#Do NOT mess with the Freeman---- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaisacobra · 3 months ago

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I Dare You - Tara Carpenter

Summary: When Amber Freeman, Tara's best friend (and secret crush) dares her to win a random person over, she thinks it's gonna be an easy task. What she wasn't expecting, however, was that y/n y/l was far more interesting than she thought.

Warnings: Painter!Fem!Reader, very small mentions of sex and alcohol, non-canon/high school!AU, angst? ish?

W.C: 6.0k

a/n: She's back! This is probably not my best one but i was desperate to write something again and end my awful writers block. Anyways, i do think this will be a small series so stay tuned for that!

Tara’s head was pounding.

The school day had barely started and she couldn't stand being there any longer. Contrary to what many might think, her discomfort didn't come from the noise of lockers banging or the loud chatter and laughter of the students in the hallways. In fact, the reason had a first and last name: Amber Freeman, her best friend and secret crush, who seemed very intent on recounting every detail of her hookup with a girl last night.

“And then she asked me to...”

“That's enough! I definitely don't need to hear about what sex position you used, or anything like that.” Tara held up one hand, grimacing in disgust as Amber laughed beside her, opening her locker without the slightest shame at what she had said.

“Come on, Tara! Don't be so grumpy.” The dark-haired girl gave her a fake pout, purposely trying to annoy her friend. “I needed that! Do you know how long it's been since I've been with anyone? Too long!”

And not only did Tara know how long it had been since Amber had kissed anyone, she also knew exactly why it had happened. Tara had a certain advantage at school for hanging out with Amber, who carried the title of most popular and desired girl for her unattainable energy, memorable parties and, of course, singular beauty.

Hanging out with Amber and basically being her right-hand woman meant that Tara was also popular by proxy. The students knew exactly who she was and, what's more, they knew that if they messed with Tara, they would have to deal with the wrath of the implacable Amber Freeman, which came in handy when Tara needed to “gently” convince multiple people in the school that Amber would never be interested in them behind her back.

Apparently, someone had slipped through her fingers.

Tara didn't bother to offer an answer to her friend, just rolling her eyes and closing her locker without much strength, so as not to make her growing migraine even worse. Unfortunately, Amber had never been the kind of person to wait for an opening to speak her mind. “You know, I bet that bad mood of yours would be cured if you loosened up a little bit. When was the last time you kissed anyone?”

“Who kissed who?”

Tara leaned her shoulder on the locker behind her to watch the arrival of Wes, closely followed by Liv and Chad, who walked hand in hand, followed by the stares of the crowd of teenagers who either wanted to be them or wanted them to be gone. The trio, along with Tara and Amber, were considered the “popular crew” at Woodsboro High School, even though the Carpenter girl hated the term because she considered it extremely cliché and tacky.

Liv and Chad were the typical American high school couple made up of a cheerleader and a soccer player. Tara had known Chad the longest, having him as a childhood friend, and she watched first-hand as he became more and more enamored of his influence through his status as a star quarterback, especially as he gained the attention of his current girlfriend and the entire school. Liv was the typical mean girl cheerleader who was extremely empty and desperate to stay relevant in the social hierarchy. Tara didn't understand what Chad saw in her, but she put up with the girl because Amber wanted her around for some reason.

Wes, on the other hand, was an exception. He used to be a loner until Amber took him under her wing after she discovered his status as the sheriff's son, which the girl used as a pass to get out of trouble more easily. Wes knew that his position in the group was fragile and so he constantly tried to compensate by bringing up gossip that he found out about the whole school.

He was still waiting for an answer when Amber slipped an arm around Tara's shoulders, ruffling her hair. “Tara here is in a bad mood today. I was trying to tell her that the way to solve it is with a good makeout sesh.”

You could help me with that, Tara thought, but other words came out of her mouth, “Shut up. I'm just not in the mood for anything right now, that's all.”

Tara knew that hooking up with Amber, if it ever happened, would be both her blessing and her curse. Amber was the type of girl who would rather die than get into a serious relationship and, if Tara was going to be honest, she knew the girl would be a terrible girlfriend. Too bad her little crush couldn’t think rationally.

Liv smirked in her usual evil little laugh. “Yeah. I bet you're only saying that because you've been left on the shelf.”

Amber and Wes hissed and whistled teasingly, trying to get an even bigger reaction out of Tara. Chad raised his eyebrows in shock, glancing briefly at the shorter girl before focusing down on his phone. Tara felt a wave of pride and piled up anger rise up inside her. She crossed her arms defensively, scoffing as she glared at Liv. “Oh, please. You know very well that I could get with whoever I wanted at this school.”

Okay, maybe the words were a bit exaggerated and presumptuous, but it's not like she was wrong. Popularity aside, Tara knew damn well that she was a pretty girl and she wasn't afraid or ashamed to use her charms to get what she wanted sometimes.

“Whoever you wanted, huh?” Amber smiled mischievously as she heard the phrase and the evil glint in her dark eyes, which usually appeared when she was coming up with her crazy plans, began to show. “Interesting. We should prove that somehow, Carpenter.”

“Whatever.” Tara rolled her eyes, internally wishing that the matter would be closed soon. The more Amber stared at her like that, the redder Tara’s cheeks became and that was going to be impossible to hide in a few minutes.

“Ah, ah! Don't chicken out now, Carpenter.” The raven haired girl raised her index finger, shaking it in a negative. “I've got a great idea! Why don't I just pick a random person and you have to hookup with them, hm? Come on, Tara. I dare you.”

The three other teens let out more roars of approval, patting Amber on the shoulder for her brilliant idea and trying to convince Tara to go through with the challenge, offering half encouraging words and half biased questions along with “Are you scared?” and “Can you handle it?”.

The Carpenter girl felt at a crossroads. On the one hand, she definitely didn't want to do it. Her small (and growing) crush on Amber was already too much sentimental work for her, not to mention the fact that she wasn't at all keen on the idea of kissing some random stranger, especially knowing that Amber would choose the most embarrassing option possible.

On the other hand, a part of her was always tempted to indulge Amber Freeman's desires, eagerly searching for a hint of approval or recognition in those umber eyes that usually carried nothing but sarcasm and boredom.

So Tara didn't even have to consider long before she groaned in displeasure, closing her eyes and leaning her head back until it rested on the locket’s door. “Fine, whatever. But if you pick some weirdo who eats his own snot, I swear...”

Tara's thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise of something hitting the floor, followed by some snickering and murmuring from everyone in the hallways. She lifted her head to see through the crowd, searching for the reason for the commotion while already hearing her friends laughing beside her.

When the crowd finally cleared enough for Tara to be able to see, she was faced with the scene of a girl slowly picking herself up off the ground, peeling off a canvas that still looked wet from her T-shirt, now completely stained with paint. Another football player seemed to be trying to apologize for something, to which the girl only responded with a nod of her still lowered head.

"Holy shit." Amber laughed, holding her stomach as if she were at a comedy show. "What a dumbass. Hey, isn't that one of Mindy's little friends?"

Chad looked up, looking away from his phone when he heard his twin sister's name being mentioned. He let out a sound of confusion at first, but following the gaze of the others, the boy finally nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Y/n Y/l."

Tara watches with furrowed brows as the girl walks further into the corridor, clearly unhappy with her ruined painting and clothes. When she focuses back on her friends, Amber's mischievous gaze is already on her. "I think we've met your challenge, Tara."

The shorter girl's eyes widened comically and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Chad had a similar reaction

Mindy used to be part of the group made up of the childhood friends: Tara, Chad, Mindy and Amber, at least until the beginning of high school, when everything related to her became a forbidden topic and the group underwent a change of members. What happened was that the girl had called Amber a bitch for cheating on Mindy with her girlfriend at the time, causing a rift that was never repaired. Chad had to beg Amber not to do anything drastic against his sister, which she begrudgingly accepted, but also didn't allow any of the others to have contact with her.

"Amber, are you sure?" Tara subtly tried to change Freeman's mind, already anticipating the huge mess that could arise between the former friends. "I mean, she's Mindy's friend and she's kind of quiet. Maybe she hasn't even kissed anyone yet."

A bit harsh, but that's the impression Tara got from the little she knew about you. She had never heard you speak in any of the classes you had together, she always saw you either with Mindy's group or on your own and the most she knew was that you were good enough at painting to paint a mural behind the bleachers at the school's request.

Unfortunately, Amber couldn't care less about any of these set of reasons. In fact, they even seemed to encourage the dark-eyed girl, who just shrugged. "Even better. You'd be doing her a favor and we wouldn't be attacking Mindy directly. Sounds like a win-win to me."

Tara looked at the others, analyzing their reactions to the plan. Wes and Liv had already agreed to it a long time ago and were now trying to pressure the shorter girl into accepting. Chad met Tara's gaze and shrugged, although his wrinkled forehead gave away his distaste for the whole idea.

The Carpenter girl sighed, suddenly feeling crowded despite only having four people around her and an entire hallway available for her to run down if she wanted to.

The problem was that she didn't. Not when Amber's beautiful manic eyes were staring at her with such expectation, making Tara's stomach do somersaults. So Tara just nodded her head in a yes, receiving happy shouting and pats on the shoulder as a reward.

"Y/n Y/l is the target, then."

To say that your day sucked would be an understatement.

First of all, you'd spent the whole week racking your brains, trying to somehow find inspiration to do a painting for art class, but your creativity had gone out the window. The best you could do to produce your teacher's homework request: “Represent a personal happy moment”, was an adaptation of a Polaroid you had taken with your friends a few months ago.

Being a perfectionist who already thought your artwork wasn't good enough, you decided to add a few touches on it a few minutes before arriving at school, trying to convince your inner art critic that the painting wasn't so bad.

Unfortunately, the second problem came at the exact same minute you set foot in the school, or rather, the minute one of the football idiots stepped in your way, causing you to trip and fall right on top of the canvas that wasn't yet dry.

You barely heard the boy's apology, just nodding and struggling to get out of the hall as quickly as possible, wishing the ground would swallow you up soon so you couldn't hear the loud snickering of the other people in the hallways.

Luckily for you (because something in your day had to go right), you had a spare T-shirt in your locker, near the art room. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, having a big Jason vs Michael Myers fan art printed on it, but at least it was better than spending the rest of the day in a shirt that looked like it had been vomited on by a unicorn.

You sighed, placing the canvas, now destroyed, on one of the empty easels in the art room. The once uniform colors now blended into a mess of paint that, until earlier today, had represented your face next to those of your friends, enjoying a summer's day in Woodsboro. The green of Anika's blouse had mixed with the chocolate of Mindy's skin, the white of the sun had stained the brown of Ethan's hair and the faces of the four of you had become a single blur, exactly where you had crashed into earlier.

“I thought you didn't do abstracts.” A familiar voice echoed into the room and you turned just in time to see your favorite teacher, Ms. Crane, entering the room with her typical warm smile. As always, the art teacher was wearing a light dress and her blonde hair was perfectly tied up in a bun, which by this point was her trademark.

“I don't.” You replied simply, pointing disappointingly at the disaster on canvas you had made. “I couldn't think of anything during all week so I tried to finish it this morning, but then the paint wouldn't dry and I ended up falling on it.”

The teacher grimaced, her big blue eyes looking at you with some concern as she left her bag on her desk. “Creativity block? You've never had a problem with that before. Should I be worried that it's happened just when the theme was having a happy moment?”

You quickly nodded, trying to relieve the woman’s nerves. You weren't a sad person at all, although many people thought so because of your withdrawn behavior. You had a good life, you were a good student with a clear talent for the arts, and you had a sincere friendship in Mindy, Anika and Ethan, who had already met all the social needs you might have had.

The real issue with this project was that none of your attempts seemed right, always seeming to be missing some element or another between the memories in your brain and the movements of the brush in your hand. And yes, Ms. Crane was right about this never happening before, which was what made you the most frustrated.

The woman seemed to understand your internal dilemma and her gaze softened. “Why don't I give you another week to finish, hm? You're one of our best artists, y/n. I know you can make masterpieces when you have your head on the right place.”

