoticed.

As the algorithm does its thing - rendering the security firm obsolete via a fake firewall - Wrench tosses the offending chip over his shoulder and props his spiked chin in his fist, lowering his voice to Barry Manilow levels, “Only thing I’m worried about is when I get to stick my cockerdoodle in your-“

“Shooosh,” you interrupt hastily, looking dramatically behind him, “do you hear that?”

“Hear what now?” His mask blinks question marks.

The silence continues.

“That.”

Wrench goes silent as a bricked system and looks over his shoulder, knowing when it’s time to get serious.

With a tight lipped-smile and your best dramatic tone locked and loaded, you whisper, “It’s the sound of a rare Wrench not saying something pornographic for five seconds.”

Side-eyeing underscores turn to you, but the leather below his digital display creases, proving that beneath the glare, he’s grinning

“Pffff,” he raspberries, “it was way longer than that!”

“Well, maybe seven seconds.”

#ask #anon #redpool #wrench watch dogs #watch dogs 2 #fanfiction #writing #lowres #teaser #also #yeah... I always forget I wrote stuff for infamous second sons XD #delsin rowe is so hot #i'll die on that hill

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ijustdontlikepeople · 8 months

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Tag nine people you want to catch up with/get to know better!

I was tagged by the lovely @lover-of-mine

Last song:

Last film:

Barbie!

Currently reading:

Just finished Fourth Wing and trying to pick my next book book and reading a lot of fic.

Currently watching:

Not really in the middle of anything rn. Last thing I watched was the 60 minutes special of the FDNY last night. Think I might start Buffy or do a rewatch of Gilmore Girls or New Girl. Oh! Wait I started Nancy Drew a few weeks ago so I’ll probably go back to that.

Current obsession:

Does hockey count? Already got some tickets for next month! Isles v Devils 💙🧡

Tagging (no pressure at all!!!!!): @buckleyseddie @httpsgfg @puckingfabulous @buck2eddie @ashtcnirwin @kindahoping4forever @soggyburgers @valiantnerdtm @tkachukitup

#tag games!#thanks Anna!!

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windowsandfeelings · 4 months

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Tonight I have watched:

Sealed with a List (Katie Findlay, aka Lizbeth) (v charming!)

The Santa Summit (Benjamin Hollingsworth, aka Jake Cazine) (decent. I admittedly didn’t give it my full attention.)

Holiday Road (Sara Canning, aka Kate Drew) (just started, too soon to tell)

Is Hallmark Channel trying to tell me it’s time for another Nancy Drew rewatch?

#it’s actually been several weeks since I last watched an episode! restraint!!

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