#I would probably go live in the woods somewhere right now

[artificial-condition]

If I didn’t have family tying me down I would be everywhere and nowhere all at once

[reidmarieprentiss]

Something's Gotta Give

Summary: Chip hitchhikes his way away from where his life fell apart. He meets a beautiful woman, you, and his brain, once again, becomes a potato.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, mentions of what happened in 68-kill, insecurities, jealousy, boss/employee relationship, happy ending

Word count: 18.7k

a/n: i love me some spencer reid but chip taylor is sooo pathetic it just gets me going

main masterlist

Additional warnings: unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m receiving), mild consensual degradation

28-year-old Chip Taylor was a mess, to put it simply. After narrowly escaping the chaos of Louisiana, he drove as far as he could on what little gas money he had, before resorting to hitchhiking. His path was aimless, following wherever someone would take him, until he somehow ended up in Colorado. In Aurora, he found a shelter where he could sleep while he searched for a job.

Now, with his face healed and dressed in some half-decent clothes—no longer stained with blood—Chip wandered the streets of Aurora, unsure of what his next move would be, but grateful for the temporary calm.

Chip quickly discovered that his search for work wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. Every place he walked into seemed to size him up before kindly, but firmly, turning him away. His stomach sank a little more with each rejection, though he tried to brush it off and keep moving forward.

At a diner, the older woman behind the counter smiled apologetically, her eyes flicking over his application. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re really looking for someone with experience in the kitchen. It’s just so busy around here, you know? Best of luck, though.”

Chip nodded, his heart sinking, but he mustered a smile. “Thanks, I understand.”

At a hardware store, the manager gave him a once-over, scratching his chin. “You ever worked with tools before? We need someone who knows their way around equipment, construction, that kind of thing.”

Chip shook his head, feeling the weight of his own uselessness. “No, but I can learn fast.”

The man offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you can, but we need someone who can hit the ground running. Sorry, pal.”

Even the local gas station didn’t seem to have room for him. The young guy at the counter barely looked up from his phone as he spoke. “Yeah, we’re fully staffed right now. You could leave your number, but… I wouldn’t count on anything soon.”

Chip stood there for a moment, the rejection almost stinging more because of how little the guy cared. He turned away without leaving his number.

By the time the sun began to set, Chip was exhausted from walking up and down the streets of Aurora, facing rejection after rejection. His new clothes felt heavier with every polite smile and apologetic glance, and he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

Chip wandered across the neon-lit streets, his eyes catching the glow from a sign that cast an inviting red hue over the sidewalk. He stopped to take it in: Lovers of Today. The name was bold, practically daring someone like him to step inside and forget his troubles for a while.

He didn’t have a cent to his name, but at least he could probably score a glass of water, and the idea of sitting somewhere that wasn’t a shelter felt like a brief escape.

As he pushed the door open, the warmth of the dive bar’s dim lighting greeted him. The red neon heart in the window flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls. The smell of old wood, cigarette smoke, and stale beer hung in the air, but Chip didn’t mind. It was a welcome change from the streets outside.

He plopped down on a worn stool at the bar, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. The bar was cluttered but lively, bottles lined up with care, their glass shimmering under the soft red glow. Music hummed low in the background, a melancholic tune that fit the slow pulse of the room. A man played pool in the back, his movements lazy and unhurried, while a few scattered patrons sat at tables, lost in their own thoughts.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” A melodic voice pulled Chip from his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

He turned to face the bartender, and for a moment, his brain seemed to short-circuit. There she was—easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. That realization sent a jolt of fear through him, more intense than any excitement he might have felt. Her soft, playful smile made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

You noticed his hesitation, his wide-eyed look, and leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “…Can I get you anything?” you asked again, this time with a bit of a laugh in your voice, clearly entertained by his flustered state.

“Uh—um, yeah, just a water?” Chip finally managed, though he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

You smiled, the amusement twinkling in your eyes. “Sure thing, sugar,” you replied, effortlessly cool as you turned to get his drink, leaving Chip to collect his scattered thoughts.

You placed the glass down in front of him with another smile. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Chip stammered, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his nerves getting the better of him.

You winked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, before turning to tend to your other customers. Chip couldn’t help himself—he leaned up slightly, watching you as you bent down to grab a beer from the fridge. His eyes lingered on your curves, his mind briefly distracted from the pit of anxiety that had been gnawing at him all day.

After you served the other patrons, you made your way back to the bar, your eyes flicking over the handsome, if not charmingly pathetic, man in front of you. His awkwardness was almost endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, putting away freshly cleaned glasses.

“No, just water is fine,” Chip said, though the way he gulped and avoided looking at how your top clung to your chest told you he was flustered.

You sighed softly, setting down the glass you’d been holding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Yeah. I have, but I, uh… I don’t really have any money on me.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze softening with understanding. “I see…” You turned around, and Chip’s heart sank, deflating even more as he stared at his water. He really was such a loser.

But then you spun back toward him, setting a nice cold beer in front of him with a wink. “It’s on the house, sugar,” you said, your smile making the tension in Chip’s chest ease just a little. “In exchange, you can tell me what’s got you so down?”

Chip blinked at the beer, surprised by the unexpected kindness. His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he glanced up at you. 

“Really? You want to hear about my day?” Chip asked, a bit incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He wasn’t used to someone actually wanting to listen, especially not someone like you.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a sweet smile that seemed to melt away some of the guardedness he’d been holding onto. “Tell me what’s got you so down.”

For a moment, Chip hesitated. Part of him wondered if he should just shrug it off, make something up, or dodge the question entirely. He couldn’t exactly spill everything—the illegal activities, the women, and all the madness that led to his escape from Louisiana. That was a story no one needed to hear. But maybe he could share the rest of it, the overwhelming feeling of being lost, broken, and more useless than ever.

“Well,” he began, keeping his gaze on the beer in front of him, fingers tracing the rim of the bottle. “It’s been a rough few weeks, to be honest. I, uh, kinda lost everything back home. Decided to leave, and… here I am, trying to start fresh, I guess.”

He took a sip of the beer, the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. “I thought I’d find a job, but, you know, turns out I’m not exactly qualified for… well, anything. Been walking all over town getting turned away.”

You leaned in a little, listening intently, your face soft with empathy. He glanced at you nervously, his words fumbling but flowing now that the gates had cracked open.

“I don’t know, it’s just… I keep messing up, everywhere I go. Feels like I can’t catch a break.” He paused, staring into his beer again, his voice lowering. “Feels like maybe I don’t deserve one.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tugged by the self-deprecating tone in his voice. “Hey,” you said, your voice kind but firm, “don’t say that. We all have rough patches. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth something. It just means things are tough right now. Doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way.”

Chip looked up at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected kindness from anyone, much less a stranger. His lips twitched into a faint smile, the first real one he’d felt in days.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, genuinely. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled at him again, that same warm and genuine expression softening your features. “Anytime, sugar.” A slight pause lingered between you before you leaned in just a bit, voice dropping to a playful tone. “Tell me though, do you have any experience bartending?”

Chip shook his head quickly, a little embarrassed. “No, not really,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hmm… are you strong?” you giggled, clearly having some fun with him.

Chip instinctively looked down at his arms, making you swoon just a bit as the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his sleeves caught your eye.

“I guess?” he said, though his voice carried uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure if he should be bragging.

You laughed softly. “Do you scare easily?”

“Uhhh…” Chip blinked, clearly unsure how to answer that, given everything he’d been through recently.

“Do you think you could be a bouncer?” you asked, leaning forward a little more. “Kick people out for being assholes?”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What are you asking?”

“I’m trying to offer you a job here,” you said with a smile, your words hanging in the air like an unexpected lifeline.

Chip’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat. “A job? Here?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had walked in hoping for nothing more than a glass of water, and now here you were, offering him a shot at something better.

You nodded, your expression kind but still playful. “Yeah, I need someone to keep an eye on things. It’s a dive bar, after all, and we get our fair share of rowdy customers. Plus, it’d be nice to have a strong pair of arms around, don’t you think?”

Chip felt a wave of relief mixed with cautious optimism wash over him. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a start. A chance. And right now, that was all he needed.

“I—yeah. I could do that,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I mean, I’ll do my best.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with his answer. “That’s all I’m asking, sugar. Can you start tomorrow?”

Chip stared at you in disbelief, unable to suppress the small, hopeful smile forming on his lips as he nodded. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break he’d been waiting for.

That night, Chip walked back to the shelter with a smile tugging at his lips, something that had been a rare visitor in recent weeks. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin as he moved through the dimly lit streets of Aurora, replaying the events of the evening in his head. He couldn’t quite believe it—after days of dead-end rejections, here he was with a job offer. 

And it wasn’t just any job; it was from you. A beautiful, confident woman who had seemed to see something in him, even when he wasn’t sure what he had left to offer. Your kindness had caught him off guard, leaving him feeling a mix of gratitude and something he couldn’t quite place—maybe hope? It had been so long since he’d felt even a flicker of optimism.

But as much as he tried to bask in the good fortune of the moment, there was a nagging feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. Ominous, maybe. It felt almost too lucky to have met you and been offered a job so quickly. Nothing in his life had ever come easy, and now that something finally had, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a catch. 

Still, for now, Chip allowed himself to enjoy the victory. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering to what tomorrow might bring. It wasn’t much—a job as a bouncer at a dive bar—but it was something. It was a start. Maybe he could pull his life together after all.

As he neared the shelter, his smile widened just a bit, despite that faint feeling of unease lingering in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to.

—

The next day, Chip walked into the bar, nerves buzzing in his chest as he stepped through the doors of Lovers of Today for his first day. The place was quieter now, with the neon signs flickering softly, casting their warm red glow over the room. Behind the counter, there you were again, moving gracefully as you set up for the night. Your presence instantly caught his eye, and before he knew it, that same anxious excitement was bubbling up inside him.

You looked up when he entered, smiling sweetly in his direction. “Hey there, sugar! Glad you made it,” you said, your voice warm and welcoming.

Chip swallowed, nodding as he approached the bar. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, his hands already feeling clammy with anticipation. He’d thought about this moment all night, and now that he was here, standing in front of you again, he felt even more flustered than before.

You gestured for him to come closer, pulling him next to you behind the bar. "Alright, so here's the rundown," you began, your tone casual but professional. You started explaining the basics of what you expected from him—keeping an eye on the patrons, making sure things didn’t get out of hand, and if someone got too rowdy, he'd be the one to step in.

But as you talked, Chip found it harder and harder to focus. You were standing so close that he could catch the faint, intoxicating scent of your perfume. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to make his head spin a little, like a soft whisper of musk and something sweet that lingered in the air. The way you moved, the subtle brush of your arm against his as you pointed things out, made his concentration slip further.

“So, if someone refuses to pay or starts causing trouble…” you continued, but Chip’s attention wavered as his eyes darted to your lips when you spoke, then back to the glass you were polishing.

He blinked, snapping himself out of his haze for a moment. “Right, uh, got it,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he had actually retained anything useful. His heart was pounding, but not from nerves about the job. No, this was something else entirely—something about you had his pulse racing.

You paused, tilting your head slightly, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you glanced at him. "You listening, Chip? Or am I gonna have to repeat myself?"

“Sorry,” Chip stammered, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m listening. Just—uh—it’s a lot to take in, I guess.”

You chuckled softly, leaning just a little closer. “It’s okay, sugar. You’ll get the hang of it. Just focus on keeping things calm, and don’t worry, I’ll be here if you need help.”

Chip nodded, forcing himself to concentrate, but the scent of you, the warmth of your presence, made it feel like the room was spinning just a bit. He knew he had to pull it together—he couldn’t let his head get lost every time he was around you. But right now, standing next to you, it was harder than he’d ever imagined.

Chip’s first night went off without a hitch. The bar’s steady rhythm felt almost soothing to him, and by the time his second week rolled around, he had settled into a routine. He’d met the other bartenders and bouncers, learned the ins and outs of the place, and even found himself relaxing a little more with each shift. Nothing too wild had happened yet—just the usual drunken antics that were easily manageable.

That was, until that one night.

It started out like any other, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the soft pulse of music in the background. Chip had been stationed near the entrance, keeping an eye on things, when the commotion began. At first, it was just muffled noise, some guy raising his voice near the bar. But then Chip heard your voice, calm but firm, cutting through the clamor.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you anymore,” you said, keeping your cool as you leaned against the bar. “You’ve had enough for the night.”

That’s when the man—clearly drunk, clearly angry—decided to escalate things. His voice grew louder, slurred words laced with irritation. “You can’t cut me off, bitch! I paid good money, and I’m not done drinking!”

Chip’s body tensed as he watched from a distance, the sudden surge of protectiveness coursing through him. He felt his heart rate pick up as the drunk man leaned closer to you, his gestures growing more aggressive. Chip knew he had to step in. He had to protect you. 

No, he reminded himself, forcing his mind to stay clear. Protect the bar. That’s your job. But despite the internal reminder, the thought of someone yelling at you, someone daring to treat you like that, sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

He moved quickly, weaving through the tables and patrons until he was by your side. The drunk man was still fuming, his face red and twisted in frustration. Chip didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Hey,” Chip said, his voice low but firm, stepping between you and the man. “You need to calm down.”

The drunk guy’s eyes flicked toward Chip, sizing him up, before he sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy telling you to leave,” Chip responded, standing his ground. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his voice steady, refusing to let the guy see any hesitation. “You’ve had enough. Time to go.”

The man puffed up his chest, clearly not interested in backing down. “I paid for my damn drinks!”

“You paid,” Chip agreed, “and now you’re done. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.” He subtly shifted his stance, ready to intervene if the guy got any more aggressive.

For a moment, the man looked like he might push his luck, but then he glanced around the bar. Eyes were starting to turn his way. The whole scene had drawn enough attention that even he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this one.

With a final curse under his breath, the man shoved his stool back and stumbled toward the door. Chip kept an eye on him until he was out of sight, his muscles still tense and ready, just in case.

Once the man was gone, Chip let out a slow breath, the adrenaline ebbing away. He turned to you, still feeling the lingering need to make sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You smiled at him, clearly impressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Chip.”

Chip couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile that crossed his face. “Just doing my job.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the bar, your eyes softening a bit as you looked at him. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

And just like that, all the tension that had built up in Chip’s body melted away, replaced with something else. A warmth, a quiet sense of accomplishment, knowing that he had done what he needed to do—both for the bar and for you.

—

Chip Taylor was no stranger to unhealthy obsessions. His life had been a series of poor decisions and misplaced emotions, but this—this crush, or what he feared had crossed into love—was different. It was deeper, more consuming, and incredibly stupid. He wanted to believe he was incapable of falling in love after only knowing you for a month. And not just any person, but his boss. Yet here he was, his heart doing that dumb little flip every time you smiled at him, and he hated himself for it.

But what was he supposed to do? You were everything. Kind, charismatic, caring, brilliant, sexy, funny, and nonjudgmental. It wasn’t like you were just some passing fancy. You had given him a chance when no one else would. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doomed to be the screw-up he’d always been. And when you found out he was living in a shelter, you didn’t blink before offering him your guest room. Free of charge.

Chip had spent a lot of nights staring at the ceiling in that guest room, wondering how the hell he ended up in the presence of someone like you. With the kind of karma he had, he should’ve ended up with someone cold, manipulative, and cruel. But instead, there you were, offering kindness he didn’t think he deserved.

But that’s where the crush—no, love—came back to bite him. It was suffocating, this unspoken feeling gnawing at him every time you were near. The worst part? He had to watch night after night as men, women, and everyone in between flirted with you. It wasn’t like he could blame them. You were magnetic. You usually laughed off the flirtations with that casual grace you had, deflecting like a pro.

But tonight… tonight was different.

There was someone—a very attractive person who seemed to catch your eye. Chip had been half-watching from his usual spot near the entrance when he noticed it. The way you drifted toward this stranger more than once. The way your laughter was a bit more genuine, your eyes a little brighter. And then you touched their arm, leaning in closer to hear whatever charming thing they were saying.