And that was the reason why the woman was your favorite teacher, far beyond just being the one responsible for the art subject. Laura Crane was extremely human and compassionate towards all of her students, even those who weren't good artists or those who went to class just to admire the young teacher's beauty.

“Thank you, Ms. Crane.” You nod, feeling some of the weight on your chest being lifted. The woman waved her hand dismissively, acting as if she hadn't done anything much, even though you knew she had just done way more than any of the other old vultures who worked at the school.

You spent the rest of the day with that in your head. Your mind twisted and turned trying to find a glimmer of inspiration for your work, desperately trying to think of something that could represent your best moment of personal happiness on a 60 x 100cm canvas. The extra deadline Ms. Crane had given you made your perfectionist side feel even more intense, wanting to make a piece impressive enough to justify your lost time.

Your thoughts clouded your mind so intensely that you mechanically made your way to the history room, sitting down in your usual chair without really paying attention to your surroundings. The room, little by little, was filled up with students and, along with them, came the loud noise of chatter and chairs being dragged around. But even so, your eyes remained focused on a blank sheet of paper in front of you, while the pencil in your hand almost had to cry out for help because of the strength with which you were holding it.

You couldn’t even draw a sketch. Goddammit, what was wrong with you?!

“Can I borrow a pen?”

You snapped out of your stupor when you heard a soft voice close to your ear. Raising your head a little too quickly, you found yourself facing beautiful brown eyes and dimples on either side of a smile. Honestly, that sight scared you even more because why was Tara Carpenter, resident popular girl, talking to you at that moment?

It's not like you cared about the whole “social pyramid” and “popularity ranking” thing that mattered so much to some people at your school, but you knew that Tara and her friends didn't have the best track record with your best friend, Mindy. You didn't know the full story, but the fact that Mindy always cursed them every time the group passed by you gave you an idea that maybe they weren't such good people.

Tara noticed the confusion on your face, thinking it was due to the sudden question and not due to her presence in general, and decided to humorously complement the question. “I left all of mine at home, can you believe it?”

Not really, you were tempted to answer, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. You spent a few more seconds analyzing the girl, trying to understand why she had asked you for the pen and not the other people in the room she usually sat nearby. Tara was still patiently standing next to you, leaning slightly towards your direction, and she didn't seem to be in any rush, nor did she seem to have any bad intentions.

Overall, the only mean ones in her group of popular people were Amber and Liv, but they usually liked to be offensive directly to the faces of the students they chose as victims. The fact that Tara hung out with them was no green flag, of course, but from what little you knew of her, the girl didn't seem to be the teaser or prankster type.

With that in mind, you pulled one of the pens you used the least out of your bag and raised it towards the girl, offering it without muttering a word, wishing that the awkward (at least for you) conversation would end soon.

Unfortunately, Tara didn't seem to share the same opinion, because she pulled out the chair right next to you to sit down, dropping her black bag carelessly on the side of the table and pointing at your clothes. “Nice shirt. Team Jason or team Michael?”

The question mark in your head seemed to get even bigger with the casualness with which Tara was talking to you. You knew that the girl didn't talk to many people apart from her friends and you knew even better that they generally tried to ignore your existence along with Ethan, Anika and Mindy.

Still, horror movies were your passion and you couldn't pass up the chance to talk about one of your favorite topics with a new person.

“Well, it depends on which parameter we're using. Overall, I like the Halloween franchise better and I prefer Michael Myers’ aesthetic, but I think Jason has a better lore and he would definitely win in a fight.” You tried to keep your yapping contained, not knowing exactly how interested Tara really was in your opinion, but you were surprised to see a twinkle in the girl's eye and a mischievous smile bloom on her face.

“Michael is much faster and smarter than Jason, there's no chance of him losing in a fight.”

“Zombie Jason was literally immortal, Michael and his kitchen knife wouldn't stand a chance against him.”

The two of you continued to talk and go back and forth with each other's comments as if it was something you did every day. Being so intrigued and immersed in the topic of the conversation almost made you forget that you were talking to Tara Carpenter, with whom you had never exchanged more than three words in your life before, but both of you only stopped talking when the teacher called your attention, asking for you to be quiet so that he could start the lesson.

Tara didn't seem as shocked by the interaction as you were and, in fact, she continued to sit next to you even though her usual chair on the other side of the room was empty. She gave you a complicit wink before turning to face forward, a satisfied smile still playing on her face, as if she had been the winner from that debate.

And you? You did your best to pay attention in the rest of the class and not keep reliving the interaction in your head, trying to convince yourself that that conversation had been a glitch in the matrix and would probably never happen again, but it was hard now that you knew how nice Tara could be and after you had noticed the way her freckles seemed to dance across her face when she smiled.

“Earth to y/n?”

The voice of your best friend, Mindy, snapped you back to reality, making your cheeks feel warm. It was lunchtime and you, Mindy, Anika and Ethan were sitting at your usual table, which was a wooden picnic table, conveniently placed under the shade of a huge tree. A few meters away, closer to the cafeteria doors, was the circular table that was always occupied by the popular kids, surrounded by people who intruded on the group's chatter to pretend they were close to them at some level.

Usually you would never look in that direction and would instead be in a conversation with your friends about anything, but you couldn't stop thinking about the randomness of the moment you had with Tara earlier.

Your eyes turned to Mindy on the other side of the table, who frowned as she realized that you were intently watching the table of the people she hated most at school. Anika, next to her, followed your gaze and the edges of her lips fell in concern. “What? Did they do something?”

“Did they do something to you?!” Ethan asked alarmed, his body leaning towards you enough to make you uncomfortable at the invasion of your personal space. It was no secret to anyone that the boy was in love with you, especially because he had confessed it multiple times. However, no matter how many times you said you only saw him as a friend, Ethan didn't seem to move on.

“No. It's not a big deal.” You shook your head, easing your friends' concern. Still, thoughts of your conversation with Tara seemed to beg to be externalized. “Tara spoke to me in class today, out of nowhere. She saw my shirt and started asking me about which of the two was my favorite.”

“Out of the blue?” Mindy asked, still frowning, and you nodded. “Well, I know Tara has always loved horror movies. We all did.”

The meaning was left implicit, but you knew she was referring to her old group of friends before things blew up between her and Amber. Anika ran her hand over her girlfriend's arms, trying to make her feel a little better about the topic through physical contact.

The table sat quietly for a few torturous seconds until you spoke up again, breaking the silence while watching Mindy's reaction cautiously. “It was nice. I mean, she was nice to me and the conversation was interesting.”

“Careful, y/n. Talking like that, it almost sounds like someone's got a little crush.” Anika teased you, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that made you feel even more embarrassed. You looked away to the crowded table on your far right, watching the way Tara seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation she was having.

It was confusing. You didn't think you had a crush on Tara just because you had a nice moment with her, as much as you admitted that the girl was very pretty, but it was undeniable that something about this situation had intrigued you a lot.

Next to you, Ethan scoffed aggressively, looking irritated by Anika's little joke. “Come on! Y/n would never be interested in a person like her! What does she have to offer? Stupid parties and a basic knowledge of horror movies?”

“I don't think Tara's that bad...” Anika mentioned, looking up at Mindy for some confirmation. Of all of you, Anika was the most positive and social. Sure, she didn't like Amber for obvious reasons and neither did she like Liv because “her vibes were horrible”, but she constantly tried to mediate for the twins when she visited the Meeks-Martin house and you knew she'd spoken to Tara and Wes at least once before.

Mindy, on the other hand, definitely preferred to nurture her rivalry with all of them, but she sighed, knowing that she could never be completely against her own girlfriend. “I'd rather make no comment. Just keep in mind that if Tara is Amber's right-hand woman, it's for a reason.”

As Ethan protested against the small positive words Mindy and Anika had spoken about the popular group, your attention turned back to the table, your mind still processing what had happened earlier. Had it been a one-off thing? Did Tara like the topic so much that she just had to talk to you? Would she have talked to anyone wearing the shirt or would you have been special for some reason?

Your eyes were fixed on the opposite table, but your thoughts were racing, creating a thousand and one possibilities with a creativity you wished you'd had to complete your painting. You were so lost in your own mind that you hardly noticed the rest of the world around you.

Or, at least, that was until Tara caught you staring at her.

“The poor girl is so into you.”

Tara looked away from you to focus on Amber, who was sitting right in front of her with her legs propped up on the table. She had her back turned to where you were at, but somehow her fox-like senses knew exactly that you were looking in that direction.

As time passed, fewer admirers surrounded the table, picking up on the implicit hint that Amber would only give them crumbs of attention for a few seconds until she started to get annoyed by the presence of the crowd of opportunistic losers. The place was now only occupied by their inner circle, but Tara still felt like there were too many people.

“I bet she almost cried when you paid attention to her.” Liv laughed evilly, sitting on Chad's lap in a position that definitely didn't look comfortable for the boy.

Tara shrugged, feeling the gaze of the whole table on her, waiting for updates on her challenge. “It was no big deal, we just talked about movies.”

The truth was that Tara had enjoyed the conversation far more than she could have anticipated. Her initial plan had been to borrow a pen and “forget” to give it back so that she would have a reason to look at your Instagram and send a message after class (which she had actually half done, as your pen was still in her bag), but your t-shirt offered an opening that fit Tara's plans like a glove.

She had missed being able to discuss horror movies outside of the internet. Amber couldn't have a full debate because her patience ran out as soon as people disagreed with her and that made her aggressive. The others in the group didn't care that much about the genre and the most Tara could talk to them about was the basics of “which of these movies is scarier.”

The last time she had actually talked about the topic in a pleasant way had been with Mindy and that had been a long time ago. Tara hadn't even realized how much she had missed it.

“Well, I don't think it'll be long before she falls for you, anyway.” Amber shrugged, looking as bored as she usually was. “Maybe I made it a little too easy for you.”

“I've asked around and I'm pretty sure that y/n has never been with anyone. That makes things more interesting, doesn't it?” Wes said, once again trying to make himself valuable to the group with his information. The platinum-haired boy looked at Amber expectantly, like a puppy eagerly waiting for a treat.

Tara couldn't help but wonder if also looked at Amber like that, even though she didn't realize it.

“Eh. It depends on how she reacts afterwards.” The dark-eyed girl threw her head back, making her chair stand on just two feet. “Can you imagine if she just chooses to ignore Tara? Bo-ring.”

The conversation kept going on that topic but Tara was suddenly distracted by the sound of her phone’s notification ring vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. She took the device in hand, seeing on the lock screen a new message from Sam, her sister.

Sam: Hey, I'm stuck at work until later. Can’t give you a ride, sorry.

Tara huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to reply and just placing her phone back. “Amber? Can you give me a ride home after class?”

The raven-haired girl hissed and grimaced, almost managing to sound apologetic even though Tara knew she didn't actually give a damn. “Sorry, T. I'm going to buy some stuff for the party on Saturday, so I can't.”

Maybe it was for the best. Tara always felt more attracted to Amber when they drove alone in her car, either because the conversations seemed more sincere or because the Freeman girl could be extremely attractive when she drove with only one hand on the wheel. If Tara was trying to get rid of this little crush on Amber, spending hours in a car alone with her might not be the best idea.

“It’s alright. I need to walk more anyway.” Tara shrugged, pretending not to be annoyed by the situation. Taking the school bus wasn't an option, because it would take twice the time as walking, and hitching a ride with any of her other friends would be either awkward or stressful.

So, after class was over, the younger Carpenter made her way home with her bag on her back and her headphones in her ears. It had been a while since she'd had to walk home, at least since Sam had come back from rehab, but at least it gave her time to catch up on her thoughts.

It took less than 20 minutes for her to get home, throwing her bag on the sofa carelessly and turning on the TV to fill the uncomfortable silence in her house. A rerun of an SNL episode was on and Tara hoped that the sound of the audience's laughter would make her feel a little better about the shitty day she'd had.

But then again, Tara couldn't remember having a completely good day ever since Sam had come back from rehab and had forced their mother into one as well, trying to help the woman with her drinking problem.

The girl went to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water, while in the living room, the audience laughed at some of Bowen Yang's skits. She had hoped that the cold water would relieve her negative feelings but it didn't do any good, because all Tara could feel was irritation.

