#Bruce Springsteen didn’t ask to be dragged into this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2cool4ghoul · 3 months ago

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I'm on Fire

Long time no see, eh?

sorry for my prolonged period of absence, I got shit going on!!!!

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, I hope everyone enjoys, maybe it could be a two parter if people r feeling it! I haven't edited this because honestly who has time for that?

Summary: Reader asks for help with being taught hunting, gets stuck with Joel, who she thinks hates her, but we all know how that ends? Reader grew up in a cult situation where girls r taught they need to repopulate the earth after the outbreak and thinks sex is just for baby making, Joel wants to show her it could be more. I been listening to I'm on fire by bruce Springsteen and that song inspired this.

Warning: under 18 DNI! age gap not specified but allusion to it being gargantuan and ludicrously capacious, Smut, unprotected p in v (do I need to say it? WRAP IT), fingering, oral f receiving, slight daddy kink, doing it from behind, Joel is kinda mean, perv Joel, allusions to masturbation, innocence kink, religious imagery?, mentions of pregnancy, kinda public I guess, post outbreak, can be game Joel or Pedro Joel, any Joels a goal, no use of y/n, reader is female gendered, pussy pronouns, size kink if you squint, Praise kink, yearning, Joel feeling guilty and sorry for himself , boohoo, if I miss anything please tell me!!!! I love feedback!!

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You had been walking for hours.What was meant to be a simple hunt had now turned into aimlessly walking through the forest, staring at Joels back as he stalked in front of you. He refused to admit that he had gotten the two of you lost in the midst of chasing a rabbit, or a deer, or whatever it was he says he saw. When you did suggest heading a different direction, you were met with a sharp rejection, or a grunt telling you to keep your mouth shut. You knew he was angry before you’d even left, saddled with the burden of dragging you along with him.

You didn’t particularly know Joel and you didn’t particularly like him either. His stand-offish demeanour and deep glare whenever you were around made you feel small in his presence. You had given up on the smiling and politeness that you gave everyone else in an attempt at self preservation, yet deep down you so badly wanted him to like you. You weren’t sure what you did and at what point you did it, but Joel made it very evident that he’d much rather be torn to shreds by infected, than teach you the basics of hunting. Which, with the sun becoming low and darkness threatening to spill over into the sky, you thought maybe he didn’t know the basics of hunting either.

Frustrated, you huffed whilst adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, rolling your eyes slightly as he stopped to try and grasp any familiarities in your surroundings. “What’s got you all huffy and puffy?” He quipped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at you.

“I am tired, Joel, we’ve been walking for hours now, I want to go home.” Sighing, your head fell back on your shoulders and he carried on walking.

“If I remember correctly, this was your bright idea, was it not?” His fists clenched at his side and you furrowed your brows.

“It was, when I thought I’d actually be able to learn something, I thought you were meant to be good at this-“

“I am good at this, you’re scaring ‘em all away, with your bitchin’ and moanin’” You’d obviously bruised his ego a bit there, yet the reaction you’d gotten was the most exciting thing that had happened all day.

Well, that and being able to watch him closely whilst he furrowed his brow, focusing down the barrel of a gun. Laying on the ground next to him, so close that you could nearly smell the musk that seemed to radiate off of him. Yes, you didn’t particularly like him, but looking at him? You liked that very much. You liked the way his arms looked when he rolled up the sleeves of his flannels. The way he looked when he started the day, fresh out the shower with his greying hair slicked back and slightly damp. The way his voice was low when he was trying to teach you a lesson. The way he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes when you made a joke, a suggestion, or even just breathed. Seeing all of this things was enough to put a pit in your stomach, a pit that you’d been carrying around all day with little idea what to do about it. It ached and it throbbed.

“Well maybe in your old age, your losing your touch.” You said it quiet, thinking that he wouldn’t hear you. But he did. He responded with a scoff, clenching his fists again. He wasn’t even going to dignify it with a insult back, his reaction alone was enough to make you feel insufficient. You both retreated to the silence and you kept yourself to your thoughts on how you were going to deal with the ache between your thighs.

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Night had fallen and Joel had still not managed to find your way home. Instead you’d found an old shack, barely together but good enough shelter to sleep for the night. Joel figured it was tomorrow’s problem, that and he couldn’t be bothered to listen to your complaints about how tired you were.

The dim glow of the campfire lamp created a yellow cast over Joels features and you couldn’t help but stare as he sat opposite you, eating a sandwich you’d given him earlier in an attempt to lift his spirits. His features were rough and frown lines had been permanently etched into his skin. This life had worn him down, toughed him up like leather. Maybe that was why he was mean to you. Maybe he’d ran clean out of kindness. His large hands made whatever he was holding look small, they were calloused and scarred across his knuckles. You didn’t want to imagine what things those hands had done. But you did want to imagine what they could do. Running over your skin, fingertips grazing your lips, leaving goosebumps and a shiver down your spine. Grabbing at your skin, creating bruises and marks, his fingers, thick and strong, spreading you open and filling you-

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” Gruff and fed up, Joels voice snapped you right out of the darkest corners of your mind, your eyes widening slightly as you realised you had obviously been staring, eyes hazed over.

“I, uh, I was looking at my sandwich, I don’t think you deserve it.” Nice save, you praised your self internally and he raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were some stupid insignificant thing.

“How come I don’t deserve it?”

“We caught nothing today, you didn’t teach me shit.” You tried your best to mimic the facial expression he was pulling, hoping that just maybe you could make him feel how he did.

“Hmm.” He grumbled after putting the last bite in his mouth. “’s'all gone now.” There was almost a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together. What was happening to you? It felt like every fibre of your being was betraying you, begging for you to climb over to him and beg him to take you whatever way he wanted. “What’s the deal with you anyway?”

“With me?” Taken aback, you went slightly rigid, why would he want to know anything about you? He hated you, he made it perfectly clear. He nodded, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to work you out. “What do you mean?”

“Well, why do you want to learn to hunt? And don’t you have some boyfriend around to teach you?” This was the most he’d spoken to you all day, and he had you spluttering on the sip of whatever you’d just taken.

“I want to hunt so I can be useful,” you coughed out, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to look casual, “and no I don’t have a boyfriend to teach me, so I suppose you’re just gonna have to put up with me for now.” Shaking your head, you tried at being playful, but it still didn’t crack his prying exterior.

“Pretty young thing like you, ‘bound to have ‘em falling at your feet.” It was said as almost a passing comment, but your shock was visible on your face, blinking and biting your lip trying to make up a response that was witting and defensive but you couldn’t.

Before you’d scrambled your way to Jackson, alone and bewildered, you had grown up in a cult, whose goal was primarily to restart civilisation. They’d taught how it worked, making babies and all that, and for a while you were happy playing the part, letting your father chose a man, who would be forced with the task of putting as many babies as he could inside you. You endured, what felt like a chore, with your partner, watching your friends fall pregnant. Your inability to fall pregnant was what made you run in the first place, hearing of what they did to the girls who could birth a child had frightened you, fearful that you’d be reduced to another mouth to feed. A drain on resources. So with all of that in mind, finding a boyfriend was never something that crossed your mind, nor was it something you greatly desired. But with Joel sat in front of you, legs spread with his thick thighs in your direction, you felt strings inside you being pulled that had previously been untouched.

“You think I’m pretty?” You swallowed, maintaining eye contact with him for a moment, trying to catch a hint of softness.

“I think you’d be doin’ better tryin’ to find a nice young man,” He adjusted his position and met your gaze, “rather than spendin’ the night in and old shack with’an old man like me.” This was him trying to be nice you thought, but it was having the opposite effect. It made you defensive and you narrowed your eyes.

“Oh because I’d be better off finding a man-”

“You’re puttin’ words in my mouth.” His interruption was calm, yet stern, shaking his head at you and rubbing his face with his hands. He’d succeeded in silencing you as you looked down at the ground in front of you, slightly embarrassed.

“I’ve had a boyfriend, or a lover, I don’t know what to call him,” You avoided him, you had no idea why you felt the need to be vulnerable, “and I don’t know what the whole big deal is, y’know?” You sighed, cheeks flushing a bit pink. “I don’t understand why someone would put themselves through that.”

“Through what?” He leaned forward slightly, curiosity shadowing his face in the dim light. Finally you lifted your head, showing him your red cheeks.

“That.” You hoped he understood your insinuation. And due to the sudden rigidness of his body recognised that he understood. He pursed his lips for a moment and then opened them as if to speak, yet nothing came out. Embarrassment was flooding your body, you regretted even bringing it up due to the sudden tension in the air. And there was that pit in your stomach again, aching and throbbing as you watched him stumble over words to say.

“Because it feels good.” Was all he could stifle out, watching your reaction carefully as your knitted your brows, screwing your face up in confusion slightly.

“Maybe for the men,” You scooted up onto your knees, looking up at him as he sat taller than you, “but for me, as a woman, its just so much pressure.” He was now looking confused, squinting his eyes, trying to understand.

“Pressure to what?”

“To make a baby.” He was beginning to patronise you, making you explain the obvious like it was some sick game. It got you all defensive again. “It doesn’t feel that great when all you can think about is if you’re going to be able to make-“

“It’s not just about that.” Adamantly he shook his head, eye scanning over your body watching as frustration overtook you. “It’s not just about making a baby.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Miller, I’ve had sex, I know what its about.” You bit sharp, heart thumping in your chest, moving closer to him to try and assert some dominance.

“I don’t think you do.” You could’ve sworn there was a ghost of a smirk hiding behind his beard. “Christ, I should not be the one telling you this.”

“Telling me what? What Joel?” You were now practically between his legs, kneeling, begging to understand what he could possibly be talking about. “Please, tell me, I don’t understand.” His eye were trying frantically, to look everywhere except for you.

“Darlin’, I cant be tellin’ you this, s’wrong.” His voice was lower, speaking to you quietly and firmly, grabbing a hold of your wrists. You felt hot under his touch, his rough hand wrapping around your wrists, staring into your eyes. “M’old enough to be your daddy.”

“Whats that got to do with it?” Your voice lowered to the same volume as his, you were searching for the answers in his eyes, and he looked conflicted. Like he was balancing options.

Your body was betraying you again, it wanted to reach forward, wrap itself around him, be as close to him as possible, as if the proximity now was not enough. As if the feeling of his fingers and palms on your now hot skin, was not enough.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always starin’ at me? Hmm, sweet girl?” God, if you were red before, now you were purple. Your skin was prickling, not just at the acknowledgment of your behaviour but at his sudden use of pet names. You couldn’t force words out even if you tried. “Why’d’you think I avoid you like you’re the plague?” With his face inches from yours, it was now easy to see that there was almost desperation in his eyes, like he was losing a battle, unable to let go of his grip still.

“B…Because, you, you hate me.” You finally stuttered out, your throat dry from the heaving breathing.

“Christ, no, I don’t hate you, darlin’, I just can’t stop myself when you’re in front of me, staring at me with those big o’eyes, looking like you’re just about ready to drop to your knees.” There was still no answer to your question, you still didn’t understand, you so desperately wanted to understand. Especially after watching the way he licked his lips, his burning stare taking in every inch of you, “And to think, you’ve been sat there, squeezin’ your legs together, and you don’t even know what you’re doing.”

“I, I, I don’t understand, what you’re saying, Joel.” Your chest was rising and falling, a sweat blanketing the both of you, his grip loosening but letting his hands travel further up your arms until they were at your back.

“Let me show you.” Was all he could muster out until his lips were on yours. He crashed against you, pulling you into him by your back. You fought for a moment at first, out of shock at his abruptness, but it did not take you long to be pressing your body against his, your fingers getting lost in his hair, gripping and tugging whilst he groaned into your mouth. His tongue found its way against yours, tasting every part of you, savouring the moment as you whimpered. You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath and he rested his forehead against your, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” The ache was taking over your body now, like it was all for him, making you force your lips on him again.

“Please, Joel, please,” You purred into him, his hand reaching down to your ass, gripping it hard, “please, I’m aching.”

“Baby, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me,” he growled, his free hand reaching up to your neck, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Please show me, I need you.” Begging, you ignored how right he was, you were sure what you needed but you needed it fast. The tension was becoming unbearable, you needed release.

He held you close by the small of your back, gently lowering you down until your back touched the ground and he was on top of you. Looking up at him through your lashes, you were ready to do anything he asked of you, your entire body feeling like it was electric. He continued kissing you, moving his lips down your jaw, down your neck, sucking and unbuttoning your shirt with an experienced hand. There was still a little bit of disbelief inside you, a failure to believe that Joel Miller, who 2 minutes prior you believed hated you, was on top of you undressing you. The anticipation for his next move was unlike anything you’d experienced before. “God, I’ve thought about this,” His voice vibrated across your chest, your body lifting to meet his lips, your bra exposing your cleavage, “now look at you, angel, whimperin’ for me like a bitch in heat.” He was grinding his hips, pressing his hard bulge into where you needed him most.

“Please, it hurts, Joel.” There was nothing you needed more than what he was giving you, the friction of denim rubbing together was nothing cooling the burning sensation between your legs.

“I know, baby, I know.” He grumbled, “m’gonna show you, jus’ takin’ my time.”

Kisses were descending south down your body, soft red marks left in their wake. He was taking his time, occasionally glancing up at your wide, blown out eyes. He wanted to show you exactly what he’d meant. Exactly what he’d meant. When he finally reached the waistline of your jeans, he tapped your thighs, signalling for you to lifts your hips so he could begin to pull them down your legs and then off your body entirely, taking your white cotton panties with them. You instinctively pressed your knees together, immediately feeling exposed in front of Joels large frame.

He tutted, “Ain’t no use bein’ shy now, sweet girl, you gotta show me where you need me.”

You did as you were told, spreading your legs, whilst he knelt back, palming the growing tent in his jeans. “that’s it, good girl.” groaning, he leant forward, lowering his body to meet yours, “Look at how wet she’s got f’me, you might not know what I mean, but she definitely does.” A sadistic chuckle left his throat, watching you squirm under his intense gaze.

Your body jolted when one of his fingers gently slid up your folds, collecting the wetness and slick, leaving you unable to breathe. No one had ever touched you there, not even yourself, and here was Joel Miller, slack jawed, toying with your hole however he pleased. He did slow motions up and down, watching as you glistened in the dim light. You had no idea you were capable kf feeling this feeling, a tingling sensation rippling in waves along with his touch. You were absentmindedly grinding your dripping cunt in motion with him, your eyes flickering shut whilst your head rolled back. “that’s right, baby girl, feels good don’t it?” Joel cooed through a smirk, watching intently as you rubbed against him.

“mmhmm,” You hummed in a daze, this must’ve been what he was talking about, “so good.” And with your admission of pleasure, a small smile dancing over your lips, he took his hand away. Your head snapped up and you propped yourself on your elbows, looking down at him with pouted wet lips. He took little notice of your reaction, instead he wrapped his arm around your thighs positioning his face opposite your throbbing pussy.

Before you had time to question why he was so close, he showed you. He dove into like a you were water and he was in a drought. Gasping, you watched with your jaw wide, panting whilst he licked and sucked at you, his tongue exploring every inch of you. “Joel, fuck, my god, what are you doing?” you panted, your chest rising and falling heavily.

“Well,” he spoke between breaths, “I’m tasting you, darlin’ and boy, don’t you taste sweet.” he continued on, watching your breathing growing erratic, the torment his tongue was bestowing on you causing your eyes to roll back into your head, a hand holding onto his forearm. “your old boyfriend never came down for a taste?”

“No” Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any better, he brought you to a new high. One which made you sure that this was what he was talking about surely it didn’t get better than this. Feeling his beard scratching against your thighs, seeing the absolute sheer pleasure in his eyes as his tongue fucked itself into your hole.

“He was missing’ out, I’ll tell you that much, sweetheart.” It was a smug scoff. He was immensely enjoying the effect he was having on you. See you wriggle, unable to keep still, holding your hips firmly down to the ground so he could have his way with the sweet pussy in his mouth. Knowing that his mouth was the only one to taste you, to savour and relish in the taste of you, god he felt like one lucky man.

The pit that started in your stomach had now grown and blossomed to take over your entire body, it was consuming and controlling you. Your back arched off the ground, only remaining anchored by Joel firm hands, you let one of your hands grab fistfuls of Joel’s hair, pushing him closer against you, whilst your other hand took to your breast, pinching at your hardened nipple underneath the restrictions of the bra. You cared not for the noises you made, filling the otherwise silent forest with salacious moans and Joel’s name. If a search party had been sent out for you, they’d definitely find you. They’d find you laying half naked, fucking yourself on Joel tongue. It was nearly shameful how much you were at his expense. The grip was gone from one of your thighs, your weak leg dropping to the ground giving him a wide access as you planted your foot on his back. He leant back for a moment before pursing his lips and spitting directly onto your already drooling cunt, making you flinch.

“look at me, pretty girl.” He took a breath, your eyes meeting his, “god, what a sight for sore eyes, so pretty, look at me.” babbling his took your moment of distraction as a invite to insert two of his thick fingers into your hole, smiling again with wet lips, the juices from your pussy dampening his beard and shinning off of his prominent nose. Your eyelids fluttered as you struggled to make eye contact with him, your lip between your teeth to hard you were sure it was going to draw blood. at first he made sure to slowly let you adjust to the stretch of his fingers, feeling your walls constrict around his digits. “mmm, thatta girl, taking my fingers so well, is that nice?” His praise made you fumble, unable to form sentences, only being able to respond with a over ambitious nod of your head, pouting with beads of sweat dribbling down your temples. “I bet it’s nice, no one’s ever touched you like this, huh? My needy girl, following me around, so full of desire with no where to go.” You continued nodding, hypnotised by his words, his fingers curling to reach a spot, overwhelming you, tears prickling in your eyes. Your stomach was tight, the pressure building and building, your knees growing weak. “My girl.” He repeated to himself, looking your up down as if he was admiring his handiwork.