Chip felt the sharp pang of jealousy twist inside him, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your chest ache. His grip tightened on the back of the barstool, the wood creaking under his hands as he watched the interaction unfold. He knew he was neglecting his job, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you and that person.

It was like a slow-motion train wreck in his head. His heart clenched with every laugh you shared, every glance you shot their way. And when you touched their arm, a part of him shattered. The universe, it seemed, had a sick sense of humor.

Of course you didn’t feel the same way about him. Why would you? He was just Chip. The guy who wandered into your bar broke, desperate, and hopeless. The guy you’d kindly helped, but that didn’t mean you saw him that way. No, his karmic retribution had arrived in the form of the most amazing person he’d ever met being deposited into his life—but only so he could feel the crushing weight of wanting something he could never have.

Chip stared bitterly as you continued to smile at the stranger, his heart sinking deeper with every moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, cursing the universe for dangling you in front of him like a cruel joke.

Good one, universe, he thought bitterly to himself, his hands still gripping the stool as if it could keep him grounded. Real good one.

He looked away, but the ache in his chest remained. It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

As closing time rolled around, Chip’s bitterness hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, simmering under the surface as he quietly went about his tasks. His mind was still replaying the way you had laughed, the way you had touched that stranger’s arm, and it stung more than he wanted to admit.

Conor, one of the other bartenders, smirked as they wiped down the counter, throwing a teasing glance your way. “You gonna let that beautiful thing take you out, boss?” They shimmied their shoulders, their grin wide and playful.

Cody, who had known you longer, joined in with a chuckle. “Yeah, girl, it’s been way too long. You should go out! You never do.”

Chip’s stomach twisted into knots as he listened, pretending to focus on stacking the chairs, though he could hear every word. His heart braced for what he expected to hear next—how excited you were, how you couldn’t wait to go on this date with the person who had flirted with you all night.

He could almost hear it now: your voice light, maybe even a little giddy, as you talked about how charming they were, how nice it would be to go out with someone after so long.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the anticipation of heartbreak wash over him as he steeled himself for the worst.

But then you laughed—soft and genuine, but not in the way Chip had feared. “Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You both know I’m not looking to go on dates.”

Conor raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “Oh, come on. They were totally into you! You’re really just gonna let that walk away?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Yeah, I’m really just gonna let that walk away. It’s not my thing right now.”

Cody shook their head with a smile, but didn’t push it further. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

Chip, who had been silently bracing for a different outcome, felt the tension in his chest ease ever so slightly. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been, how much he had feared hearing you talk about someone else with excitement.

You weren’t going on a date. You weren’t interested in that person, after all.

But then again… you weren’t interested in anyone. Not them. And definitely not him.

His relief was short-lived, replaced by the sinking realization that while you weren’t swooning over anyone else, it didn’t mean you felt anything for him either. He was still just your employee. A friend, maybe. But not anything more.

He finished stacking the chairs, his thoughts still tangled, trying to come to terms with the bittersweet mix of emotions swirling in his mind.

—

It was the middle of another shift, the bar alive with the usual chatter and clinking glasses, but Chip’s mind was far from the job. He was distracted—more than distracted. His thoughts kept looping back to you, the strangers who flirted with you, and the nagging ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. 

He’d been on autopilot for most of the night, his interactions with customers robotic, his movements stiff. Conor, ever the observant one, had noticed.

“Hey, man,” Conor said during a rare lull, when they were both by the back counter. They leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing Chip curiously. “You’ve been off lately. What’s going on with you?”

Chip froze for a moment, his mind scrambling for a response. “I’m fine,” he muttered, glancing away and hoping Conor would drop it. 

But Conor wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. They tilted their head, narrowing their eyes. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird for days. Is it the job? Or… something else?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on him. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud because that would make it real, and the last thing he needed was more complications.

“It’s nothing,” he tried again, though his voice lacked conviction.

Conor wasn’t buying it. “Dude, we work together, like, every night. I know when something’s up. Come on, what is it? You’ve been looking like a kicked puppy for days.”

Chip hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighed whether to say anything. But the more he tried to hold it in, the more it gnawed at him, until he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“It’s… it’s her,” Chip finally admitted, his voice low, almost ashamed. He glanced toward the bar, where you were laughing with a regular, completely oblivious to the conversation happening in the back.

Conor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Her? You mean… Y/N… the boss?” They glanced at you, then back at Chip, their expression a mix of curiosity and something else—concern, maybe. 

Chip nodded, running a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot for even saying it out loud. “Yeah. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t—she’s my boss. But I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s… it’s driving me crazy.”

Conor’s expression softened, and they let out a low whistle. “Ah, man. That’s rough.”

Chip scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s not like she’d ever go for someone like me anyway. I mean, look at her—she’s amazing. I’m just the guy she took pity on.”

Conor took a moment, looking thoughtful before they spoke again. “Look, man. I’m not gonna say it’s not complicated. She is your boss, and that makes things tricky. But…” They paused, leaning in a bit. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

Chip blinked, not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Conor shrugged. “You’re not just some random guy, Chip. You’ve been here for a while now, and she clearly cares about you. I see the way she talks to you—it’s not the same as the way she talks to everyone else.”

Chip frowned, trying to process what Conor was saying. “You really think so?”

Conor nodded. “Yeah, I do. But you’ve gotta be careful. If you’re really into her, you can’t just keep bottling it up like this. It’ll mess with your head. Maybe it’s time to feel her out—see if she’d ever be interested in someone like you. Just… be subtle. Tread carefully.”

Chip’s heart raced at the thought. The idea of making his feelings known, even subtly, terrified him. But Conor’s words sparked a tiny flicker of hope that he hadn’t let himself feel before. 

“What if she’s not?” Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear of rejection creeping in. 

Conor gave him a sympathetic look. “Then you know, and you can move on. But if you don’t at least try, you’re gonna drive yourself insane wondering ‘what if.’”

Chip mulled that over for a moment, glancing at you again as you poured drinks, completely unaware of the storm raging in his head. Conor was right—he couldn’t keep going like this, silently pining, letting it eat him alive. He had to do something, or the weight of it would crush him.

“Maybe,” Chip muttered, half to himself. “Maybe I will.”

Conor clapped him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring grin. “That’s the spirit. Just… don’t be a dumbass about it, okay?”

Chip chuckled softly, despite the turmoil in his chest. “I’ll try not to.”

As Conor wandered back to the front, Chip remained by the counter, his thoughts swirling. The idea of letting you in on his feelings terrified him, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. And for the first time, Chip allowed himself to think that maybe he wasn’t completely out of your league.

The only question now was when—and how—to take that terrifying first step.

—

The night had been rough—one of those nights where everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. Rowdy customers, spilled drinks, broken glasses, and more than one argument that had to be diffused before it turned into something worse. By the time the last patron staggered out the door, the bar felt like a battlefield, and the two of you were left with the aftermath.

Chip glanced over at you as you wiped down the bar, noticing how much more subdued you were than usual. The playful energy you typically carried with you seemed drained, replaced by exhaustion that tugged at your features. You didn’t say anything at first, just sighed deeply, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the night with it.

“Man, sometimes this job really wears you down,” you muttered, your voice tired, your shoulders slumping slightly as you leaned against the bar.

Chip hesitated, watching you, feeling that tug inside him again—an overwhelming need to comfort you, to say something that might make you feel better. He’d been watching you all night, seeing how you held it together even when things got chaotic, but now that the crowd was gone, you looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen you.

“You’re amazing at what you do,” Chip said quietly, stepping a little closer, his voice soft but sincere. “Don’t let nights like this get to you.”

You glanced at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Thanks, Chip. I try, but… it’s hard sometimes, you know?”

He nodded, unsure what to say next but wanting to fill the silence, to keep the moment from slipping away. The air between you felt different—quieter, more intimate, like the walls around both of you had come down just a little.

You sighed again, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “I guess nights like this remind me why I don’t… go out much. Or really have a life. It’s just too much sometimes, trying to balance everything. Running this place, taking care of everyone, making sure things don’t fall apart.”

Chip blinked, taken aback by how candid you were being. He’d never heard you talk like this before. Usually, you were so in control, so confident, like nothing could rattle you. But now, standing here in the quiet aftermath of a long night, you seemed… tired. Maybe even a little lonely.

You leaned against the bar, your gaze softening as you stared at the worn wood beneath your hands. “I spend so much time here, making sure everything’s running smoothly, making sure everyone’s taken care of, that there’s just… not a lot of room left for anything else.”

Chip swallowed, his chest tightening at your words. He had wondered before why you never seemed interested in the flirtations that came your way, why you brushed off attention so easily. Now, it made sense. You weren’t uninterested in romance—you were just too busy being everything to everyone else.

“I didn’t know,” Chip said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “I guess I never thought about how much you have on your plate.”

You smiled, a little sad but genuine. “Yeah, well, that’s the life, right? Someone’s gotta keep this place going. And I guess I’m just used to taking care of people. I don’t mind it… but it doesn’t leave much room for… other stuff.”

Chip stood there, the weight of your words settling over him. He felt a pang of guilt for all the times he’d watched you flirt with customers and felt jealousy burn inside him. He hadn’t understood before—hadn’t realized how much you were carrying, how much you were sacrificing to keep things together.

But now, in this quiet moment, he saw you differently. Not just as the confident, flirtatious bartender who always had a smile and a witty remark, but as someone who was just as vulnerable, just as human, as anyone else. Someone who gave so much of themselves that there wasn’t much left over.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. Chip didn’t know what to say, how to fix the exhaustion he saw in your eyes, but he wanted to offer something, anything, to let you know you weren’t alone.

“You’re really good at taking care of people,” he said softly. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief second, something passed between you—a quiet, shared moment that neither of you had expected. You smiled, a real smile this time, one that made Chip’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you said, your voice gentle, and there was something different in the way you looked at him now, something softer. “I mean it.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more, afraid of ruining the fragile connection that had just been made. He didn’t know what this moment meant—whether it changed anything between you, whether it was just a fleeting glimpse of something deeper—but it felt important.

As you both finished cleaning up, the bar seemed quieter than usual, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken shift. Chip walked out that night feeling closer to you than he ever had before, even if he still wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings tangled up inside him.

He felt like maybe you saw him, not just as an employee or a friend, but as someone who might be able to share a little bit of that weight you carried.

—

Chip got to work the next day extra early, sneaking into the bar while you were behind the counter, mixing drinks to prep for the evening. He didn’t want to risk bumping into you just yet—his nerves were already on edge from Conor’s advice and the conversation you two had—so he headed straight to the back. Inventory was the part of the job he knew you hated the most, so he wanted to take some of the load off for you. And… maybe if he took care of it (and you), you'd notice him in a different light. Maybe.

He was half-hidden behind stacks of bottles when Cody caught him.

“Chip?” Cody's voice rang through the storage room, followed by a soft laugh. “You know you won’t get paid for this, right?”

Chip startled, his fingers fumbling the bottle of sour mixer he was holding. It slipped from his hands, but luckily it was plastic and hit the ground with a soft thud. Still, he couldn’t help but glare at Cody, irritation mingling with embarrassment. “Your point?”

Cody leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on their lips. “Why are you doing it, then?”

Chip exhaled sharply, setting the bottle back on the shelf with a bit more force than necessary. “Just helping out the boss,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Uh-huh,” Cody dragged the words out, that knowing look never leaving their face. “Because you’re in loooove?” they teased, stretching the word out obnoxiously.

“No!” Chip squeaked, his voice shooting up a pitch. He felt his face flush instantly, and he inwardly cursed himself for the involuntary reaction. “I am not,” he added, more firmly this time, though he could hear how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears.

Cody raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.” They winked, their smirk widening. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. That woman is oblivious as hell, though.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped, his heart racing with a mixture of panic and frustration. “She’s not… it’s not like that,” he grumbled, though he knew Cody wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, it’s not like that,” Cody teased, mimicking his tone. “Look, man, I don’t blame you. I mean, she’s great. But maybe you should stop hiding back here, doing unpaid inventory, and, you know, actually talk to her.”

Chip groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he shot Cody a half-hearted glare. “It’s not that simple.”

Cody shrugged, pushing off the wall and tossing him a sympathetic smile. “It never is. But, hey, I’m rooting for you.”

Chip watched as Cody walked out, leaving him alone with the bottles and his now much louder thoughts. Cody was right, of course, but Chip couldn’t help feeling stuck. Helping out with the busywork was a small way to get closer to you, but it wasn’t enough. 

He sighed heavily, staring at the neatly organized bottles in front of him. He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t just lurk in the background hoping you’d magically see him the way he saw you. Something had to give. But what?

Chip's question was answered moments later when you burst into the back, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. "Ah!" you screamed, your hand flying to your chest as you nearly dropped the empty glass you were holding. “Chip!” you gasped, still catching your breath. “What the hell?”

Chip jumped, just as startled. “Sorry, Y/N!” He quickly stepped forward, his own heart pounding. “I just… wanted to help. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I—I know you hate doing inventory, so I thought I’d, you know—” His words were tumbling out, awkward and rushed, trying desperately to explain himself.

But you cut him off with a light, melodic laugh, and the sound of it stopped him in his tracks. “You’re a very sweet man, Chip Taylor. Do you know that?”

The way you were looking at him—it was new. Different. There was something softer in your gaze, something warm, and Chip felt his pulse quicken. He liked it. No, he loved it.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to help,” he said with a casual shrug, though his insides were far from calm.

You smiled again, that affectionate, teasing grin that made his heart flutter. “Well,” you said softly, “I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Chip blurted, almost too quickly. He met your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face. His words weren’t just about inventory anymore, and he wondered if you could tell.

You grinned, rolling your eyes in that way that made him feel like you were amused by his awkwardness but found it endearing all the same. Then, without warning, you stepped even closer, reaching around him to grab a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him. In that brief moment, your chest pressed against his, and Chip was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you breathed, your voice low and soft, your minty breath brushing against his skin as you pulled away slightly. For a second, he could barely think—your scent, your closeness, everything about you had him utterly captivated.

Chip felt frozen in place, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah,” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry, “no problem.”

You gave him another warm smile, lingering just a moment longer before you took the vodka and turned to head back out to the bar. Chip stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, the lingering scent of you and the feel of your closeness imprinted in his mind.

As the door swung closed behind you, Chip let out a shaky breath, leaning against the shelf. His mind was spinning. That brief moment—your chest against his, the way your breath had ghosted across his face—felt like it had flipped a switch inside him. 

—

After that brief but electrifying moment in the backroom, Chip couldn’t help but start noticing everything you did. It was as if every little thing you did seemed loaded with meaning—whether you intended it or not.

At home, things had shifted too. It used to be that you’d take your clothes into the bathroom when you showered, emerging fully dressed and casual. But lately, it had been different. Now, you would stroll around the apartment in a tiny towel, your damp hair clinging to your neck, droplets of water glistening on your skin. And every time you did, Chip’s brain short-circuited, turning into something the size of a pea. He'd try to focus on anything else, but his gaze always drifted back to you—your bare legs, the curve of your shoulders, the way that towel seemed dangerously close to slipping.

Then there were the groceries. You came home one day with bags full of food, seemingly innocent at first glance, until Chip noticed the trend. You had brought bananas, popsicles, cucumbers—foods that were all, well… suggestive. Chip tried not to notice, he really did. But it was impossible when you were sitting across from him at the table, casually peeling a banana and slowly taking bites in the most torturous way possible. The worst part was, you seemed completely oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

And then there were the popsicles. One hot evening, after a long shift, you sat on the couch next to Chip, legs tucked under you, enjoying a cherry popsicle. The way your lips wrapped around it, the slow, deliberate licks as you savored the cold treat—it was enough to make Chip feel like he was about to combust. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the TV, pretending he wasn’t completely fixated on the way the red juice dripped down your chin, but every glance made his heart race.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, casually preparing a salad. Chip, seated nearby with his phone in hand, was pretending—poorly—to focus on whatever was on his screen. But the second you pulled out an enormous cucumber from the fridge, all his concentration shattered. He told himself not to look, not to pay attention, but his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to you with every movement.