Yes, she was annoyed that Sam couldn't pick her up. Yes, she was angry that her life had turned upside down ever since her sister had returned. Yes, she was pissed that she wanted to vent to someone, but she knew that her best friend wouldn't give a damn about being a good listener. Yes, she was enraged about having feelings for someone she knew would only break her heart

And GOD, how angry she was with herself for going along with this idiotic plan just to get one iota of Amber's approval. Tara felt ridiculous, even more so now that she knew that you were a nice and kind person, even if you were a bit closed off.

But the girl was wracked by conflicting feelings and she just wanted them to stop. She urgently needed a distraction, be it drinks, or a movie, or...

Or Amber was right and maybe Tara really did need to have a fling with someone to relieve her tension.

She wasn't thinking straight when she reached for her phone in her back pocket again, opening it straight to the Instagram app and finding her feed full of photos of people she followed, but she didn’t waste time on them as she was a woman on a mission. Tara leaned on the kitchen worktop, both elbows propped up as she searched for your name in the search bar.

The girl huffed when she found nothing on her first search and then decided to appeal to Mindy's profile, digging through the accounts she followed to try and find any that might refer to you.

Two minutes later, Tara came across an account called “pinceaudey/n”, which had a painting portrait as the profile picture. That's got to be it, she thought, wasting no time in opening the profile which, fortunately for her, was public. More laughter was heard from the TV, but this time Tara finally felt her mood change to something more positive.

The profile didn't seem to have any photos of you, but it was full of photos of paintings and other things related to art. Tara didn't linger on any of them. The less she connected with you, the easier it would be to have a hookup and leave, which was exactly what she needed. No more complications.

Still holding her phone, Tara crossed the kitchen to walk right back to the living room, looking in her bag for the item she had “accidentally” forgotten to return. She took the opportunity to look through the curtained windows, seeing that night was beginning to fall, darkening the streets and making Tara's heart race. She hated being alone at home and hoped that Sam's shift at the antique store wouldn't take much longer.

Finally she found the pen, just as Megan Thee Stallion began her performance as the show's musical guest. Tara held the object between her fingers and took a quick photo, sending it to your DM with a text. “Hey so i accidentally stole your pen lmao.” and then, ”I promise to give it back tomorrow.”

A few seconds had passed and you still hadn't seen it. It was alright, maybe you just had some better things to do other than stare at your phone, but for some reason, Tara couldn't stop herself from biting her nails in anxiety.

Maybe it was because it was late at night and she felt lonely, or maybe it was because she was in a particularly chatty mood that day, but without a second thought, her fingers typed out another message to keep the conversation flowing.

btw who do you think would win between Freddy and Leatherface?

As she waited for a reply with a small smile on her face and music playing from her TV, Tara finally felt less alone at home.

Maybe Amber was right. Maybe she needed a distraction.

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ghoulsbounty · 6 months ago

Note

Hi hi! I hope you're doing good!!

I have a fic request for all of Walton Goggins characters you write for from your request guidelines as a mini snapshot of each of them. (Length completely up to you)

I was watching The Shield...specifically S5 E3 - Jailbait @ 38:53 👀 where Shane (Walton) is enjoying a sexy time and the way he said "I'm gonna cum" has been swimming in my mind since lmaoo.

How would each of his characters dirty talk and tell their partner they're gonna orgasm (creampie preferably) ? 🥵🥵

Thank you so much for the amazing fics. I'm so happy to read each and every word you've written 🥹

Dirty Talk Headcanon

Summary: Things they say to you when they're about to cum.

Characters: Lee Russell, Wade Felton, Baby Billy Freeman, Boyd Crowder and Cooper Howard/The Ghoul.

Warnings: smut (18+), swearing, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, porn without plot, dirty talk, praise kink, cum eating, oral, degradation, control, pet names, multiple orgasms, light dumbification, mirror sex, light nipple play, light sub/dom, possessiveness, cumflation, squirting, slight corruption kink, humiliation, wet & messy, fingering, one small mention of a cheek (face) slap.

Word Count: approx 1k per character

A/N: I enjoyed writing this far too much! I wrote headcanons for dirty talk as a whole (hope that's okay) including orgasms + creampie 🥵Thank you for sending my first headcanon for all the Walton characters I currently write for! I'd love to do more (hint, hint)

Lee Russell - inside or outside the bedroom, he likes to degrade and insult you. will sprinkle in the odd pet name or backhanded praise. his neediness shows when he's about to cum. his favourite thing is the taste of you both together.

"Didn't I tell you I'd get my hands on you, one way or another?" Lee growled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. He shoved you further into the rough brick wall of the supply closet, the cold, unforgiving surface scraping painfully against your cheek. Each thrust was forceful, driving you deeper into the corner. Your body responded involuntarily, your cunt clenching tightly around him. The wet, lewd sounds of your bodies colliding echoed through the confined space, mingling with your panting breaths and his guttural moans.

"You slut," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he leaned back to gaze at the intimate junction of your bodies. "You're making such a fuckin' mess on my dick. You really have no shame, huh?" His eyes darkened with lust and a twisted sense of satisfaction. Your moans filled the air as his fingers circled your stretched and filled hole, collecting the slick juices there. Without warning, he brought his glistening fingers to your lips and pushed two digits inside, swirling them around your tongue. "Taste good, baby?" he taunted, his gaze never leaving yours, revelling in your submission.

He seized your chin between his wet fingers, pinching slightly as he brought your mouth to his, tasting you deeply. His tongue explored with a hunger that made you shiver. Drawing back, he savoured your essence on his lips, groaning in satisfaction. "Fuckin' delicious, my favourite taste," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He gave your cheek a light smack, the sound sharp in the confined space, before planting both hands flat against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. "But it'll be even better with both of us," he promised, his breath warm and heavy on your skin.

He pounded into you with relentless force, hissing into your ear as you tightened around him. "So hungry for me, aren't you?" he growled, his voice a dangerous rumble. His hips snapped with a brutal, unyielding rhythm, each thrust more powerful than the last. A whine escaped his throat when you ground back against him, matching his fast pace with your own desperate movements.

"You can act as angelic as you want out there," he continued, his tone dripping with a mix of lust and dominance, "but with me, you're just begging to be filled, aren't you?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, the truth in them igniting a fire within you. He dropped his hands from the wall and gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with unwavering intensity.

You felt yourself nearing the edge once more at his unfaltering pace. The combination of his relentless rhythm and the intoxicating dominance in his voice pushed you closer and closer to the brink. You could feel his breath hot against your ear, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Admit it," he demanded, his voice a seductive command. "Admit how much you love this, how much you need me."

When you did, he smiled smugly, his lips curling with sadistic satisfaction. One hand snaked down to your front, fingers dancing teasingly along your mound before circling your throbbing clit. You rutted against his thick digit, desperately seeking the friction. His grin widened against the skin of your shoulder, feeling your muscles quake beneath his touch.

"Let me have it," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a request but carrying the weight of direction. As you reached the peak of your climax, your body gushed around his shaft, your orgasm fierce and overwhelming. He continued to fuck you through it, his thrusts unrelenting, driving you deeper into ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, whispering against your skin, "Always cum so hard for me, don't you? You filthy whore. Fuck, I love it." His words sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to the combination of his rough thrusts, degrading praise and soft kisses.

Your ass clapped loudly against his thighs as he slammed your limp body back onto his cock, his grip now firm on your hip. His hips stuttered, breath catching in his throat before he thrust into you one final time. White spurts of hot cum painted your walls and spilled from you, a primal groan escaping his lips. "F-fuck, that's it, take everything I'm giving you. Look at this greedy fuckin' cunt," he cursed under his breath, mesmerized by the sight of your mixed fluids dripping down his length.

When he had emptied himself completely inside you, he dropped to his knees, spreading your cheeks apart with his fingers. He dived between your messy folds, licking and sucking at the creamy mixture. His moans vibrated against you as he cleaned you thoroughly, his tongue delving into every crevice, savouring the taste of your combined releases.

Your body trembled, the profound sensation of his mouth working you over, driving you wild. You couldn't help but grind against his face, your movements becoming more desperate as he brought you closer to another peak. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly in place as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue.

The pleasure was overwhelming, building rapidly until you tipped over the edge into another intense orgasm. Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as waves of ecstasy crashed through you. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last shudder and twitch of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body felt utterly spent and sated. He rose to his feet, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and pride as he looked down at you. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing a tender kiss against your forehead. "Now get out."

Wade Felton - more of a sweet talker than a dirty talker. gives lots of praise, and likes reassurance that he's doing things right. sounds desperate when he cums.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," Wade sighed against your neck, his breath warm and heavy as he pressed tender kisses along your skin. Each thrust was slow and deliberate, his movements drawing out every ounce of pleasure. Your thighs were hooked into the crooks of his arms, giving him leverage to push them higher, allowing him to bury his length even deeper inside you.

Your whimpers filled the room, the sound mingling with the soft slap of skin against skin. Your body trembled beneath him, responding to his careful, intoxicating rhythm. His touch was both gentle and strong, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he moved within you.

"You're taking me so well," he murmured, his voice a low, sensual growl. "Stretching so pretty on my cock. Do you feel good, baby?" His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of lust and tenderness, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

Every movement was deliberate, each thrust designed to heighten your bliss and deepen the connection between you. The room was filled with the scent of your mingled arousal, the air thick with the heat of your passion. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me how good it feels," he whispered, his voice vibrating through you. His eyes never left yours, his expression one of adoration and desire. The rhythm of his hips was steady and unyielding, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

When you told him, he smiled against you, his lips brushing your ear. "I love hearing that," he said softly, his pace quickening slightly as he felt you tighten around him. "You have no idea how much."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying the sensations you felt deep within your core. His thrusts became more insistent, each one driving deeper and harder, pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin with in a blend of tenderness and desperation.

"I need you," he groaned, his hips snapping with increasing urgency. "I need you so much. You make me feel so damn good."

Your body responded to his every word and touch, your muscles clenching around him as the pressure built. His name escaped your lips in a desperate plea, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

You keen under his praise, your walls clenching in response, and his eyes brightened at the sensation of you tightening around him. "Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?" he murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you with admiration. When you giggled, his eyes widened, and his hips stuttered as he groaned at the feel of you vibrating around him. Both the sound and feel of your laughter seemed to ignite something within him.

His hips picked up their pace, rutting into you with renewed strength. You trembled around him, your moans filling the space, each one spurring him on. Your hands grasped his forearm for purchase, feeling the strength and solidity of his muscles as he drove into you. The rhythm of his thrusts grew more fervent, each movement fuelled by a mix of passion and desire.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his voice rough with need. The way your body responded to him, the way you took him so well, drove him wild. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same vigor as his hips moved against yours.

Your moans were muffled by the kiss, your body arching into his as he continued to thrust into you with relentless precision. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building toward an inevitable crescendo. The connection between you was electric, each touch and sound amplifying the other's desire.

His forearm, solid and reassuring, flexed under your grasp, the muscles taut as he pressed your thigh almost flat to the mattress. His other hand gripped the headboard above you, knuckles white with the force of his hold. "You're incredible," he breathed against your lips, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I can't get enough of you."

"Come for me, darlin'," he begged, his voice a low growl, pace becoming almost frantic. "I need to feel you."

The urgency in his tone, combined with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, pushed you to the brink. With a final, powerful thrust, you came undone around him, your body convulsing and leaving you breathless. His eyes dropped to your hungry cunt as you creamed around him. The sight of the thick white ring of your release coating his shaft had him pulsing inside you, the visual driving him to the brink. His breath hitched, and his hips stuttered as he struggled to maintain his rhythm.

"Shit, I'm..." he groaned, his voice breaking with the effort. His thrusts became erratic, each one sending shockwaves through your body. The sensation of your walls milking him was too much, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you with a force that made you cry out. "I'm cumming," he panted desperately. "I'm cumming, baby, oh fuck."

Hot spurts of thick cum filled you, his body shuddering with each release. He held you close, his forehead pressed against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. The passion of the moment left both of you breathless and his hands gently caressed your skin, grounding both of you as the aftershocks of your climax slowly faded away.