“M’all yours.” It left your throat involuntarily, strangled and choked, pathetic.

“All mine?” He huffed incredulously, “Yes you are, all mine, christ girl.” His mouth returned to the mess he had made made, lips wrapping around and pulling at your clip, releasing with a wet pop. You hissed and tugged at his hair, his nose smushed against your skin, sniffing and smelling as much of your natural scent as he could. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate a pussy this intoxicating, or if he ever even had.

Something was about to rupture in you, it panicked you, washing over your body. You were unable to breathe, unable to release the grip you had on him, your eyes widening as you trembled against joel’s mouth. “Joel.” you squeaked out and he looked up at you with dark eyes, “what’s, fuck, I’m…” Your heart pounded in your chest and in your ears, you could barely focus, unable to form a sentence, or even get a word out.

“that’s right, go on, let it out,” his warm breath fanned against your sensitive area, “make a mess, let go f’me, soak my finger.” He was rattling you and egging you on, seeing your pathetic, writhing, sweating body in front of him.

Once more, you did as you were told. And holy shit.

It was like your entire body was on vibrate, toes curling, unable to even make noise. Stars were bursting behind your squeezed shut eyes, body lifted forward off the ground. “That’s my girl, there she is, fucking hell, give it to me, darlin’” He groaned, digging his hips into the ground, watching you come undone. The tension was being released in constricting waves, your walls clenching and squeezing around his fingers, which remained still, but still putting pressure on the spot they had previous being stroking relentlessly.

“oh my god, Joel, fuck me, oh my god, fuck, fuck.” When you could finally breathe again, you whined his name, cursing and crying a stream of profanities, his fingers leaving you empty whilst his tongue lapped up every precious drop of your high. It took a couple blinks for your vision to come back at when it did, you were met by the proud grin plastered on his face.

“what was it you said earlier? somethin’ ‘bout me losin’ m’touch in m’old age?” He teased, before putting the fingers that had been in you, into his mouth. He sucked them dry, letting his eyes roll back into his head for a second. “Sure didn’t seem to mind my touch when you were choking my fingers.”

“what was that?” You almost lost your voice, your throat dry. Joel was working his way up your body, kissing you and nibbling at your salty skin.

“That, my darlin’, was what I meant.” His teeth pulled at your earlobe and you took deep breaths before letting your fingers nimbly start to unbutton his own flannel.

“Do it again.” You pleaded, staring into his brown eyes, trying to rid him of his shirt as quickly as possible.

“Christ, you are needy,” He stopped his kisses, “she’s already wanting more? it feel that good?”

“Please, do it again, I want more.” You were completely possessed by the pleasure you had felt, gagging to feel more, you wanted him carnally, to have as much of him as possible.

“Use your words, what do you want?” He was enjoying this too much for someone who had previously stated how wrong it was. He was going to give in, there was no way he couldn’t with his cock so painfully hard in his pants, he just wanted to relish in having you beg for him some more.

The truth is that he’d spent plenty of time watching you. When you first came to town and Maria set you in the cabin next door, Joel had watched you. In fact, his bedroom window had been so perfectly placed so that at the right time of night, when you stepped out the shower he could make out your outline behind your curtains. In these moments, Joel would let himself indulge in all the dirty, perverted thoughts he’d kept locked up. He take his manhood in his hand and pleasure himself at the thought of feeling your skin against his, the thought of you whimpering and offering yourself, spread apart, for him. He’d thought many times about bounding through the door, ruining whatever was left of your innocence. He hadn’t, however, imagined that you had this much innocence left. And he would’ve never imagined in his wildest dreams that you’d be begging him for more, for him ruin you.

“I want you, I want you to fill me up, to stretch me.” You were speaking whatever came to mind, no thinking, just action, tumbling over your words with the grace of a bull in a china shop. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, your eyes fucked out, hair matted and wild. This was enough for him to give in, allowing you to push his shirt down his arms, revealing his tanned skin and soft belly. Hair scattered below his waistline and you were eager to find where it lead to.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, girl.” He cursed, watching your small hands struggled with his belt buckle. When he’d agreed to help teach you hunting, this is the last place he thought he’d be.

He ended up undoing his belt himself, your frantic hands proving useless, but this meant you got to watch with wide, hungry eyes as his cock slapped his lower stomach, red and swollen with pre-cum beading at the tip. You were speechless, gulping, unsure of whether it would even fit. After he’d discarded of his jeans, reaching round and pumping his shaft in his fist. You were starving for him, the way he looked in this light, completely bare in front of you. He came down to your height, lips against yours, tongue in your mouth. “Can you taste yourself? Taste how sweet you are?” You purred a yes into the kiss and he pulled away, grabbing your chin between his thumb and finger. “taste good don’t you?” His half-lidded eyes remained fixed on the way you licked your lips and smiled sweetly at him, as if you were completely angelic. “yeah, you like it? ‘Course you do, jesus.” He shook, he wasn’t gonna last long with you looking the way you did, feeling the way you did. “how do you want it?” He was buying himself time, his cock already twitching just at the thought of being inside you.

“I’ve never done it, from behind.” Your voice was quiet and unsure, you’d clearly never been asked how you wanted it and now you felt like there was a right and wrong answer. However with the way Joel immediately grabbed you, flipping you over with a squeeze so that you laid on your stomach, you realised that maybe you picked right.

“Now,” he straddled your thighs, grabbing and kneading at your bare ass, spreading your cheeks and planting his cock between them, “it’s been a while,” he rocked his hips gently, watching the way his cock pushed through your plush cheeks, getting lost, “I ain’t tryin’ to make excuses-”

“Please, please, I’m begging you,” you pleaded, arching your back and pushing against him, his balls dragging against your pussy causing him to shiver, all the hairs on his body standing on end, “I want you to give it to me again, Joel, it’s aching again, I’m aching for you.” You tried your best to crane your neck, so that you could make eye contact with him and he took it as an opportunity to grab you by the neck.

“M’gonna give it to you, baby girl, you ready?” His lips brushed against your forehead before resting there, so you whimpered in response before he plunged into you.

He stretched you out in a way that burned. It felt like you were being torn and you evidently winced and hissed and the intrusion of his cock. He, on the other hand, had just entered into heaven. The way you wrapped around him so tight and perfectly had him choking on his low groans, basking in watching your pussy so delightfully swallow every inch he had to give you before stopping at the base. You needed a moment, clenching your fists and squeezed your eyes shut, you needed to adjust to having something of his sheer size inside you. He needed a moment because he was sure if he made any sudden movements, he was going to spill inside you immediately, before he had even had a chance to get you remotely close to your climax. “god, you’re so fucking tight, she’s takin’ me real good.” He kissed at your forehead again, trying to distract himself from the way you were squirming. You knot in your stomach was growing again and the pain was soon numbed out, awaiting his movement.

“you’re so big.” whining, you fluttered your lashes, splaying your hands out in front of you, preparing yourself.

“I know, baby, you ready for it?”

“Yes,” You were practically gasping for air, making puppy dog eyes at him through your eyelashes, watching him twitch, “please, Joel, please.”

Against his better judgement, Joel began thrusting his hips slowly into you, watching your expression twist, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open. You mewled and whimpered, knuckles turning white as you gripped at nothing. You looked pathetic beneath him, surrendering yourself entirely. And he ate it all up. He was enthralled, blinking down at you, watching tears form at the corners of your eyes, your freckles hiding beneath a red flush. This was heaven.

He rocked into you fervently, pushing in and pulling out moans. His grip around your neck kept your face in constant view, his breath fanning over your skin. “You look so beautiful, baby, taking this cock.” He grunted out between the snap of his hips, reaching deeper inside you than anyone had before, your soft velvet walls wrapping around him, clenching and contracting to accommodate his girth. Your lips couldn’t form words, stuck open wide, panting, your tongue resting on your bottom lip.

You felt so full, feeling him in your belly, grazing your cervix with ease. His free hand traveled from your hips, holding you safe and firm, to squeeze a handful of your ass, painfully hard. It caused you to yelp, pushing your hips into him, making his thrust halt for a moment as he shuddered. He was trying desperately hard to not cum embarrassingly fast. He felt like a teenager again, trying to divert his thoughts to anything other than the writhing body he was currently impaling with his throbbing cock. But the way you were pushing back on him, begging him constantly with that drunken look in your eyes, like he was the only other person on the planet. He couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he though about what needed fixing at home, all his thoughts returned to you.

“More.” You choked out. And he raised an eyebrow.

“More? More what, sweetheart?” He punctuated by giving a hard thrust that left you shaking.

“Harder, I want it- Oh fuck!” Interrupting you, he took advantage and began ramming into you mid sentence, taking immense pleasure in watching you become undone around his relentless torment.

He let go of your ass and your neck, picking you up by your hips so you were on your knees, check pressed against the ground. There was an excited smile on your face, cheeks aching and hot. “You smilin’ girl? Yeah? You like it like this, feel good don’t it?” Whilst you couldn’t see his face, you could hear he was groaning through a grin too, keeping your legs steady so he could quicken his already brutal pace.

There it was again, that growing pit, the flush of electricity that erupted into your body. Your grin only grew, whining and spreading your legs out further for him, allowing him to go deeper and deeper with each groundbreaking thrust. Your legs were trembling, your knees aching and surely bruised up. But it was the last thing on your mind, all you could think about was the impending surge of pleasure. “Hell, look at you,” Joel growled, swallowing hard, “You fuckin’ love it.”

“I… Do, don’t stop!” You spread your legs further, thighs falling downwards, ignoring the burning sensation at the slightly uncomfortable position that you knew you’d regret tomorrow.

“Oh darlin, I ain’t gonna be able t’hold on much longer, not wit’you spreading your fuckin’ legs like this f’me.” Joel was holding on for dear life, becoming desperate. He knew you were close, he could feel it in the way your cunt was becoming tighter and tighter, dripping with arousal, slick running down his thighs getting lost in the hair.

“Mmmhmm, I want it daddy, fill me up.” Your words were slurred and he tensed at what you’d called him.

“Yeah, baby girl, you want daddy deep in you?” He leant over you, palm pressing against the side of your head, pushing you further against the wooden floorboards. His thumb fell just above your mouth, sitting on your lips until you wrapped them around it, sucking gently. You nodded, your body beginning to tense and tremble.

This was shameful stuff, Joel thought, stuff people go to confession and repent for. Here you were, on your hands and knees, offering yourself up, sucking his thumb, fluttering your lashes. You were either the most beautiful angel or a demon sent to lead him astray. Either way, he was relishing in it.

“Come on baby, I know it’s-”

“Oh, Daddy, I'm gonna- it’s coming, I’m-” Your frantic moans came out tumbling over his, interrupting him, arching your back up, your entire body clenching at you were engulfed in pleasure again. “Oh, Joel, Oh my god, you, f, f, feel, so good!” You didn’t care about your volume, you just cared about how amazing it felt to have Joels cock deep inside you as you twitched and writhed around him. You pushed your ass against him, trying to get him as far in you as possible.

Joel couldn’t stop himself, spilling into you will a prolonged broken groan, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, the other grasping on your hip, his head snapped back. He could’ve been having a heart attack, the way his heart was pounding in his ears. You could feel him pumping inside of you, each twitch and rope painting your insides.

“Oh, sweet girl, Christ!” He panted out of breath, riding out his high, jutting his hips forward into you as you breathed heavily beneath him, sensitive to every one of his movements. “You’re gon’ be the death of me, girl.” He fell over you, his weight pinning you down, pulling his softening cock out of you.

He rolled to the side of you, you remained laying on your front, thighs trembling, aching too much to move positions. “You still in there?” He raised his eyebrows, brushing hair behind your ear as you look up at him in adoration, big eyes filled with want. A giggle left your lips as his chest rose and fell in deep loud breaths. “What’re you laughin’ at?”

“Is it like that every time?” Coarse, your voice creeped out, wiggling closer to him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his calloused hand.

“No,” sighing, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling your tired frame into his, immediately soaking in the warmth, “that was… somethin' else.”

You were quick to fall asleep in his arms. You knew you were safe, your body aching and weak. You were engulfed in his scent, head resting nestled into his armpit, soaking it all in.

He’d opened a can of worms, swarmed by thoughts he’d tried to suppress, watching you curl up next to him. He could not shake the image of you coming undone around him, surrendering so easily to him. It was so much better than he’d ever imagined, but now he’d acted on these thoughts, he could no longer suppress them. He couldn’t avoid you, the only act of indulgence he’d allowed himself was watching you through your window. Now he hadn’t just indulged himself, he’d submerged himself in you. He was ashamed. He should’ve known better.

______________________________________________________________

“Get up, gotta head back.”

You were awoken, your shirt being thrown at you, crumpled over your chest. Your eyes took a moment to adjust, sunlight seeping into the cabin. You blinked a few times, a shadow breaking up the sunlight. Your body ached like you’d ran a marathon. “Hey, Kid, wake up.” His stern abrupt voice, causing you to pout, instinctively bringing your shirt up to cover your breasts.

Joel was standing opposite you, fully dressed, bag on his shoulders, towering over you with a fed up expression painting his features. You blinked up at him a few times, frowning, confused. “Do I gotta say it a third time? Jesus Christ.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head, turning his back on you to walk out the cabin.

A tsunami wave of embarrassment and shame flooded through you. Feeling your cheeks turning hot and purple, scrambling to get your bra and clothes on, eyes scanning the floor for your belongings. You pulled your socks on, searching for your panties. They’d seemingly disappeared. But due to Joels passive aggressive sighs outside, you decided they were a lost cause. Pulling your jeans up your legs without them. You felt dirty, your inner thighs still sticky and wet, his cum smeared across them. His coldness was causing you to do flips in your tummy. When you finally met him outside the cabin, he muttered something else under his breath and then began walking without a word.

You kept your eyes down to the ground, tail between your legs, walking in silence. You felt the tension in between you two. Like you’d upset him. Like you’d done something wrong. He didn’t dare look back at you, ignoring every noise you made, cursing every twig you stepped on reminding him you were there. And reminding him where he’d been. Reminding him of the touch of your soft skin, how small you felt in his arms, the way you were whimpering his name begging for him. He couldn’t bare it, knowing you were behind him, eyes distraught, the carpet swept from beneath you.

Your mind was elsewhere, trying to figure out where you’d messed up, what it was that was wrong. Everything had felt so right, so so good. What was it that you did that had angered him so much. You didn’t notice the branch within the leaves in front of you and you tripped slightly, falling forward, only to be caught by Joels strong hands. “Would you just watch what you’re doin’?” He bit, lip twitching, staring you directly in the eye, hands gripping onto your arms for a moment too long.

“Did I do something wrong?” You swallowed, watching him turn around on his heel, shaking his head again, like you were asking something outlandish, “I mean.. was I… was I not very good? I know I don’t have much experience but-” You were fumbling over your words again, insecurity threatening to spill from your eyes, Joel freezing in front of you.

“What we did was wrong, no matter how good it felt, for both of us.” He spoke stiff, refusing to look you in the eye when he turned around, refusing to acknowledge that you were holding back tears. “It was wrong.” He lifted his hands in front of him, as if to signal “enough”.

“But-”

“No, no, thats it end of.”

“You’re not even letting me-”

“Listen to me,” he stepped forward, now staring too directly in the eyes, inches from your face, steadying his breathing, “Last night should not have happened, It will not happen again and I’d appreciate you keepin’ it to yourself, it was a mistake, a lapse in judgment.”

His words stung. Like falling on your palms on gravel as a kid. Quick and lingering. You tried your best to hid your quivering bottom lip. You didn’t know how to respond, you didn’t know if he’d even let you. You decided against it. He’d humiliated you enough, you weren’t about to cry in front of him too.

You carried on the rest of the walk in silence. Like nothing had changed. Like you couldn’t still feel him dripping out of you. Like the ghost of your taste wasn’t still dancing on his tongue, on his lips. He could smell you all over him.

When you finally got back to town, you parted ways, the awkwardness radiating off of the both of you as you were welcomed back. He made you feel sick. It was all so embarrassing. The way he wouldn’t even look at you. But why would he? You were just one great big lapse in judgment. The return to your small cabin was lonely and you had barely gotten to your front door when you finally allowed yourself to cry. You allowed yourself one glance back at Joel, who was entering his own home, already staring you down. You sobbed a little, shooting him a cold glare before slamming you door shut behind you, sliding down it with your hands in your hair.

Joel felt guilt rotting inside him.

He entered his home alone, it was cold and he could still smell you all over him.

He took one hard step at a time, ascending his stairs, his bed creaking beneath his weight as he sat down, sighing.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the white cotton panties, the little satin ribbon on the front crumbled and slightly undone. Lifting them to his nose, he inhaled, your scent filling his nostrils and his brain. The image of you playing on repeat behind his eyelids, like an old movie on a projector.

And with one hand holding your panties to his nose and mouth, eyes fixated on your bathroom window, he let his other one fist his cock out of his jeans, stroking it slowly.

Back to square one.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedrohub #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #last of us #the last of us

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citizen-sade · 1 year ago

Text

Rain Check

Inspired by this text post:

-------

Eddie glanced from his guitar to the digital alarm clock on the side table next to his bed, where he'd been idly strumming for the past hour, not really trying commiting the tune to memory.

He realized the upbeat lyrics of Bruce Springsteen in Steve’s off-key tenor from the bathroom two doors down had trailed off long ago. He vaguely wondered if he’d dozed off again.