You stood there at the counter, holding the cucumber with ease as you peeled it, your fingers gripping the base in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Chip tried to remind himself it was just a vegetable. A completely innocent act. But the way you were handling it, slicing it with such careful precision, each stroke of the knife agonizingly slow—it felt like some kind of sensual tease meant only for him, though you were completely unaware of his growing torment.

His heart raced as you absentmindedly brought a slice to your lips, biting into it with a soft crunch. The way your teeth sank into the crisp flesh of the cucumber, your lips wrapping around it, made Chip’s grip on his phone tighten. His palms were sweating, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. 

You chewed slowly, blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on him. When you reached for another slice, it was like slow motion—the way you brought it up, your tongue brushing it ever so slightly before you bit into it again. The movement was subtle, but it sent a jolt through Chip that he struggled to suppress.

He swallowed hard, trying to shift his attention back to his phone, but it was useless. His entire focus was on you—on the way your fingers held the cucumber, on the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you savored the taste, on the way your eyes remained distant, clearly lost in thought while he was trapped in his own private torment.

Then, as if to push him further into the abyss, you grabbed the entire cucumber in your hand again, taking a bite straight from it. Chip's mind went blank, his breath hitching as he watched your lips part, teeth sinking into the cucumber’s firm flesh, your lips lingering just a bit longer than necessary. 

Completely unaware of his wide-eyed stare, you chewed thoughtfully, then shot him a playful grin, wiping juice from the corner of your mouth. "Want some?" you asked innocently, holding up a slice.

Chip nearly choked, his mind reeling. “Uh, no. I’m—uh, I’m good,” he stammered, his voice strangled with tension.

You shrugged, your smile casual and sweet. “Suit yourself,” you replied, popping another slice into your mouth with a satisfied hum.

Chip, feeling like he was about to combust, swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, but the image of your lips on that cucumber, the soft bite, the way your eyes sparkled without a hint of understanding of what you were doing to him—it was seared into his mind.

And he knew—there was no escaping this.

Before work one evening, you casually announced that you were trying a new stretching routine. Chip had been lounging on the couch, trying to unwind after the shift, but when you spread out a yoga mat right in front of him, his entire focus shifted.

You didn’t seem to notice his sudden tension as you knelt down and began stretching, starting with simple movements. But it wasn’t long before you bent forward, your fingers sliding toward your toes, your back arching as you stretched deeper. Chip’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart hammering in his chest.

Your bottoms hugged every curve, and as you stretched, the material pulled tighter, highlighting the shape of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the way your legs seemed to go on forever. The soft sighs you let out with each motion—small sounds of exertion—sent shivers down his spine. 

Chip tried desperately not to look, to focus on the TV, on his phone, on anything else, but it was impossible. The sight of you in front of him, completely absorbed in your routine, was maddening. Every movement seemed deliberate, sensual, though you had no idea what you were doing to him.

You moved into a deeper stretch, bending down again, this time with your legs spread slightly apart. Chip’s pulse quickened, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to keep himself calm. The way your body moved, so fluid, so confident, had him mesmerized.

And then you shifted into a backbend, your body arching gracefully, your chest rising, the soft line of your neck exposed. You groaned softly, a sound of satisfaction from the stretch, but to Chip, it was something else entirely—a sound that sent heat flooding through his veins.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his pulse racing in his ears. His mind was spinning, trying to reign in his thoughts, but the way your body curved, the way your breathing deepened, was driving him wild. Every inch of you was in his line of sight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring. 

You looked up at him briefly, giving him an innocent smile as you reached for your toes again. “You should try this sometime, Chip,” you said, completely oblivious to the chaos in his head. “It’s a great way to relax.”

Chip could barely respond, his throat tight. “Y-yeah, maybe,” he managed to croak, though the last thing he felt was relaxed. His body was tense, every muscle wound tight as he sat there, barely able to breathe, knowing that if you kept this up any longer, he might just lose his mind.

As you continued your stretches, Chip’s gaze flicked over every inch of you, burning with desire he couldn’t control, and he knew, deep down, that this slow torture couldn’t last much longer. Something had to give.

—

Later that week at the bar, Chip’s jealousy was reaching a boiling point. He had been dealing with it quietly for weeks now, keeping it buried beneath the surface as best as he could, but tonight was different. Someone had started flirting with you again—a regular, someone smooth and confident, who clearly knew what they were doing. And unlike all the other times, this time you seemed more receptive. Even if it was just for a brief moment, you laughed at their jokes, leaned in a little closer, your smile warmer than it usually was with other customers.

Chip could feel his stomach twist with bitterness, his jaw tightening as he tried to stay focused on his work. But he couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting back to you, watching as you exchanged banter with the customer, completely unaware of how much it was tearing him apart inside. 

For weeks, you’d been teasing him—whether you knew it or not—walking around the apartment in towels, eating suggestive foods, brushing up against him, filling his mind with all kinds of thoughts. And now this? Flirting with someone else right in front of him? It felt like a punch to the gut.

As the night went on, Chip found himself pulling away, becoming more distant, his usual tasks done with robotic efficiency but none of his usual energy. He stayed out of sight as much as possible, avoiding you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He couldn’t bring himself to be around you right now, not when his feelings were so close to breaking free.

After the bar finally closed and the last of the patrons trickled out, you noticed the shift in him. You wiped down the last of the counters, glancing over at Chip as he quietly stacked chairs, avoiding eye contact. Something was off.

“Chip?” you called out softly as you approached him. “You’ve been acting weird tonight. What’s going on?”

Chip didn’t look up, muttering a quick, “Nothing.”

You frowned, stepping closer and gently grabbing his arm. “I know that’s not true,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Chip flinched at your touch, a surge of frustration boiling over. He could feel it all bubbling to the surface, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. “It’s just… it’s hard watching everyone else flirt with you all the time.”

His voice was low, almost bitter, and it surprised even him how much emotion was packed into that one sentence. He finally looked at you, his eyes dark with something more than just jealousy.

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his confession. “Chip…” you started, your brows knitting together in confusion. “That’s just part of the job. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But Chip wasn’t convinced. He shook his head, his frustration seeping through. “Does it ever mean anything to you?”

Your breath caught for a second, surprised by the intensity in his question. You hadn’t seen just how much all the casual flirting, all the little interactions with customers, had been affecting him. You’d always seen it as part of the business, part of keeping the bar running smoothly. But Chip wasn’t just a customer. He wasn’t just another person passing through.

You let go of his arm, your expression softening as you took in the frustration in his voice, the way he was holding so much back. “Chip, I don’t know…” you started softly. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough, his walls crumbling down as all the emotions he had been holding back started to bleed through. 

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the tension that had been simmering between you both for weeks. You were seeing him in a new light—one filled with longing, frustration, and something deeper. Something that had been building up inside Chip for a while, and it was clear he couldn’t keep it locked away any longer.

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes, his voice softening with vulnerability. For the first time, you saw just how much you’d affected him. You weren’t sure what to say next, how to navigate the mess of emotions swirling between you two, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just about flirting anymore. This was about something much deeper, and now it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

—

Feeling that his crush on you had become unbearable, Chip found himself standing in the back room of the bar, leaning against the shelves as his thoughts spiraled. Every night seemed worse than the last. Every time you smiled at someone else, laughed at their jokes, or leaned in a little too close to a customer, Chip felt something twist painfully in his chest. It had become too much. His feelings were no longer a crush—they were an anchor, weighing him down, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe in the same room as you.

The problem was, these feelings were starting to get in the way of his work. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t pretend to just be your employee anymore. How could he when his heart was tangled up in you? Watching you flirt with customers, even in the most harmless way, made him feel like he was drowning. And worse—it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job, being yourself. But the jealousy, the frustration, the hopeless longing were making it impossible for him to do his.

And it wasn’t just at work anymore. At home, things had changed too. Chip had noticed that lately, you seemed more careful around him. For a while, you had been casual, carefree—walking around in towels, making playful jokes, teasing him without a second thought. But now? Now, there was an unspoken tension in the air between you. It was subtle, but Chip could feel it. You no longer strolled around the apartment with the same lightness, no longer lingered in the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel after a shower. You’d take your clothes into the bathroom again, your playful banter tinged with something more reserved, more cautious. 

It was like you could sense something had shifted in him, and in response, you’d adjusted too. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much he was struggling with his feelings, but you’d picked up on something. And that made everything worse. The easy comfort of being roommates had vanished, replaced by a growing awkwardness that gnawed at Chip constantly.

He couldn’t escape it. Not at work, where he had to watch you be charming and kind to everyone else. And not at home, where your sudden carefulness only reminded him of how complicated things had become. It was like he was trapped, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything but you and the growing distance between you.

It was too much. The weight of it was suffocating.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

So, the only option he saw was to leave. If he couldn’t have you—if you’d never look at him the way he looked at you—then maybe he needed to get out before it broke him completely. The idea of walking away felt like a fresh cut, sharp and deep, but staying felt like a slow, agonizing burn. 

Cody and Conor were chatting by the bar, laughing about something when Chip walked up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Conor was the first to notice Chip’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Conor teased, though there was concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I… I think I’m gonna quit.”

Cody stopped mid-laugh, their smile fading as they blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Conor frowned, crossing their arms. “Man, you can’t just drop that on us. What the hell’s going on?”

Chip swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much he was struggling, but he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore. “It’s just—my feelings. For her. It’s getting in the way of everything. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. Every night, it feels like I’m watching her with other people, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. And I think the only way to stop it is to leave.”

Cody exchanged a glance with Conor before stepping closer to Chip, their expression softer now. “Chip, I get it. Believe me, I do. But quitting your job because of it? That’s a big decision.”

Conor nodded, their playful demeanor gone as they looked at Chip seriously. “You’ve gotta think carefully about this, man. You’re not just giving up a job—you’re giving up on being around her completely. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Chip felt his heart ache at the thought of not seeing you anymore, not hearing your laugh or seeing your smile every night. But at the same time, he didn’t know how much longer he could take the constant emotional rollercoaster of wanting something that seemed impossible. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice strained. “But I don’t think I can stay and keep feeling like this. It’s tearing me apart.”

Cody sighed, placing a hand on Chip’s shoulder. “Look, man, we’re not telling you what to do, but maybe don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Take some time to really think about it. If you leave now, it might hurt just as much as staying does.”

“Yeah,” Conor added, “and finding another job won’t necessarily fix how you feel. Your heart’s wrapped up in this. It’s not gonna just go away because you work somewhere else.”

Chip nodded, knowing deep down they were right. It wasn’t just the job—it was you. His heart was tangled up in you, and no matter where he went, those feelings weren’t going to magically disappear. Still, the thought of staying felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the idea of leaving, of starting over somewhere where he wouldn’t have to feel like this every day.

“I’ve even started looking for other jobs,” Chip muttered, his voice quiet. “Just to see if there’s anything else out there. Something to distract me from… this.”

Cody sighed, glancing at Conor before turning back to Chip. “Look, maybe there’s another way. Have you thought about… I don’t know… talking to her? Telling her how you feel?”

Chip shook his head, his face a mask of pain. “I can’t. She’s my boss, my roommate. It would just make things weird. I don’t want to mess things up even more.”

Conor raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than you quitting out of nowhere without explaining why? Where would you live then?”

Chip bit his lip, his hands balling into fists as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Leaving without saying anything would raise questions. It would leave things unresolved. 

Cody squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just… think about it, okay? Don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Talk to her if you can. And if it’s really too much to handle, we’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Cody and Conor had noticed things changing between you and Chip for a while now. They weren’t blind to the way Chip had started acting—more distant, more withdrawn, especially when you were around. His mood had shifted, and while he was still doing his job, there was a tension between the two of you that hadn’t been there before. 

And now, with Chip thinking about quitting, they couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to the story—something you hadn’t said yet.

It was a quiet afternoon at the bar, just before the evening rush. You were behind the counter, absentmindedly polishing glasses, and Cody and Conor shared a look before they approached. They weren’t going to be obvious, but they needed to get a feel for where your head was at when it came to Chip.

Conor leaned against the counter first, flashing you a playful grin. “So, boss, how’s it going with our boy Chip lately? He’s been acting a little off, don’t you think?”

You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly as you met Conor’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you admitted, setting down the glass you were working on. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been so… distant. Different.”

Cody, leaning on the bar next to Conor, raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction closely. “Different how?” they asked casually, though there was a clear curiosity in their voice.

You shrugged, not entirely sure how to explain it. “I don’t know… He just seems quieter lately. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he always brushes it off, says he’s fine. But it doesn’t feel like he is.”

Conor exchanged a quick glance with Cody before turning back to you. “You think maybe it’s something to do with work? Or… maybe something else?”

You paused for a moment, considering the question. Chip had been acting strange both at work and at home, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s been fine at work, mostly, just a little more distracted than usual. And at home… well, it feels like things are weird there too. Like there’s some kind of… tension between us. But I don’t know why.”

Cody leaned in a little closer, their tone softer now, as if they were testing the waters. “Tension? Like what kind of tension? You think maybe Chip’s feeling some kind of way about you?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the implication, blinking in surprise. “What? No, I mean… why would he?” You laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. “We’re just friends. Roommates. He’s probably just going through something.”

Conor smirked, crossing their arms and leaning in a little closer. “Maybe. But we’ve seen the way he looks at you, you know? Kind of seems like there’s more there…”

You hesitated, feeling a flicker of uncertainty at their words. You’d noticed Chip acting strange, sure, but you hadn’t really considered the idea that it might be because of you. “I don’t know,” you said, a little quieter now. “He’s never said anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Cody said with a knowing smile, “sometimes guys don’t say stuff like that because they’re scared of messing things up. But, I mean, if he did feel that way… how would you feel about it?”

You looked between Cody and Conor, realizing they weren’t just casually asking anymore. They were digging, trying to gauge your reaction, and it left you feeling a little off-balance. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He’s an amazing person, but…”

Conor raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish. “But?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “But he’s never made a move, you know? We’ve been living together for a while, and I guess there have been a few times when I thought he might say something. Maybe he wanted something more, but he never opens up. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Cody nodded, a knowing look in their eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Chip. He’s got a lot going on in that head of his, but he keeps it all bottled up. Doesn’t make it easy to figure out what he wants.”

Conor leaned in a little closer, lowering their voice. “But here’s the thing—you probably know him better than anyone. You’ve seen the way he is when he’s comfortable, and when he’s not. And if you’ve felt those moments—those times when you thought he might say something—well, chances are, he’s felt them too.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking back to those moments. The times when you caught him looking at you a second too long, or when he seemed to shy away from getting too close. The way he acted differently around you lately, quieter, more distant, like he was trying to avoid something. Or maybe trying to avoid you.

“I just don’t get it,” you admitted, shaking your head. “If he feels something, why doesn’t he say anything? Why pull away?”

Cody smiled sympathetically. “Fear, probably. He’s scared of messing things up between you two. I mean, think about it—you’re his boss, his roommate, his friend. That’s a lot to risk if he’s worried it’s not mutual.”

Conor added, “And from what I’ve seen, it’s eating him up. Dude’s been in a weird headspace lately. He probably thinks if he says something, it’ll make things weird or worse, so instead he just… suffers in silence.”

You exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of their words settle over you. Maybe you’d been missing something, maybe Chip had been struggling with this for longer than you realized. But if he wasn’t going to say anything, if he was just going to pull away, what could you do?

“Should I… talk to him?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of how to approach something like this. It wasn’t like you could just march up to him and demand he tell you how he felt.

Cody gave you an encouraging nod. “I think you should. Just be honest with him. If you care about him—and I know you do—then don’t let this thing fester. He’s not going to be the one to start that conversation, so it’s gotta be you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a swirl of emotions you weren’t entirely ready to confront. It was one thing to speculate about Chip’s feelings, but if you were going to talk to him—if you were going to open this door—then you’d have to be ready for what might come next.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice firm but uncertain. “I’ll talk to him. I just hope I’m not too late.”

Conor patted your shoulder, flashing you a supportive grin. “You’re not. Just don’t wait too long. Chip’s a good guy, but he seems like he might have a habit of retreating when things get hard. You don’t want to lose him.”