Baby Billy - heavily into praise and encouragement, but with a filthy mouth. the star of his own show - tell him how he makes you feel and pander to that ego. doesn't like to waste a drop.

"That's it, you ride that dick now," he said, his arms stretched along the back of the couch, eyes locked on you as you bounced above him. Your fingers dug into the shoulders of his expensive suit, desperate for purchase as your pace became increasingly sloppy. The familiar surge of heat spread through your body, signalling the approach of your climax.

Your movements became frantic, grinding down on the thick length that filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your voice a sweet blend of desperation and ecstasy. As the waves of your orgasm rolled through you, you threw your head back, lost in the intensity of the moment. His hands gripped your hips, helping you ride out the last tremors of your release, his gaze filled with pride and lust as he watched you fall apart above him.

A sly grin tugged at his lips, at the feel of your cunt trying to milk him. "That's my girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you soak his lap. "Baby Billy made you feel good on his ol' dick, huh? Go on, you can tell me."

You nodded, eyes glazed and mouth agape as you dropped into the crook of his shoulder. He kissed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine as your cunt spasmed around him. "That's what I thought, always making you feel good," he murmured, his voice filled with gratification. He secured your arms around his neck, his grip on the flesh of your hips tightening. "Hold on now," he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

With a firm grip, he began to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one making you gasp as he fucked up into you. You whined against him, your body trembling under his control. He lifted you off his length only to slam you back down to meet him at a relentless pace, his surprising strength and rhythm driving you wild.

Your cries grew louder when he encased one of your nipples in his mouth, his hot tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking hard. The feeling was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, pulling slightly as you sought any anchor in the storm of sensation. He didn't scold you for messing up his perfect style, too engrossed in the act of devouring you with his mouth and body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared bliss: his low grunts, your high-pitched moans, the wet slap of your bodies coming together. Each thrust, each suck, each flick of his tongue brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and straining against him as you spiralled toward another orgasm.

His mouth left your nipple with a pop, and he drew you back to look at him with a grin. "You giving me another one? Baby Billy got you all worked up, huh?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and desire.

His hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing as he admired the way you trembled above him. The connection between you was electric, every touch and glance charged with passion. He resumed his deep, powerful thrusts, each one hitting just the right spot to send a thrill coursing through you.

"Making me feel good, now," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Ain't nothin' better than this right here." His words spurred you on, driving you to move faster, to ride him harder. You could feel the tension building again, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap.

"Come on, angel, I know you've got it in you," he urged, his hands gripping your hips to help guide your movements. The combination of his thrusts and his words pushed you over the edge, and with a cry of ecstasy, you came again, your body clenching and spasming around him.

"That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl as his hips began to stutter. "Oh, here it is," he said, chest heaving as he threw his head back. "I'm cumming, angel, here I cum," he cried, his release following yours as he buried himself deep inside you. He groaned with satisfaction, the sound primal and raw, as he painted your walls with ropes of hot white cum.

The ferocity of his climax made his entire body tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of his release sent shivers down his spine as he stayed buried deep within you, savouring the feeling of your bodies entwined and the warmth spreading between you.

"That's it, sweet girl," he cooed into your ear, his voice shifting from the earlier growl to a tender murmur. The contrast made your heart flutter, the softness of his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You collapsed against him, your body spent and trembling, every muscle relaxed in the aftermath of your intense release.

He pushed you back gently, pulling out with a hiss. "Let Baby Billy see it now," he instructed, and you whined as your cunt gaped, clenching around nothing. His cum leaked out of you, dripping down your thigh and making a mess of his dick. He watched intently, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Taking two fingers, he ran them up your thigh, collecting the dripping cum before stuffing them back into your cunt to the hilt. "There you go, angel," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he watched your body react to his touch. His fingers moved inside you with a practiced rhythm, ensuring none of his cum was wasted. "Don't waste a precious drop."

Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers filling you again. The rawness of his actions left you breathless. He looked up at you, his grin wide. "That's my good girl," he praised, his other hand caressing your thigh. "You take it all so well."

Boyd Crowder - praise, praise, praise! worships the ground you walk on. possessive (will take out the entirety of harlan county for you.) likes to watch you both together.

"Open your eyes," Boyd whispered, his breath hot on your ear. "I want you to see yourself. Just about the best damn thing I ever laid my eyes on," he cooed, his fingers gripping your thighs harder to urge you. When your eyes fluttered open, your breath caught in your throat.

You saw yourself, spread open and exposed on his lap, your back pressed against his chest as his hands held you open and his cock stuffed you full. The chair he sat on creaked under your combined weight as he adjusted himself, slipping further into you until his balls were pressed snugly against your ass. The sight was intoxicating, your bodies joined so intimately, every inch of him buried inside you.

Your gaze caught his over your shoulder in the rustic, floor-length mirror, and he gave a wicked grin. The reflection showed everything—the way his strong, tattooed arms enveloped you, the way your bodies moved together. His eyes were dark with desire, and the possessive gleam in them made your pulse quicken.

"Look how perfect you are," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through to your core. His hands shifted, one moving to play with your clit while the other kept a firm hold on your thigh, keeping you spread open. The combination of his touch and the sight of your intertwined bodies in the mirror sent waves of desire crashing over you.

"Feel that?" he asked, his tone both teasing and reverent as he pressed deeper, eliciting a moan from you. "That's all me, filling you up, making you mine." His hips began to move again, the rhythm slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to draw out your pleasure and make you feel every inch of him.

The sounds of your shared delight, the creaking of the chair, and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your bodies echoed in the room, creating a symphony of passion. As your eyes met his in the mirror once more, you saw the reflection of two people completely lost in each other, bound by the rawness of the moment.

You placed one hand over his, guiding his movements on your clit, while the other snaked around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. He groaned, turning his head to press a hot kiss just below your ear. "Do you like seeing us, baby? Watching yourself come undone on my cock?" He whispered, his voice deep and husky. "Fuck, I love it," he groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.

The sensation of his fingers on your clit, combined with the sight of your bodies in the mirror, sent heat burning through you. Your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips trailed along your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge.

"You look so perfect like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with both admiration and need. "Damn, I love being inside of you." His hips moved with a deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and powerful, making you feel every inch of him. The chair creaked beneath you, adding to the symphony of sounds that filled the room.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your bliss heightened by the mirror's reflection. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you deepening with every shared glance and touch. "I want you to remember this," he said, his voice a mix of command and desire. "Remember how good we are together. Don't you forget it."

As your climax approached, the pressure of his fingers on your clit and the relentless thrusts of his hips became almost too much to bear. Your breath hitched, your body trembling with the anticipation of release. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice a growl in your ear. "Watch yourself cum all over me." With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you spiralling over the edge. Your body convulsed in his arms, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as watched yourself fall apart around him.

The feel of you clenching down on him had Boyd panting, and seconds later he was whimpering against your neck. "Damn, I'm close," he said, his voice breaking with desperation as he rutted up into you. The raw need in his voice made your heart race. "You make me feel so good, baby," he continued, his words a mix of admiration and urgency.

Eyes still fixed on the mirror, your head fell back against his shoulder, your body going limp as you surrendered completely to him. Both his hands now gripped your thighs with bruising ferocity, holding you in place as he drove into you with a relentless rhythm. Each thrust was accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, lewd noises filling the room and burning your cheeks.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word drawn out and guttural. His breath was hot against your ear, his chest heaving with effort. "Damn, baby," he cried, his voice strained and desperate. The feel of his cock swelling inside you, the frantic pace of his hips, and the way his entire body seemed to shudder with impending release all combined to push you further into bliss.

He buried himself deep inside you with a final, powerful thrust, his body convulsing as he came. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he cried out, his voice breaking. You felt the hot spurts of his release filling you, mixing with your own arousal.

As he rode out his orgasm, his hands moved to caress your body, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. He held you close, his forehead resting against the side of your head, both of you trembling from the intensity of the experience. Your eyes met in the mirror, both of you sharing a satisfied smile as he remained buried inside your swollen cunt, keeping his seed there.

The connection between you was palpable, a silent understanding passing between you as you basked in the afterglow. The mirror reflected your entwined bodies, the evidence of your shared passion glistening on your skin. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses there, his breath warm and comforting.

"Look at us," he murmured, his voice soft and full of wonder. "So perfect together." His fingers continued to trace lazy patterns along your hips and thighs, each touch grounding you further in the moment.

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul - very possessive. teasing/light degradation. praises you for a job well done. his clothes stay on. loves to fill you until he's spilling out.

"You want another one?" he laughed teasingly, looking down at your fucked-out eyes as you trembled beneath him. "I don't think you have it in you, but you're so desperate," he taunted, his own eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and raw desire.

Cooper's gaze trailed to your cunt where he continued to fuck his load into you, white cum drooling from you as he filled you again and again. The sight of his cum spilling out and mixing with your own juices only seemed to spur him on. He revelled in the intense pleasure of filling you to the brim, knowing that he was overwhelming your senses, his cock and his load too much for you to contain. His thrusts remained deep and relentless, each one pushing more of his seed inside you.

"You’re so greedy for it, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Taking everything I give you." His words shot through to your core, your body trembling and on the edge once more despite your exhaustion. His hands gripped your hips painfully, holding you in place as he drove into you with unwavering ferocity.

His teasing laughter filled the shelter. "Look at you," he said, awe and possession in his voice. "You're a mess. You should be ashamed, letting a man like me do this to you." As he continued to move inside you, the heat built again, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and thrust, ready to give him yet another orgasm.

The lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy echoed through the room as he pounded into you, his grunts and moans joining in as you contracted around him. His hand reached down to your clit, pressing a gloved finger hard against the swollen bud. The rough texture sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you.

Your eyes widened, hips rutting against his own in desperate response. The harsh fabric of his clothed body rubbed against your naked skin, the friction intensifying the heat between you. The sensation was a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, pushing you over the edge as your orgasm tore through you.

Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as ecstasy overtook you. The spasms of your cunt squeezing around his dick made him groan loudly, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he chased his own release. He didn't let up on your clit, the relentless pressure driving you wild.

"Atta girl," he cooed, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Let it all out." Your cries filled the air, your body arching against him as waves of satisfaction crashed over you and he watched as your pussy gaped and gushed around him once more. A primal look flickered in his eyes, and a crooked smile spread across his handsome face as he buried himself deeper inside you. "Gonna keep you full," he promised, his voice a low, possessive growl.

Cooper's thrusts became slow and deliberate, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. His hand pressed against your lower abdomen, feeling the slight bulge where he was buried deep inside you. "You take me so well," he murmured, pride and desire burning in his eyes. "A real vision," he sighed, pushing further into you.

He wanted to leave no doubt that you belonged to him, that he could push you to the brink and bring you back again and again. The feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly claimed, sent waves of ecstasy through you.

"Doing good, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening slightly as he leaned in to kiss you. The contrast between his tender words and his rough actions made the moment even more intoxicating. "Gonna keep you full and satisfied," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours as he worked himself towards his release.

His hand tightened on your hips, ensuring you took every inch of him as he continued to thrust with unrelenting fervour. Your tits bounced with each movement, your mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy. The sight of your body responding to him, of your cunt clenching and dripping around his dick, drove him to push harder, deeper.

"You gonna take it?" he panted, his thrusts becoming desperate. You nodded, whimpering as you bit down on your lip. "Fuck, take it. Take my cum," he moaned, his voice thick with lust.

His cock pulsed inside you, releasing hot spurts against your walls. The sensation was staggering, the warmth spreading through you as it overflowed, mixing with his previous load and your juices. You felt overstimulated and full, and you watched Cooper as he gazed at the slight bloat of your stomach, his eyes filled with primal satisfaction at the sight of you so thoroughly filled with his cock and seed.

His hand moved to rest on your belly, gently pressing down as if to emphasize the fullness. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice a heady blend of awe and possessiveness. "So full of me."

The combined fluids soaked both of you as they trickled out, creating a slick, messy connection between you. His hands caressed your hips, fingers trailing along your skin, smearing the wetness as he admired the aftermath of you together.