Eddie grinned wryly as he recalled learning the hard way about Steve’s singular habit of falling asleep in the shower.

***

He bounced his leg impatiently, eyes darting to the bathroom as the minutes ticked closer to 8:00. Steve had been in there awhile and it was almost time for the Miami Vice marathon.

7:00 turned into 7:15... then 7:30... 7:35... This was stupid. He didn't even like Miami Vice. It was Steve's idea. So, what the hell was taking him so long?

Eddie set the bowl of popcorn on the coffe table before heading down the hallway and rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door, "Dude, what are you doing in there? Did you get lost?"

No answer.

Clouds of steam wafted out the door as he opened it to the sound of running water.

“Goddamn. Hot enough in here for you, Harrington?” he asked as he used the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe off an area of condensation from the mirror above the sink.

He stared at the reflection of the seafoam green shower curtain behind him, waiting for Steve to peek out and ask him what he wanted, but his stomach sank when that didn’t happen.

“Steve?”

Still nothing. He inhaled deeply to steady his nerves. Dramatic though it may be, he couldn't help but think back to the time he'd discovered a former bandmate in a similar manner, unconscious in a hotel bathtub from an overdose. He was lucky Eddie had found him when he did, the dipshit.

But Steve was different. Steve Harrington wasn't a junkie. Steve Harrington was smarter than that.

Although, it wasn't like he'd given Eddie a comprehensive list of any potential health issues. Not that he'd asked for one.

Eddie licked his lips nervously as he turned towards the bathtub. He sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“Very funny, Harrington."

Nothing.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before reaching for the shower curtain, half-expecting Steve to jump out at him.

“Ha!" The exclamation hung in the air as Eddie yanked the curtain to the side, revealing the lean, naked form of his boyfriend on the floor of the ceramic tub, slumped against the side.

“Oh, fuck—ohfuck—okay—uh—Hey! Steve! You okay?”

Eddie reached in to shut off the water and sat on the edge of the bathtub to lean over Steve, shaking him gently by the shoulder.

“Shit... shitshitshit... Steve! Hey!" Eddie eyed him with mounting panic, mentally compiling a list of emergency phone numbers, "Wake up, damnit!”

“Mmm—” the jock stirred, his forehead creasing under his dripping hair in annoyance as he mumbled, “five more minutes.”

Eddie stood up and cocked his head in bewilderment, "What the fuck?”

“Wha—” Steve sniffed groggily, “what’s going on?”

Eddie raised his hands to his hips, “Are you kidding me?”

Steve cracked an eyelid to glance quizzically at him, “Oh, hey, Eds. Everything okay?”

The cold air against his wet skin suddenly reminded him of where he was and he looked up at the trickling showerhead, his face reddening as he scrambled to cover himself.

“Oh, damn,” he groaned, running a hand over his face, “did I fall asleep again?”

"Asleep??" Eddie blinked in surprise but sighed with relief, “Again?! Is this a thing you do regularly?”

“I—uh—“

“You scared the shit out of me!”

“Gee, man, I’m sorry—"

"Thought I was gonna have to drag your naked ass out of there myself."

"It’s just a thing I did—do—ever since I was a kid—”

Eddie scoffed playfully, “Well... don’t fuckin' do it again.”

The sheepish grin he received by way of an apology all but dissolved any trace of genuine exasperation. It was a dumb thing to be mad at him for, anyway.

Eddie rolled his eyes and grabbed the towel from where it hung on the wall to throw it at Steve, hitting him in the face.

“Dry yourself off before you get all pruny. The show's about the start!”

***

It wasn't until later, during a moment of intimacy on the sofa, Miami Vice muted in the background and Steve's eyes locked shyly on their intertwined fingers and the prominent veins that traveled up Eddie's forearm, that Steve had explained how he'd adopted the practice of locking himself in the bathroom as a kid. The running water was enough to partially drown out the sound of his parents arguing in the living room, and he would stay in there a little longer each time, allowing the steady rhythm and comfort of the warm water to lull him to sleep—until he would inevitably be startled awake by the sound of his father slamming the front door behind him in a rage, followed by a hurried knock on the bathroom door and his mother yelling from the other side that he was on his own for dinner. Again.

In Steve's defense, he didn't do it every time... and in Eddie's, he couldn't just not tease him mercilessly for it when he did.

Eddie laid his guitar aside. He was careful not to make too much noise as he snuck to the bathroom, expertly opening and closing the door behind him without a single creak. Once again, the only sound to meet his ears upon entering was the hiss of the water.

He slowly drew back the shower curtain to the familiar sight of Steve curled up beneath the steaming water, damp hair clinging to his flushed cheeks.

Eddie smiled fondly at the shallow rise and fall of his chest and heaved an exaggerated sigh, reluctant to disturb the serenity of the moment.

But they had a game to catch. Lucas would be taking inventory of the party from the basketball court, and God forbid he and Steve show up late to anything together. He could hear the obnoxious kissy noises and prying questions now.

Eddie leaned in to wrap his fingers around the cross-handle knob and, with a quick twist, turned it as far to the left as it would go without shutting off completely.

Steve shrieked, cursing incoherently and clambering to shut off the freezing water.

“SHIT!” he panted, eyes wide when he realized he wasn’t alone. In a daze, he grasped the shower curtain to pull it closed, but instead, managed to tear down the metal rod that it hung from. The curtain rod bounced off his head and clattered against the tile as it came to rest in Steve’s lap.

“Gah! Fuck!” he hissed.

Eddie snorted and clamped a hand over his own mouth to keep from laughing as Steve glared daggers at him behind a veil of wet hair, looking like a drowned rat.

A very pissed off drowned rat.

The vision of the so-called King of Hawkins High—usually so smooth; so collected—now fixing him with what was obviously supposed to be an intimidating scowl while sitting naked and waterlogged in his bathtub made Eddie cackle so hard that he had to brace himself against the bathroom sink.

“I’m glad my suffering is so amusing to you,” Steve mocked.

“You should have seen your face, Harrington!” Eddie wheezed as he doubled over at the waist.

Steve blinked and shook his head, tossing his wet hair out of his face.

Eddie's laughter trailed off, “I’m sorry, babe, but you've been in here forever!”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. What time is it?”

“Almost 5:30.”

Steve groaned as he shifted to get his feet under him but failed against the slippery tub floor.

"Damnit, you need to put something in here."

"You mean, like, those... adhesive rubber ducks?"

"Yeah," Steve sneered, "I mean, like, those adhesive rubber ducks."

Eddie watched with glee as Steve made a second attempt to stand and extended his arm, "Don't just stand there, Munson, help me!"

"Okay, okay! Jeez," he grasped Steve's wrist to help him up, only to be yanked off his own feet, falling over the side of the bathtub and into Steve’s lap as he reached up to turn the water back on.

“You dick!” Eddie screeched, "what the hell—" he froze as his words melted into Steve’s mouth.

He instantly relaxed into him, the lukewarm water beating down on them all but forgotten as the tip of Steve's tongue teasingly slid past his lips. Eddie purred against his mouth and Steve withdrew with a cocky smirk. Eddie started as if to protest, but exhaled a heavy breath and hung his head.

“Alright. We're even."

“Mm, let's get you out of these wet clothes,” Steve said, tugging on the hem of Eddie's soaked t-shirt.

“Woah, there, big guy,” Eddie splayed a hand on Steve's chest in a gentle halting motion, “did you forget we’re on a schedule?”

Steve paused, immediately dropping the Casanova act with a petulant huff, “Aw, man!”

Eddie chuckled and pecked him on the cheek as he rose, pulling Steve up with him. He wrung his damp, unruly hair out over the bathtub before twisting to grab a towel and unceremoniously throwing it at Steve’s face. He then grabbed one for himself.

Steve cautiously stepped out of the tub onto the worn plush mat, securing the towel around his waist.

Knowing they couldn’t afford to waste anymore time, Eddie resigned to getting ready in the bedroom so as to allow Steve and his Hair™ their allotted time alone—but not before planting a playful smack on Steve's ass. Steve yelped and grumbled under his breath as he turned to his reflection and the white aerosol can with the picture of Farrah Fawcett that smiled at him from the counter.

Suddenly the door opened again and Eddie peeked in, "Hey, Harrington."

Steve paused mid-spray and rolled his eyes at him in the mirror, "Yeah?"

Eddie clicked his tongue with a wink and the cringiest finger-gun gesture he could manage, “Rain check.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #ficlet #established relationship

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romana-after-dark · 3 months ago

Note

Roman!!

Congrats on 1,000!! This fundraiser challenge is such a great idea. You have inspired me and I will be making a donation to the charity as well! 💜💜

Here are the 5 song titles I found:

Dirty Little Secret (All American Rejects)

Rooms on Fire (Stevie Nicks)

Darkness on the Edge of Town (Bruce Springsteen)

Lights (Journey)

He Didn’t Have To Be (Brad Paisley)

Could you write something for Javi P? Maybe a little dub con? If that’s not vibing for you, whatever you come up with will be amazing.

HI GIRLIE POP!!!!

Thanks soooo much for participating in my 1000 follower fundraiser game! And even more for donating too!!!

You have gotten 4/5! Lights was me just getting done writing this story and being extremely depressed and just picking a name lololol Really i should've found a Hanukkah related titled to make it clear this was a Hanukkah fic but I was silly. I still went a lil cray with this, so you still got about 500 words.

Naturally theres Stevie Nicks, and we know I love Bruce! Dirty Little Secret is a banger even if it was a spur of the moment title too. The Song Didn't have to be, my roommate puts on whenver i say i hate country bc it makes me cry LMFAOOOOO

Anyways, dub con below.

Summary: You lose your virginity to Javier

Warnings: Virginity loss, coercion. Pussy pronouns are out, dick pronouns are in.

400 words

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

"C'mon, Bebita, don't you want me to make love to you?" Javi had been teasing you for well over an hour now, staring off with his fingers playing with your clit until he brought you almost to orgasm time and time again, to now, where he had your legs spread as he ground his cock over your panties. He was only in his boxers right now, having shucked off his pants and shirt long ago, hoping he'd finally get lucky tonight.

Javier had been playing the long game, taking his time so he could finally be the first inside his secretaries sweet, tight cunt.

You writhe under him, head growing foggy with lust and love and desperation. He'd been edging you, never letting you cum but always taking you right there, right fucking there...

"I'm gonna take him out," You'd seen his cock before, felt him pulse in your hand but right now his tan skin was tinted red, angry and frustrated as you were from the dry humping, grinding the groping. "He? He needs you so badly... don't you want him inside you?"

You whimper, feeling him drag the fat tip against your soaking wet panties. "I dunno Javi..." You murmur, but feel your cunt spasm as he nudges against your clit. Fuck, you need him so bad, so fucking bad...

"Just wanna feel you, bebita..." Javi slides his cock under the flimsy fabric, and your are both skin to sopping wet skin. Grunting, with either arm pressed on either side of your head, Javier rolls his hips so that he's fucking himself on under your pants. "You love me, don't you? i just wanna show you how much I- fuck- love you, baby." His breath is ragged, a desperation in his voice that flowed in hot waves to your core, a neediness so strong he humped against your supple skin as he begged for your pussy. You didn't want to disappoint him.

The tip of his cock, leaking with pre-cum hitches at your slit, nuzzling at your opening and weeping for entrance at the core of you.

"I'm gonna treat you so good, baby.... gonna make you feel so fucking good... your so wet, so wet and ready... I could just slide right in, can't I?" Javi drops his forehead to yours, his deep pools of brown burrowing into you. "I'm just gonna slide right in bebita, okay?" A slow but firm push of his hips and you're being split open. Before you can deny him again, Javier is inside you, fucking your wet channel and hurdling you to the point of nonverbal pleasure once more. How could you ask him to stop when he literally fucked the breath out of you? When it felt so good you couldn't think clearly?

You feel full and open and vulnerable, but the mild pain is was washed away with pleasure before you could ever imagine. You were made for him.

"There we go, that's it... such a needy girl, hm?" Your panties were still on, pushed to the side in favor of fucking into you as he grunted in animistic pleasure. "Just had to trust, I'm gonna take real good care of you. Now, fucking cum on my cock for the first time, let me feel you."

#javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #roman's 1000 follower fundraiser game #narcos fanfiction

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imkillerbae · 2 years ago

Text

Dancing in the Dark (Part 2) (Valorant Yoru x Fem!Reader x Valorant Sova)

Part 1 Here.

Summary: You're confronted by Yoru about your lies and decides to have his way with you in a broom closet.

Words: 2k

CW: Crying, regret, FLUFF. Happy ending

(A/N: I was supposed to add a smut after this but got lazy so I didnt hence the broom closet AHAHA anyway here's the ending! REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Please send me ideas i am running out of ideas i beg) Listen to 'Dancing in the Dark' originally by Bruce Springsteen covered by LOLO for better experience.

The bottle of whiskey was barely drunk from, and you held the neck of it with a tight grip. You were glaring at the man in front of you, and he returned the look, although less hostile. Yoru tried to tug the bottom of the bottle from your grasp but you did not relent, pulling it towards yourself even more.

“You’re not planning to drink all of this yourself, are you?” You ask in annoyance.

“And what’s that to you?” He muses, raising his brows to taunt your question.

Sova’s birthday party was getting more and more unbearable for him, especially with the mind blowing news he received just moments ago. He needed to go numb, to just let his brain go blank even just for a moment. You weren’t helping the situation, because it was taking all his self-control not to drag you to the nearest broom closet and—

“I know how you get when you’re drunk.” You reply, looking at his shoulders rather than his eyes. He was much taller than you, something he liked to relish in.

You couldn’t help but intrude when you saw him heading for the bar, Sova walking the opposite direction of him. You didn’t see them talk but you could tell he didn’t like being around Sova anyways. And when he’s drunk, he gets a bit violent and destructive. Not the bad kind. He just becomes painfully unaware of how strong he is and just breaks things. During Phoenix’s birthday, they dared him to dance on top of the tables, and he broke them in half.

The tables were made from metal.

“I don’t think that’ll be any of your business.” He reaches for the bottle again, and you switch it between your hands, holding it out of his reach. “It is my business. Sage took extra effort to get this whole party perfect and I’m not gonna let you ruin it with your drunken antics,” you lied, trying to seem uncaring. He furrows his brows at you, his blood simmering under his skin. Ruin it? He would never. He didn’t even think of doing that at all. Not even slightly.

“Oh, sorry if my presence disturbs the party. Wouldn’t want your archer boyfriend to get upset right?” He taunts, trying to confirm what Sova told him before. Her heart is set on no one else but you.

You sigh and shake your head. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You say in defeat. He’s still hung up about it. Rephrase: he’s still hung up about nothing. Sova wasn’t anything to you other than a friend and a teammate. Why couldn’t he see that?

Yoru tries another time to grab the bottle from you and succeeds, your low mood affecting your reflexes. He pops the bottle open and drinks from the spout, not bothering to put it on the glass anymore. “Oh yeah, he’s a brother to you. Although brothers don’t usually confess their love to their sisters, but whatever floats your boat Y/N,” he glares after drinking, his voice full of spite that you almost shudder.

You stood in place, shocked. He knows? How? Did Sova tell him? But you agreed to keep it a secret. Your blood runs cold even with the alcohol in your veins. Yoru knows that he was right to be suspicious. And now he thinks you’ve cheated on him. “I-I…” You start, but he intrudes.

“Strange family dynamic but I’m not judging,” he laughs at his own joke, pushing your arm gently to get you out of your trance. “You lied to me Y/N. You lied to me about him, got me worried sick about you, and you tried to gaslight me into thinking I was wrong,” he smiles an empty smile at you, tossing the whiskey glass over the bar. You don’t hear it shatter, getting caught by the fine sand.

“Why did you have to lie to me?” He asks, shaking his head in disbelief. You clench your fists, looking down guiltily. You thought you could have gotten away with it. But in reality you knew he was bound to find out eventually. You just didn’t think it would be so soon.

“I-I’m so sorry Ryo… I-I thought it would be best you didn’t know! I know you would be mad at me for not seeing it, and angry at Sasha a-and confront him about it,” you start, tears forming and flowing down your cheeks and nose. He tilts his head to the side, listening intently. “I was told that if a fight broke out, one of you w-would be fired from the protocol, a-and I didn’t want to lose you…” You grab your own arm and squeeze, trying to get yourself together.

“Y-you were right, a-and I was wrong and naïve and stupid a-and I broke your trust… I shouldn’t have lied but I was scared what you’d do if you knew you were right about him… I was scared that you’d hate me for being so naïve and not listening to you…” I hate myself for not listening to you, you thought but didn’t say anything of the sort. You didn’t want to turn this into something about you. You hurt Yoru and tried to make it seem like he was the bad guy in all of this, just so you could play peacekeeper.

With that, you were already crying as you stood, and you muffled yourself with your hands. He stood there watching you, wanting to hug you, hold you in his arms, but he couldn’t just do that. You needed to learn your lesson. Seeing you crying was the last thing he wanted tonight.

“Puta no!” You both hear Neon yelp, but it was too late. You didn’t see what happened but somehow Neon short circuited the lights, causing all the lightbulbs to pop above you, surrounding you all in total darkness.

“Merde, has anyone seen my glasses?”

“Everyone, stay calm, the generators will open in any moment.”

“Ow! That was my foot Gekko!”

“I—I’m all the way here! That wasn’t me!”

“Can’t you go up in flames or something Phoenix? We need light!”

“With all the flammables lying around? Do you want to get toast?”

You uncover your face and you couldn’t see anything. You could only hear the sounds of the ocean waves and the ruckus going on in the crowd. You then hear a sigh before you’re dragged by the wrist by someone, Yoru you’re guessing. You stumble after him as he walked quickly, opening a door and ushering you inside. He closes it and you hear a clicking sound.