As they walked away, leaving you alone to process everything, you found yourself staring at the empty bar, your thoughts circling back to Chip. Maybe you had missed something, maybe you hadn’t been paying close enough attention. But one thing was certain—things couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, and soon.

—

It was late, the bar now silent after the last customer had trickled out into the night. The air was still, thick with the smell of spilled drinks and fading laughter, but it was peaceful in a way that only came after a long shift. You wiped down the last glass, casting a glance over at Chip as he finished stacking the chairs. 

“Hey, Chip,” you called softly, breaking the quiet, “how about we have a drink before heading home?”

Chip hesitated, surprised by the offer. His heart leapt into his throat, immediately overthinking every possible implication. You just wanted to relax, he told himself. It was just a drink, no big deal. Still, he was nervous. Too nervous, given the circumstances. But after a second, he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

You smiled at him, that easy, genuine smile that always seemed to put him at ease, and it made his stomach twist with all the feelings he’d been trying to keep buried. He followed you to the back of the bar, where it was quieter, and you grabbed two beers from the cooler, handing one to him as you sat down at one of the small, dimly lit tables. 

The two of you clinked your bottles together lightly, the gesture casual, but Chip could feel the tension thrumming in his chest. He took a sip, trying to settle his nerves as you both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So,” you began after a while, your voice soft but curious, “how’ve you been? I mean, really been? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”

Chip blinked, caught off guard by the question. He swallowed, his fingers tightening around the neck of the beer bottle. “Uh, I’ve been… okay, I guess,” he said, trying to sound neutral, though his voice faltered slightly. 

You tilted your head, giving him that look that told him you could see right through him. “Come on, Chip. I know you better than that.”

Chip looked down, the familiar feeling of guilt creeping up on him. He knew he hadn’t been the same, but how could he explain that it was all because of you? That every time he saw you, every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like his heart was being ripped in two? He couldn’t tell you that—not completely. Not yet.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some stuff,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “Got a lot on my mind.”

You nodded, sipping your beer thoughtfully. “I get that. We all have our moments, right? But if there’s something going on, you know you can talk to me, right? I care about you, Chip.”

Chip felt his heart clench at your words. The way you said it—I care about you—it was so simple, so kind, but it only reminded him of what he couldn’t have. He took a deep breath, deciding to let a little bit of his guard down. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, I guess. What I’m doing here. What I want to be doing. And sometimes, it feels like I’m stuck.”

You leaned in slightly, your eyes soft with understanding. “I’ve felt the same way a lot over the years. Like, what am I doing here? Where am I going? It’s hard to figure out sometimes, especially when things feel complicated.”

Chip glanced at you, surprised at your openness. “You seem like you have it all figured out,” Chip said, his tone slightly teasing but genuine. “Running this place, handling everything so well. I’ve always admired that about you.”

You smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Chip, but trust me, I don’t have it all figured out. Sometimes I’m just as lost as anyone else. I just try not to let it show too much.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you two as you both sipped your beers, each lost in your own thoughts. The conversation was quieter now, but there was an ease to it, a closeness that hadn’t been there before. 

After a few more minutes of silence, you set your beer down and looked at Chip, your expression shifting slightly, more serious now. “Chip,” you began, your voice softer, more hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

He glanced up at you, his heart immediately jumping into his throat again. “Yeah, of course.”

You bit your lip, seeming to choose your words carefully before finally asking, “How do you feel about me?”

Chip froze. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. This was it. The moment he’d been avoiding, the conversation he’d been dreading and longing for all at once. His hands tightened around the bottle, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he could find the words. But he couldn’t avoid it any longer. 

“I—” He hesitated, feeling the weight of the question settle heavily over him. He could feel your eyes on him, waiting for an answer, and he knew he had to give you one. “I care about you. A lot. More than I should.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “More than you should?”

Chip took a deep breath, his throat tight. “Yeah. You’re my boss, and my friend, and… I don’t want to mess things up between us. But it’s been hard. Really hard. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down, but it’s just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s hard watching you, being around you, and not being able to say anything. Because I know it’ll change things, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel the way I do.”

There it was. Not a full confession, but enough to crack open the wall he’d been hiding behind. Enough to give you a glimpse into how much he’d been struggling with his feelings for you.

You sat back, processing his words, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything that had been left unsaid for weeks, months. Finally, you let out a soft breath, your gaze meeting his.

“I didn’t realize,” you said gently. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You were quiet for a moment longer before you spoke again, your voice softer now. “Things aren’t weird, Chip. Not for me. I just… I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

Chip looked up at you, his heart racing. There was something in your voice, something in the way you were looking at him that made him think, for the first time, that maybe he hadn’t been wrong to feel the way he did. Maybe there was more between you than just friendship and work. Maybe things weren’t as impossible as he’d thought.

"Why?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty lacing every syllable. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between hope and the fear of misunderstanding everything.

You smiled softly, and in that moment, Chip felt the world shift, the air between you charged with something different—something real. Your eyes met his, filled with a warmth and sincerity he hadn’t allowed himself to believe was possible.

“Because then I could have told you sooner that I feel the same way,” you said, your voice gentle but sure.

Chip stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with what you’d just said. Feel the same way? His heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his ears as your words sank in. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were out of reach, that his feelings were one-sided, a hopeless crush he’d never be able to confess.

But now—now—you were looking at him with that soft, genuine smile, and everything he’d been holding back for so long felt like it was about to come crashing down. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. “What… what way do you feel?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with disbelief. He needed to hear it again, just to be sure, just to know this wasn’t a dream or some misunderstanding.

You grinned, the warmth in your eyes making his pulse race even faster. “I really like you, Chip,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with affection. “And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

Chip’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the words hit him with full force. His heart seemed to skip a beat, the reality of the moment sinking in. He had imagined this—dreamt about it, wished for it—but hearing it, actually hearing it, was something entirely different.

“You… you do?” he stammered, the disbelief still lingering even as his heart swelled with hope.

You nodded, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “Yeah, Chip. I do.”

The air between you was charged now, thick with anticipation and a tension that had been building for so long. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the soft hum of something electric as your gaze held his. His mind was still spinning, but there was no mistaking the look in your eyes, the way your lips curved into that gentle, inviting smile.

For once, Chip didn’t overthink it. He didn’t retreat into his head or worry about the consequences. He didn’t think about you being his boss, his roommate, or the fear that had kept him silent for so long. All he could think about was you—standing there, telling him you felt the same way he had for so long.

So, without another word, Chip leaned in, his breath shaky but his heart certain. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, everything fell into place. The hesitation melted away, and Chip deepened the kiss, his hand gently reaching up to cup your cheek as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was soft, tender, but filled with everything you both had held back for so long. It was like a floodgate had opened, all the emotions, the longing, the unsaid words finally spilling out in that one moment. Chip couldn’t believe it was happening—that after all this time, you wanted this too.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both slightly breathless, a quiet, giddy laughter bubbling between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do that,” you whispered, your hand still resting on his arm.

Chip smiled, his heart still racing. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his arm. “It’s real, Chip.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you now lifted, leaving only the warmth of something new, something real. Chip felt lighter than he had in weeks, months, honestly ever. 

He smiled softly at you, his voice filled with quiet sincerity as he whispered, “I think I want to kiss you again.” 

And when you smiled, leaning in for another kiss, it felt like the start of something he’d been waiting for all along.

But this next kiss was different. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was filled with the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, finally unleashed. You gripped his biceps, feeling the strength you’d been secretly drooling over for months, your fingers curling around the muscle as if you couldn’t get close enough. 

Chip’s hands slid down to your hips, and with a sudden, heated movement, he yanked you into his lap. The shift was quick, fluid, and before you could even react, you were straddling him, your chest pressed against his, the air between you charged with a hunger that neither of you could deny anymore.

“Whoa, there, cowboy,” you laughed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. Your hands stayed on his arms, but your body trembled with excitement, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Chip grinned, that boyish, almost shy smile you’d grown so fond of breaking through the lustful haze in his eyes. “Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmured, though his hands stayed firm on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You laughed again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t say I minded,” you teased, leaning back in, your lips brushing his with just enough pressure to drive him wild. You could feel his heartbeat under your palms, could sense the way he was holding back, still cautious despite the fire burning between you.

Chip groaned softly, the sound vibrating between your lips as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re making it really hard to behave,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath warm and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who said I want you to behave?” you whispered back, the words sending a surge of heat through him. You could feel him tense beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more need.

Your hands slipped from his biceps to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as you let yourself melt into him, the heat between you intensifying with every second. Chip’s hands roamed from your hips, sliding down to your ass, his grip firm, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

The bar was quiet, the world outside forgotten as the two of you lost yourselves in each other, in the kiss that had been building for so long. It was like the floodgates had opened, all the pent-up tension, the unsaid words, the longing finally released in this moment.

And as you kissed him again, his lips soft yet demanding against yours, you realized just how much you had wanted this—how much you had wanted him. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Chip murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, sending another thrill through you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your heart racing. “Me too, Chip,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. 

When your fingers crept up the bottom of Chip’s shirt, brushing against his skin and tangling in the soft hair on his stomach, you felt him shiver under your touch. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he seemed to freeze. His hands, which had been resting firmly on your ass, loosened slightly as if his mind caught up to what was happening.

“We—um, we probably shouldn’t do this here? Right?” Chip's voice was shaky, caught between desire and hesitation, his words more a question than a statement. 

You paused, leaning back just enough to look at him, the playful gleam still shining in your eyes. “My bar, my rules,” you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief. Without giving him time to respond, you leaned forward, licking a slow, deliberate line up the side of his neck, feeling the way he trembled under your lips.

Chip let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as your teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck. He gripped you tighter, trying to catch his breath, his mind spinning. The line between right and wrong blurred as the heat between you intensified. 

He swallowed hard, as his thoughts unraveled with every kiss, every bite, the world outside forgotten as your lips sent electricity coursing through him. Your teeth scraped lightly against his neck again, making him gasp, his body arching beneath you. He felt like he was losing himself in you, in this moment, and he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The tension, the need that had built up for so long was too much to ignore now.

"Fuck," Chip groaned lowly as you finally settled fully on his lap, his body responding instantly to the pressure of you pressed so intimately against him. You could feel just how much he wanted this, wanted you, his breath hitching as his hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to steady himself.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You gonna let me take care of you, Chip?” Your voice was soft, sweet, but dripping with a seductive promise that made his head spin. 

For a moment, Chip couldn’t think—his mind spiraling as your words sank in. Take care of him. All he’d ever wanted was for someone to see him, to really see him, and care about him in the way you were offering. It was overwhelming, the idea that you could feel this way about him, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

His chest tightened, a mixture of desire and something deeper bubbling up inside him. He nodded slowly, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah… yeah, I want that.” His words were barely audible, filled with need and vulnerability all at once.

You grinned, your lips brushing against his neck again as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your fingertips. "Good," you whispered, your tone filled with a confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

Chip swallowed hard, his body trembling slightly as he let go of the tension he'd been holding onto for so long. He felt your hands on him, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to hold back. He didn’t feel like he had to be in control or guard himself.

You moved against him slowly, teasingly, your body swaying in just the right way to make him lose all sense of restraint. Chip’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching at your waist, his mind lost in the haze of sensation. The idea that you wanted to take care of him—him—felt unreal, like a fantasy he'd never dared to hope for.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as you rocked against him, his head falling back as he gave in completely. 

You smiled, feeling the heat of the moment rise as you saw just how much you were affecting him, how vulnerable he was beneath you, how completely lost he was in the feeling of being wanted. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I can make you feel a whole lot better.”

Chip blinked, confusion flashing in his eyes as he tried to process your words. His brow furrowed, and before he could even ask what you meant, you were climbing off his lap. He squawked in protest, his hands instinctively reaching for you, not wanting the moment to end.

But any protest he had died on his lips when he saw what you were doing.

Your knees hit the floor, and his heart nearly stopped. His breath hitched in his throat, his entire body freezing as he watched you kneel between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him, that wicked, playful glint in your eyes, made his mind spin. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe what you were about to do.

Your hand slid over him, pressing firmly through the denim of his jeans, and Chip’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. His hands clenched the arms of the chair as he looked down at you, his pulse roaring in his ears. The feel of your touch, even through the fabric, sent a jolt of electricity through his entire body.

“Y/N…” Chip breathed, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. His body reacted before his mind could, his hips shifting under your hand as he swallowed hard, his throat tight with anticipation.

You grinned up at him, your hand moving slowly, teasingly, as you kept your gaze locked on his. You could see the way his breath quickened, the way his body tensed, completely at your mercy. "Relax," you whispered, your voice soft and commanding all at once.

Chip could only nod, his mind spinning as he let go of the last shred of control he had. He watched you, unable to look away, as your fingers began working on the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His breath caught in his throat as your hand slipped beneath the fabric, the feel of your skin on his sending a shockwave of desire through him.

This was what he had wanted—what he had dreamed of for so long. But now that it was happening, it was almost too much, too overwhelming, and yet, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

Of course, everything intensified when you pulled him completely free from his jeans, the fabric sliding down his hips as you worked with deliberate care. Chip’s breath hitched in disbelief as you wasted no time, nuzzling in at the base of him with a teasing smile, your warm breath against his skin sending a shockwave of sensation through him. His hands gripped the arms of the chair tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to process what was happening.

He couldn’t believe his luck. This—this—wasn’t something that ever happened to him. He was usually the one giving, always wanting to please, whether or not he wanted to receive in return. But now, you were turning everything on its head, taking control in a way that left him utterly helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure.

His mind raced, torn between the urge to let go completely and the instinct to pull back, but the moment your lips brushed against him, soft and teasing, any thought of retreat vanished. His body betrayed him, responding instantly, hips jerking slightly as a low groan escaped his throat.

"Fuck," Chip muttered, the word drawn out, his voice rough with desire. His head fell back against the chair, his mind clouded with the heat of the moment, the feel of your hands, your mouth, completely undoing him.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you moved slowly, deliberately, taking your time as if savoring every second. The sight of you kneeling before him, your lips teasing, your hands firm but gentle, was enough to drive him wild. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing as you took him further, inch by inch, your touch making it impossible for him to think straight.

Chip’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers flexing uselessly on the chair, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto as you worked him over. He could barely string a thought together, his mind reduced to a haze of pure sensation, and it took everything in him not to lose himself entirely.

“You’re… you’re really doing this,” he mumbled, his voice breathless, as though he still couldn’t believe it was real. And, God, he didn’t want you to stop. 

You smiled up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as your hand tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of sensation crashing through his body. "And you taste really good," you teased, your voice low and sultry, laced with a sweetness that made Chip’s breath stutter in his chest.

Before he could even process your words, you leaned back in, this time with a newfound determination. You wasted no time, your mouth enveloping him in a way that sent his mind spiraling into a dizzying blur of pleasure. Chip’s body tensed, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the chair, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white.

It felt like his brain was melting, the heat of your mouth, the way you moved with deliberate, agonizing precision, unraveling him inch by inch. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. Every sensation, every touch, was heightened, the world around him fading away until all he could feel, all he could think about, was you.

You were relentless, going to town on him like you were on a mission, and Chip could do nothing but surrender to the waves of pleasure rolling through him. His hips bucked involuntarily as you worked him over, your lips, your tongue, moving in perfect sync with your hand. It was almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. He couldn’t get enough of you.

"Fuck," he groaned the only word he seemed to remember, his voice rough, almost breaking as you pulled another shiver from deep within him. His mind was gone, lost somewhere between reality and bliss, his only tether to this world the sensation of your mouth on him. 

Chip was falling apart, his body trembling under your expert touch, and the more you moved, the more he let go. Every moan, every gasp, every choked sound he made only seemed to spur you on, pushing him further and further until he was right on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself completely.

He didn’t care anymore if he was too loud, didn’t care if the world outside the bar was still spinning. He could barely even remember where he was, his entire existence narrowed down to this one moment, to you, to the way you made him feel like he was coming undone at the seams.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave, crashing over him in relentless waves until all he could do was let go. His hands fumbled for purchase, his fingers tangling in your hair as he groaned your name, the sound breaking off into a desperate plea as you pushed him closer, and closer to the edge.