He steadied himself above you, his breaths ragged and uneven. The heat of his body pressed against yours, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin. His eyes remained locked on yours, filled with pride.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softening as he leaned down to kiss you gently. "Completely mine." His hands roamed your body, soothing and comforting as you both came down from the high.

#lee russell x reader #lee russell smut #boyd crowder x reader #boyd crowder smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #baby billy x reader #uncle baby billy smut #uncle baby billy x reader #wade felton x reader #wade felton smut #dirty talk #headcanon #walton goggins #walton goggins x reader #fallout smut

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ashen-char · 7 months ago

Text

so unfair

ship: amber freeman (scream) x fem reader

warnings: mentions of sex and underage (at least in america, where it's 21) drinking/clubbing

summary: drunk you thinks the way amber takes care of you is unfair if she doesn't let you do the same.

word count: 1500+

notes: amber taking care of drunk fem reader, as requested here <3

Hazy. The club is a blur of neon lights and pounding bass - the smoke machine misting everything and messing up your field of vision. You can barely see in front of you. All that matters is Amber anyways. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, her perfume, and that sweet smoky haze that makes everything feel like a dream.

Each beat vibrates through the floor and into your bones. Bodies are everywhere, a sea of movement, pulsing and swaying like a single, living entity. Every sensation feels fuzzy. Everything except Amber and the way she moves with you. The way she feels as your hands slide along her body.

You've been downing shots without a second thought all night. Amber had warned you to slow down - this wasn't her house, where you two could get sloshed without any consequence except her parents scolding you about getting into the liquor cabinet again. But you were having too much fun. The liquid fire burning down your throat was sweet, and thinking of consequences seemed absurd when you were with her. With Amber, things just went right. Felt right.

Some stranger bumps against you, messing up your rhythm as you were swaying with her. No biggie, and you can barely hear their slew of apologies. A giggle pours out of you. "No, no, it's alright," you tell them.

You can barely get the words out before you hear "get your hands off my girlfriend" from behind you. Amber's arm goes around your waist and you're sure she's giving this poor club goer a death glare. She's good at that.

"Don't be like that, Ams, it's not like they shoved me," you defend.

Your cheeks are flushed, you can tell because everything feels hotter, and it's probably half the drink and half embarrassment as the stranger walks off terrified of your girlfriend. She doesn't have to do this every time. You can take care of yourself. So you tell her as much. Or try, at least, your words are all jumbled in your drunken exasperation.

Amber rolls her eyes. "Uh huh." Hands going on your hips, you feel yourself being ushered away from the crowd. And look, you don't hate having a pretty girl's hands all over you but you'd be okay if she was a little less protective. Just a bit.

"People dance. They get bumped into. It's fine. I'm fine!" To prove your point, you pull your hand back from how she's dragging you. You can walk for yourself, thank you very much, and can follow her just fine. "See, no broken bones."

The stairs down to the club's bathroom is a little tricky, so you cling to the railing, glaring when Amber wraps her arm around you instead. It's when she presses a kiss to your hair that you melt into her hold.

When Amber closes the bathroom door behind the two of you, the music is muffled. That fuzzy feeling remains, but it's quieter too. You see her grabbing wads of the toilet paper, cussing out the club for only having 'shitty one ply'. When Amber comes back over and tells you to get up onto the sink, you gasp.

"Here?" you ask, looking over to the door. Biting your lip, you weigh up the pros and cons of a bathroom quickie. "Someone could walk in..."

But oh well. You're up for some fun, especially when it involves your Amber. Leaning forward, you dig your thumbs into Amber's waistband, ready to tug it down and have at her. Mm. The taste of her on your tongue sounds even more delicious than the shots you downed, and you hope it'll go down as smoothly.

"God, you're a mess, babygirl." Amber sounds both exasperated and affectionate, both of which make you pout. Especially when she's grabbing your hands and taking them away from your attempts to unclothe her. "Not that I'm not flattered by the offer, but that can wait until later. Probably when you're more sober." Your pout deepens. It makes Amber laugh, and she kisses it away. "I'm just gonna clean you up. So get on there, now."

"Well, that's less fun," you whisper to yourself.

Palms on the sink countertop, you hike yourself up until you can sit comfortably. Curious eyes watch as Amber methodically wets a wad of tissues, dabbing it against your side, then does the same with a dry tissue. You didn't even realise that a drink had splashed on you when you bumped into someone. Whoops.

"Hanging with me isn't fun?" Amber asks. If you were sober, you could glean her sarcastic tone a mile away. But your mind's looser right now. Thinking less and saying more.

"I'm having a great time," you correct. "You know that. I have the most fun when I'm with you. Because of you."

"Uh huh."

She's cute when she's serious. Hell, she's cute all the time. Amber's got these pretty brown eyes that go all big and sweet only when she's looking at you. You, or some particularly gorey scene in whatever horror flick she's watching, but it's sweeter when it's you. Your drunk brain tells you that you should tell her.

"You're adorable."

"Yuck." Amber's nose scrunches up in distaste, because that's certainly not a word she'd like to associate with herself, but she's focusing on cleaning you up. She throws the tissues to the nearby bin before starting the process over again. "You sure you're not talking about yourself, cutie?"

Those eyes fix on yours. You think you could melt into a pile of goo when you're looking into them. That familiar fuzz from before intensifies, concentrating in your chest rather than your brain. Loving Amber can feel like radio static, like you have no words to say except for her name over and over. Your similes aren't even making any sense.

"Positive," you say, popping the 'p'. You grin when that makes her smile.

You wish sometimes that she could take the compliment as well as she dishes them out to you. You wish she'd see herself the way you do. Not as some tough protector whose only merit is to save you, but as Amber. Pure and simple. You wish she knew how cute and sweet she is in the simple moments, that she doesn't have to try so hard to keep your eyes on her. Maybe when you were sober enough to string those words and complicated feelings together.

When she's all done with wiping you off, and satisfied that your clothes won't stain or stink of alcohol, Amber helps you off of the counter. You let her pull you flush against her front, a sigh escaping your lips at the feel of her body holding yours. She smells good. And her chest is soft against yours. With the amount of shots coursing through your body, it's tempting to rest against her. Amber is your favourite pillow, be that in the afterglow after a satisfying hook up or in the peace of her cuddles.

"I wasn't pulling you into a hug, baby," she says, "I was trying to get you to the hand dryer."

"Oh." Amber's too comfortable for her own good. You squeeze her tight before letting go, just cause you can. "Yeah, I knew that."

Standing under the heat of the hand dryer, your girlfriend supporting your weight, you wonder what this night would've been like without her. You wouldn't have been as comfortable on the dance floor, you wouldn't have let yourself drink this much. You get playfully annoyed at her for it, but Amber's protectiveness is why you let yourself get so sloppy. Amber is the reason you can let go. You trust her.

You wonder if she trusts you too. She should. You'd do anything for her.

"I get to think you're cute if you think I'm cute." And-" a hiccup, "I get to take care of you if you take care of me."

Amber laughs. She thinks this is some random drunken thought. "What are you-"

"No, shhhh." Your finger comes up and presses against those full lips that you adore kissing. "Let me love you. Let me say this."

Amber sighs. "Alright, baby. Whatever you want." Her hand goes to your hip, thumb going to rub slow circles as she waits for your words.

You want to tell her that she doesn't have to tell strangers to back off because your eyes are only ever on her. You want to say that she can let go and have fun too, because you've got her back. That you cherish her. That she doesn't have to be tough all the time, not around you at least.

The hand dryer stops. You pat the once-wet spot on your clothes, satisfied at the dry feeling after Amber's efforts. When you look up, the words that were going to escape your mouth stop. She's so close, her eyes focused on you as she tucks a wayward strand behind your ear, finger grazing your skin so lightly. Amber takes such good care of you without even needing to be asked.

So you smile, and instead you say "thank you, Ams" and "I'll take care of you too, when you need me."

"I already knew that, baby."

Amber lays a kiss on your lips and it tastes better than any alcohol.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #requested

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walkingstackofbooks · 8 months ago

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The Garashir wedding: Lower Decks style

Mariner's called into her mom's office. Freeman informs her that something very special but currently classified is going to be happening in the next week, and she knows Mariner is going on leave tomorrow, but she might want to consider postponing it. Mariner declines - "Nah, my thing is more important".

Mariner and Rutherford are left at the space station to go on leave. It transpires that Mariner has been invited to Julian's wedding, and taking Rutherford as her plus one because Julian Bashir is one of his heroes. (augment-cyborg solidarity, anyone?)

Boimler, Tendi and T'Lyn are all trying to find out what the mission they're being sent on is. Boimler reports that Shakx seems pretty unhappy. Tendi suggests it's just because T'Ana has apparently discovered a drink she prefers more than Bajoran springwine.

Mariner and Rutherford encounter Hijinks and Troubles as they try to hitchhike their way to the wedding.

Freeman is stressing over what to wear for the occasion and has dragged Ransom in. Dress uniform, obviously, but can she get away with accessorising a little? And if so, how? She doesn't want to be a regular Starfleet officer, she wants to be a cool Starfleet officer. ("I literally cannot help you I don't even know what we're doing because you STILL haven't TOLD me." "It's classified." "You told Shakx!" "Have you tried keeping a secret from Shakx? He's terrifying!" "I can be terrifying!" "Nice try, Jack... Is a scarf too much do you think?")

Mariner and Rutherford have managed to trade his engineering abilities in exchange for passage on a merchant ship. Unfortunately, he is too good, and the ship now want to keep him.

Boimler is on navigation. They're approaching their destination but Freeman still wants the information to be known only to Bridge crew for as long as possible. (Boimler: "But what are we doing on--" Freeman: "Shh. Even the walls have ears, you know.")

The merchant ship have arrived and reluctantly agree to let Mariner and Rutherford go. They change into their fancy wedding stuff ready to be transported down. They are in the middle of a desert. "Screw you!" Mariner shouts uselessly at the sky.

Boimler is in the mess with Tendi and T'Lyn. Boimler is sweating profusely and tapping anxiously on the table. He cannot keep a secret this big. Tendi looks at him curiously. "Why do you keep tapping out "Cardassia" in Morse Code?" she asks, just at the moment when the room has gone silent. All eyes are on Boimler.

Mariner and Rutherford are hot, sweaty, bedraggled and exhausted. The doorkeeper reluctantly lets them in. "It's just started," he says. They sit down quietly in the back. Rutherford think his UT is playing up. "Did they just wish them many happy arguments?" he whispers.

Captain Freeman is nervously playing with her red scarf. "I wouldn't wear that if I were you," Ransom says. "I hear his reputation is quite formidable." Someone gestures that she's up.

We see her begin to walk out, and begin the "Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all shipmasters have had one happy privilege..." speech. The happy couple have their backs to us, and are silhouetted.

The camera zooms further back, and we are now at the back of the building. "Mom?" Mariner whispers to Rutherford.

We finally get to see the couple's faces as the camera pans back to Freeman and looks over her shoulder. Julian and Garak are facing each other. "...Of course, the legal part of this marriage has just been taken care of by the Cardassians -- but it is my privilege to bring this very human tradition to a Cardassian wedding ceremony and tell you that, Julian, you may kiss your husband."

Garak and Julian smile at each other, but the camera cuts away to the crowd. Federation guests are clapping and cheering; the Cardassians tend to be trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else in their vicinity.

We cut to the reception. Mariner's asking Julian "It all seemed so... Federation? Even the Cardassian bit?" Julian shrugs. "When you end up making every compromise in the book in the name of interstellar relations, it turns out all you get is a nondescript, bureaucratic service." He winks. "This is going to be when the fun starts."

Garak is complimenting Freeman on her scarf, and we can see in her face that she is totally lording it over Jack. Garak returns to his husband. "But you hated that scarf?" whispers Julian. "The things I do for diplomacy," replied Garak sorrowfully.

T'Ana is downing Kanar like it's nothing in the background to Shakx's distinct disapproval.

Mariner's managed to sneak Boimler, Tendi and T'Lyn into the party. "I can't believe we could have just come on the Cerritos," she moans, "but anyway, go wild."