“They won’t hear us talk here.” He says. You reach out your arms and hit his chest mistakenly. You step back and step on a few things, making sounds. “Will you stop that? They’re going to think there’s someone out there that isn’t us,” he scolds, and you make an angry face at him, or wherever your face was directed to. “I can’t see you!” You complain, reaching for him again until he reaches for your hand and puts it on his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, and you blush. He couldn’t see that though.

“There. Is that better?” He asks, his voice more quiet than usual. You nod, but then remember he can’t see you too. “Y-yeah. Sorry if my hands a-are wet.” You wipe your other hand on your sundress frantically, and he grabs hold of that too and places it on his shoulder. He then grabs your waist, pulling you closer. You start to feel him move side to side, and a picture formed in your head.

You were dancing in the dark.

“I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say~” You sang quietly, and he laughs a bit. “I go home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way~” You continue, humming.

“I ain’t nothing but tired. Man I’m just tired and bored with myself,” he sings along after a while, and you pull him closer. “Hey there baby, I could use just a little help.”

Can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark.

This gun’s for hire, even if we’re just dancing in the dark.

“I was dying to dance with you all night,” you admit, whispering it in his ear. He nods, breathing against your neck. “Me too.” He replies quietly. “I missed you so much. So much. I’m so sorry for lying, I’m so sorry for being so naïve and not listening to you. I’m so sorry,” you cry, and he holds you closer, letting you sob on his shoulder.

He was still mad, but hearing how sad and lonely you sound, he knew this was hard on you as it was for him. Miscommunication was a bitch, and you both became a victim to it. Ironic since you had excellent communication systems.

“I understand why you lied to some degree. And you were right, I would’ve murdered him in his sleep. But you know I could’ve gotten away with it,” he chides, and you step on his foot. He feigns hurt but keeps dancing. “You tried to protect me and had the protocol’s best interest in mind. Can’t fault you on that too much. But it still pisses me off that lied. You shouldn’t feel the need to lie to me.

“But that was my fault. You were scared of how I’d act. And yeah, I know I can get carried away most of the time. Just a few minutes ago, I almost broke Sova’s nose,” he chuckles at the thought but continues. “Point is, we both made mistakes.” He finishes with a sigh.

“Please take me back,” you ask, and as soon as you did, the power went on. You adjusted your view, and saw that Yoru was also a bit teary eyed. You smile tenderly and hold his face with your palm, caressing it. “Please take me back. I love you and only you,” you begged. He stops moving both of you and leans into your touch, thinking. He hasn’t seen you this close in a while, and from the bags under your eyes, he could tell how unwell you’ve been without him.

“Promise me you won’t lie to me anymore. Promise me you’ll tell me anything that bothers you, even if you won’t like my initial reaction. And I promise to listen to you more, and to never doubt you again,” he asks, leaning his head on to your hands, melting him like putty. You nod, your smile quivering as you cry. “I promise. I promise,” you were able to blurt out, pouncing on him and hugging him tightly. You both dance again as you hum the lyrics to your favorite song.

They say you gotta stay hungry, hey baby, I’m just about starving tonight

I’m dying for some action, I’m sick of sitting round here tryna write this book

I need a love reaction~

“C’mon now, baby give me just one look,” he pulls away, giving you a smile before he kisses you longingly as you dance the night away. He missed you more than you know. And he was glad that he was your last dance tonight. He wanted to dance with you so bad.

You can't start a fire, sitting 'round crying over a broken heart

This gun's for hire, even if we're just dancing in the dark

You can't start a fire, worrying about your little world falling apart

This gun's for hire

Even if we're just dancing in the dark.

(Tagging: @sv03, thanks for waiting!)

#valorant sova #sova x reader #valorant sova x reader #valorant imagines #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant sova imagines #valorant sova oneshot #valorant oneshots #valorant oneshot #sova #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction #valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant yoru x reader #valorant yoru oneshot #yoru

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veryace-ficrecs · 2 years ago

Text

IT fix-it fanfic recs

as someone who reads a lot of fanfiction for media I have never seen, this is one of the juciest. (￣﹃￣)

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Richie Tozier’s Guide to Childhood Crushes, Poor Coping Mechanisms, and Bitch-Ass Clowns by soisserieux - Rated M

“Richie said it the b-b-best when we were here last,” Bill says.

Richie blinks. The house. The Neibolt house. It’s standing again. Right there. In front of him. And Bill… Bill said that already. He said that… yesterday. Before—

“Oh fuck. Oh no no no. No, there is no fucking way I’m doing this shit again. No no no no no. Fuck.”

caught up in circles by sloppybxtch - Rated T

He wondered what would happen if he just sat Bill down and made him listen. If he did what he did best and talked.

If he said: Hey Bill, I’m in a bit of a pickle because I’m actually from the future and I love Eddie so much it kills me, I love Eddie so much it hurts, I love Eddie so much that half the time I wanna puke and the other half I wanna cry but all the time I love him. In a big, dumb, gay sort of way, and I never stop. But I just saw Eddie die a thousand times and a Turtle from outer space (I think) sent me here to fix it and I need your help and I don’t know what to— “Richie? Eh-earth to Richie?” Bill had stopped walking, and was looking at him funny.

“Hearing you loud and clear, ground control,” said Richie without meaning to, again on autopilot. He couldn’t help himself. He never learned how. “I’ve just disengaged hyper-speed and I’ve got a beautiful view of Uranus.”

Bill looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head. Richie didn’t get a laugh, but he came close.

Or: Richie seeks cosmic help to save Eddie's life, and gets sent on a time-warp grand tour of his past in order to change his present

the word's been passed (this is our last chance) by quarterdeck - Rated E

“Uh, Spaghetti?” Richie waves a hand in front of his face, looking worried now. “Hello? Do you want to let me know whatever it was that was so important you had to drag me awake for it or -”

“I have a turtle in my pocket that speaks to me in my head and is possessed by Bruce Springsteen,” Eddie blurts out. “Also I think it may be God.”

Richie stares blankly at him.

“What,” he asks flatly, “the fuck.”

“Or a god, at least, I don’t know,” Eddie continues, “Either way, I think it was the one who brought me back to life, so. You know. The chances are very good.”

It's been forty years. Eddie Kaspbrak is just trying to make it out of the river.

Despite Your Destination by starclipped - Rated T

Eddie's smile is sweet, tinged with something bitter. Before Richie can frown, Eddie turns the other way and sighs.

"Richie to the rescue, huh." The way Eddie says it makes Richie wonder if he remembers how he brought him back to consciousness. If he does he's being oddly cavalier about it. Maybe it simply doesn't matter. Now that's a thought that makes his heart twinge. "Well, maybe it's my turn."

"Sure, Eds," Richie cautiously replies, not quite certain what they're talking about anymore. "Maybe it is."

[Or: Thirteen year old Eddie Kaspbrak gets caught in the Deadlights. Twenty-seven years later, forty year old Richie Tozier does too.]

As a Secret Loves by HauntedHotel - Rated G

It's Christmas Eve and Bev and Eddie can't sleep after having bad dreams - what better time to gossip about Eddie's feelings for Richie than the middle of the night when no one else is awake to overhear them...

“Y’okay Eddie?” she says, spread out across one side of Ben’s horseshoe-shaped sectional couch, her legs out in front of her and a rainbow of nail polish bottles on the coffee table. Eddie heads around the side of the couch and sits down by her feet; each toenail is painted a different bright, clashing color.

“I’m good,” he says, and then rolls his eyes at himself. “I mean, I’m not, obviously, because I’m awake at—” Eddie glances up at Ben’s weird, spiky metal clock hanging on the wall to his left, “— three in the morning.” He sighs, and scrubs a hand through his hair anxiously. “I had a bad dream. What about you? I’m assuming this isn’t just your standard nail painting time.”

“Same hat,” she says quietly, a slightly bitter twist to her smile. “I can go for a week without any nightmares at all and then all of a sudden – bam! – every shitty thing I saw in the deadlights all cut together in one greatest hits collection from hell.”

single and ready to jingle by sleep_deprived - Rated T

“Hey, Eds. I’m single. You down to jingle?” Eddie knew he was joking. For the love of fuck, of course Eddie knew he was joking, but he was incredibly buzzed and so in love with his best friend that this time he couldn’t stop himself.

“I got a divorce.” Mike choked on the eggnog he had been drinking and the room grew scarily quiet as all eyes fell on Eddie. The smile on Richie’s face disappeared as he stared at him in disbelief.

“You what?”

[Or: Eddie says too much and has two life-altering conversations in Bill Denbrough's bathroom]

Go on, it'll be late soon by Mere_Mortifer - Rated T

And Richie’s in love, in love, in love, now that it’s all about to end more than ever. He spends the next three days thinking how easy it would have been to lean down and kiss Eddie’s bloodied mouth – because, to be fair, that doesn’t sound any worse a promise than slicing your hand on a broken bottle to swear that if, when, needed he’ll be back to do it all over again.

Or: five times Richie almost kisses Eddie and one time Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

same souls, both sides of the banks by trashedmouthtozier - Not Rated

He remembered growing up with five-foot-nothing, anxious Eddie Kaspbrak as his best friend; his partner in crime. He remembered the hideout, the broken arm, he remembered Eddie’s slowly gained confidence. He remembered the confusion bubbling in his chest watching all of this happen. He remembered it all — that’s why he was there, wasn’t it?

[alt. title: eddie lives and richie takes him to the kissing bridge]

the light that makes my darkness disappear by ShowMeAHero - Rated E

“‘I’m not doing shrooms with you in an airport bathroom, Richie,’” Richie echoes, in a fairly good impression of Eddie’s voice. “‘I’m not getting drunk in an airport bar, Richie,’ ‘Why the fuck did you drive here so early with me, Richie—’”

“Those are all valid,” Eddie snaps. He looks at the board again. Their flights are leaving within half an hour of each other, now. After a beat, he sighs. The thought of anything that might make it marginally more bearable to get on his airplane back to his miserable fucking life in New York is tempting. “Is there actually a bar here?”

the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah by ShowMeAHero - Rated E

Richie’s not sure what he expects when Eddie calls on the night of December 24th, but it’s certainly not for Eddie to immediately demand, “What are you doing for Christmas tomorrow?”

“Uh, hi,” Richie says pointedly.

“Dickhead,” Eddie replies.

Work Friends & Emergency Contacts by naminejamie - Rated G

Damon Peters worked hard to make Eddie Kaspbrak his best friend, and he doesn't intend to let the return of his childhood memories wipe him out. He also doesn't intend to let their coworkers talk shit behind Eddie's back while he's out recovering- it isn't Eddie's fault that he doesn't want to let any of them know him.

Richie Tozier Breaks the Internet (Multiple Times) by Grey_eyed_Birdie - Rated T

The events of IT Chapter Two and later as told by a group of Richie's confused theorizing fans.

Together Alreddie by NeedsCaffeineRightNow - Rated T

When Mike calls them 27 years later, he's surprised to find that Richie and Eddie already remember each other.

all i ever wanted is here by butiamhome - Rated G

“So obviously Derry was fucking batshit,” Eddie says.

Richie hums in an affirmative tone, determined to keep his mouth shut.

The rest all comes out to the signature rapid-fire Kaspbrak beat.

“I’m not good at talking about shit but I talked to Stan and he said a therapist was probably a good idea so I got one and I figured some things out and you wouldn’t talk to me and you didn’t answer your fucking phone, but you said – you said I could come visit anytime, before we all went home, and if you didn’t mean it you’re a real fucking asshole, because I’m here now and I didn’t really have anywhere else to go or stay because I’m, because,” He sighs and drags his left hand down his face, conscious of his scar, and Richie clocks something before his brain catches up, “Because I got divorced. Also, I’m gay.”

(Or: Eddie shows up on Richie's doorstep. You know the drill.)

#veryace recs #it 2017 #it movie #reddie #reddie fic recs #fanfic recs #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it movie fic recs

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madswritingvoid · 4 years ago

Text

First Meetings

Pairing: Llewyn Davis (Modern Record Store AU) x gn!reader

Words: 865

Warnings: A few swears but that’s it! Fluff!

A/N: I would just love to meet Llewyn Davis in a record store and fall in love okay???? Also this is definitely not a way for me to pretend a meet cute with the record store employee I’m in love with. Nope. Not at all :)

“Oh my god, no! No, absolutely not! I will not go through this again with you!” Jean moans as she throws herself down on the crates of records you were about to look through.

Before she can react, you lunge for her, playfully messing up her bangs to make her move and dive into the records in front of you. “What do you mean, my sweet Jeanie? You don’t even know what I was going to say!” You huff, giving her your best pout. filing through the albums you know you’ve already looked over three times. “I just don’t know if I should finally cave and get Highway 67 Revisited or Born In The USA???” You hold both records up at her, giving your best please Jeanie help me look.

She groans from the crate she’s filing through across from you, looking over a Florence + The Machine album intently, “I don’t know why you didn’t just get them when we came two days ago,” she mumbles and finally points at the Bob Dylan album, “You drag me all the way down here on my one day off this week, we’re you distracted by something?” She pointedly asks, already knowing the answer. It’s no secret you’ve had a huge crush on an employee here. You don’t know his name, just that he has a beautiful voice that made you melt when you heard him at the Gaslight, and a crown of curls you want to sink your fingers into.

After seeing him play at the club, you resigned yourself to the fact you’d probably never seen him again, until two days ago when you brought Jean into your favourite record shop, Sonic Spins, and saw your mystery singer filing records with an employee lanyard on. You immediately felt too warm and told Jena you changed your mind, her following your eyes to the man before you booked it out of there. You didn’t see him in the window on your way to meet Jean, so you figured the coast was clear to actually shop today.

“You know I couldn’t stay and shop that day,” you hiss, “and shut up! He might be working today or shopping on his day off please don’t.” Holding her hands up in defeat, Jean sighs and changes the subject, “seriously though, you love both albums but you picked Dylan first so I think Bruce will have to wait,” she says matter of fact and you know she’s right. As much as you’d love to get both today you figure Bruce will be around next time.

Going to put the Springsteen vinyl back a deep voice makes you freeze, “I’m sorry but I have to respectfully disagree with your friend here. I remember you being here two days ago looking at both, so I think you need to bring Bob and Bruce home,” your wide eyes look and find yourself face-to-face with your mystery man, “plus I know someone who could swing a wicked employee discount for you.” He winks and you feel your heart drop out of your ass. Jean only scoffs and goes to the cash, leaving you alone.

“That, um, that’s a v-very good point,” you stutter once your brain finally comes back online, “but how could I take the discount of someone I don’t even know the name of?” It’s his turn to look shocked, forgetting he hadn’t introduced himself. He already knew your name, hearing your friend call it out the night he played the Gaslight. You looked so good he almost dropped his pick and when he finally got himself brave enough to buy you a drink you were already gone. Then, you walked into his work, his fucking record store, what were the odds? He watched you search through the titles while he restocked the new arrivals, staying close in case you needed help but almost as soon as you came in, you were gone again.

Not wanting to screw this meeting up, he sticks his hand out, “yeah right of course, what a fucking loser,” he mutters, “I’m Llewyn. Davis. Llewyn Davis.” You smile shyly back and move both records into the crook of your left arm so you could shake his hand and give him your name in return. He repeats it back to you as if he was trying to remember it, not like he hasn’t been thinking of it for days already. “Well Llewyn,” you shuffle on your feet, “I’ll take you up on that offer if maybe I could buy you a coffee after your shift? Or maybe a drink after your next show?” Taken aback by your newfound confidence, you straighten up a bit and hope you aren’t being too forward.

“Oh my god yeah,” he stutters, “yeah, that would be great. Here, let me take those and I’ll check you out - CASH you out and we can swap numbers?” He’s worried he’s talking too fast too excitedly, but all you do is nod back, a dazzling smile stretching across your face.

“That sounds great Llewyn, thank you,” you touch his arm before following him to the registers. You don’t know what will come next, but you can’t wait.

#inside llewyn davis #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #llewyn davis x y/n #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac

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mkstrigidae · 4 years ago

Note

This might be a lot since there’s so many characters in APWH, but could you share something secret about each character that no one else knows or maybe just a fun fact?

I am so sorry I’m answering this so late- I try not to be a human disaster, but inevitably end up being one most days.

Oooooooh this one is very interesting- they might not all be secrets, because for some characters, that would be giving away major plot points, but fun facts I can do! Let’s see what I’ve got (below the cut):

Robb: Has definitely licked a bone on a dare before, is actually a decent artist (much like Sansa) and does a fair amount of sketching in the field, and has an engagement ring for Tal in his work locker that no one knows about yet :) Inherited Catelyn’s ability for leadership, and is really good at dealing with Logistics, management, and the bureaucracy involved in his job. Hangs out with the experimental archeology students a lot (he’s like the accidental older brother for half the department) and would definitely wear handmade linen armor from someone’s project and let an undergrad shoot arrows at him to test it. (For those of you unaware, linen armor is next to impossible to cut without an extremely specific and sharp type of electric saw). Is good friends with Sarella, who’s going through grad school in Oldtown as well. Has been reluctantly dragged into the feud between the archaeology/anthropology and paleontology departments.

Aegon: is a fairly talented piano player, has always liked to cook, but got really good at it when he was dating an adjunct professor in grad school (none of his family knows about the relationship, but Theon does). Has been taking night classes recently to try and learn the Old Tongue bc he and Lyanna are particularly close. Dates casually, and volunteers at a community center for at-risk kids in Kings Landing on weekends. Is the only Targ sibling emotionally aware enough to spend time with Viserys, and is his grandmother Rhaella’s favorite.