And when Chip finally couldn’t take it anymore, when the pressure that had been building inside him finally broke, his body tensed, and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat. His voice was thick with desperation as he warned, "I’m going to come—"

But before he could get there, you pulled away suddenly, your hand gripping him firmly at the base, cutting off all sensation. His entire body jolted, and a broken, frustrated cry tore from his lips. "Why?!" he whined, his eyes wide, desperate, and full of disbelief.

You smirked, your voice teasing yet full of promise as you whispered, “Because I’m not done with you.”

Chip's frustration was palpable, his body still thrumming with need, every muscle coiled tight as he struggled to recover from the abrupt stop. But the moment he saw you rise to your feet, that playful gleam still in your eyes, and begin to slowly remove your top, his breath caught in his throat. 

His eyes widened as you peeled away the fabric, revealing your skin inch by inch, and the irritation that had been burning inside him vanished in an instant. Instead, all he could do was stare, his gaze locked on you, completely entranced. The soft glow of the dim lights in the bar cast a warm glow over your skin, and Chip's heart raced in his chest as he took in every detail.

"Fuck..." he breathed, his voice a low rasp, filled with awe and desire. The sight of you—standing there, unashamed, confident, and wanting him—was enough to make his mind go blank all over again.

“Do you know any other words, honey? Or are you fucked stupid already?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful dominance as you hovered over him. The wicked grin on your face sent a shiver down Chip’s spine, and his mind struggled to keep up with the sensation coursing through his body.

“I–uh…” Chip stuttered, completely flustered by the combination of your words and the feel of your body pressed against his. His mind was hazy, his thoughts scattered, and he couldn’t think straight. His lips parted, desperate for words, but all that came out was a needy, “Y/N, please…”

You smirked, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him, your hands sliding over his chest as you leaned in close. “I’m glad you still have your manners, my dumb boy,” you cooed, your tone both sweet and condescending, the words sending another wave of heat rushing through his veins.

Chip thought he would hate it—the way you were teasing him, degrading him just enough to make him feel like he was completely under your control. But instead, it had the opposite effect. His heart raced faster, his skin flushed, and every word you said made his desire for you burn hotter, stronger. He was already so far gone, so completely consumed by the moment, that he didn’t care anymore. He wanted more—needed more of you, no matter how you gave it to him.

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and desperate, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, “Please… don’t stop.”

Your grin widened, your fingers trailing down his stomach, teasing him as you took your time. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you stepped closer until you were right in front of him. 

His hands instinctively reached for you, but you gently pushed him back against the chair, keeping control, your gaze locked with his. "You're going to sit back," you whispered, your voice low and commanding, "and let me take care of you."

Chip’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his pulse racing as he nodded, his eyes still glued to you. His body was already on fire, every nerve on edge, but now the anticipation of what you were about to do was almost unbearable.

You grinned, clearly loving the effect you were having on him, the power you held over him in this moment. With a slow, deliberate motion, you began to slide your bottoms down, letting them drop to the floor, exposing yourself completely to Chip. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared up at you, utterly entranced by the sight.

Without a word, you climbed back into his lap, the heat of your bare skin pressing against his as you kissed him, deep and slow, savoring the way he responded. Chip groaned into your mouth, his hands moving immediately, instinctively, to cup your breasts. His touch was needy, desperate, his fingers squeezing gently as he explored you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as you moaned in his mouth.

The feeling of his hands on you, the way his breath hitched as you kissed him, made your whole body hum with anticipation. You could feel how badly he wanted this—how badly he wanted you—and the way his touch became more urgent, more insistent, only fueled your desire.

You pressed your body closer, grinding against him as your lips moved together, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Chip's moans grew louder, his grip on you tightening as he lost himself in the sensation, every inch of his body responding to your touch.

He pulled back for just a second, breathless and wide-eyed, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "You're perfect... so perfect."

You smiled against his lips, your voice teasing as you whispered back, "Good boy."

“Fuck me, please, please, please,” Chip cried out, his voice ragged and desperate, his entire body trembling beneath you. The words came out in a rush, his need overtaking every ounce of restraint he had left.

You leaned in close, teasing him with a soft, mocking coo, “Oh, my stupid little baby, I will. You don’t have to cry.” You grinned wickedly, swiping your thumbs under his eyes, even though there were no actual tears, your touch just enough to send another shiver down his spine.

Chip lifted his arms obediently, his breathing heavy, and you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it aside as you admired the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. The tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation as you positioned yourself above him, his hands gripping your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you finally sank down on him.

Chip let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in completely, the overwhelming sensation making his entire body tense beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to process the rush of pleasure flooding through him.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice barely audible as you began to move, your body sliding against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. You could feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his grip on you tightened as if he was trying to keep himself grounded, but the more you moved, the more he lost himself in the sensation.

You smiled down at him, your own breath hitching as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "There you go, baby."

Chip’s response was nothing more than a broken moan, his mind completely gone, lost to the feeling of you, of the way your body moved against his, of the overwhelming pleasure that had been building for what felt like forever. And as you rode him, slow and deliberate, Chip could only cling to you, completely at your mercy, and loving every second of it.

“Does it–ahh–does it feel good for you?” Chip whimpered, his voice shaky and breathless, his eyes wide with need as he looked up at you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, desperate to make sure you were feeling even a fraction of the intensity that was flooding through him.

You smiled down at him, your breath catching as you moved against him, your body sinking deeper with each slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, baby,” you purred, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed against his ear, “it feels fucking amazing.”

Your words made Chip’s body jolt beneath you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you continued to move, each motion slow but firm, driving him wild. The way your body enveloped him, the heat and friction between you both, had his mind spinning, but hearing that it felt good for you—really good—made his heart pound even harder.

"God, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his hips bucking up instinctively as you continued to ride him, his need to please you overriding everything else. "I just want to make you feel good."

You smiled, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers as you leaned in close again, your lips brushing against his. "You already are, baby," you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with a teasing warmth. "You're being so good for me."

Chip whimpered at your words, his mind overwhelmed by the heady mix of praise and raw sensation. Every nerve in his body was on fire, his control slipping with every second. He barely knew what he was doing, lost in the whirlwind of desire, but somehow, in a blur of movement, the positions had shifted.

Suddenly, you were laying down on the table, your back arching slightly as Chip found himself on top of you. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he thrust into you, more instinct than thought guiding his movements now. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved, his rhythm uneven but full of intensity.

“Fuck,” Chip breathed, his voice rough, almost broken. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe how good it felt to be this close to you, to be buried inside you, moving with reckless abandon. He wanted to last, to savor the moment, but the way you felt beneath him, the soft gasps that escaped your lips, were driving him wild.

Your hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. “That’s it, Chip,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with encouragement. “Just like that.”

Your words only fueled the fire inside him. Chip’s hips snapped forward harder, more desperate, his body completely giving in to the pleasure as he chased the high that had been building between you. He could barely think, barely breathe, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in the moment, in you.

The table creaked beneath you, your bodies moving in sync, every thrust sending a wave of electricity through both of you. Chip’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he continued, his need to please you overtaking everything else.

“Am I—ah—doing good?” he managed to choke out between thrusts, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability. He was desperate for reassurance, desperate to know that he was making you feel as good as you were making him feel.

Your nails scraped lightly down his back, sending a shiver through him as you smiled up at him, your voice low and sultry as you whispered, “So good, Chip. You’re amazing.”

Those words sent Chip over the edge. His body tensed, every muscle tightening as he lost himself in the rhythm, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. The only thing on his mind now was you, the way your body moved beneath his, the way you felt so perfectly wrapped around him. 

"I’m gonna come, Y/N," Chip groaned, his voice strained, trembling with the intensity of everything building inside him. His movements grew more erratic, his hips snapping harder against you as he fought to keep control, though he knew he was seconds away from losing it completely.

You could feel how close he was, his body trembling with the effort, his breath ragged and uneven. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer as you whispered, your voice dripping with need, "Give it to me, baby."

Those words, that permission, sent him spiraling over the edge.

With a broken, desperate moan, Chip’s body tensed, his hips bucking one last time as he lost himself completely in the pleasure. His entire body shuddered, waves of heat crashing over him as he buried himself inside you, giving you everything he had. 

His breath came out in short, gasping pants, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as the last of the tension drained from him. He was shaking, overwhelmed by the intensity of the release, and for a moment, he could barely think, his mind blank as he clung to you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling as he tried to catch his breath, still lost in the haze of everything that had just happened.

You smiled, your hands sliding up his back in a soothing gesture as you held him close, your own breath still ragged from the intensity of it all. "That’s my good boy," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You and Chip sorted yourselves out, getting cleaned up and dressed before stepping back into the quiet night, the air cool against your flushed skin. As you began walking home, Chip felt a warmth settle in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical heat between you earlier. His heart soared when you casually grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. That small, intimate gesture made him feel like everything had changed—for the better.

But then, suddenly, a cold realization hit him, causing his steps to falter. “Oh my god,” Chip said, his voice full of panic as he looked at you with wide eyes. “You never came!”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet street, and you stopped walking, tugging him into a hug. Chip immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, but still looking slightly panicked. “What’s this for?” he asked, confusion lacing his words.

“You’re the sweetest man alive, Chip,” you said through your laughter, pulling back just enough to grin up at him. You leaned in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss that made his mind spin all over again. When you pulled away, Chip’s lips followed yours instinctively, still looking dazed and concerned.

Before he could speak, you brushed your thumb over his cheek, whispering, “I was only worried about you.” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you tickled his sides, making him jump and giggle, his worry dissolving into laughter.

“But,” you added, your tone turning teasing again as you looked up at him with a wink, “if you want to go again, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Chip’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in shock and excitement. Without missing a beat, he nodded, completely floored by your offer. And then—he was off. Grabbing your hand, he tugged you down the street, practically dragging you along as he picked up the pace.

You couldn’t help but laugh maniacally as Chip half-sprinted down the street, pulling you behind him like a man on a mission. You’d never seen him move so fast in your life, and it only made your laughter echo louder.

Chip glanced back at you, his face flushed with a mix of excitement and affection, but his steps didn’t slow. He wasn’t going to waste any time getting home tonight—not with the promise of you waiting for him. And as you both hurried through the night, hand in hand, the laughter between you felt like the start of something new, something neither of you were going to let go of anytime soon.

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[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Tourniquet

DUNCAN VIZLA X READER

⚠️ Warnings: Uhhh kinda extreme gore, I mean I definitely go into intense detail about some of the way these people die so probably don't read this if you're squeamish, blood, death, murder, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, I think that's it but yeah ⚠️

Duncan comes to save you and risks his life in the process.

Duncan had originally wanted nothing more than to retire from this god-forsaken line of work he'd been in for over thirty years. To succumb fully to the relaxation that was unemployed bliss, somewhere far off in the lost woods with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Maybe he'd try for another dog again, although he wasn't too lucky with his PTSD responses around Rusty. Wherever in the world he may be or whomever he'd be with, he just wanted some goddamn peace and quiet, thankyouverymuch.

Today, he was not so lucky. Of course, he had to take the one job offer to end his career with a bang and to coagulate all of the money he'd originally been promised to begin with. One job after another, one shot fired towards a man's head and a stapler gun to his ankles, all led him here. At the front of this house. On a rescue mission. Which would then lead to a hitman mission. Obviously. Unfortunately.

Duncan sighed and took in the landscape with his one good eye, courtesy of the copious amount of torture he'd pushed through over the past month. Although his wounds were still healing and he felt their burn underneath the folds of his fabric coat, he had to act fast as there was no time to waste. He needed to put his life on the line once again; as he had for so many years working as a hitman. But now, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. A reward to his revenge. Nothing that was false promises of money or strippers or nights out at the bar that would only situate him for a week before he grew bored. No, at the end of this mission was the promise of your safety and the potential of the two of you living this retired life he'd dreamt of for so long.

He only had to kill 30+ men and his former "mission mates" before getting to you and fleeing this Damocles shit for good.

Easy, in theory. In actuality, he was probably going to end up dead. Unless he could control himself through his rage and use it as an adrenalin boost rather than a distraction to his plan.

The mansion was huge and lavish in comparison to the wood houses Duncan had come to love in Montana. It was almost entirely frivolous; the magnitude of Blut's weath, all gained from those who did his dirty work and never out of his own aspirations.

Seeing the coast was fairly clear, he crafted a plan in his head as to how he was going to make it in and out of the place unscathed. Two guards to his left on the rooftop, facing outwards. Meaning that there must be at least another two on the other side, not knowing from which direction he'd come. Another one in the upper right window that could easily be taken out with a sniper. A few fifteen or so on the ground in hidden positions, all of which he knew considering he used to work for the damn place. Assuming Blut's usual stupidity would mean that the plans for an attack on Damocles would be unchanged, minus those who were inside of the place itself.

Time for action. He took off his heavy coat and draped it on the tree nearest to him so as not to be weighed down by the material. His thick wool sweater would be more than enough to keep him warm, alongside his steel-toed boots. Underneath his coat and concealed by his initial wardrobe was a now visible belt with two loaded guns on either side. His hand was clad with brass knuckles and he had a knife in his boot, only for an extreme situation. Worse comes to worse, he still had that piece of shrapnel under the second layer of his skin from one of his older missions he could cut out if he really had to. Eyepatch in place and hair tied in an up-do, he was ready to start shooting people.

Hey, maybe if they were all dead he'd finally get his $8 million he'd been promised.

It happened as quickly as the next snowflake hit the ground; Blut's mansion was under attack. They'd been expecting him, but as he was called The Black Kaiser, he was the best of the best. He knew their ins and outs and was now thankful he kept a friendly but protective distance from everyone while he was in the org so that they wouldn't know the specificities for his own attack. One skillful shot to the top left roof was enough to pierce through the necks of both the men standing atop it, one falling off after the other and landing on the ground with a thick thud. Blasted through arteries and a fuckton of blood pooled out the edges from where they'd fallen, creating intricate patterns on the wintery terrain and leaving giant stains on the sides of the building.

Now understanding their mission was a go, the man from the window received the hint and withdrew himself from the window, racing back inside most likely to tell Blut about the outside commotion. No matter. He'd take his time to paint the entirety of the green estate red with the fallen victims of Damocles.

He'd been right about the guards from the top of the building being on the other side, except there were three instead of two. They rushed around looking for the potential places Duncan could be hiding, so as to scope him out first and be the ones to receive the praise from their fat ass nepo-baby boss. They must all be younger and have no idea the amount of years and experience he'd had in this industry because Duncan was in plain fucking sight with his guns readied in both hands.

"Bye." He said, and shot them at the same time, making two of the guards meet the same tragic fate as their friends. One, two, they hit the ground with more thuds and guts, spreading their entrails further out than most people would think the human body could reach. One of their intestines had wrapped around the edges of the window panes, a man still alive wishing he wasn't. He was screaming from the upper floor awaiting his fall as he was held up by the gaping wound in his stomach where Duncan had shot him once more. The last guard at the top of the roof looked down in horror and jumped himself, taking his own life and going limp once his neck made a loud snap against the pavement under the soft snow.

PTSD flashbacks edged the corners of Duncan's one-eyed vision, trying their best to stop him as he witnessed the horror of human death via his hands. He was used to this feeling, of wanting to curl up and revert into himself, to never see anyone or anything again and be tortured as payment for his crimes. He was just a man, not a deity. Why should he choose- or rather- listen to who chooses who should meet an untimely death? What makes him above the others within his species?

Because of their frequent visits, he shut his visions down and went soulless. That was the only way to truly do his job and to continue to do it well within the moment and not fight with the side that was desperate to live in peace and an understanding of humanity. He was a pacifist at heart, truly. And even though it went against his psychological beliefs of the world, he had to pretend that intentions outweighed his actions in the sense of his killing and this mission; that getting to you was worth the rampant murderous spree of all these people, paid by their boss just as he was to do the same tasks he's doing.