Of course, her deeply uncool friends go wild by fangirling over their DS9 idols. At the end of that montage, Rutherford finally gets the chance to say "Thankyouforallyou'vedonefortheaugmentcommunityDoctorBashir". It's sweet.

Aaand endings are hard so sorry, I don't have one to neatly wrap this all up 😅 I will leave it to your wonderful imaginations.

#Lower decks #Garashir #Garashir wedding #Beckett Mariner #Julian Bashir #Elim Garak #Captain Freeman #Samanthan Rutherford #post-Canon Cardassia #BYOE fic (bring your own ending)#This episode does actually just exist in my head now XD #I feel like I could write it better but eh this is fine and fun #Andi Writes #my trek musings #wsb

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jazzsonly · 1 year ago

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౨ৎ blurb. ౨ৎ

ʜᴜɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴜ

pairing(s): amber freeman x g!p!reader

warning(s): no pronouns used. smut. blowjob. making out. recording. mentions of onlyfans. use of shaft and length. not too detailed or long bc it’s a blurb. (deal with it.) probably the worst thing you’ve ever read tbh.

summary: ❝ shut your mouth, i’m recording. ❞

inspired by.

────────✬────────

amber was touchy, it’s just who she was…especially with you. anyone who was with you in a room for more than a minute could pick up on this. the way she always jumped on you in excitement, her legs wrapped around your waist and her arms around your neck, while your hands rested under her thighs.

or the way she sat on your lap when you’re in the quad with core four. when she insisted on plucking your eyebrows, straddling you as you sat on the couch, legs settled on either side of you.

it was just normal for you two, and normal for anyone else around. as normal as it was, it was hard for you (no pun intended) to stay contained because amber was a pretty girl, a very pretty girl and you sometimes found it difficult to stay contained with her on your lap. it wasn’t just the fact that she was on your lap but that she was on your lap in the shortest mini skirt or the shortest biker shorts.

and she could never sit still, always making it a point to move her hips, rocking back and forth on you. claiming she were ‘trying to get comfortable.’ you just prayed to whatever in the sky that she couldn’t feel your hard-on when she was on your lap.

“you know…i’ve been thinking about doing onlyfans,” your eyes widen at amber’s statement.

it had been a lonely saturday, just you and amber at the apartment while the others went out for laser tag. you had been pretty worn at from work the day before so you decided to stay in and watch movies, amber claiming to be worn out too and offering to join you.

you were both on the couch, you arms stretched out and rested, legs opened in a manspread position. all while amber’s head rested in your lap.

“why would you need to do onlyfans?”

“ehh, just some extra cash. plus, our rent might go up.”

you clear your throat, swatting away the thoughts of the things amber would do for onlyfans. “why not just pick up extra shifts?”

“it’ll be no good, they cut my hours anyway cause the new hire.”

“well, whatever you’re comfortable with…i’ll support.”

the girl smirks, “you’ll support?”

“n—not like that, i meant—like i won’t judge you or be weird about.”

“so,” she pauses to sit up, looking at you more clearly. “you wouldn’t tune in?”

“wouldn’t that be weird?”

“no weirder than how you get hard every time i sit on your lap.”

your eyes widen and a nervous cough leaked out, “amber i—“

“relax,” she moves her position again, straddling your lap. “i like it. i like you.”

“you like me?”

“uh huh, and i want to make my first video with you.”

there were invisible question marks over your head. was this really happening?

“yo—you do?” amber smirks, she loved the affect she had on you. you were so nervous and lost in this moment. it turned her on.

she leans forward, her hand in the middle of your chest to steady herself, “i want you inside of my mouth.”

“amber, are you—i mean, i don’t want to mess up our friendship…plus, i’ve never done this before.”

“i’ll guide you…so, are you in or what?”

your bottom lip stuck between your teeth and your chewed on it in nervousness, of course you wanted to do it but what the fuck?

“you won’t even have to show your face, the camera will only come to your waist and i’ll be on my knees.”

you exhaled deeply, looking up at the girl, “ok.”

“yay!” she kisses your cheek in excitement before jumping up, she ran to her room to get the tripod and her phone.

your leg bounces rapidly, while she sets up the equipment near the coffee table.

“relax,” she hand comes down on your thigh to stop it from shaking. “you wanna kiss me first? help it be less nerve wrecking for you?”

you hesitantly nod, licking your lips.

the freeman places her other hand on your other thigh, steadying herself as she leans forward, running her tongue across your bottom lip. she can’t help but smirk at the hitch of breath you let out at her actions, she pushes forward, her lips pressing against yours and locking with them.

her seductive aura took over you, intoxicating you. as you start to relax, you get more comfortable and let you tongue run against her lips this time and she immediately opens her mouth, pressing her tongue against yours, letting you taste her.

her minty strawberry breath was now mixed with yours. her tongue rolls against yours, fighting a fight that she already won. and to dismay she pulls away, slowly.

her eyes study your face, your eyes still closed, lips still puckered and you lean forward into her, wanting more.

“mhm, ok stand up so i can line the camera up with your waist.”

easily, you comply to her demand, moving around the coffee table, you stand next to the tripod that held her phone and she slid down to her knees in front of you adjust the camera’s view.

you couldn’t help but look away in embarrassment, knowing your hard-on was showing through your sweatpants—the same sweatpants amber leans up and kisses the hem of.

“amber are you su—“

“shh, i’m recording.”

you tongue flys to the roof of your mouth, cutting your words off.

“look at me.” she softly demands and reluctantly you let your eyes meet her dark doe ones, that gracefully put you in a trance of obedience.

her nails run against your smooth waist before she hooks her fingers in the hem of your sweats and let them drop down to your ankle, her eyes going back and forth, from your eyes to very noticeable print that now showed through your plaid fruit of the loom boxers.

a content smile takes over as she runs her fingers across the seven and a half inches, feeling the slight veins.

if it wasn’t clear to her, it was clear to you that your body was on fire with a desire that grew more and more with each slight movement of your roommates.

taking you by surprise, the girl swiftly hooks her fingers into your boxers this time, letting them also drop your ankles, you length stood tall, whipping out, hitting her in the cheek softly.

“so big,” she utters straight into your eyes and somehow, if even possible you grew even more aroused.

you push your tongue slightly between your teeth and bite down softly when she grabs your base firmly, wasting no time to lick the tip. her salvia wet and moist on you, bringing you soft sensations.

she bobs her head down, only taking the tip into her mouth which caused you to lowly groan.

you had a few girlfriends in the past and though you didn’t go all the way, you’d gotten head before but not like this, not like amber. her movements were so precise, your pleasure was her’s and she wanted to make sure it was just right.

with a pop, she let you fall from her mouth, taking the left over spit and using it as lube to move her hand up and down your shaft, she had a tight grip and she twists when she comes to the base, going up and down with the same movements.

“fuck, amber.”

“mhm, feels good? tell me how good it feels, y/n.”

subconsciously, without any embarrassment you let out the pleasure. “it feels so good, amb. so good.”

she hums in satisfaction, taking you into her o shaped mouth once more, this time going deeper then just the tip. she bops her head up and down, eyes still locked on your half closed ones.

once again, amber studied you. the way you fell apart in her hands (and mouth), the way your head slightly threw back, and low curses feel from your mouth followed with an occasional ‘amb.’

she’d been wanting this moment for a long time and she finally got it.

making it a point to pleasure you, to send you over the edge, amber sucks air in through her nose and prepares to take all of you into her mouth, deepthroating you.

“oh fuck!” music to amber’s ears.

“amb, i’m so close! don’t stop!” without even knowing it, your fingers lace in the girls hair and grip tightly as you move her head just the way you want.

her eyes watery and her breath shortened, she let you do whatever you wanted.

once you feel that familiar pit in your stomach, you tug her hair and release yourself from her mouth, letting your cum squirt on her face without warning, but of course the freeman didn’t mind.

━━━ 👩🏽‍💻 a gift for all my beautiful, sexy, silly babygirls.

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transcarcinization · 8 months ago

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*waves hands* eclipses. you knwo

sources under cut

Quotes:

"On that day, many hopeless romantics became destined to a lifetime of searching for signals in the gamma-ray sky", A History of Dark Matter

"Do you have a human soul and can you prove it?", The long and short of it, Richard Siken

"Dear God / It is great the way you always get the stars in the right places." Children's Letters to God, Stuart Hample

"Things are similar- this makes science possible. Things are different- this makes science necessary." the dialectical biologist, Richard Levins & Richard Lewontin

"Hinc Itur Ad Astra", translates as "from here the way leads to the stars". Motto of Vilnius University

"Amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got", Eulogy from a Physicist, Aaron Freeman

"I know that / intimacy is not a clean thing; / it is difficult like this—covert / and common. Bare, as it should be: / someone says I want the mess in you / and you give it to them", Heed the Hollow, Malcolm Tariq

"For all I know, maybe everyone is screaming / as they go through life, silently," Don’t Tell Anyone, Tony Hoagland

"KL: Your honor I am here for a refresh. A renewal of self. I consider this act to be a poetic gesture and a birthday gift. I am ready for an update. An intervention into my life. I am here to be born again as myself, or at the very least, the most current version of myself. I am prepared to let go. To empty my cache. To refill the screen with the same information." Court hearing, Kristian Sue Lucas

Images:

Nasa: solar eclipse, multilength milky way, tycho's star

circuits archive (my love), Enterprise schematics, Franz Joseph, 1973

Other:

shoutout to this post for making me want to learn gradient maps, and @metronn for helping me find the episode where they show Geordi vision! Paintings are referenced from this screenshot (sorry for pinterest link i have no idea what episode this is)

#my art #star trek tng #this isnt really meant as shipping but you can interpret it that way #im not a daforge but i believe in their beliefs ect #data soong #geordi la forge

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1-800-deactivatednearu · 1 year ago

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woag character design notes

[i.d.: a drawn line up of the half life vr ai characters, from left to right, gordon, dr. coomer, tommy, bubby, gman, and benrey. /end i.d.]

yeah i skipped some guys , i dont draw some of them enough to have much unique designs and some of them are a png of a dog

trust me i am just surprised as the rest of yall that i am doing hlvrai art . design notes below (very long, mind your step)

gordon:

wow this guy dont got no head

i didnt want to give gordon a face because of how unexact the person is as the fandom engages with it. is it wayne rtvs? (well as presented to an audience, yes) is it gordon freeman? (well as seen from an in game perspective, yes) is it a whole new guy entirely? (well as

i cut the confusion and took it a whole new direction: guillotine

hlvrai being treated as a very broken game is fun to me as a design perspective, so if you (the audience) are not supposed to see his face, what happens when you see it anyways? missing texture time

there are eyes drawn over because i did not have confidence in my expressions at first and then it grew on me

i think if i were to draw (and i have drawn) an actual person under the mask i would still censor the eyes because that is where the vr headset sits!!