Rhae: Actually really likes listening to heavy metal, especially when she’s working, and is really into the Westerosi equivalent of late night comedy. Will get really invested in hobbies for like, a few months and then move on to something completely different. Is her grandfather Aerys’ favorite, and has him wrapped around her finger. Makes a game of antagonizing Viserys at Targ family functions, and has been inseparable from Margaery since they met in college. Thought her cousin Obara was the coolest person in the world when she was a kid. Most likely of all the characters to do a triathlon without breaking a nail.

Bran: Might be one sociology class away from identifying as an anarchist. Kind of wants to be a professor and will probably write novels someday. Is really into flea markets and will go antiquing with Ned and Elia and sometimes Cat. Loves kayaking and decorates his wheelchair elaborately for holidays. He’s won several costume contests at school for it. Very snarky. If Sansa had been raised by the starks, they would have had a standing Saturday lunch date to snark and gossip about the rest of the fam.

Jon: wanted to be a forest ranger for the longest time and then a writer, but felt like he had to choose a more reputable career, and is kind of jealous that Robb decided to say ‘fuck it’ and become an archaeologist. Really wants to travel, although he picked law after His Valyrian is passable (the targ sibs spoke it anytime they were with Rhaegar and fam), but he speaks Rhoynish fluently and is close to his cousins on the Martell side of the family. Really likes hiking and will often go with Cat, who is also fairly outdoorsy. Likes epic high fantasy novels and would really love LOTR.

Mya: is weirdly into dream interpretation, is bisexual, and has fallen into one of the canals in Braavos before on a school field trip. She was born in the Vale, and her mom moved to Braavos when she was five. Would definitely eat a bug on a dare. More tomboy than anything, but really enjoys getting dressed up and being feminine. Likes painting her nails fun colors. Who gives a shit about gender expectations? Not Mya.

Sansa: the first person she kisses in APWH isn’t going to be Jon…;) If she’d been raised by the Starks, she might have gone to school for journalism or become a novelist. Hates math, but is a passable accountant because of what Baelish taught her to help him with the books for his restaurants. Doesn’t like to ever wear her hair down, and has a collection of decorative bobby pins for updos that she’s acquired from flea markets in Braavos. Really loves to swim. Pushed the boy who knocked Mya into the canal in after her, but none of the teachers believe him when he accuses her, because it’s sweet, kind, well-behaved Sansa.

Robin: Secretly likes to listen to musicals and is a fairly good singer. In a group chat with Doree and Loree who are drastically improving his social skills and the three of them are parent-trap level plotting. Really dislikes doctors and hospitals. Used to ask Sansa to draw birds for him a lot when he was younger and still has most of them.

Rickon: is actually better with computers and smarter than anyone realizes, because he’s such a jock on the surface. Very used to going with the flow and adapting to change. His favorite classes are chemistry and bio, but he doesn’t really like writing. Is really popular and well-liked among his classmates, but can have a temper when he thinks an injustice is occurring. Is generally just good with animals.

Catelyn: Grew up going hunting with her uncle and always had a stronger stomach for it than Lysa and Edmure did. Is half-estranged from her father because of a disagreement they had regarding Catelyn’s inability to move on after the kidnapping, and a tense relationship with her brother after he married Roslyn Frey (The Freys were vocal supporters of Roose Bolton’s politics and had a hand in publicizing the rumors about the Starks being responsible for Sansa’s disappearance- Walder Frey owns several prominent southern newspapers), but they’re working on mending fences. Takes fairly long walks outside regularly, and would be a bruce springsteen fan. The most intimidating of the entire family.

Arya: Went through a true crime phase. Really enjoys learning languages, her favorite classes this past semester were her Ancient Ghiscari course and her global politics seminar, because they got to debate current issues every week. Like Sansa, she really likes people-watching. Will probably end up at the Olympics for fencing at some point, but was also a sprinter in high school on the track team.

Ned: Probably dropped acid at least once in college. Really enjoys skiing. Learned how to play the guitar as a part of his midlife crisis. Met Cat after she went on two dates with his brother Brandon and they decided they were better as friends. Brandon brought her to a party, and Ned ended up giving her a ride home after his brother found another girl to chat up. They quickly found out that they had a lot in common, and she got along famously with his mother, who Ned was extremely close to. Has a serious sweet tooth

Elia: Likes to paint, but doesn’t think she’s very good at it. Grew up speaking Rhoynish with her family, and taught it to the kids. Has forgotten more about art than most people will ever know, and is extremely efficient when set loose in a flea market. Really likes theater and ballet, and took ballet classes through college.

Lyanna: is working on a book about money in Westerosi politics that’s tied into her current investigation of the Boltons, but only Elia knows about it. Grew up far north, and her first language was the Old tongue rather than Andali, but didn’t want her kids picking it up, because the accent is stigmatized. Keeps notes for her articles in the Old Tongue to keep her nosy kids from reading them.

Theon: Is doing a psychiatry residency in King’s Landing currently. Does a fair amount of biking, and 100% does a polar bear swim in the ocean every winter (Aegon always shows up to cheer him on and they go out for drinks afterwards- his girlfriend, Jeyne, thinks this is insane). Refuses to eat blue foods and was actually a decent French horn player in high school.

Thank you- this was a fun one!! :)

#APWH #ask memes #Anonymous #ask answers

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years ago

Text

more like honeymoon [2]

previous part

word count: 3769

warnings: loving couple throws fists

music: in the text

LOS ANGELES by blink-182 segment

You had a dream that the prison world was being destroyed. The fearful suspicion was on the back of your mind at all times, but you didn’t know how to express it. Kai always said you were the more paranoid one. All the bad outcomes, you always considered them. You argued that this kind of pessimistic outlook saved your live even when you didn’t know it did. Well, look where you are now, he would reply. Not that it’s bad, so I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here. He just liked to argue.

The white light together with earthquake came, and the ground crumbled beneath your feet. Kai was somewhere away, you could only see his silhouette as he stood on a hill or something. You were now staying in Los Angeles. The end came while you were running to him, the whiteness becoming your least favorite color. Your heart was tearing apart because you were so tired of something constantly trying to stop you from being together.

You woke up in your happy crowdless realm, the queen of enclosed nothingness, and felt like you wanted to go home for the first time. Just because this dimension was more fragile.

Kai was sleeping next to you, his nose deep in the pillow, and you had no idea which part of him was responsible for breathing. Like in a trance, you crawled out of bed and left through the balcony doors to look down on the city lit by nobody, to make sure the world was intact. It didn’t, and wouldn’t, go anywhere. You got used to being here alone and having it all, so quickly, a part of you couldn’t imagine sharing this planet, and Kai, with anybody.

When you returned to bed, Kai was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His hand took your chin and turned your head to him.

“Where were you?”

“I had a bad dream”.

Kai was a pro in bad dreams. He had a black belt in going back to hell through his dreams. Agonizing, long, realistic nightmares plagued his head no matter how deep he shoved it under the blankets. He looked a little strict for someone who consoles another after a bad dream. You had your suspicions he had other things on his mind. Sometimes you would catch him observe you as if he was expecting you to run away.

LA1 by Moby segment

You were finishing the book. This was the book you’ve been meaning to read ever since you were fourteen. When everybody nailed it at school, you were busy with other more interesting stuff, and so, you never ended up reading it. Now was the epitome of everybody’s ‘one day’. People leave interesting tv shows, tedious chores, the best packs of cookies and postponed hobbies for that cryptic ‘one day’ but it never comes. Not for most people at least. Now, you two, more so you than Kai, finally faced this neverending time period to do everything procrastination took away from you. You finally were finishing that damn book.

As you laid there at the pool of your new house, and the sun was sending blinding specks jumping off the water, Kai was drawing complicated shapes on the side of your leg and looking down the valley of Los Angeles, the city where he was king. Just like everywhere else.

“I think I have memorized every inch of you by now”, he said.

You swallowed down a sigh, because you were about fourteen pages away from the end. You knew when Kai started talking, there would be nothing else but talking for at least fifty minutes.

“Good, now, if I get into a horrible car crash and get terribly disfigured you will recognize my body one way or another”, you replied, trying to at least finish the page. Kai’s hand laid on the paper, pulling it away.

“Once we get out”, you smiled.

“If we get out”, he corrected you.

You let go of the book he was pulling away. He didn’t like sharing you.

“You think... we’ll be here long?”

“The spell is all we have, and it’s useless”, he shrugged like he didn’t care. “There’s nothing else. The ascendant is out there, and we don’t have a Bennet here to cut her...”

“Do these things have expiration date?” you asked, worried, “is it possible that one day, this prison will collapse and disappear?”

He looked at you, his hand caressing your knee absently.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s awesome here though, isn’t it? You like it, right?”

“Of course I do”, you nodded, without giving it too much thought. You looked down to the city where Kai’s gaze has been wandering earlier. “I’m still waiting for the horror to kick in, but it doesn’t. Either I’m too jaded to care, or...”

You bit your lip hard, thinking, whether you’re willing to spoil him. Parker’s palm squeezed your skin lightly. His hands were always warm, and he never refused to tickle you. He was a perfect guy to live with in a prison world: impossible to exhaust, handsy and resourceful. He could stay in one place for weeks, or drive through several states in one day. He knew every part of this magical planet and never felt lost anymore. It was bittersweet how this luxury of traveling without any discomfort came after eighteen years of him agonizing here alone.

He looked good with the hills of Los Angeles on the background, serving as colorful addition to him. His dark hair, and gun-like eyes, his demeanor of rich cynical kid who’s going to do you on the kitchen counter and never call again - only, Kai was following you everywhere.

“Or?” he took you out of your pondering. He didn’t like that either, when you drifted off in the middle of conversation. What are you thinking about? Who are you thinking about, Y/N? His tone of voice always said, I took you as far as an enchanted prison world so that you can’t see other guys, and you still have your head in the clouds.

“The feeling of having everything you need in your arms is intoxicating”, you sighed. The fundemental sensation of being completely satisfied with your life, while being in a literal prison world, came from the realization. Kai Parker was the final point of whatever path you’ve been striding. You weren’t one for professing your love passionately, or expressing it many times. But this one time you felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“You ever had that?”

He blinked.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to move on? You wanted to see Fontana, right?” he asked, a bit lost, and he sounded like his mouth was dry. You took your book back from him.

“Pomona first”.

That night there was vivid change in Kai; instead of pounding you into the bed, like he usually did, as you both enjoyed it, he laid low, pressing you into the matrass with all his body. You felt almost like suffocating on the long, stretching feeling he was drilling into you with passionate, deep movements. For the first time you felt what it was like when you’re trying to jump out of your own skin with pleasure, after all the crying and moaning is just not enough.

“Wait for me, baby”, he was whispering, as you two moved together, hips to hips, shoulders to shoulders, and you thought your eyes will pop out, that maybe your nails are already halfway inside his shoulder blades. Kai was changing; he has been for some time now. He was becoming calmer and happier, and now, as he was making you come and told you to hold on at the same time, for a second there you could see him, shed of all his layers. The Kai Parker he would’ve been many years before, many tortures and catastrophes, and murders ago. The magic, devilish temptation, malevolence, misery and memories aside, there he finally was, a person who was begging you not to come without him, because even that, he didn’t want to do alone. As you clutched the hair on the back of his head, soft, just slightly curly, you felt your body fill with love, that kind that never really lets go of you. Because you finally saw the last manifestation of him, the last entity that lived in him, and it needed you, and loved you.

Kai, too, was making love as opposed to your usual experimental mutual fucking. Both types brought you joy; after he collapsed on the pillow next to you, you knew he would never be the old Kai. You could feel it in your guts.

I’M ON FIRE by Bruce Springsteen segment

“I could take you literally anywhere, and you still choose America”.

You dragged your now big bag on the glistening asphalt, sweating in heat, and gave up, motioning towards it.

“Technically, Hawaii...”

“Technically, Hawaii is America”, he nodded, picking up your bag, “but I hear you”.

“The Pacific, Kai”.

“You know what I did when I was here?” he asked, for the thousandth time in nine months.

“Climbed the Everest”, you chanted, rolling your eyes.

“Climbed the Everest”, he noted proudly. It took about a week? for you to convince him you weren’t interested in dying forty-five times before you finally reach the top of the mountain. He clicked his tongue finally, saying there’s no adventure to you. That’s how you ended up jumping off the Grand Canyon. Dares always led you to some drastic decisions you later regretted.

You settled on the famous North Shore, where the ocean was blue and green, and the palm trees swayed every day... all the day. At three oh seven, it rained for eleven minutes, and then, a majestic double rainbow stood above Oahu. The evening was so beautiful you felt you wouldn’t get tired of it in a hundred years. It’s really hard to get tired of hawaiian sunsets. Everything was perfect.

Until your phone rang.

When you were clutching on Kai, your belly bag was on you, together with all essential things in the world of the twenty-first century. You had your phone in there, the charger in case of anything, car keys, wallet, pack of plasters and some gum. It all traveled with you into the world of ‘94, and that’s how you listened to music from the future in the world of the past. The charger was especially useful, because you could keep your phone turned on and took pictures. Literally everything you did resembled a young couple’s honeymoon. You were forced to delete everything from your phone though, so that it could contain all the photos from different places. You even joked that, once you run out of space completely, it’ll be time to go home.

Another once we get out moment.

Now, your phone, that survived here for nine months because you were charging it regularly, rang, and you didn’t even pay attention at first. It hasn’t rung before. This thing is not supposed to ring, it’s supposed to play music and take pictures of Kai as he is being adorable, sleeping in his king-sized bed, his head buried in the pillow.

You stood like a dummy in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for him to bring the bags to the car. And the phone was ringing.

What is this noise? you thought. Then your hand slipped into your pocket, and your heart got confused as to whether to sink or to leap. Your brain got squeezed inside your skull. Rage, and relief, and worry filled you. You knew so many things at the same time. Suddenly you knew you missed home like crazy. You missed leaving the house and seeing dumb people around. You missed not being a spoiled brat living in the houses that didn’t belong to you. Missed the traffic on the streets, and you missed animals and birds. In this world, there weren’t so much as spiders, crawling around and creeping you out. Not a mosquito, not a lousy worm. No sharks in the ocean, no swallows in the skies.

Also, you knew you’d kick Damon’s ass so hard he’s going to choke on his own kidneys. You recalled the moment you threw yourself in front of Kai, so full of yourself, and announced,

you wanna send him away again, you gotta send me with him

and Damon looked at you with his ever exhausted silver eyes of a jaded cat, and said,

okay.

And sent you, the person he used to call a friend, into the prison world.

Also, you knew, somehow, that Kai will be unhappy about this. Many times that he asked you ‘you like it here, right?�� you felt he was now clinging on the very place he used to be horrified of. It was way more than your own ego, so you barely thought that it was you that changed his perception. You were secretly scared his mind will start telling him this condition of things is normal. That only two people in the world is normal. And he won’t want to leave once the chance comes. That all his once we get outs is just him playing along with you, while he knows, in the back of his mind, that you’re never getting out, and he doesn’t care if it drives you crazy.

You answered the phone and didn’t say anything. Damon was silent, too, for a second.

“Well”, he said finally, “how you lovin’ it?”

You found his cockiness inappropriate. Not like he has locked you in a closet with a bully and came round in fourteen minutes to check on you.

“What is it? Are you here?” you asked, you throat dry.

Kai left the supermarket and was about a hundred steps away. It was going to rain in half an hour.

“Yes, we decided to pick you up, so to say”, he replied shortly.

“You decided I have learnt my lesson? Decided I was now good to go home, that’s what you decided?” you asked, your voice bubbling inside your throat like a pillar of boiling air.

“Give it to me...” Elena’s voice was closing, and your lungs trembled. You have missed them all. Even the Salvatore douche. God how you missed others. You could see Kai slowed down. He had very good eyes, and he saw you were holding your hand to your ear. He was fifty steps away.

“Y/N, where are you? We came to get you back home. Listen, we never meant to...”

“Ask her about Parker”.

“Are you alright? Are you with him?”

“We’re not taking him with us!”

Your voice quivered.

“I’m fine”.

It came out less bitter than you meant; like you were about to cry, while in reality you were bursting with rage.

“Is he keeping you there? Or has he left you there alone?”

“What do you mean?”

The audacity of them. Left you alone. They’re the only ones who throw their friends into magical prison worlds, for nothing.

“Well, he has stolen the ascendant. We had to build a new one”.

“What are you talking about? Kai doesn’t have the ascendant”.

There was silence. Through the flapping hot hawaiian air, you could see Kai with the paper bags walking towards you.

“Yes, he does”, Elena chuckled sadly. “We thought he’d be out by now”.

“We only found one useless spell, Elena”, you growled, “how are we supposed to get out without Bonnie’s blood?”

“Oh my god”, you heard Damon mutter. The palm trees started swaying in front of you. You knew now yet another thing. You were just afraid to think it.

“Bonnie conjured that one without blood. We didn’t have much time, Y/N. It was just the spell, and the ascendant. You’re saying he found it? Why hasn’t he got out then?”

All your guts sank down there together with your mind. At the same time, there was nothing to be shocked about. The signs were all there. You never even showed interest enough for him to share about the ritual of traveling between the worlds.

“That fucking liar was keeping me here”.

“Y/N, where are you?” Elena was almost yelling now.

“Tell her to go back”.

“Is he abusing you?”

Your face got distorted with anger and bitterness at the same time; you could feel you’re grimacing at him, as the musles in your face and neck went tense.

A gust of wind slapped you in the face, and the phone slipped out of your hand. The invisible pull was so sudden you were grabbed, too, and nearly fell on your face, as the clutch pulled on your hand a little.