Burrowing into himself, he rolls to the nearest icicle filled tree, grabbing the man who was hidden here with the gun and twisting his neck until he heard the sounds of life escaping his throat. He discarded his now empty gun for the one in the holster of the other man, making sure it was fully loaded before proceeding to also extract the menthols from the upper part of the stranger's jacket.

"Mange Tak." He said, Danish for thank you. He could have a little class while he was at it.

Noticing the tree he was under and the man whom he'd just killed, Blut was either following their Five-Ten plan or the Outskirts plan, both of which were effective in combat. The Five-Ten plan was created by Vivian herself meaning that there would be five on the perimeter of the compound, five on the rooftop, and ten within the building before whomever was entering made it inside. Then, after getting through the frontlines of security (if they made it that far), whomever was infiltrating would meet the guards who allowed their cohorts to be killed as preparation time for the main show.

The Outskirts plan, however, would mean that every man who wasn't directly appointed as an assassin to Blut's side would be out in the fields which were now covered in snow, using the trapdoors hidden in the earth to prepare their weapons for combat and kill the intruder as he (or she) approached the compound.

He was going to take his bets with the Five-Ten.

Heart barely going over an easy 65bpm, he calmly readied his guns for the next part of the infiltration where a few other guards would pop up and flock to his sides, hoping that they might catch him off-guard. Which they wouldn't. Another few shots took care of those and as he wiped the blood off his face from the splatter of one of them, he lit a cigarette and started walking towards the front of the compound, taking his chances that he knew which plan they had chosen considering he'd killed most of the other ones when he'd killed Vivian during their surprise attack not even hours before he got here.

Stepping over the walkway and opening the doors to the inside, he'd been proven correct in his intuition and flanked to the wall, keeping himself out of sight to those in the building. There were three open entryways leading from the main hall to the upstairs where the pig himself resided. Which meant around six of those corners could be another guard and he'd have to take his shots carefully, unless he wanted to engage in hand-to-hand combat which didn't always end well when your opponent had a firearm. He checked his inventory quickly.

Six bullets left. He'd have to be stingy about it.

Holding the trigger and aiming the barrel towards his right, he took a shot through the ornate pillars holding up the entryway's corbel arch, a bullet forcing itself through the small opening in which the wall met the pillar. He heard an "oomph!" which he gathered triumphantly signified his tactic of approach was also correct.

Can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Rolling to the floor into the room from whence the sound came, he staggered over to the next wall and shot through the entryway, shooting the man in the room in the leg. Fuck. Slight misstep on his account (or the other guy's considering he no longer had the bottom half of his leg). He dodged the man's bullets and lifted one of the cylindrical vases decorating the hallway and bashed it into the man's skull, once, twice, and then dropping it as he watched blood ooze from his nose. A sound from behind him meant another and he was met with hands wrapping around his throat and a gun being pressed to his temple.

This man was much bigger in stature than Duncan, but it was no matter. He swiftly acted as though he were aiming for his opponent's side as they would have practiced for upon initiation training. Seeing the man respond confidently to where he'd presumed Duncan would strike meant he'd left his nuts unguarded to which Duncan kicked in with precision. The man screamed, letting go of his counterpart and went to hold himself in anguish. Duncan mercilessly grabbed the weapon from his hands and shot through the one holding his injured manhood, shooting off his limb and probably the area underneath.

A few more men appeared from the entryways, and, after killing them all with a few more bullets than needed considering he had two guns now and maybe a hit to the face with his brass knuckles; he made his way to the top of the stairs, ready for whatever else would come. He could take on twenty more of them before expressing any ounce of fatigue as he'd trained his whole life for missions like this.

However, it was just you in the room.

Almost entirely taken aback by the slumped position you were in bound to that chair in the middle of the room, Duncan froze in his advances. He didn't let his guard down, no, but he took careful detail to the contortions of your face and the state of your being from which he could make out from this distance. Your long hair fell from the roots of your head which seemed to still be intact (thank god), but your skin was an ashy grey and blood had littered your hands and chest area. It was deep and dark and so red, redder than he'd felt he'd ever seen before and the PTSD was back, clawing at his chest and vision through his one good eye, all of his labors seemingly returning to dust. If you were dead, it would be the death of all deaths despite having only known you for a short period of time.

It had been the way you'd entered his house for the first time that caught him winded, hands tucked into the pockets of your long coat that kept you warm and smelling like the vanilla candles that littered your house. Your flushed cheeks from being out in the cold. Your smile as he'd offered you a sip of his hot chocolate, only to find out it had an added hint of whiskey. Your face when he'd kissed you for the first time. The hug you'd given him after.

It took fifty years of his life to finally admit it to himself and to anyone else who'd listen to the raspy notches in his throat as he exclaimed that he was, indeed, in love. And it was, indeed, with you.

"Something caught your eye, Kaiser?" Blut's agonizing and cruel voice caught the echos of the marble flooring and flooded the room, signaling his emergence from the darkness. He was wearing his stupid, douchebaggy jacket with a shit eating grin nearly reaching the corners of his eyes. This was the man whom he'd worked for all these years, pledged his loyalty to despite having no ounce of previous companionship with him. The one who owed him $8 million and the one who'd sent out his own personal hitman army to kill Duncan and get away with it so he would no longer be a liability to the company.

"She'd better be alive, or I'll skewer your head on that fucking Damocles sword you have above the mantle." He nearly spat out, taking his time to enunciate the weight of every word that escaped his lips, forcing them out in such an anger that anyone would feel in the depths of their bones. Blut, however, could care less.

"Oh she's alive." Made sure to keep her that way for you." He said, sauntering towards her seemingly lifeless body and tilting her chin upwards to finally reveal her face. "Thought she could use some plastic surgery though, don't you think Duncan?"

It was as if a knife had pierced his chest then and there. Your face, which had been absolutely perfect upon anyone's first glance, now was missing an eye on the opposite side of his own. Flesh had been carved out around it, which meant it would leave a scar possibly even nastier than his. He wanted to throw up at the idea someone could've taken something so important to you and destroy a piece of your life forever. He then thought maybe that was how his victims' families felt, learning that their fathers or brothers had passed due to the brutality of murder.

But you were still beautiful. And he had to save you still.

"Duncan... you're not responding?" Blut taunted with his awful voice, ringing the question in his ears and twisting the metaphorical knife even further into his chest. Duncan knew he'd need to snap out of the hold of his traumas and force himself to swallow anything else other than the situation at hand in order to save you...and himself.

"You're fucking dead. Don't you fucking touch her." Duncan said, grabbing the hefty sword of the supposed Damocles mansion from the mantle near him, letting the blade drag on the floor before discarding his gun entirely and picking up the sword. It had to have been at least four feet long with a shiny hilt and an even shinier blade which would be stained with the blood of the man before him in the time it'd take to say the sword's name. He would avenge this piece of your life that had been wrongfully taken from you.

A little less smug now, Blut reached into his pocket and withdrew a gun. "Y-y-you fucking stay back Kaiser! I won't hesitate to blow your head off!!"

"Where are your other men? Or are you truly so out of options that you're here alone?" Duncan growled, his discarded gun going into the fireplace, and, with a loud boom, caught the floor and curtains surrounding it on fire. The flames twisted and danced against in the reflection of his newfound weapon, a proper visual to the fire that licked his veins with the rage he felt. He continued his progression to your chair, sparing you a softer glance, before focusing everything onto the man before him who was now cowering by the window on the wall.

It was as if he were a child who'd been told hiding under a blanket would save him from the monsters under his bed and in his closet. He shrunk into the glass and tried his best to aim his gun with a shaking hand at Duncan's head. Duncan was now eye-to-eye with the man whom he'd fucking rip to shreds faster than any job he'd done as a hitman in his life.

"Blut...you're not responding?" He sneered, dodging the bullet that flew from his opponent's barrel. He lifted the sword and thrust it from the nape of his neck to the back of his skull, brains flying out against the widow he was in front of. Blood spurt from the open wound like a the lake outside of Duncan's house in Montana, where he'd resided before all this madness. Eyes bulged out of his skull with the optic nerves sliding down the forefront of his face and falling just above his mouth. Duncan dismantled the head from his torso still attached to the blade and spear tossed the sword of Damocles out the window and onto the grounds below, the sharp end getting stuck in the ground and displaying Blut's upside down head like a totem pole.

"'Suck my fucking dick."

Duncan freed you from the chair, taking you outside and down the winding trail, mansion burning to the ground in the distance. Back to Montana where now, at last, he would fucking retire.

[heartpascal]

joel’s place

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader, hints of jesse x reader

▹— summary: you visit the cemetery

▹— a/n: this is inspired by the song robert’s place, simon robert french. i think it fits the situation perfectly :( — also i wrote this over many months so it may read a bit inconsistent, sorry! it also isn’t proofread, and by the end might’ve turned into just a string of consciousness idk

▹— warnings: major character death, grief and all that follows, mentions of scars & previous injuries, TLOU 2 SPOILERS, once again MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, lots of angst, talk of canon typical violence, abby mentioned, ellie and dina mentioned, also can be read as platonic for jesse i think, long lasting injury effects (please add if there’s more! i’m rusty)

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything!) @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915  @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @rvjaa  @sunflowersdrop @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @miss-celestial-being @hqkon (pedro!)

MASTERLIST if you can click on my masterlist, you can also do your daily clicks!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Eventually, the snow bled into summer.

Time tumbled and warped, moved on, the world spinning, seasons changing and months passing by like nothing had ever happened. Sometimes, when you wake up, the sun shining in your eyes from a gap between curtains, the world feeling warm, you could pretend that nothing had. That the world was as it had once been.

And in the moments of waking, that’s easy. It’s second nature to slip into the past, into better times, where autumn fell and so did you. Where everything felt right in the world.

That, unsurprisingly, didn’t last very long.

But still.

You’re here, your house in Jackson unchanged, despite the year passing by unrelentingly. The only difference being the bloom of flowers at your doorstep, colours bright in the warm sun.

And you, of course.

If you’re honest, it’s probably you that changed the most.

With scars in new places, still aching with a pain that you were certain would never go away. Hair cut shorter, choppier, done by you in the middle of the night some time in the spring. Then there’s the shakiness to your hands, the tremors that linger despite the warmth. A slight limp when you would inevitably tread wrong on your ankle. And a new age to your face, a new hardship reflected in the bags that continue to weigh you down, after all this time.

You’re not sure that the people who were lost that winter would recognise you, had they been here now. There was a whole new air about you, too, lingering in every space you stepped into.

But still. You try not to think too much about it.

Instead, you gather a handful of flowers from your doorstep, bunched together into a makeshift bouquet that you tie with twine. The remaining blooms get a splash of water before you’re setting off from your house, stepping on soft grass until you reach the road.

From there, you wander along the path you know so well, that you have walked so many times. Gravel crunches underneath your soles with every step, unearthing the split second longer it takes for you to put weight on your ankle. It still hurts, but you don’t mind so much anymore. It allows some of your pain to be physical, rather than emotional. It’s a small mercy, really.

People used to call out to you when you walked this route, but they know better now, and don’t bother you when you carry flowers. That, you think, is a small mercy, too.

If you were to glance to your left, you’d see his house. Instead, you focus on your feet, ensuring you don’t roll your ankle again. As much as you try, you can’t accept that there’s someone other than him living there now. You don’t want to see his name pried off of the mailbox, Miller outlined from the five years that the sun bleached the uncovered wood around it.

You like to think that he’s still in there, somewhere, just down the hall. So long as you don’t look, Joel lives on in that house.

You could almost pretend that you weren’t going to his new home. His final home. His resting place, Tommy had called it once. But if you knew anything about Joel, you knew that the man couldn’t rest, not even in Jackson. Not fully. You’ve resigned to calling it Joel’s place.

It comes into view quickly, a mere stone’s throw from his house, and like every other time, you feel dread.

A wave of it crashes over you, leaving you gaping for air. It sinks down your throat and fills your lungs, your stomach, your very being. It’s an all consuming thing. You know his name is going to be carved upon a stone, instead of the mailbox where it should be, and every time you come here, it shatters the illusion. Each time, you have to pick up the pieces, and painstakingly put it back together again.

The flowers sit nicely, giving his place a burst of colour. It makes that pit in your throat open up again, and threaten to swallow your tongue. You know Joel wasn’t really a flower guy, but there’s not much else you can do. If he was here, you’d give him the bag of coffee that still sat useless in your cupboard. But he’s not.

“Hi,” You say into the still air, because you still can’t bring yourself to say his name here. There’s a part of you that refuses to believe it’s him, even after all this time. You practically fall to the floor as you lower yourself, and huff at the inconvenience your old injury still caused you. “It’s been a while.”

And it’s true — it’s been long enough that Zahir, the man who took care of the graves on a more regular basis, had removed the flowers from the last visit. They must have died quickly, which you found to be quite ironic. Still, you hoped these ones lasted longer.

“Dina’s going to have her baby in a few weeks, we reckon. She said that if it’s a girl, she’ll name her Talia. But if it’s a boy…” You smile faintly, just imagining what Joel would look like if he was truly here. “She said JJ. Jesse-Joel. I hope it’s a boy, if I’m honest. I think he’d have Jesse’s smile.”

A breeze shifts the air around you, and you fidget with the tongue of your shoe for a moment.

“Her and Ellie are still living up at that farm, with a whole bunch of sheep. It’s not far, but I don’t see them too often. Ellie doesn’t really show her face around here, much. I think she avoids it because of Tommy, and Jesse’s parents. I don’t blame her.” You continue, breathing in the warm air and hoping it’ll soothe some of the pain in your chest. “Jesse’s parents have tried to visit me, a few times. You would think I’m so stupid for avoiding them like this, I just know it.”

You swallow roughly, trying to push down the lump in your throat. More than anything, you just wish that he could answer you, wish that he could confirm your suspicions on what he would think.

“It’s just… it’s been hard, here. Since we got back. Everything just feels so different.” You scoffed. “Probably because everything is different. You should see Mike and Astrid trying to lead the patrols. Without you and Jesse…” You shook your head, trailing off.

The breeze shook some leaves free from their branches, and sent them swirling down to the ground, where Zahir would sweep them away later. You liked the man. He had been kind and respectful every time you had seen him here, and you appreciated how much care he put into the upkeep of graves of people he hadn’t even known.

Sometimes when you were here, it felt like you were the only person in the world. As if when Joel died, everybody else died with him. And in some ways, you think that might be true. Jesse died right after him, and Tommy was almost right behind him. And Ellie… she lost a part of herself in that basement. After Seattle, you were surprised there was anything left of her.

It was why you always felt relieved when Zahir showed up. He allowed you to realise that there were still people around you, that not everybody was buried with Joel. Zahir reminded you that other people were grieving, too. It helped to know that you weren’t actually alone in this experience, even if it felt like it.

You wanted to tell him how much you missed the two of them, how your life felt incomplete without them in it. You wanted to let the words fall from your mouth, wanted to observe as the breeze caught them and swept them away to somewhere that Joel just might have heard them. But you already felt silly, doing this. Speaking to him, knowing that he couldn’t hear a word of it.

What else could you do, though? Where else were you meant to put all of these unrelenting thoughts? What else could you do with the grief that threatened to bury you right beside the people you missed most?

“So much has changed here. It doesn’t feel like home, the way it used to.” You admitted to the open air, trying not to let regret or embarrassment consume you. The breeze could be comforting, if you allowed it to be.

It’s been a long time since you’ve allowed yourself to be comforted. Maybe too long.

All you can think is haven’t you suffered enough? Do you have to continue the seemingly endless cycle of pain that you have been trapped in for years? Shouldn’t you, after everything, be allowed some comfort?

“If I’m honest, I don’t think it’ll ever feel like home again. Not really. I guess that’s why Ellie doesn’t really visit.” You said, listening to the rustle of leaves, watching the petals on the flowers you’d brought shift. You believe it, too. You believe that Ellie refuses to visit because Jackson has lost its spark. Its livelihood. That, and you’re pretty sure she can’t bring herself to visit Joel’s place, or Jesse’s.

You don’t blame her. It had been one of the hardest things you’d ever done, coming here after returning from Seattle. You felt like some sort of sorry animal, failing to come home with the prey it was supposed to. Despite your best efforts, your jaws remained empty of prey. Your hunt had failed, had turned sideways, had left you feeling more sorrow than before.