(i do not like putting an actual flesh to gordon though)

though i really like seeing how other people interpret gordon hlvrai it is not . my gordon ? we are talking about the same guy . but this is my gordo . i made this one . this guy my guy . maybe i should draw other gordon designs

i can draw the hev suit from memory and it is also the entire reason why i can render metal confidently

i liked how people changed the lambda to read ai :] i also have no clue if i wrote the lambda correctly

(i did, i just checked)

dr coomer:

as much as i draw/drew him i find it more fun to not stick to one set design :)

so a lot of my takes on dr coomer tend to jump from idea to idea, especially from what other people are doing, though they could be fitted to the left and right designs!

the left design is mainly based off what i saw in fandom spaces

we see rounder shapes, making for a more friendly and welcoming appearance

i think of this as straying from the more professional uniform of the actual scientist models

enter swimming shorts and bright yellow socks, for some reason

so now he kind of looks like a cool science teacher :)

it might be the lab coat

the right design is mainly based off thumbnails for hlvrai itself

these use a more angular appearance

i want to push how comically buff he is because of strength he shows at times, especially since his left design seems to completely down play it as a comically not buff man who is still very strong

the shadows on right design coomer get so much more harsh and exaggerated because i have comic books on the mind :)

he really does look like a dehydrated comic book character huh

tommy:

stick bug (he gets it from his dad) (this thought process is explained at gman section)

i pushed a lot of the saturation of colours in her design because i think tommy gets to be a little silly with it

fun art story of the day! when you color, try messing with hue! you might notice you can get away with a lot as long as your values are about right

i like pushing this with white because you can get away with a lot of things reading as “off white”

old faithful for me is cool shadows with a warm transition colour to keep things visually interesting

i keep making white objects the trans flag

happy pride

tommys design looks a little like a school boy, with the tucked in button up shirt+suspenders+shorts+jacket tied around the waist . and the primary colours . but like it is really fun to dress up so brightly

i actually was strongly inspired by medieval babies if that is a weird descriptor? i wanted him to both be a middle aged man but also a young adult

do not be like tommy, who has their finger on the trigger of the gun while not even looking at where it is pointing and good god he is squeezing the trigger . top ten firearm safety of all time

bubby:

the absurd part is that i think bubby is tall . he is just between tommy and gman who are exaggeratedly lanky .

i wanted to make bubby a pointy kinda guy, so he is the only one actually wearing the lab coat proper . and the only one actually wearing dress socks but not even wearing dress shoes

i wanted to give him a novelty tie but i was running low on ideas and running high on boreds so we dont get a tie

he does have crocs though!! in attack mode!!

i do think we all kind of saw his model and collectively decided it works for him because i have honestly not seen major divergences from his model?

gman:

stick bug

i wanted to stress the more spooky and unknowable nature of him and took it in the dark souls direction of “make bigger than player character”

maked too bigger

he cannot walk through any doorways but you will have to crane your neck to look up at him

in the opposite direction of tommy, i pulled a lot of the saturation in gmans design

it feels important to make them both not fully match the rest of the slightly less broken npcs because there was so much work to make them look cool so i have to respect that

actually a lot of gmans and tommys designs are made in opposite to one another

gman has a largely stationary face and very stiff line work

while tommy is pushed to expressive as possible

thats pretty fun, way to go me

benrey:

benrey also has two designs

and in both of these i keep getting too lazy to use a reference so the vests are super plain (forgetting the badge and black mesa logo) . i think the helmet is supposed to be darker actually .

the design ethos of benrey was “built like a brick shithouse”

a friend of mine took this cooler and interpreted it as a shield/wall/barrier as a physical (and narrative) obstacle

again the first uses fandom designs

most notably the overcast shadow (seen in video thumbnails but i never noticed it or understood why so many people did it until someone pointed it out to me)

i think hlvrai is such a great medium because it acknowledges it is a game and is able to play into that to great effect! i think the shadow is fun to imagine as solid black as a small reminder of the impossibility of the space :]

benrey is a smug cat in the body of a human . to be honest . and this is the full range of emotion i have ever drawn him with

the second was mostly because as fun as taking creative liberties are, i just really wanted to see benrey as is: the half life security guard model in all its slight wonk :]

i actually do prefer this design . it is a little more uncanny because i choose the worst translations of the model . i like it because it is a little more uncanny !

that can be said for like . every single design in this line up huh .

#hlvrai #my art #gordon feetman #dr coomer #tommy coolatta #dr bubby #gman coolatta #benrey #half life vr but the ai is self aware

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 5 months ago

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Aftermath au: Red Letter Day

Barney gets a call that Gordon Freeman had been found after ten years of being missing in action.

Word count: 4382

Notes: Another fic for my au "Aftermath" because I think its neat. I'm not sure what else to put here, enjoy the fic

Barney was beginning to remember how much he hated Winter as he stared through the warehouse window in front of him. Despite it being the beginning of March, spring was yet to come, meaning the snow was still falling with the temperature following suit. Barney had always hated the season, and as much as he tried, he could never come up with a proper reason. Maybe it was the fact it was cold, wet, and dreary, making any trip outside miserable, or perhaps it was the fact he was mainly cooped up inside all day, leaving him to get cabin fever. Or maybe it was a mixture of those two at the same time, along with the loneliness that came from them. No matter the reason, Barney kept quiet about it, realizing he had no ability to change the weather. All he could do was drink his hot coffee and put on a few more layers than usual.

Barney took a sip from his mug as he looked away from the window, instead focusing his attention back into the room he was in. It was a storage room, full of random junk and scientific doodads Barney had no knowledge of. Boxes and crates were stacked up in piles taller than he was, stacked in such a way that it made Barney nervous even being near them in the case of them toppling over. Due to the lack of a radiator in that room, it was even chillier than the rest of the refurbished warehouse, making Barney glad he was wearing the warmest sweatpants he could find in his closet, along with a worn out grey hoodie, with the logo on the front being so faded that it was hard to make out as Black Mesa’s logo.

As he looked around, he was startled by the sound of a box slamming against the concrete floor, along with a short exclamation. “Oh, blast it!” “You alright, Doc?” Barney asked the other man in the room, watching as he bent over to pick up the fallen crate.

“I’m fine, just…hoping whatever was in here isn’t fragile…”

Dr. Isaac Kleiner, or “Doc” as Barney referred to him as, was wearing a white lab coat over a robin-egg-blue dress-shirt and black tie, trading warmth for safety at his place of work. His glasses were slipping off his face as he moved boxes and rummaged through everything in the storage room, making it even more of a mess than it was before.

“Where on earth could she have gone?” Kleiner asked, not necessarily expecting an answer. “There aren’t any vents she could have crawled in, are there?”

“I hope not,” Barney stated. “Last thing I want is that thing to fall on someone.” As Kleiner looked under a table, Barney spoke up again. “You think it ran off or something?”

“Oh no, I don’t believe so,” Kleiner stood up straight, “I’m sure she wouldn’t. After all, she needs to get fed eventually, so I imagine she’ll come out for that.” “If the thing didn’t eat someone's cat or something.”

“Hush!” Kleiner held a finger up to his mouth, causing both he and Barney to become silent as he listened closely. Barney attempted to hear what Kleiner was listening for, but to no avail, hearing nothing but silence. “Fie! I could’ve sworn I heard her moving around…”

Barney let out an exhausted sigh, “Doc, please, there’s plenty of those pests out there–”

“But there’s only ONE Lamar!”

“...Right.”

“Now, are you going to help me look?” Kleiner adjusted his crooked glasses, “Or are you going to simply stand there, doing nothing?”

“Uh…” Barney glanced away, thinking for a moment. “...No thanks.”

“Oh, you act like she’s some kind of wild animal.”

“It kinda is.”

“She’s been de-beaked and trained, and you know this!” Kleiner stated as he walked towards a filing cabinet near the corner of the room.

“‘Trained;’ I don’t think that thing is really…trained. My dog is trained, and I know you can train cats, but I don’t think you can train a literal parasite–”

“Oh! I think I’ve got something!” Kleiner said excitedly, ��Help me move this cabinet, would you please?”

Barney reluctantly approached the metal cabinet as Kleiner positioned himself to the side of it, ready to move it as soon as Barney was. As soon as Barney placed his free hand against the side of it, he pushed, with Kleiner on the other side pulling it towards him.

Barney let out a loud yelp when something leaped at him from behind the cabinet, causing him to fall on his back and drop his mug on the floor. It was Lamar, the “Pet” headcrab that Kleiner had lost, and it was even uglier up close. As it laid on Barney’s chest, its six small, beady eyes stared back at him as he remained absolutely still, afraid of it trying to attack him. Its teeth on its stomach prodded at his stomach, along with its chipped, large front claws, which had colorful duct-tape covering the tips of them to prevent them from being too sharp. After a few moments of tense silence, Kleiner came to the rescue, picking up Lamar from where it rested on Barney’s torso, allowing him to take a breath.

“LAMAR!” Kleiner exclaimed, looking at his pet with relief in his eyes, “Oh, delightful! I’m so happy to see you weren’t left out in the cold somewhere…”

“Mm-hm…” Barney lifted himself off the ground, looking at his feet to see his knocked over coffee cup, with its contents spilled over. “Ugh…”

Barney picked up his cup from the floor as Kleiner let Lamar go, watching as it waddled across the floor before jumping up onto one of the tables. Barney stared at it with contempt, the opposite reaction to Lamar’s rediscovery compared to Kleiner’s joy.

“Do you even have a license for that thing?” Barney questioned as Lamar sat down on top of some loose documents. “If you don’t and animal control finds it, they’ll kill it–”

“I’m…in the process of getting one,” Kleiner stated, voice stumbling slightly. “And I hope no one finds her, cause if they do…I’m afraid of what you said coming true. I’m sure it will be fine regardless, at least she knows to stay inside.”

“...Sure.”

“Is everyone safe?”

Barney and Kleiner turned towards the doorway that led to the rest of the warehouse, seeing a lone, albino Vortigaunt staring back at them with her four maroon eyes. She was wearing a similar lab coat to Kleiner’s, with a borrowed pair of black dress pants, along with a fitted light brown sweater, with a hole in the middle of her chest for her third pseudo arm. She stared at Kleiner and Barney for a little while before Barney answered her question.

“Yeah, we’re fine…” Barney sighed, glancing towards Lamar, “We just found Kleiner’s…pet.”

“Everything’s under control, Violet, you can get back to work!” Kleiner added.

“I see.” Violet’s gravelly voice seemed quieter than usual, making Barney’s brows furrow a bit.

“You alright?” He asked.

Violet seemed puzzled. “Hm?”

“Are you doing alright? I have noticed you’ve been a bit…closed off for the past few hours.” Kleiner inquired.

“We have been…distracted…” Violet responded. “I imagine it will be cleared up soon.”

“We?” Barney asked.

Violet didn’t answer. “I must get back to helping the others…the teleporter is nearly ready for its first test...”

“Oh! Wonderful. I’ll be there in a little bit.” Kleiner stated as Violet left the room. Barney remained puzzled, looking back at Kleiner with a feeling of unease in his chest.

“She said ‘we’.” Barney stated.

“I’m aware,” Kleiner responded. “You see, the Vortigaunts are able to tap into something they refer to as the ‘Vortessence’, and are thus all conne–”

“I know, Doc, I just…” Barney paused for a second. “If she’s talking about all the Vortigaunts, then wouldn’t that be a bit worrying?”

“...Maybe, but I'm not sure.” Kleiner stated. “Though, one of the members of the survey team we sent earlier today was a Vortigaunt, and that team hasn’t returned yet so…maybe there is a connection there.”

“Maybe.”

“Either way, I believe i’ll go and speak with her, just to make sure everything’s alri–”

Barney’s phone ringing from his pocket interrupted their thoughts, and when Barney pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, he saw the number was from one of his coworkers at the hospital. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”

“You’re fine, you go ahead and I’ll go check in with the others.”

Barney nodded, watching Kleiner leave the room before he answered the call and put his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Barney listened closely to the person on the other end of the phone, barely processing what they were saying.

“What’s going on?

Not going to believe what?

So what, why are you telling me this?”

Barney listened closely, all before he felt his heart skip a beat. The sinking feeling in his chest was enough to render him silent, all before he let out a meek “I’ll call you later.”

Barney rushed out of the room, running past Kleiner in the process, nearly pushing him over as he approached the exit. “Barney? What’s going on, are you alright–” “They found him.” Barney’s voice shook as he spoke, with him barely being able to make out the words from how tight his throat was.

“Found who?”

Barney was already out of the building by the time Kleiner asked the question, leaving it unanswered.

Barney saw his own breath clouding in front of his face as he sprinted across the parking lot of the warehouse, nearly slipping on ice multiple times but not giving any time to care. When he reached his car, he swung the door open and crawled inside, starting the engine and speeding off without a single word. His thoughts ran through his head faster than his car was capable of going, slurring together without a single cohesive thought coming through. He didn’t care if he was a few miles above the speed limit; he needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. He needed to see if what his coworker said was right.

If it was truly Gordon Freeman that was brought into the ER, he needed to be there.

When Barney made it to the hospital lot, he rushed through the front doors, looking around before approaching the front desk, out of breath from both the physical and mental strain that was put on him. Through harsh breaths, he asked, “Is Gordon Freeman here?”, with pleading eyes focused on the woman behind the desk.