“Kai!”

The phone shot through the air, right into his hand, and fifteen steps away, you could see he was furious already. The temper of this guy.

He hopped through the air. Your head was ringing with the echoes of their voices.

Kai couldn’t wait to walk another couple of meters, so he just leaped to you using magic. Perhaps he also did it to startle you more; as he reemerged next to you, his hand laid on your throat, and not the usual possessive sensual way, but ‘i’m about to squeeze the life out of you’ way this time. Your head bumped on the side of the car. The only reason he didn’t smash the phone on the ground was probaby the amount of fantastic pics it held.

“What did he say?” Kai growled.

If you could talk, or breathe, you’d say he’s a dick. You fought him, the anger giving you strength, your fists hitting him into the chest and stomach.

“Is he coming for you?”

Kai was screaming, and you have never seen him like that. For a moment there it felt like the old Parker, the miserable, uncontrollable, lightning throwing witch was back in his skin again, and you couldn’t take it to fix him all over again.

Your hands grabbed on his forearm as you kicked him in the shin as hard as you could. Kai yelled, letting you go, and you could finally breathe.

“Dick”, you scolded, “you dick”.

Your voice was hoarse. He didn’t hear you. Kai was suddenly full of demonic fear and fury, and the noise; he barely felt pain which let go of him in a second.

“You’ve been lying to me?!”

“You’re not going anywhere”, he said, his voice quivering with how much he contained inside. All the acid lava sleeping in the depths of his being, frozen by the comfort of not being disturbed, like he was locked away in a mental institution, now rose again and illuminated his skin from the inside.

“You’re lying to me!”

Too bad you lost it, too. Kai might have become a little like you; but you have become a little like him, too.

“You said there was no way out! While you had the ascendant all along? From day one!”

“You said you liked it here!”

You charged at him, your fist up, and he blocked it easily, hitting you in the stomach.

So, he beats girls, too!

He was never good at seeing the kick coming. God knows why, if you wanted to defeat Kai Parker, you just kicked him with one of your legs. He never sees it coming. The fight exhausted both of you as you screamed atrocities at each other. You knew you were just letting the frustration out; that kind that floods over you when you realize you’ve been wasting months in the prison world while you had all the means of getting out that whole time.

Kai, however, was fueled by something more sinister than that.

You never really meant to hurt him. Just punch him in the teeth for being a proper dick. He knew he was doing wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking this ‘you like it here, right?’ like a broken record all the time.

And like a fool, you always replied, yes, because it was truth.

He now believed you’ve been lying to him, too, like a scared cat that was suddenly brought in at the vet clinic and the doctor was clicking the long metal scissors in front of him. He felt betrayed. He thought you’re dreaming of getting out and see your friends again.

“I am not enough for you! You have the whole world! And me! So what, you meant something else when you said that I am everything you need?” he yelled. Almost at the top of his lungs. The clouds were meanwhile gathering above Manoa, to release the rain in ten minutes.

“I meant it!”

“Then why do you need to leave?!”

“Not me - us!”

“We are not going anywhere! You’re staying here, with me!”

“No, you listen to me, Parker, we’re going back there, together, just like we arrived here! This”, you pointed your finger at the wretched sky where even the rain was on schedule, “is not real”.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you knew he’d misinterpret them.

His mouth moved like he was about to tear down his own face and bit yours off with the bloodied teeth of a skeleton. You could feel your lower lip swell. Blood was dripping down your chin because of how hard you fell on your face after he threw you away with his witchy move. You were about to break his jaw completely, and it was his own doing. If he hadn’t wanted you to become a fighter, he shouldn’t have taught you.

Your right fist was shaking with pain. It felt like you shattered your knuckles completely beating on his stupid head. Nothing in the world could set it right.

“What did you say?”

You felt mortally tired. It felt like when you stood on the edge of the Canyon, like when you were about to fall.

“Kai, this world is fiction. We need to go back out there...”

“It doesn’t work out there!”

“It will”.

He panted. He spat the blood on the ground, and you felt like you wanted to stop fighting and start making out.

The paper bags were scattered all around the car, one lonely banana forgotten under the blazing sun.

“I will fucking kill you for lying to me”, you sighed.

“I thought you loved me”, Kai responded, his voice dead, and your heart shuddered.

“I fucking do!” you roared.

“Then why do you...”

and that, all over again.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine

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astraeagreengrass · 5 years ago

Text

Blue

The Blue Henley™ and that’s it.

Word Count: 1.567

Warnings: Short and sweet. Mentions of sexy times (no actual sexy times though). English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: Did I just write something inspired by The Blue Henley™? You bet I did! This is my submission to @jalapenobarnes writing challenge. My prompt was “Basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss”. Thank you Saran for hosting this challenge and allowing me to participate!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes. Unfortunately he is a fictional character and therefore is property of Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. Sebastian Stan’s face belongs to himself. The plot is my own creation.

My masterlist

He is greeted at the threshold by the voices of John, Paul, George and Ringo.

The Beatles were new to him - like online shopping and Nespresso machines. Maybe, if he’d gone home after ‘45, he’d have dragged Steve to one of their concerts or seen them at Ed Sullivan’s show. And his grandchildren would gawk at him and tell him how lucky he was to have seen the Beatles together.

Maybe.

He couldn’t help it sometimes - how his mind involuntarily drew intricate scenarios of “what ifs” and possibilities. Bucky supposed it was his curse for having lived so long and so hard. His atonement was the constant back and forth of then and now, dealing with the aftermath of everything he missed.

But at least he didn’t kill John Lennon.

The record player was a gift for his 102nd birthday. It resembled very little the one he had back home - his 1940s home. It was sleek, light and state-of-the-art, with that classic vintage look that people liked their electronics to have even if they were far from vintage.

You’d been so nervous when you gave it to him you couldn’t even wait for the sun to be high in the sky and your lover to be out of the bed. Nervous hands twisted the duvet as Bucky opened the package, careful not to ruin the glitter wrapping paper. He loved it, even if it took him a while to learn how to use the record player. But, once he did, it made way for your favorite tradition: spring saturdays at the flea market, the one in DUMBO or maybe in Williamsburg, looking for old records.

The Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, Elvis Presley, The Doors, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Marvin Gaye and Queen to more recent acts: Nirvana, Guns and Roses, Pearl Jam, the pop groups from the early 2000’s and performers like Bruno Mars and Beyoncé.

Any decade, any rhythm - Bucky Barnes liked music. And you indulged him in his new-found passion, adding soundtrack to the most unexpected moments of his day and being his partner whenever he fancied a dance.

Like now. He found you in the kitchen counter, hips moving slowly as you chopped carrots for dinner.

“Hold me tight / And tell me I’m the only one / And then I might / Never be theAAAAAH” you yelled, half a scream, half a laugh when Bucky surprised you by tickling your sides.

“Holy shit, Barnes! I have a knife on my hands. I could’ve cut myself!” you exclaimed while Bucky doubled over with laughter.

You threw the knife on the sink, fake pouting, as Bucky came over to you, laugh forgotten. He was all saunter and swagger now, hands reaching out to hold you hips.

“That would teach you not to make dinner while shaking this ass” as to qualify his point, he landed a sharp smack on your left butt cheek, causing you to jump.

You narrowed your eyes, snark remark at the tip of your tongue when you noticed it.

Blue.

Light blue. Almost teal, but not quite, evenly spread across the expanse of his chest and arms. Blue like his eyes, like the sky on a summer day, like a perfect Caribbean sea.

Beautiful blue.

“Is that… new?” was all you could muster while your gaze roamed the cotton. Your hands left their resting place on the nape of his neck and slid down, as if they could grasp the magnificent color and cradle it.

“Yeah” Bucky said, confused by your reaction. “I bought it last week.”

Such a simple explanation for such a magnificent happenstance. You could picture him: self-conscious and a little overwhelmed as he browsed some fast-fashion looking for simple pieces that didn’t stand out much. Bucky stuck to the classic blacks, whites and grays. Their simplicity made him feel safe and your boyfriend’s comfort would always come before any fashion trend.

Oftentimes a navy color would make an appearance and the way it complimented his eyes made your heart speed up. But this blue... This blue was different. You couldn’t place what was so special about it – was it the shade? An almost exact match to his irises? Was it the contrast of índigo fabric and golden-black forearms?

Bucky watched with raised eyebrows and a confused frown as the tips of your fingers carefully roamed the expanse of his torso, as if you were touching a valuable art piece instead of a US$ 9.99 henley from H&M.

“You okay, doll?” he asked.

“Yeah” you gawked. “I’m perfect, actually.”

Bucky liked to think he knew you better than he knew himself – your spontaneity, creativity and enthusiasm over the smallest things. Life with you was never dull: it was a collection of happy moments that pieced his broken soul back together. Bucky believed he was used to the spur-of-the-moment midnight walks or the impromptu dance offs in the kitchen, but apparently he wasn’t.

Not when you grabbed him by the collar of the blue henley and kissed him.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, like the sweet pecks you usually showered him with when he arrived home. And it wasn’t a violent kiss, like the ones he usually took from you, breath out of breath, in the sacred intimacy of your bedroom.

This kiss was urgent and needy, yet full of the same love he felt every time your mouth reached for his. It tasted like honey on his tongue and sounded like a symphony made of the tiny moans that escaped you when he pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth.

The hand on Bucky's collar moved to his hair. The silky soft brown strands were much shorter, but still long enough to grab them, making him to groan. You felt light-headed, your lungs burning for air and your calves worn out from the effort of standing on your tiptoes, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The only thing that mattered was him and that blue shirt.

“What was that for?” Bucky whispered when you manage to disentangle yourself from him. Your breath was coming in short, uneven gasps that teased him to no end. His gaze involuntarily lowered from your flushed cheeks to your chest, and the rapid way it rose and fell made him uncomfortable in his pants.

“Nothing" you replied. “You just look really good.”

Bucky laughed - a deep, delicious sound deep from his stomach, echoing at the walls of your heart. You swore you could live in the crinkles of his eyes because Heaven couldn’t compare to this world whenever Bucky Barnes laughed.

Especially if he was wearing that blue henley.

Bucky’s laugh turned into a smirk when he tightened his hold on your hips - one hand was warm and the other a little colder, just the way you liked it and how you wanted it to be forever. Swiftly, he rose you on the counter and moved to stand between your legs. The familiarity and domesticity of it didn’t make it any less thrilling. On the contrary, knowing this love was a constant rather than a possibility caused the butterflies to flutter harder in the pit of your belly.

His vibranium hand squeezed you thigh before hooking your leg around his waist. The friction of your sweatpants with his jeans was the torturous prelude before the chorus. Bucky grunted in your ear, low and deep and warm as his breath hit the shell of your ear, right before he sucked it.

Oh.

Your hand was twisted in the blue fabric, unsure if you wanted to rip if off him or be it - to hug him and envelop him so perfectly and never let him go. Your embrace was suffocating. A tangle of arms, legs and lips dancing to their own song, writing notes on your skin. It was so easy to get lost in him. To drown in the blissful feel of Bucky’s touch and ignore the revolving world around you

A loud noise startled you, pulling you both apart. Bucky quickly turned to the crash, shielding your body with his. There, in the corner of the living room, the record player - now silent - was on the floor. Standing above the wreckage, nonchalantly licking a white paw, was Alpine.

You sighed.

“Did you say hello to her when you arrived?"

“Nope” Bucky said, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He chuckled.

You absentmindedly dragged your nails across the nape of his neck and he purred, much like his feline counterpart when he greeted her favorite human.

“That record player was so expensive” you grumbled, face tucked in the blissful blue henley. Damn Alpine for ruining the plans you had for that shirt.

“I know. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s yours, actually.”

“You know what else is mine?”

“Huh?”

“You are.”

You looked up to find him grinning, mischief on the corner of his lips and a twinkle in his gaze. You barely had time to squeal when Bucky lifted you from the counter and over his shoulder and moved to the bedroom, making sure to shut the door.

“What about Alpine? She’ll destroy the apartment” you asked, body bouncing on the mattress.

Bucky shrugged then tugged on his henley, tossing the blue to the floor.

Yeah. He looked much better without it.

“It’ll be worth it.”

General taglist: @ivoryhazlewood @youclickedthislink

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #my writing #cornelia barnes #bucky's blue henley #the blue henley of death #god bless the blue henley

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syrupa · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, may I request a romantic matchup please?

My pronouns are he/him ,5’9, INFP-T, hufflepuff, my zodiac is a cusp of taurus and gemini. I kind of look like a chubby Aizawa in a hoodie. My love language is physical touch and my sub languages are quality time and acts of service. Honestly my ideal date is netflix and cuddles.

I daydream almost constantly, as soon as I’m bored I daydream I could go from creating a whole story in my head to thinking about death and getting depressed and vice versa. I ask weird questions to whoever will listen.

I'm not good with conversation whenever someone wants to talk to me I never know what to say and whenever I talk I'm interrupted or ignored, although if I get angry enough I will speak up and get sarcastic, I'm also not afraid to call out on someone's bulls**t. I'm not good at making decisions unless I'm completely sure of my choice and I'll probably feel guilty no matter what I decide. I'm also a bit of a picky eater.

I spend most of my time inside playing video games, watching cartoons,anime sitcoms, superhero shows or movies, or whatever's on Youtube, I also really like mystery shows. Although I will go outside if my friends want me to go somewhere or if I have to run errands, I can be more social with people I trust. I love music whenever I listen to music I get a burst of energy and can’t help but sing, My favorite genre is classic rock like bruce springsteen and queen. I love to cuddle and I can be clingy, if I could I would cuddle all day( I'm a little touch starved) . I'm afraid of the dark and death. I sleep with a lot of stuffed animals and plushies. I'm loyal and empathetic and I try to see the good in everyone and I’m always willing to help however I can.

If you decide to do this request I thank you for taking time out of your schedule to do this 😊.

P.S I will make a part two containing anxiety and depression so if that's triggering to you then you can ignore that one

I match you with...

Himiko Toga

You and Toga would meet at some shady restaurant your friends dragged you into. Twice and her were there out of pure boredom. The food there was decent and the place's security was pretty shitty so they could sneak in without being caught.

At first you didn't really stand out to her. But that day you weren't feeling your best. The food wasn't even that good and the waiter was trying to get you and your friends to pay more than the actual price. You weren't having it and called the fucker out on it. Your sudden outburst got her attention and she couldn't help but observe you for the rest of the time.

Twice noticed Toga keeping an eye on you and suggested that she try to chat up your group. She loved the idea and immediately started walking towards your group. Her and one of your friends clicked immediately and they invited her to sit with them.

Taking a seat next to you, she started a conversation with you about what happened. She told you she thought you sounded super cool. You didn't know how to respond and just didn't comment so she continued to ramble about how cool you were. During her rant you would additionally add your own comments and to your surprise, she never cut you off and listened to you.

It felt nice and little by little, you found yourself becoming comfortable in the conversation. By the end of the day, your friend group invited her to one of your group chats as she waved you guys good bye.

Although she had a busy schedule, you and her talked a lot. The two of you would hang out at your place to watch random things and play video games. Usually she'd watch you play and make little comments. You found yourself being more social around her and when she was out somewhere, you and her would be listening to your conjoint playlist.

Soon enough, you and your friends realized you fancy Himiko. The constant teasing became unbearable so you just kind of said it out of nowhere. The conversation went something like this.

"I've got something to tell you,"

"What's wrong?"

"I kinda like like you? You know what I mean?"

"Yeah and I like like you too."

"Cool-"

"Also I'm a world wide criminal and have murdered people."

"WHAT"

After a very awkward conversation, you two started dating. Once you started dating her, you saw more of the ACTUAL HER. She was super hyper and had an odd infatuation with blood. You didn't really care if you were being honest. She was still her and you loved her. But the big personality change caused some very interesting things in the relationship.

Whenever you had your burst of energy while listening to music, she gets really energetic too and you two always end up dancing together. It's normally never in sync since you and Himiko always end up messing around when you're hyper. Sometimes you guys won't even dance but you'll just run around your room, bopping your head to the music.

On more chilled back days, you two are constantly touching each other. Even if it's just holding hands, you two are always together. Both of you are touch starved and cling to each other every hour. Expect to cuddle at least once a day, even if it's at midnight and she just snuck in through your window. SHE WANTS HER CUDDLES AND SHE KNOWS YOU WANT THEM TOO YOU CLINGY FUCK. <3

Dates are perfect because she can't really go anywhere without getting arrested. Staying in and cuddling while watching some random show on Netflix after you've both had a hard day. PERFECT.

Whenever this girl catches you daydreaming, she kisses you on the lips to snap you out of it. Does let you daydream for quite a while before doing it though.

When she saw you sleeping with stuff animals she actually screamed. It woke you up. She couldn't help it you were too cute. Probably stole bought you more after that incident. Loves how peaceful and adorable you look sleeping with them.

You both ask the oddest questions to each other and have the strangest conversations. It definitely weirdest out both your friends and the L.O.V

You: Hello Himiko, made anyone cry today? Himiko: Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.

You: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait. Himiko: You and me! You: *tearing up* Ok.

You: How do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you? Himiko: Please, it's four o'clock in the morning. You: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

yes I got these off of a random incorrect quote generator now leave me alone

~TW: anxiety and depression~

Whenever Himiko sees your stressed, she squeezes your hand, brings you to bed for cuddles and reminds you that everything will be okay. Of course, if you need space she'll leave you alone.

Always reminds you to take your medication and gives you plenty of hugs.

She can recognize when you're suppressing your emotions due to her past. Helps you through everything, constantly reminding you that she'll always be there to support and love you.