How could you come here knowing that Abby was still alive out there? Knowing that, while Joel had been rotting underground, she had a life.

It had taken you a long time to accept that fact. To let it go.

Ellie was still holding on.

You suppose that you have always been better at knowing what went through Joel’s head. At rationalising things. You knew that going after her was never what Joel would’ve wanted for the two of you. But Ellie had always struggled with seeing his point of view. With seeing anyone’s perspective but her own, really. She could never understand Abby, just like she had never understood Joel after what he did to the Fireflies.

Joel would want the two of you here, not on some cross country journey for revenge. And you understand why — because that trip had caused you even more loss. It hadn’t fixed a thing, and at the end of it all, Abby was still alive.

Going after her wasn’t worth Jesse’s life.

If you had known the cost of that journey before you had left Jackson in search of it, you don’t think you would’ve gone. Not if it meant losing him, too.

A glance across the cemetery had your eyes locking onto another familiar headstone. It was still hard for you to face that one, knowing that you were the direct cause of Jesse’s death. Would he had left the safety of Jackson, if you hadn’t joined Ellie on her quest for vengeance? Would Abby have felt the need to defend herself, the kid with her, if you and Ellie hadn’t been so intent on killing her?

One of the worst parts about his death is that you could understand. Had you, Ellie and Joel not killed many people, defending those you cared about? Hell, hadn’t you killed WLFs to protect Jesse? You’d caused people this loss, too. Perhaps his death was just karma, finally catching up to you. But to reduce Jesse to that felt… wrong. He was more than that. So much more.

He should’ve been here. At your side, grieving Joel right alongside you.

Had you chosen to just grieve, rather than avenge, you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. If you had remained in Jackson while Tommy, Ellie and Dina left, you could’ve asked Jesse to stay. You’re almost confident that he would have.

But then you would’ve lost the others, too.

Either way, Jackson would’ve lost its spark of life.

“I think that, maybe, you guys were my home. And that’s why it feels like this.” You look away from the stone with Jesse’s name carved upon it. Admitting it just makes it feel more real, and you know that you will never feel at home again. Not like you did with them.

Your eyes water before you can do anything about it, trailing saltwater down your cheek. It crawls across the scar underneath your eye, and you feel the phantom pain of Abby’s fists upon your face once more. Everything in you aches, particles of loss and decay floating through your veins until it feels like it’s all you are.

But it’s not.

There’s still life within you, waiting to be let out.

Joel and Jesse don’t have that luxury. Which is why you feel like you have to honour them, like you have to actually live, instead of sitting here, wallowing in the pain of it all.

“I miss you.”

The wind brushes against your hair, your face.

“I’ll come back soon,” You promise, resting your palms against the ground to help you stand without aggravating your injury. “Maybe next time I’ll bring your guitar, show you what I’ve learned since we lost you.”

There’s a lump in your throat, and you can’t seem to swallow it. Your goodbye can’t get past it, and you know it will only worsen if you go across to Jesse’s place. You turn, swearing that you will have something more hopeful to tell the open air next time you come.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, gods.”

Nico scowls, wrenching just eyes away from Will’s poorly-covered grin and shaking shoulders.

It’s not that bad. It isn’t.

Sure, the complete lack of lighting except Greek fire torches makes the cabin look like a little piece of the Underworld, right here on the surface. But that’s comforting. Honestly. Nico knows the Underworld. It’s — familiar.

And, yeah. It would, probably, be pertinent to have some furniture, or something. At least somewhere for him to store his clothes, because he has more than one set of those now, and maybe a shelf, or something. And, admittedly, the obsidian altar could take up a little less space than it currently does.

But it’s not that bad.

“Are those. Coffin shaped beds.”

The tone of Will’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. He turns back to face him, slowly, and finds him biting his fist, hard, every muscle of his body tense as live wire.

“I was twelve godsdamn years old,” Nico snaps. “Forgive me if interior design wasn’t my passion.”

Solace loses it.

In his defense, not that Nico is too worried about defending him, he does appear to try very hard to not lose it. When the first giggle slips out of his lips, he clamps his jaw shut tighter. When his whole body begins to shake with the force of repressing his laughter, he curls inward, as if making himself smaller might reduce the chance of a lapse in control.

But then he glances back inside and looks, really looks, at the dreary, stone walls, the lone skeletons standing guard, and the plush, teakwood black coffin bunk beds, and he collapses to the floor.

“I’m going to open a chasm beneath you,” Nico threatens. “You are going to fall and crack your spine into a million pieces on the bank of the Styx, rotting there with every other forgotten hope.”

“You are a Black Parade lyric personified,” Will wheezes.

Nico doesn’t know what that means, so he kicks him. Unfortunately, he only laughs harder.

“I mean it, Solace. It’s a long way down to the Underworld. You will spend the entire fall petrified with the knowledge that nothing can save you.”

For added effect, Nico makes the floor under the medic’s body shake, makes the tip of a skeleton hand peek out from the earth.

Ironically, this stops Will’s laughter, but not for the reason Nico was aiming for.

“Hey!” A bright blue flipflop-clad foot darts out and collides With Nico’s ankle, sending him sprawling. “I said no spooky magic for the next two months! Put that skeleton away!”

“Fuck off, Solace! It’s barely half a bone! You are so annoying!”

“That’s my specialty.” Will pushes himself upright. He waits until Nico sits up, too, so he can catch his eye before his face splits into a dazzling grin. Actual sparkles seem to flicker beside his face. “And you are ever so easy to annoy.”

Nico stares, unimpressed.

“Anyways.” Will coughs. “You can’t stay here, Neeks —”

“Don’t call me that.”

“— it’s straight-up too depressing.” He peers inside. “It’s also cold, and, like…borderline unliveable? So. As your doctor, I can’t allow it.”

“You’re a medic,” Nico says, raising an eyebrow, “first of all, not a doctor. Second of all, you can’t tell me what to do. Third of all — where am I supposed to sleep? The woods?”

“Hm. Good question.”

Will gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shorts and offering Nico a hand. After a second of hesitation, he takes it, allowing Will to haul him up.

“C’mon!”

Nico snatches his hand away, face burning. (Gods. Why does Will have to be so…touchy-feely? And why does it always do weird things to Nico’s stomach?) But it hardly takes a look over Will’s shoulder before Nico’s feet are following after him, without his permission.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, my dad’s kind of a hoe,” Will says matter-of-factly. Nico chokes. Will’s grin widens. “And our cabin was built with that in mind. I know we’ve got an extra bunk or two for ya. Hurry up!”

This…cannot be allowed. Nico doesn’t have a ton of Camp Half-Blood experience, or anything, but as far as he knows, Hermes is the only cabin that can really do that. He doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Apollo, or whatever, by staying in his cabin uninvited.

Well. Will’s inviting him, technically. And there’s a confidence to his offer, like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

“What if I don’t want to live in your stupid sunshine-y cabin,” Nico grumbles, trying to cover up his nerves. “Holding hands and singing about how much I love being alive isn’t really my cup of tea.”

Will snorts. “Oh, di Angelo,” he says dramatically, shaking his head, “you are in for a world of discovery. Welcome to the Cabin Apollo. Take your shoes off at the door and remember that Kayla bites.”

———

Living in the Apollo cabin is strange.

Four days in, and Nico is only just starting to get used to it. He’s not entirely unused to sharing space with people — he’s had two sisters — but the Apollo kids argue like they enjoy doing it. One minute, Will and Kayla will be screaming at each other at the top of their lungs about touching each other’s shit, then they’re teaming up to pull Gracie off Yan’s face for the exact same argument, only now they offer sage advice on respecting boundaries and compromising. It’s bizarre.

(Austin is pretty chill, actually. Nico has noticed him starting quite a few fights — it was he, in fact, who moved Will’s shit and then gracefully framed Kayla — but he has a very powerful eyebrow raise and a very powerful image as Unproblematic. He has quickly become Nico’s favourite.)

He’s only just barely beginning to understand how they work together, and the struggle comes in because everything is so chaotic. When Nico spent time with Hazel in New Rome, she was in the barracks. He never really had to worry about squabbling over counter space in the bathroom with her, because she had her own little toiletry caddie like everyone else, and bathrooms were public. With Bianca — well. There’s no one alive who knows this about her, but she was bossy. She was sweet and wonderful and self-sacrificing and brave and kind and the centre of Nico’s life, but by the gods, did she take her authority as a big sister seriously. She ordered Nico around all the time. He never had to worry much about when he would have the chance to use the bathroom they shared at the Lotus, or who got the T.V. remote, or who go to sit on the bus instead of standing, because he was not the one deciding. He could stick his tongue out and whine all he wanted, but she was boss. He knew that.

The Apollo kids are not like that.

As well as Nico can figure, it’s kind of a free-for-all. You want first shower? Either wake up the earliest — a strategy only Will every manages to employ with any success — or manage to jab an elbow in someone’s rib and sprint. You want whoever’s humming to shut the hell up so you can sleep? Make sure your threats are quick and believable, or just straight up start throwing shit until they finally stop. You want the coveted middle of the bench spot at breakfast? Well, tough shit on that one, actually. Nico has yet to make that one happen for himself.

He won’t admit it, but he has kind of learned to enjoy it. It’s annoying, and the Apollo siblings do indeed sing at all hours of the day (although the content usually skews more towards diss tracks and delighted insults, if not straight-up curses), and it is so godsdamn bright in there, seriously, is it a gimmick or what, but there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s so surrounded by people and chaos that he hasn’t even had the chance to feel lonely. Not even at night, panting to himself after a nasty nightmare, because all it takes is a particularly loud snore from Will one bunk down to remember where he is. To remember that he’s safe — by demigod standards, at least.

But, still.

He kind of misses his privacy.

“Will,” he whispers urgently, on his fifteenth day of rooming with the Apollo weirdos.

The medic hums noncommittally, attention very focused on the test tube in front of him. Nico has been fighting the urge to try and launch a piece of dust inside it for forty minutes, just to make him explode.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Sounds good, Nico.”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”

“Uh-huh. Agreed.”

“I can say anything I want right now.”

“Sure. Maybe double check with Austin.”

“…I’m going to put a colony of ants in your pillowcase.”

“Good idea.”

“Then I’m going to douse your hair products in gasoline and set them aflame.”

“Baller.”

“After that I’m gonna read your super secret diary to the entirety of camp at singalong tonight.”

“You betcha.”

“And then I’m going to shadow travel to Russia.”

Will blinks, frowning. “Hey, no shadow-travelling. What’s this I hear about shadow-travelling?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Nothing, stupid. You were just ignoring me.”

Will smiles guiltily. “Aw, I’m sorry, Neeks. Got focused on this. I’m finished in twenty, then I’m all yours?”

“…Don’t call me Neeks,” Nico grumbles, furious with himself for how quick he’s relented under wide blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry, Neeks.”

Huffing at Will’s quiet laughter, Nico slides off the nurse’s station counter and wanders around the empty infirmary. Things have luckily finally cooled down in here, nearly three weeks after the end of the Giant War. Some of the exhaustion has faded from Will’s features now that he’s had time to sleep properly.

Not that Nico has noticed, or anything.

“Okay,” Will says a few minutes later, holding his hands up protectively in front of his geeky little setup. “I just gotta do this last step, so long as I calculated it right, it should be fine…” He squeezes a drop of something into the liquid bubbling over the burner, freezing immediately. One, two, three seconds pass and nothing happens, so Will relaxes, sighing in relief and turning to face Nico fully. “Okay, we’re good. What was it you wanted to —”

The text tube contents explode in his face, dousing him in slimey green goo.

Nico bursts out laughing.

“Great,” Will says darkly, swiping the stuff from his eyes. “The one day I don’t wear goggles. Great.”

Nico gasps, sides aching. “Oh my gods —”

“Feel free to help, di Angelo.”

“— you look like a cartoon! Your face!”

It takes Will twelve cloths and seven whole minutes to clean himself and the nurse’s station off of the goo. Nico cackles at him the whole time, and tastefully does not mention the many globs of goo that remain caked in his hair.

“Whenever you’re done.”

Will is very, very bad at being stern when he doesn’t really mean it. And he doesn’t really mean it now, because every time he tries to glare at Nico, his mouth twitches.

“I’m good,” Nico finally wheezes, forcing his face back to normal. “I’m good, I’m good.”

He very pointedly does not look at Will’s hair.

“Dick,” Will huffs, fondness bleeding into his tone. “What did you want?”

He must notice the change in tone at his asking, because he clears the bench fully, hoisting himself on top of it and patting the spot next to him. Nico hesitates for half a second, then crawls up, sitting criss cross applesauce, knees touching.

“I need to move back to my cabin,” he manages, finally.

Will’s face betrays no judgement or emotion. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans. “I need — space.”

The thread loosens, allowing Nico to tug on it. A hole begins to unravel along the seam as he pulls and pulls and pulls. He stops himself before it gets too wide, tearing the thread off and winding it around his fingers.

“I can tell everyone to tone it down,” Will offers softly, eyebrows creased. “We’ll be more quiet, we’ll —”

Nico places a hand on his knee, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not about that, I promise. You guys have been great.”

A wounded look still pulls at Will’s strong features, as much as he visibly tries to pull his face back to something more supportive. “It’s not?”

“No, no. It’s just —” He frowns, trying to articulate the tangled mess of his thoughts. “I have my own cabin.”

“So?”

“And I can’t stay in yours forever.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Chiron’s been giving me looks, Will.”

“So what! I’ll — write you a doctor’s note, or something!”

Nico snorts. “A doctor’s note letting me sleep in your cabin?”

Will nods fervently, although he seems to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his suggestion, if the grin on his face is any indication. “Yes! For medical reasons, you know.” He mimes writing. “‘Patient’s cabin is dank and sad. To avoid bouts of misery, patient must sleep in the presence of the coolest and best and prettiest and most uplifting people in camp.’”

“Hm. Not sure Chiron’s gonna buy that last part. Not sure I buy that last part, actually.”

“Hey.”

Nico dodges Will’s shove, chuckling.

“Seriously, though, Will. This was never a long term solution, right?”

“I know. You’re cabin just — sucks so bad, man. No offense.”

“I take great offense to that, actually. My cabin is art.”

“Sure, Eddie Cullen.”

“I don’t know who that is, so that’s a horrible insult.”

“Travesty, honestly.”

Outside the open infirmary windows, Nico can hear distant, triumphant screaming, laughter, and the clang of metal. Today’s a good day. The weather’s balmier than usual, for late August, and some of the gloom that’s hung over everyone’s head for the bast few weeks seems to have lifted.

“You can’t go back to your cabin like it is,” Will says into the silence, startling Nico, “but —” he grins when Nico begins to protest, holding up his hand. “We can definitely change it up.”

He slides off the bench, botching his landing and almost sprawling on the floor. He holds a dramatic hand out to Nico when he rights himself. Nico ignores it, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet by himself.

“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing his hand anyway. Sparks shoot up Nico’s arm. “We need to go ask Chiron for the van keys and approximately five hundred dollars.”

———

Three hours is too fucking long to be in a vehicle. Especially when Will is driving, because all he does is play nonstop country music and let everybody cut in front of him.

“I’m driving us back,” Nico informs him as they (finally) get out of the stupid van, snatching the keys from his hands.

Will shrugs. “Sure.”

Nico had expected more of a fight, honestly. But he supposes neither of them are legally allowed to drive, age-wise, and besides, Nico technically has seventy years of driving experience on Will.

(…The Lotus had a racetrack.

Nico was very, very good at it.)

“What is this place, anyway?”

“This place,” Will says grandly, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “is essentially the mortal version of the Labyrinth, minus, you know, the soul-sucking terror.”

“Okay. All that’s telling me is that you have horrible ideas and we should leave immediately.”

Will rolls his eyes. “It’s a furniture store.”

“Well, then —” he punches Will’s shoulder, huffing when he only laughs. “Say that, then!”

“But then what would I do with all the drama in my heart?”

“Choke on it, hopefully!”