“Oh, hello Mr. Calhoun, I can look through the system for a ‘Gordon Freeman’, if you’ll sit tight for a moment.” She looked towards the computer in front of her, typing in something and looking through files as Barney waited, his impatience building up inside of him.

“Fuck this.” He pushed himself away from the desk, storming down one of the hallways despite the woman at the front desk telling him he wasn’t allowed to as he was off duty. Barney rushed past hospital workers, asking them if they knew where Gordon was, only to be met with worried and frightened looks along with no answers. Barney’s frustration only grew as he ran through the hospital halls, with the familiar building beginning to feel like a maze meant to confuse him. As he ran further into the hospital wing, he slammed against one of the doctors in the hall, causing him to topple to the ground as Barney tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry, I just have to–”

“Barney? What the hell are you doing back here?” The man questioned as Barney sped past him.

“I’m looking for Gordon Freeman,” Barney answered, turning around. “Have you seen him?”

“He’s in the ER right now,” The man snapped back as he slowly stood up. “You can’t see him until he’s out of surgery.”

“Surgery? Is he safe? Is he alright?” Barney questioned, walking closer to the doctor.

“Yes, he’ll be fine, just…” The doctor let out a tired sigh. “Get out of here, you’re off duty and risking your job with a stunt like this.”

“I need to see Gordon, alright?” Barney explained. “He’s been gone for a fucking DECADE, and he’s been found again, I can’t just leave him–”

“Calhoun.” The man raised his voice as he glared at Barney with a look of both contempt and pity. “...Listen, just wait until he’s out and I’ll see what I can do, do you understand?”

Barney remained silent for a moment, letting out a sharp breath before nodding. “Alright,” He stated, defeated. “But he better be getting the best treatment in there.”

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can, they understand his reputation–”

“I don’t care about his reputation, if i’m right, that’s my goddamn friend in there.” Barney spat. “...Let me know when he’s out. I need to at least…make sure it’s…the right guy.”

“I’m sure someone will let you know.” The doctor stated. “...Now please go back to the waiting room before I call security.”

Barney did as he was told, reluctantly walking across the hospital premises and back into the waiting room, where he will stay for another few hours. He paced around the room, bounced his foot up and down, fidgeted with his hands; anything to try and pass the time as the minutes passed by agonizingly slow. After he had already been there for what felt like days within the timespan of a few hours, he saw a nurse walk towards him. “Mr. Calhoun?”

Barney’s head lifted up, looking towards the nurse before following her down a hallway. After a couple-minutes walk, they stopped in front of a door leading to a recovery room. “He’s in there,” The nurse stated. “He’s currently sleeping, so I ask you to be quiet and not attempt to wake him up.”

“...Yeah.” Barney hesitated before walking through the door, stepping into the room, seeing a curtain blocking his view of the bed. He paused, standing in place for a moment as he wondered if the face he was about to see was truly Gordon, or simply someone mistaken as him. He wondered if he wanted the answer, or if he’d rather live in ignorance, avoiding the crippling disappointment if it wasn’t the man he thought it was, but as he walked past the curtain, every worry in his mind ceased and his thoughts became silent as he looked at the man on the bed.

Sure, his body was covered with blood-soaked bandages, his right leg was in a cast, he had medical equipment around him, and he was missing his glasses, but his face was painfully recognizable. Barney choked back a sob, covering his mouth when he saw Gordon’s face again.

“Are you alright?” The nurse behind him asked, noticing Barney’s teary-eyed look.

“I’m fine.” Barney whispered before letting out a short chuckle and a forced smile. “It’s just…he didn’t change a damn bit.”

Barney hadn’t even noticed it had been an hour since he entered the room, being surprised when he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearing 10 PM. He sat on a chair beside Gordon’s bed, having moved it from the corner of the room to right beside it. His leg bounced up and down as he looked at Gordon, all before lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh. He wished to speak to him but he was out of words he could possibly say at that very moment, not to mention the wish to stay quiet so Gordon could recover without being woken up. He wanted to tell Gordon everything that had happened in his absence; how Kleiner started up another lab to continue Black Mesa’s studies, how Eli also set up one on the other side of the city, and how Barney had finished college and was able to become a nurse. Gordon missed so much, and even though Barney wished to dump every piece of information onto him, he realized that even the realization that it had been ten years would be overwhelming enough. Thus, Barney figured to start simple, and just talk, like friends, for the first time since the Black Mesa incident.

As Barney leaned back into his seat he felt the back of his head hit something that wasn’t there before, feeling bitter cold yet organic at the same time, like a corpse’s fingers curling around the top of the backrest. He swung around, half expecting someone to be there, yet he saw nothing of the sort, seeing only the beige wall behind him. Barney let out his breath, looking back at Gordon before realizing he should head back; his stress and emotional state must have made him paranoid, not to mention the feeling of his hair standing on end. He stood up, walking towards the door out of the room before taking one last look back at Gordon before he finally left.

Later that night, Barney paced around his living room, being watched by his pet rottweiler as he talked on the phone. “The Survey team were the ones that found him?” he asked.

“That’s what they said,” Kleiner stated from the other side of the line. “The Vortigaunt was apparently the one that found him, specifically.”

“I see.”

“Quite Miraculous,” Kleiner continued, “The fact that Gordon had survived there for ten years before being found.”

“Yeah…” Barney unsurely stated under his breath.

“Nevermind that, what are you planning now?” Kleiner asked. “Should we have some kind of party? A celebration should be in order for him being back, I’d say–”

“I think he needs rest, he’s…been through a lot.” Barney stated. “I’ve thought of him staying over at my place until he can find a place of his own or until he recovers, but we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure we can find a spare room in the lab for him.”

“I dunno if he’d wanna live in a loud lab with a headcrab, doc.”

“...I suppose you have a fair point.”

“It was just so…strange.” Barney stated. “They say it was a ten year coma, but I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it at all.” “What makes you believe that?”

“The fact he was bleeding. The fact he had fresh wounds from Black Mesa,” Barney elaborated, brows furrowed and his free arm crossing over his chest. “Not to mention the fact he was found with that…suit on.” “What kind of suit?” Kleiner questioned. “Oh, do you mean the Hazardous Environment Suit?”

“Yeah. Why would he be wearing it ten years after the incident was already over?”

“Who knows,” Kleiner sighed, “I’m sure I can talk with Eli to see if he has any ideas on–” Kleiner was interrupted by a loud crash and squeaking coming from behind him, audible through Barney’s phone. “Goodness gracious, LAMAR, NO–”

“You alright Doc?”

“I’ll have to speak with you later, Lamar got in the vents again–Lamar get DOWN from there, that’s not safe!” After that, the call ended, and Barney was left to himself once again. Barney sighed, putting his phone back in his pocket before he heard a deep ruff coming from his dog, who was laying next to the couch in the living room, with its white patches of fur on its snout showing its age.

“You hear that, Gordon?” Barney said. “You might get a new roommate…a…different Gordon.”

The dog yawned and rested his head on his paws as Barney walked towards the living room couch, sitting on it and resting his feet on the coffee table in front of it. He leaned over the armrest, scratching the top of the dog’s head. “Guess I’ll have to explain to him why you’re also named Gordon, huh bud?”

Gordon didn’t respond, instead just letting out a soft ruff again. Barney leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling before folding his hands on top of his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining why his pet was named after his friend, he realized. After all, it’s not very easy to tell someone you thought they were dead for years.

As soon as Barney received the call that Gordon was awake the following evening, Barney rushed back to the hospital to visit him once again. As he drove across the city, worries he didn’t think about before began to creep up inside his brain. Even though he didn’t necessarily believe the coma theory the doctors had, nor did he believe even they believed it fully, he thought of the possibility of it being true, and if Gordon would even remember who Barney was after a full decade of sleep. It would be a surprise if Gordon remembered anything after that amount of time, but Barney pushed down his pessimism, trying to be optimistic just this once.

After making his way down the hospital hallway once again, he found himself back in front of the door to Gordon’s room, with a nervous feeling deep in his gut as he prepared to walk inside. He took in a breath and stepped inside, looking towards the bed in which Gordon was laying on, only to have his gaze met by two bright green eyes, ones Barney hadn't seen since ten years prior. Barney froze in place, staring back at Gordon, who appeared to be surprised to see him. As Barney sat down in the chair beside the bed, he swallowed hard, wondering what he could possibly say now that Gordon was awake. As he thought to himself, a question left his mouth that he wasn’t initially planning on asking:

“Where were you?”

The question lingered in the air like a foul odor, with Gordon’s brows furrowing lip quivering slightly, all while he curled his hands into fists. He turned away from Barney, looking down at his feet, thinking of something to say, though his hands didn’t once lift up to sign a single word.

“You…disappear for 10 years without warning,” Barney continued. “Leaving everyone to believe you were dead.”

Gordon didn’t make eye contact with Barney as he spoke.

“I thought you were dead and buried somewhere, Gordon,” Barney choked. “But…You’re here in front of me now.”

Gordon glanced at Barney before he felt arms being wrapped around his shoulders, tight, but not too tight to make it hurt.

“I fucking missed you, Gordon.” Barney said as he hugged Gordon, feeling the gesture being returned to him. Gordon’s hands shook, feeling weak and cold, yet he didn’t want to let go of the single shred of kindness he had felt since what felt like eternity. After a few moments Barney let go, sitting back down with red, tear-filled eyes.

“...You…missed a lot.” Barney stated; Gordon nodded knowingly in response. “I’d tell ya’ everything, but…I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are they safe?” Gordon’s hands were shaking, but Barney could make out the message regardless.

“Who, like…Kleiner? Eli?”

Gordon nodded slightly, lips pursed in anticipation.

“They’re alright,” Barney assured, allowing Gordon to let out a breath. “In fact…they’re excited to see you again. Kleiner especially, he’s hoping to get you back into his lab…don’t know if you want to do that, but the offer’s there.”

Gordon appeared to have had a weight lifted off his shoulders at the news, but the cold yet somber gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Barney planned to tell Gordon that they were among the few survivors of the Black Mesa incident, but he bit his tongue for the time being.

“...Never thought you’d be in the history books, did ya?” Barney let out a lighthearted chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re a hero in everyone’s eyes, now.”

Gordon shook his head, looking down and away from Barney’s gaze as he clasped his hands together on his lap. Barney stared at him with a look of confusion and worry, all before forcefully clearing his throat.

“I’m just…happy to see you alive, Gordon.” Barney stated. “After…a few years I began to…to lose hope.” Barney paused for a second, realizing Gordon was still not meeting his gaze. “...Should’ve known you were a tougher son of a bitch than that, I guess.”

Gordon scoffed slightly before shaking his head again, still staring at his feet. Silence fell as Barney attempted to think of something else to say to ease the tense atmosphere, though his thoughts were blank and void of any ideas. Barney looked towards Gordon yet again, seeing he was raising his hands up to sign something:

“Missed you too.”

Barney smiled slightly, despite feeling as if he wanted to cry right then and there. He never anticipated he’d be this emotional in his life, yet here he was; about to cry for the second time that day. Seeing his legally dead friend after ten years of being missing in action was enough to warrant it, he supposed.

“I’m sure the others will be happy to show you everything they’ve been working on,” Barney said, with Gordon finally looking back up at him, before looking directly behind him, “They’ve been working on a new telepor–”

Gordon flinched, staring at something behind Barney before attempting to crawl backwards, nearly ripping off his IV in the process. Barney looked behind him, seeing nothing but the wall before he heard a loud thud coming from the bed. He turned, seeing Gordon had fallen off of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor. “Gordon!” Barney quickly ran to his aid, holding out an arm for Gordon to grab, lifting him off of the floor. When weight was put onto his right leg, Gordon grimaced, using Barney as leverage as he was put back onto the bed. “Jeez Gordon, what got you freaked out so ba–”

Barney was silenced when Gordon hugged him without warning. Barney could hear him quietly sobbing into his shoulder, and as he returned the hug, he wondered if he had ever seen Gordon so touchy before; It was as if he hadn’t had human contact in days. This time however, Barney wasn’t quick to let go. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his best friend behind again.

Not this time.

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