#mha matchup #bnha matchup #anime matchup #toga himiko matchup #syrupa-matchups

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collecting-stories · 5 years ago

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I’m on Fire - Murphy MacManus

A/N: Oh look, it’s St Paddy’s Day. Don’t go out and get sick, stay in and read this self-indulgent Murphy fic! The title is from the song ‘I’m on Fire’ by Bruce Springsteen. (Imaginary Future does an incredible cover that was actually the version I was listening to when I wrote this.)

///

In two more minutes, you could practically count them down in your head, two more minutes, and Doc would be bursting through the double doors of the private room, letting them swing behind him as he stood there, hands on his hips and admonished your time management. If it was any other night of the week and not this night, this particular Tuesday, he wouldn’t have given a single shit where you were or what you were doing or who you were doing it with. But this wasn’t some random Tuesday in the 52 weeks of the year. This was Tuesday the 17th of March, St. Paddy’s Day. And you were on your way to a tic filled rant about this being the most important day of the year.

“You screw around any other...shit, fuck, any other day but not today!” He would admonish and it wouldn’t stop until you had closed the pub and gone home.

Two minutes.

One minute and 49 seconds.

“Murphy.” You didn’t sound like yourself. In fact, you almost felt not yourself, were you watching this happen to you or was this happening to you. A psychically timed pinch to your side brought you back down. This was you. “Murphy.” You hissed, smacking his arm.

One minute and 12 seconds. Could you hear footsteps? Not over the shouting of patrons and the noisy television broadcasting a soccer game. But in the back of your mind you swore you could hear the sound of Doc’s footsteps approaching the swinging doors.

“Murphy!” You tried for the third time. With one hand steadying you against the pool table you used the other to get a solid grip on your boyfriend’s hair, tugging his head away from the assault he was committing against your neck.

45 seconds.

“Ah, fuck!” Murphy cursed, blue eyes squinting shut as his hand flew to cover yours, pushing you away from his hair. “What the fuck’d ye do that fer?”

“I have, 30 seconds tops to get back out there before Doc comes in here looking for me and I’ve got-” you paused, sliding off the pool table and walking over to the mirrored faux windows on the door. You yanked the short shirt you were wearing down over your ass as you went, eyes going wide at the sight of the bruising skin on your throat, “I’ve got fucking hickeys on my neck!”

“I was just doing what the shirt said lass.” Murphy replied, a cheeky grin as he watched you through the mirror.

The shirt. Sweater, to be more specific. The green knit sweater that said ‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’ in capitalized gold sequin letters. Murphy had caught sight of it almost immediately, the golden letters glinting in the pub light as you manuvered your way around tables and patrons. He’d grabbed you up the moment your hands were empty, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you into his embrace. You’d been two seconds from elbowing him in the jaw when you heard Connor’s voice over the ruckus and then felt him press a kiss to your cheek.

“Happy St. Paddy’s day lass.” Connor had cheered as you turned in his brother’s embrace, wrapping your arms around Murphy’s torso.

“Happy. St. Paddy's day.” You replied. “Got a kiss in before this one.” You teased, turning to look at Murphy. He kissed you the moment you were looking at him.

“I’ll give ye a real kiss later, when he’s not around.” Connor said, voice raised because of the level of noise Doc’s pub was producing tonight.

“Like hell ye will!” Murphy smacked his twin in the back of his head, pulling you a little tighter. When he turned his attention back to you he was grinning, “when do you get off?”

“I have break in another five minutes.” You replied, checking the watch on your wrist. An unexpected gift from Murphy.

You had met him in the private room just like you always did. Five minutes without Connor’s stupid remarks or watchful eyes from the regulars at the bar who all wanted to put in their opinions on your relationship.

“You watch that one, he’s flighty.”

“He doesn’t like to stay on one girl too long ye know?”

“Heard he’s got a lass back in Ireland he visits once a year.”

It was all rubbish. You and Murphy had been slipping off to the private room for upwards of five months before anyone other than Connor took notice of it. Once they had Murphy made his affection more publicly known in the form of grabbing at you whenever you passed him. Connor would make a grab at you too, mocking his brother’s apparent ‘love-sickness’ and pulling you into hugs accompanied by lewd kissing noises and sloppily mouthing at your neck. Once Connor had been so drunk he’d tried to lick you which had ended in the twins duking it out right there at the counter.

Tonight, St. Paddy’s day, was a marked occasion. The regulars bitching about all the ‘fake Irish’ and talking about how every day was St. Paddy’s day when you were from the old country. You always entertained their hang-ups. Better tips came through open ears and sympathetic ‘that’s awfuls’. You were better at it than Doc, who got carried away in his own stories, and you were prettier too. Though that wasn’t difficult.

“Ah shit, fuck, ass...fuck. I told ye five minutes!” Doc shouted. He was on the other side of the door when you swung it open, Murphy right behind you.

“It was five minutes.” You protested, looking back at your accomplice, “it was five minutes.”

Murphy shrugged, “wasn’t exactly paying attention to yer watch.” He replied.

This earned a laugh from Doc though he still ordered you back behind the bar. Promising to be right there, though all three of you knew it was likely to be another minute until you fully resumed working, you turned to Murphy.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, brushing hair from his eyes so you could see the blue of them better. This was not a frantic ‘five minutes to make out like teenagers’ moment. This was far sweeter and hinted at more than a few hickeys and a pool-table romp.

“Nah, I got off on account a some lass asking me to.” He replied, grinning at you. Could you get any closer without being actually melded together, you certainly tried.

“Good, then you can come over.” You had asked him two weeks ago to ask off from work. You never worked Wednesday nights which meant there was no need to nap half-way through the day. Usually he worked mornings and you worked nights and one or the other was always sleeping. Or Connor was around. Or Murphy was off with Connor and Rocco doing god knows what.

“Ye got something planned?”

“Well, it is St. Paddy’s day.” You replied, grabbing the tray you had stashed behind the booth next to the private room and beginning to head back toward the bar. “And since I don’t know any Patrick’s I’m terribly fond of I figured I’d just worship my second favorite Irishman instead.”

Murphy caught you around the waist, dragging you back to him before you could make it all the way to the bar. Still away from prying eyes but not so private that no one saw him kiss your neck right at the collar of the sweater. “Anyone I know?”

“Hmm...think his name is Connor.” You teased, laughing as he jabbed your stomach and sides with his fingers until, out of breath, you surrendered, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“Ye best be.” He kissed you one last time before letting go, just as Doc called out over the ruckus of the crowd that he was ten seconds from firing you if you didn’t get back to work. An empty threat but one you heeded because you loved the old man.

Feedback is always appreciated.

#murphy macmanus fanfic #murphy macmanus fanfiction #murphy mcmanus x reader #murphy mcmanus imagine #boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints fanfiction #boondock saints imagine #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 5 years ago

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Jersey on my mind (part 16)

“You’re safe.”

Mila looks up from the half empty, half full bottle of Stolichnaya and is met by Rick, standing in the door of the bedroom. He’s all sweaty and stained with blood, but seemingly unharmed. Maybe a bit bruised but-

“Erhm... yeah.” Mila says, looking at him in disbelief. “You're back.”

“I am.” Rick replies and sighs.

“Alone?”

“Michonne’s back too.”

Rick walks up to the bed, where Mila has barricaded herself since she left the battle scene outside.

Her ‘maybe planned’ torture of the Wolf (it was because of him Mila had barely been able to dress herself for several days) was interrupted by Morgan, who dragged him away to the makeshift prison cell. He then forbade Mila to go near him, to which Mila gave Morgan a haywire smile, saying it wasn’t something she could promise. Then she returned to the house... well, after she had stopped to vomit into a beautiful rose bush around the corner. On shaking legs she ran up the stairs to the bedroom, where she found Juri, hiding underneath the covers in the bed with his walkman. At the sight of her, he burst into a sunny smile and wrapped his arms around Milas neck; squeezed all the anger, all the crazy, out of her. Mila held him close, pressed his little body against her chest and inhaled the scent of his soft hair, whispering to him what a good boy he was, how brave he was when he threw the bottle out the window.

“You are my brave, brave Solnishko.”

Mila caressed him across his small face with the fingertips. Juri imitated, pulled his soft little fingers over her face, then buried them in her hair, pulled her close and gave her a kiss on the nose. She fell down next to Juri on the bed, just laid there, looking at him. Half an hour later, Juri was asleep and Mila had opened a bottle of vodka.

Rick sits down on the bedside. He looks tired.

“What happened?” she asks monotonously. “What went wrong?”

“They got out of the quarry.” Rick meets her gaze. “All of ‘em.” he sighs. “How’s the-” he nods towards her stomach.

Mila lifts the half empty bottle, to answer his question. Her goal is to drink herself to apathy, to the point where she won’t feel anything at all, neither her aching abdomen or emotions. It’s been too long since her last booze-bonanza. Half a bottle doesn’t affect her that much, a whole bottle is manageable but does the trick. Two bottles are quite a lot, definitely causes her to sway and spontaneously dance.

She reaches Rick the bottle. It looks like he needs it. He takes it, removes the lid and takes a mouthful of the clear liquid and coughs, before giving it back to her.

“I talked to Morgan. And Carol. They said you did a hell of a job.”

“What did Morgan say?” Mila scoffs.

“That you’re crazy.”

“Could’ve been worse.” Mila raises her eyebrows and takes a mouthful of vodka. “On the other hand, Gandhi’s right though. I am crazy.”

“Seems like crazy saved a lot of lives.”

“Crazy’s not allowed to come out that often.” Once again Mila meets Rick's gaze. “You didn’t answer my question. Where are the others?”

“Michonne’s back too, and Heath and Scott.”

“That’s not all of you.”

“We lost some.” Rick says, knows what she is referring to, or whom. “He’s with Abraham and Sasha.” he continues. “He’ll be alright.” Rick takes her hand, squeezes it. “Thanks.”

Mila looks at her hand.

“For what?”

“You held the stands here. Made sure people were safe. Protected them.” Rick lets go of her hand and takes the vodka bottle, takes a new sip. “I’m scared too. But I need you now. There’s about a hundred walkers on the other side of that wall.” he points towards the window. “Daryl’s not here. Glenn’s gone. People died. Morale’s low and the walls are weak. I need you to help me fix this. To keep this place safe.”

“I just-” Mila says. ”I just need to-” she pauses. “I don’t know what I need. Besides getting batshit drunk.”

She takes back the bottle from Rick and drinks. When in doubt, she needs more vodka. That should be a Russian proverb, if anything, she thinks. What she really needs, or wants, besides alcohol, she can’t have in this life.

That's when she sees the ring on Rick's ring finger. A wedding band. Huh, she hasn’t noticed it before.

“You’re married?”

Rick looks down on his bloodstained, bruised hand.

“Was. Or-” Rick pauses, strokes the wedding band. “She died.”

Mila pulls out her necklace from inside her shirt and holds out for him to see. Next to the small, dainty gold heart she got from her mother at her twelfth birthday, a narrow gold ring with three small stones, dangles on the gold chain.

“He died- turned, a few months ago.” Mila looks at the three diamonds, next to each other. On the inside, it says ‘Can’t start a fire without a spark’. It must’ve been hard for Jim, the devoted country music fan, to pick a Bruce Springsteen engraving instead of some cheesy country love song. “I killed him.”

”Juri’s father?”

”I don’t even know who that is. That’s another, fucked up story.” Mila looks down and takes a bountiful sip of vodka. Yeah, that really is a story for another time, advantageously if every person attending at that moment is heavily drunk. ”We had it all figured out. Jim was going to adopt Juri, we were going to get married. We were attacked in Louisville, Kentucky, on our way to his parents in Oklahoma. He didn’t tell me he was bitten. Two days later he turned. At a motel in Missouri.” she takes another sip. ”I hid Juri in a closet. I thought I was going to die. Jim was big, tall, all muscles. But I killed him. Buried him. Left him in a shallow grave behind the motel.” Mila looks at Rick. “You asked me if I’d killed anyone, do you remember? Alive or dead. I killed Jim. Whatever he was, dead or alive or something in between, I killed him. I did that. And now I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Morgan’s wrong. All life isn’t precious. That bastard down in that cell, he ain’t precious. But Jim’s was. And he’s dead.”

“That’s called surviving.”

“No, that’s called unfair.” Mila looks at Juri, lying next to her on his back with the headphones on. She pats him gently on the foot. “He’s the reason why I went out there today, partially. Or, more like, the reason I went out there, and came back. I came back to him.”

Rick takes her hand again.

“You’re brave. And you care about people. You showed it today if anything.” Rick declares. “You saved people, protected them. Carl and Judith included. You’re part of this group. Both of you. People need other people to stay sane, to stay alive.”

Something runs down her cheek. A tear. Oh for christ sake. Half a bottle of vodka doesn’t stop tears, she needs at least a whole bottle for that. To become completely numb, emotionally. Rick puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her closer. It’s a friendly hug, it reminds Mila of her foster brothers, Adam and Peter Galka. A brotherly, kind embrace. They sit like that for a while, next to each other, sharing the vodka.

“He asked about you.” Rick says after a moment's silence. “Daryl. In his own way. Wanted me to make sure you were safe.”

“I’m feeling brilliant.” Mila exclaims confidently. That might also be because of the vodka, but she doesn’t tell. Truthfully, she’s exhausted. “Brilliant...”

“Yeah.” Rick nods. “Can’t say the same about the guy in the cell. What did you do to him?”

#daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl dixon #Jersey on my mind #Daryl Dixon Fanfic #The Walking Dead fanficition #The walking dead fanfic #fanfiction #twd fanfiction #fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fandom

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darlinrogue · 4 years ago

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Having played hockey for years, Kenny is certainly agile. Having wrestled for years, Kenny, again, is certainly agile—quick and light on his feet. Dancing, however, is something else entirely. Similar to ice skating, but much more precise. Similar to wrestling, but you’re probably not supposed to hurt your partner. But Page had asked him for a dance, and how could Kenny say ‘no?’ “Real romantic, cowboy.” One of his hands intertwining with Page’s, the other at his shoulder. “You lead, then.”

Slow Dancing

|| Adam and Kenny // @ofgrief

The phone screen blurred. A flick of his finger sent text bubbles flying. The group chat brimmed with messages and notifications he wasn’t ever going to read. Adam opened the settings. His thumb hovered over the ‘leave group’ button, scrawled in red text. Instead, he closed the app and opened Spotify. He chose a playlist labelled ‘relaxing.’ Softer country music, more folksy shit, some slower Led Zeppelin. A lot of Bruce Springsteen sounding sad. The work of slower tempos that wouldn’t grate on his nerves. Made an unfamiliar space more his own.

Adam hooked his leg up on the bar stool spindle. He rubbed his hand over his jaw and dragged his fingernails through the beard stubble. The nice lady who did hair and make-up trimmed it for him today. The ice shifted in his drink, two fingers of whiskey. Week-to-week the bars changed. The scenery shifted with the ever traveling road shows of AEW. Some constants remained like the cheap chairs, the bland decor, the warm lights. Every bar had a different style of glass, some taller, some thinner, some clear, and some clouded. After hours, the bar was always the quietest spot as wrestlers escaped the halls for hotels and the production crew packed-up shop. Most important, no one Adam was avoiding ever came to the bar. It was a guaranteed retreat. At least in Jacksonville he could drive home tomorrow morning. Cuddle his dogs and be a homebody for a week. Silence the group chat, put his head phones in, and run until he didn’t know where he was anymore.

The holidays were a brief respite and a greater blessing. Adam returned to his childhood home as a jaded man seeking shelter from the shit storm just off his family property. He drank eggnog with his mom and helped her set up the Christmas tree. Caught-up with his sister and went riding with in the nipping cold of late-December. Shared the traditional whiskey shot with his father by the kitchen sink. Distant relatives filtered by for dinner. Cousins that patted Adam on the back and told him they saw him on TV. Grandparents that just didn’t get why Adam stopped being a teacher, even years later. Grandma made pies for Christmas morning and Adam’s mom got him cool cowboy themed pajamas. For a second Adam forgot about what waited outside the front gate. Then he arrived in Jacksonville, New Year’s Day, and it all came around.

The door opened and Adam glanced over his shoulder. Kenny peaked around the corner, his hair fallen over his shoulders. When he spotted Adam, he smiled, teeth flashing. Kenny walked into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Hey, hey, there you are Pizz!” Kenny greeted, he snapped his fingers rhythmically as he jaunted over to Adam. Kenny slid onto the bar stool and his eyes darted over the room. Kenny wiggled his hips, the leather creaking, as he situated himself in his seat. There was an easy grace to his movements but a tight tension in his shoulders. “Been looking all over for you.”

Sweat stains darkened the fabric across Kenny’s chest and arms. His hair was damp but drying, curls fluffed and unruly. The match earlier left his cheeks flushed from exertion. Kenny sighed as he leaned back against the chair, face tilting to the ceiling and eyes fluttering closed. Adam bet that was the first time he’d sat down all day. Trapped in a ring with Rey Fenix, Pentagon, and PAC, Adam counted it lucky Kenny stumbled-out with all his attached pieces.

“You good?” Adam asked, he tapped the volume down on his phone so the melodramatic singing dropped to a low purr. ‘Drive me—crazy’ “You guys had a good match out there tonight.”

“Yeah, we did, a great start to the year if you ask me,” Kenny said. He looked at Adam and he grinned again. Something flipped in Adam’s stomach. “Can’t ever complain about a mark in the win column, especially against PAC. I feel good, like I’m getting my feet under me.”

To emphasize his improving condition, Kenny shook-out his arms and shoulders. A jitter that extended all the way to his fingers. He interlaced his hands and stretched-out his shoulders with an arch of his back. He settled his grip on the counter edge. Kenny chewed on his lip and there wasn't anything playful in his eyes.

“You know, it would’ve been nice, if you came and joined us, after?” Kenny admitted. “Matt, Nick, Cody, myself, we all would’ve loved to celebrate with you. You know, like a family. None of us thought AEW would last to the New Year, this was a big deal, a big night. Something we couldn’t have done without you.”

Adam breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He sought the last bit of comfort he could wring from his glass. “You know, I’m just, trying to get some space. Get my shit sorted-out before I hand it all to you guys. I just don’t think— I just didn’t think it’d be a good idea to go down to the ring.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that,” Kenny said, and Adam doubted it. Because the next thing he said was, “Matt and Nick miss you. I miss you.”

“Yeah, I— I know,” Adam said. He investigated his glass, the intricate pattern of cut crystal and how the light played between the facets. The pale press of his white, scarred knuckles. He attempted to make new friends, to branch-out, hadn’t worked-out too hot. Adam’s glorious single’s run, hadn’t worked-out too hot either. Hell, next week he even had a match with Kenny. So, evidently his bold proclamation that he was leaving the Elite, was not heard. Maybe he hadn’t been loud enough. “Like, I said, I just, need some time.”

“That’s fine, but, Adam? We’re here for you. We’ll always be here for you,” Kenny said.

Adam’s eyes snapped-up to meet Kenny’s gaze. The sound of his name so foreign in Kenny’s mouth. The Bucks called him ‘Hangman’ and the comms ‘Adam Page.’ Kenny favored ‘Page’ or ‘Pizz,’for some reason. The only time Adam heard just his name was when he talked to his mom. Those two syllables, in Kenny’s mouth, set a fire in Adam’s chest. It was a spell. Kenny could ask for literally anything and Adam would say ‘yes.’ A totally unfair advantage. Kenny left Adam helpless and weak; But Adam let Kenny hold all the cards.

Kenny, unaware of his power, patted Adam’s thigh. His palm rested against Adam’s jean and his nails worked against the fabric. Adam heard his pulse in his throat. “So, whenever you’re ready to come back? We’ll be here, waiting. Don’t think we’re just going to forget about you, or that you’re not welcome. The Elite, us, we’re something special, and it’s always going to mean something. Yeah, we can fight and have our disagreements, but that’s okay. We will always come back together.”

Adam grinned, the corner of his mouth curling. “You have been feeling better, lately, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have,” Kenny breathed with a laugh. He patted Adam’s thigh and knee once more before retracting his hand. “I took those first few losses really hard, I’ll admit that, but I’m back! I got my feet underneath me and I’m ready for the new year. I felt it tonight, Kenny Omega, is back, and I think the crowd felt it too. They were a live wire tonight, oh, I could feel it in my toes. Did you see it?”

“You uh, definitely seemed, happier?” Adam managed.

Kenny nodded and smiled approvingly. This Kenny, with his easy grins and ‘Power of Friendship’ speeches was a helluva a lot better than whatever the hell was going on in October. A few months ago he was barely functional. His voice muted and dulled over the phone. Adam wasn’t going to pretend that their way-too-late at night phone calls had anything to do with Kenny’s improvement. Kenny just needed someone to vent to that wasn’t Michael Nakazawa or a Young Buck. So, that left Adam. Adam also wasn’t going to pretend that his willingness to stay-up way past his bedtime wasn’t an act of pure devotion. Any excuse to talk to Kenny. Any excuse to have something special with Kenny.

Even when Adam knew he shouldn’t be talking to the Elite —for their collective good— Adam made an exception for Kenny. What puzzled Adam the most though was Kenny’s willingness to listen back. To hear-out Adam’s side of the story and all his twisted anxieties and fears. About the more wretched parts of Adam he couldn’t even tell his mom about.

For Kenny to hear about the worst aspects of his past and personality, and decide to keep talking to him— that part confused Adam.

“So, uh, about next week, I saw on the graphic we have a match?” Adam interjected. “Against Private Party? When did that happen?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Kenny asked, his brow furrowed and creased but it melted off in a heartbeat. He shrugged, “Yeah, TK booked it for us. We got two wins, and in a young company like ours? That’s pretty notable.”

“They’re shitty wins, Kenny,” Adam pointed-out.

Mox and Pac did not qualify as a tag-team. They worked like two Rottweilers shoved in a sack together and then told to get along. All Kenny and Adam had to do was stand back and watch the duo implode. Kip Sabian and Shawn Spears were a mess, in the worst ways. Of course those two flimsy wins, was before Adam factored in their two losses. Both against legitimate tag-teams that knocked Kenny and Adam down a peg. Kenny and Adam may’ve been in the same stable for close to four years, but it’d been that long since Adam shared a corner with him. It absolutely showed too. Adam had watched the tapes back and he bet Kenny didn’t appreciate the bruises from his so called partner.

“But wins, nonetheless,” Kenny retorted. He bunted his knuckles against Adam’s shoulder. “Shitty wins count. We take those.”

“Private Party is a real tag-team,” Adam said, but he shrugged, nonchalant. Smacked the back of his hand against his palm on each word for emphasis. “But I guess I can whoop their asses.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kenny said.“Yeah, Private Party beat the Bucks. They’re good, but not that good, I think we can do it.”

“Mhmm, you have a lot of faith in me,” Adam grunted. He placed his glass down and leaned against the counter. Regarding Kenny with a quick sweep of his eyes.

“Of course, I do, I told you, we got something special, I can feel it.” Kenny smoothed the word feel as long as it would go.

The music changed on Adam’s phone and his mind drifted from Kenny. Kenny launched, undeterred, into theorizing strategy. An Orville Peck song, with gentle string, a soft melody, singing about nostalgia and dreams. Adam grinned to himself, medicated just enough to consider something dangerous. For a guy lovesick with Kenny Omega these thoughts were perilous. It’d been a year now and Adam had sat on his hands like an idiot, pinning away. Hell with it, it was a bad idea but following bad ideas through was his modus operandi these days. Adam hummed low in his throat, cutting Kenny off as he waxed about Mark Quinn’s right leg.

“Dance with me,” Adam murmured, voice soft, barely a whisper. Like his throat was trying to strangle the words before he uttered them. Not at all the gruff confidence he had hoped to seduce Kenny with.

Adam pushed-off the bar stool and offered his hand. He grinned, bashful, feeling as awkward as he had when he was at Junior prom. This wasn’t weird, right? They’d done weirder, this was fine. More than fine when Kenny took Adam’s hand and Adam felt the press of Kenny’s callouses against his.

“Real romantic, cowboy.” Kenny breathed and the last of Adam’s confidence melted. Cowboy, that was new, and Adam liked it. He really liked how Kenny said it. “You lead, then.”

Adam laughed and ducked his chin to his chest. With his free hand he turned the music up on his phone. There was lightning at his finger tips as he ran his palm over Kenny’s hip. Kenny put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and grinned obnoxiously as he obviously felt-up Adam’s bicep. A couple inches between their chests and warmth flushed Adam’s throat. Adam whispered ‘okay,’ and his heart thudded. Kenny had to hear it. Feel Adam’s pulse in their joined hands. Terrible, stupid, perfect idea— when Kenny rejected him for being a lovesick fool it wasn’t going to be so great.

“It’s just some team building.” Adam preempted and placated Kenny. With his hand on Kenny’s hip he nudged the other man to sway with him. Nothing but a little stutter step. “You know, so we’re ready for next week.”

“Ah, yeah, team building,” Kenny chuckled. Adam met his eyes, and swallowed hard. Their noses a hair’s breadth apart. Adam wished he had brushed his teeth so his breath didn’t smell like alcohol. “You slow dance with all your partners?”

“Yeah, actually, Jason and I learned to waltz when we first started tagging,” Adam admitted. Kenny gapped at him. Clearly his question had been rhetorical and now Adam regretted bringing it up. “I mean, for the foot work and all that, it was just a good way to get in sync, you know?”

“Right,” Kenny said, and Adam wondered if his lack of enthusiasm meant something.

Two high fliers like Jason Blade and Adam Page needed immaculate tandem offense. It was a process, to get used to each other’s rhythms. To know when the other had taken too much damage and needed that blind tag. When to slow down, or speed-up, as the match dragged on. It worked, they got used to each other’s rhythms. Eventually they didn’t need the waltz at all, it was just a crutch. Adam had only suggested it as a joke but it did wonders for their footwork. Less so for their teamwork as they quibbled over who would lead.

(Adam eventually got the role because he was better at it than Jason).

Adam lifted his arm and after a second to process, Kenny twirled underneath. Adam pulled Kenny back as Kenny stepped in. A little too much momentum and Kenny stumbled into Adam’s chest. The heel of Kenny’s loafer drove between the two delicate bones on Adam’s big and second toe. If this was skee-ball then Kenny just scored the 100 points. Adam cussed and hissed, jerking away from Kenny. He rubbed the top of his boot over his calf to diminish the pain.

Kenny hissed between his teeth, “Yep, that was my bad. Sorry. You good?”

Adam kicked and shook his leg to return feelings to his toes. “So, was that payback?”

“Maybe,” Kenny teased. “Can we try again though?”

Kenny’s grin was rueful as Adam returned to him. He placed his hand back in Adam’s offered palm. Despite his sore foot, Adam was eager to have Kenny back in his arms. To feel the firm strength of his hip and lat underneath his hand. Back to their awkward little shuffle step and this time, Kenny pulled Adam closer. Chest-to-chest, Kenny rested his chin in the crook of Adam’s shoulder. His nose brushed against the wisps of Adam hair. A soft whisper of Kenny’s breath against Adam’s throat. Adam tried not to stiffen, as if his tension would scare Kenny away. Tried to find Kenny’s heartbeat, his rhythm, but when he did he couldn’t bring himself to fall in lock step. Wondered why he had to follow at all.

Except, Kenny had asked Adam to lead.

Adam experimented and lifted his arm again. This time Kenny unfurled and laughed each step of the way as he twirled underneath. Adam guided Kenny back to him, chuckling as their grip changed and Kenny’s hand flattened against his chest. The song ended without flourish. Gunmetal blue, the details of Kenny’s iris, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Shirts rucked, hands joined, and the slight huff of their breath in tandem. The playlist rolled to the next song. Adam and Kenny broke, then stepped away together. Hands lifting to rub at the back of their necks in mirrored gestures. Adam had an apology at the tip of his tongue.

“That was nice, Page,” Kenny said, his voice soft “We should definitely do it again sometime but—”

“You have to go?” Adam guessed.

“Yeah, Cody, the Bucks, and I are going out for a late-dinner,” Kenny admitted. His fingers twisted with the front of his shirt. “I won’t— I won’t ask you to come. I know how you feel, but I wanted you to know we were going out, and that if you wanted to join us? We’ll always save you a seat.”

Adam nodded, his thumb hooking in his belt loop. He licked his lips and studied the floor. “Thanks, Kenny, I appreciate it. I really do.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” Kenny said. He walked backwards to the door, chewed on the inside of his mouth. “Do you think— Can we meet early, like a couple days before the match, it’s in Mississippi, right? Maybe we can fly down early, get in the gym, and just, you know, work on stuff? Private Party is a real tag-team, we gotta be ready.”

Adam hesitated, thinking of the phone calls he’d have to make to get his flight changed. Packing early, a couple days less home. Finding someone to take care of his dogs while he was gone. The logistics crowded the forefront of his brain and yet all the back latched-onto was Kenny. His hopeful, shy blue eyes, and his little half smile. It was such a terrible idea, this was going to be beyond inconvenient but, two days with just Kenny, working-out, figuring out this tag-team they were evidently doing, and—

Shit.

“Yeah,” Adam managed, “We can do that.”

“Alright! I’ll see you in Mississippi, then, cowboy,” Kenny cackled. He backed-up and rested his hand on the door handle. He pointed at Adam. “Text you details later. Just you wait until we break-out some tandem offense on Private Party, it’ll all be worth it. Catch ya’ later, Pizz.”

The door closed behind Kenny and in his absence, Adam sighed. He worked his hand over his jaw and wondered if he was going grey early. Somehow, someway, Kenny had slipped the rug out from underneath him and made them a tag-team. Adam had agreed to tag with Kenny versus Mox and PAC because they both needed it, but this had become something more. Something Adam was not prepared for. It was a commitment but also an opportunity.

If they were doing this, Adam realized, he had to commit. He couldn’t half-ass a tag-team with Kenny Fucking Omega. Even if he felt like this was a terrible idea that was going to screw them both sideways. Not now, not even soon, but in a few months, maybe a year, when all of this unraveled and Adam slipped in a pool of his own blood.

“The point BJ, is that when the moment presented itself to him, he did grab it with an iron grip.”

Years of practice, months in the gym, days spent at Jimmy Valiant’s training camp, drilling counters, perfecting the snap of his hips as Adam flipped into a high bridge. Pressing onto his tip-toes, all his weight leveraged down on a bigger opponent. Adam Pearce had two inches and forty pounds on Adam. One opening was all Adam needed, though. The shock in the room on the three count had been palpable. The audience’s collectively gasped and it was a pure adrenaline shot to Adam’s veins. Shock erupted into open cheers. Adam on his knees, grinning with pride and surprise, like he wasn’t even sure he had won. BJ ruffled his hair fondly. He was not supposed to win this match but he did. Jimmy Jacobs, the entire crowd, the commentators, they didn’t believe in Adam Page, but Adam did. Back then that was enough to pull out a miracle.

“He did put a vice around it, BJ! And he won the match!”

Adam Pearce popped Adam Page’s confidence like a balloon. Pearce’s right palm smashed across Adam’s cheek so hard he tasted it. Adam won the match, he won the battle; But Jimmy Jacobs point was clear: he did not win the war. And Adam was at war. This was a no-holds barred beatdown and he was on the curb. Blood in his hair, eyes shot, and fingers shaking. The Bucks at his throat. Kenny with his back to a ledge, grinning at him with unrestrained excitement about a match next week. Next week, against Private Party, a real tag-team. Not the shitty ‘teams’ they had been fighting. Not a fight he could check into for the sake of Kenny or the peace.

“It doesn’t matter, because that was the test you failed.”

Pearce’s finger jabbed into Adam’s face. He went cross eyed trying to look at it. Felt and suppressed the tremble in his bottom lip. When Adam was a little kid he watched wrestling on the TV and felt a bone deep need. A wrestling ring was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He had to get in that ring. Nothing else mattered, and for a time the trampoline in the backyard would do, but that ring called to him. He wanted to feel the give under his step, the flex of the ropes. Smell the sweat and blood that’d seeped into the mats over decades, decades of history, legacy, and war. A written history Adam longed to inscribe his name into. When Adam was a child he didn’t care about belts or titles, if he just got into a wrestling ring, got to stand in one, he’d be happy.

It was a simple, unambitious dream, but for a kid from rural Virginia is was his dream. Well, he got in one, and it was like a drug, he had to do it again, and again, and again, and he got good at it. So good that he won more matches than he lost. He had to feel the thrum of a crowd in his ears. Test himself on an opponent, stretch the limits of his ability. Once, Adam had thought to himself, while running the the apron to a moonsault, pushing off his leading leg, his back arched, and his heart grazing the ceiling, ‘I wish I was actually this strong.’

That the confidence of Adam Page, professional wrestler, The Hangman, carried over into his day-to-day. That the power of his chops translated to an unflinching voice when he spoke. That the technique of his flip was as impressive as his social prowess. Adam never second guessed himself before a suplex but he did in everything else. It shocked him he had the spine to ever even get in a ring in the first place, to go to Japan, to enter the G1, to join an upstart company like AEW, or to even go outside.

An opportunity was presenting itself to Adam Page. Kenny Omega, the best bout machine and a great visionary, already saw it. Adam saw it too and he suspected its appearance was not accidental, not a luck of the draw. He wanted to call Kenny and tell him to cancel the match. His stomach twisted with the thought. This was a bad, bad idea, to step down a twisting path that he couldn’t see the end of. Going back to tag-teams, tagging with the leader of the group he was trying to leave, and the man he’d been totally lovesick with for over a year. Adam hesitated, his hand hovering over his phone.

“At some point, the both of you will have seen everything there is to see. Have been able to do everything there is to do, and when the moment presents itself, you won’t hesitate to reach for it. Because you already know that you grabbed it before it presented itself. Time will do that for you.”

Adam’s hand flattened against the bar counter, pinned like a taxidermy bug to the board. He grabbed it when he rolled Adam Pearce through to the bridge. He grabbed it when Matt offered a spot in the Bullet Club. When he hung Chris Sabine and became the Hangman. He grabbed it when he snatched the title from Jay White and held it above his head like it could be his. He grabbed it when he won the battle royale. When he rode a horse to a ring that belonged to a legend to whom he would serve as a footnote. Most of the time, it slipped his fingers, because his grip was slick with sweat, and he was a young man, lacking time. But Adam had never missed, never hesitated, and if he was going to do this—

If he was going to walk into next week, take that match with Kenny and fight Private Party. He was going to commit.

No more half-assed bullshit. No more ducking away and avoiding a future he dreaded. They were going to do this and it was going to suck, and the effort was probably going to kill him. It’d probably would mean that by the end Kenny hated him. And that would also suck, but Adam wasn’t going to spend his whole life pinning for something he could never have. Not when there was something he could have and it was gold around his waist. An accomplished career that he could die happy with. The Bucks patting his shoulders and arms, telling him he did great, they’re proud.

It was going to suck, it was going to kill him but at least he got to pick his poison.

#ofgrief #‘The Hangman’ || Adam: IC #‘Deals with God’ || Adam: Verse

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