Ikea is weird.

Since Will did not tell him what the plan was, he didn’t draw up any plans. Luckily, Will has the dimensions of his cabin — although where he got them, Nico does not ask — so they spend an hour or so in the cafe drawing out a plan.

“You need more than two beds, Neeks.”

“Uh, no I don’t. Unless my father has something very important to announce to me, I need a bed for me, and a bed for Hazel.”

“What if I want to sleep over?”

“You can sleep on the porch.”

Mostly, they wander around the sets. Nico isn’t really sure what he wants his cabin to look like — he has to remind himself that yes, actually, he cares about the space he’ll be spending at least the next three years of his life in. It’s a startling reality, to have control over his own space. He must’ve had some say in his childhood bedroom, but he has no memory of it. He spent the most time in his and Bianca’s room at the Lotus, but that was already furnished when they got there, and besides, it only felt like they were there for less than a year. It always felt like a hotel room, never his room. Westminster was no different. His room in his father’s palace had already been designed, too. In fact he’d based his cabin on it.

What does Nico want his bedroom to look like, without someone else deciding for him?

“I’m not getting a fucking Lightning McQueen bed, Solace.”

“But it would be so sick! And look — it’s got little cubbies!”

“I’m going to ditch you, and shadow travel back to camp,” Nico threatens. “And I have the van keys, so you’ll be stuck here for real.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Will looks at him sternly, hands on hips. “No shadow travelling for you, Death Breath. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fade into nothing on my watch.”

“I’m joking,” Nico says, exasperated, but cannot deny the warmth that fills him up at Will’s concern.

In the end, he decides on a pretty normal bed. It’s bigger than Will’s bunk (“Or anyone else’s bed,” Will grumbles, “you lucky asshole.”), but not ridiculously designed. He picks a similar size for Hazel, only the frame is white, not black, and the bedspread that comes with it is a soft, coral pink that he knows she will like.

“Wanna see if they’ve got a Mythomagic bedspread for yours?” Will teases.

That would be the coolest thing ever in the entire world, Nico thinks, and is so embarrassed that he shoves Will, shrieking, into a giant basket of pillows for making him think it.

“Obviously I don’t want that.”

“You are such a turd! I’ll get you, di Angelo!”

He does not. Nico is way too sneaky for him, and after the fifth time Nico manages to give him the slip, he gives up, sulking in a display for a bedroom of a nine year old girl.

“Fitting,” Nico teases, gesturing to the princess wallpaper. “You drama queen.”

“Buzz off.”

Next, they look for furniture. It’s pretty easy — Nico doesn’t need much, and he’s not too concern with cut or style or anything. He quickly picks out two dressers, one to match Hazel’s bed frame, and one to match his, and then a couple bookshelves.

Four hours into their trip, Nico is exhausted. They have a three hour drive ahead of them, they’ve been out all day, and he wants to go home.

But Will stops him before they go get all the boxes for their furniture.

“This is still pretty bare bones,” he says quietly, then grins at his own accidental pun. Nico shoots him a venomous look, warning him against making it more obvious, and for once he actually listens. “You know, we’re still under budget. We’ve got around $200 left — we can get a motel, stay the night, then we don’t have to drive back right away. And tomorrow, maybe we can check out some other stores, look for smaller decorations and stuff. And if we don’t have to drive back tonight, we’ve maybe got another hour in here, if you wanted to get a couple more pieces.”

Nico opens his mouth to refuse — that’s way too much effort to spend on one person’s cabin, c’mon — then pauses, thinking about it.

Chiron hadn’t even thought about it before handing them the money. Will had barely gotten the words out before he’d started counting out the bills.

“I want you to make a home here,” the centaur had said, touching his hand. There was a pain in his kind eyes, stopping any protests. “I made a mistake, Nico, the first time you came here. In another life, you felt welcome enough to stay the whole time. Take what you need.”

What does he need? What does home look like, to him?

“There was a beanbag chair, in our room at the Lotus,” he says, pushing the words past the lump in his throat. “Me and Bianca used to fight over it.” His voice shakes. A tear gathers at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it back. “It wasn’t real fighting. When I called mercy she’d — scoop me up and throw me on it and squish in after me, and we’d sit together and play video games. Or read. She liked to read.”

Will squeezes his trembling hands. “We can get a beanbag chair.”

“And I — don’t like the blackout curtains. The dark makes me think of — the pit.”

“Okay. They sell lotsa lamps here, too. Might be nicer than the Greek fire.”

Nico nods. There’s — more, far more ideas, now, flooding his brain; Hazel crowding over him on a rug-covered floor, shrieking as he teases her about Frank; a desk tucked in the corner where Will sits, mouthing along to his textbooks as Nico sharpens his sword; Jason running his fingers along rows of books on a big, cluttered shelf; Reyna with her fist curled around her mouth, studying a chess board across from him, hair shining under the natural light from the window.

He can have that. He can have that.

Thankfully, all their stuff fits in the back of the van. Despite his insistence earlier, Nico hands Will the keys, and he drives around until he finds a shitty motel with a vacancy sign flashing out front. He pulls into the farthest corner of the parking lot, killing the engine, then waits.

“You okay?”

Nico shrugs. “I’m…not sure.”

“That’s okay,” Will assures, pressing a fleeting touch to his shoulder. Nico grabs his wrist before he moves away, tugging down his hand and linking their fingers together.

For once, it doesn’t make him feel all sparky. The warmth of Will’s hands is grounding, and so is the gentle squeeze, the smile he feels pointed in his direction.

“C’mon. Let’s check in and sleep, huh?”

Nico’s exhaustion compounds in the walk from the car to the lobby, so by the time Will is speaking quietly to the host, he’s half asleep, leaning on Will’s shoulder. He vaguely feels it when Will shifts his weight, sliding a hand around his waist to hold him better. He blinks and they’re standing in front of a door.

“Almost there, Death Boy,” he murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”

It takes him six separate tries to make the keycard work. He gets huffy when Nico snickers tiredly at him.

“Finally, yeesh.”

He guides Nico in, dropping the backpack he brought somewhere near the door. As soon as the bed is within Nico’s sights, he makes a beeline, barely remembering to shuck his shoes and jacket.

“Please do not sleep in your jeans.”

“Mmmfuck off,” Nico groans, already sliding under the covers. He’ll regret it in the morning, but whatever.

“Goober.” Callused hands brush through his hair, resting lightly on his forehead. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico’s out before he can even think to respond.

———

He wakes up, in the middle of the night, scream caught in his throat and heart pounding in his ears. The air smells like smoke and fear. The rushing of the Phlegethon is so loud it’s overpowering.

A loud snore knocks him back to reality.

Crawling desperately towards the source of the sound, he hangs over the bed, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark to see a curled lump on the floor, head resting on his own hands. A quick glance behind him confirms the other half of the bed has been left untouched.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tiny smile chasing away the last of his fear.

He tugs the blankets off the mattress, pulls off the two pillows, and joins his dumbass, selfless friend on the floor.

———

“Question,” Will asks, swallowing the last of their disgustingly delicious greasefest of a breakfast. “Were you alive when Walmart was invented?”

“I was alive before your great grandmother was.”

“No, I mean — were you out and kickin’. Have you strolled the endless aisles of corporate soullessness, basking in the wonder of American overconsumerism?”

“…You’re such a weird, particular person.”

Will looks delighted. “You’re a Walmart newbie!”

He pulls into the dead, cracked parking lot way too happily for this hour in the morning. Nico would even say he takes the nearest exit to get to the store gleefully. He is embarrassed for him.

Walmart is…underwhelming.

As stupid as it is, Will had hyped it up so much that Nico was almost a little excited. It just looked like any other basic superstore. Will, for whatever reason, seemed delighted by that fact.

“I do not like this store,” he explained when Nico asked, expression not matching his words, “it just means so very much to me that you are joining me in the misery of having experienced it.”

They spend more time than they mean to just dicking around. At one point they nearly get thrown out by management, because Will finds a pair of NERF guns that some child dug out of its packaging and no words need to be spoken. They gear up and scamper off, hunting each other through fluorescent-lights hell.

“Please just get your shit and leave,” says the very tired looking manager, and they have the good gall to at least appear embarrassed as they mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long when they have their head on straight. They get some fairy lights, a couple cool posters, dorky little trinkets that Nico probably doesn’t need, per se, but what was he supposed to do, leave the little plastic crow skeleton behind?

Unlikely.

With his own money, Will buys several cans of paint and a CD. He explains neither of these purchases. The look on his face gets steadily more infuriating as they make their way through the line, and Nico really, truly considers leaving him behind.

The purchase of the CD becomes very obvious very quickly. Even though Nico is driving, and therefore Nico should get music control, Will pouts and pleads until Nico gives in and lets him play his stupid country album. He justifies his decision in his own brain by noticing the radiance of Will’s smile as he belts out the words, badly, at the top of his lungs. He then spends the rest of the drive back to camp convincing himself not to be embarrassed for having said thoughts.

They get back to camp about lunch time, and Will destroys any attempt for a subtle reentry by whistling the second they cross the property line.

“Austin! Kayla!” he hollers, making Nico jump. “Come help us unload!”

“We coulda done it ourselves,” Nico grumbles.

Will pats his head condescendingly. “It has been twenty-four long, long hours since I’ve bosses my siblings around, Neeks. I need this.”

It does go by quite a bit quicker with Austin and Kayla’s help. Lou Ellen, Cecil, Yan, and Gracie come to help, too, but Gracie’s too little to carry much more than a small desk lamp. Instead, they lay down the biggest box — Nico’s bed frame — and let her climb on top of it, carrying her like she’s a queen atop a throne back to Nico’s cabin. She has the time of her life, giggling to herself like a madwoman.

By the time everything’s unloaded, a couple hours have passed, and the Hades cabin looks like a clusterfuck.

“Maybe you stay in Apollo a couple more nights,” Will suggests.

“Might have to,” Nico agrees. Will looks inordinately pleased with himself.

All in all, it takes about two days to disassemble the old furniture, get rid of it, and start putting together the new stuff. Will helps for most of it, but he has a few shifts in the infirmary, so Nico ends up trying to do a fair bit on his own.

“May the wrath of Zeus come down upon this fucking piece of shit, no good, poorly designed garbage-looking idiotic mother fuc —”

“Maybe time for a break from furniture assembling?” suggests a voice, accompanied by a quick knock in the open door. Will leans on the doorframe, grinning, box propped up on his hip.

“Will, thank the gods,” Nico sighs, relieved. He angrily shakes a tool in his direction. “Allen wrenches are fucking useless. I’m three seconds away from throwing this through the window.”

“Definitely time for a switch, then.”

Will’s smile is wide and crinkles his eyes. He’s got dimples, too, Nico is now noticing, and then very rapidly un-noticing then because gods above that is a dangerous path.

“Did you and Rachel get into another prank war?” he asks, praying the flush on his cheeks goes away.

Will glances down at his paint-spattered clothes. “Nah, this is just my painting outfit. Why ruin more than one set of clothes, you know?” He sets down the box in the middle of the room, then heads for the half-built furniture sprawled all throughout the cabin, tugging it all towards the middle. Nico inches towards the box, curious, and finds it full of dozens of paint cans and brushes, including the ones he got at Walmart.

“I didn’t know you painted.”

He flashes another grin in Nico’s direction. This one has a little mischief to it, a little teasing. His stomach swoops.

“Gotta have at least one artistic talent or my dad would disown me. Help me tape down this tarp, will you?”

It takes them twenty minutes to prep the room, protecting the floor and the furniture. Once everything is ready, Will jogs over to the CD player he gave Nico a few days ago, flicking through the stack of CDs and choosing one at random. Soft opera music begins to float around the cabin.

“Okay,” he begins, clapping his hands, “first we need a base coat. Get the white paint and the rollers.”

It takes them the rest of the day, painting until dinner, then waiting past sunset for it to dry. Nico follows Will back to his cabin that night — he wouldn’t let him sleep around the paint fumes — and the two of them return the next morning, re-donning their paint-spattered clothes. Will braids his hair, this time, tucking the little pigtails behind a kerchief. It makes Nico smile every time he looks at him.

As much as he’s in painting clothes, Nico doesn’t really do much of the painting. He stays in the centre of the room, half assembling furniture, half watching Will bring his walls to life with more colours than he’s ever seen in one place.

Will doesn’t ask what Nico wants him to paint in his murals. Instead, Nico watches as the streets of Venice begin to unfold on one of the walls, bright and blue and exactly as he remembers, even though he knows for a fact Will has never been. The shining fruit of his stepmother’s garden is next, with a notable absence of the pomegranate tree, and then the hills of New Rome, the sunflower field in rural New York Nico used to visit, the Chinese mountainscape from the first big shadow travelling jump he ever made. Even the poplar forests of the Underworld, looking much kinder and livelier in Will’s rendition than in real life, with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus chasing each other through the flickering leaves. Beautiful, colourful, breathtaking scenes; Nico’s favourite places, Nico’s many homes.

“I get a lot of dreams,” Will admits, dragging a smear of rich purple near the ceiling. “You’re in a lot of them. These are the places you’re smiling, the most.”

“They’re beautiful, Will.” Nico’s throat is drier than any desert he’s ever been to. “Gods, they’re more beautiful here than they are in real life.”

“Liar,” Will teases, although his smile is shy.

Nico has never seen him smile like that. He’s seen a lot more of Will in these past few days, actually; his softness, his kindness, his love.

He has only knows Will for a little over a month, he thinks. But Will loves him. That much is obvious.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

His eyes are still trained on his work. He is on his tiptoes on a step stool, one leg extended precariously, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. The curve of his brush is careful, meticulous. Only the best for his friends, for Nico. That’s Will.

“Hey,” Nico says again, more urgently. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

“Just a sec, Neeks, as soon as I’m done we can —”

Nico pulls until he loses his balance, falling into Nico’s arms. He stares into wide, blue blue eyes, for one second, two, then presses their lips together. Will’s squeak of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh,” he sighs, eyelashes ticking Nico’s cheeks as they flutter close. “Oh.”

He melts into Nico’s hold. There’s a thunk and a crinkle as his paintbrush falls from his loose fingers, splattering onto the tarp, and paint-wet hands tangle into his hair. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“You love me,” he murmurs in between breaths, lips brushing Will’s with every word.

“Yes,” Will breathes. He kisses Nico again, and again. “A lot.”

“Good.” He’s not sure if it’s the paint fumes making him lightheaded, or the odd, slightly uncomfortable position, or the intoxicating, delirious feel of Will’s warm skin. He’s not sure if he cares. “Good.”

It’s not quite an I-love-you-too. The words won’t form on his tongue, so instead he tightens his hold, sending them that way, and presses closer, closer, closer.

Will smiles into the kiss.

He understands just fine.

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Reader Walsh X Daryl || Part 1

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here, beginning with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: You grow tired of sneaking suspicions of Lori and your husband sneaking off together. When you finally catch them in the act, a grumpy redneck happens to be the one to help you through it in his own, unconventional way.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, nongraphic depictions of sex, TWD typical violence

        You were so sick of him. The way he stood with his hands on his hip, squinting in the Georgia sun as he watched over the camp -- or, more specifically -- watched over Lori. 

        You respected it at first, when Rick didn't wake up and he told you, "We gotta go get Lori and Carol, (Y/N). We just got to. I gotta do right by him."

        You didn't say anything when you were all stopped on the highway, watching the planes drop bombs on the city that was supposed to welcome you into safe refugee centers, and his first instinct was to hold Lori instead of you. You thought she had to be terrified, to lose her man and have to keep their son safe in such trying, unpredictable times. She probably needed that hug more than you, his own wife.

        You were young when you married Shane. A drunken night led to one thing, one thing led to a baby, a baby led to another thing; a ring. But, you had a miscarriage after the wedding, and as we all know that doesn't nullify a marriage. Regardless, it wasn't a bad marriage. The relationship was mostly solid. You had suspicions, like when he'd come home from a night out with the other guys on the force with what you could have sworn were faded lipstick stains that he couldn't wipe off well enough, or smelling faintly of perfume and cigarettes. Still, he took good care of you, and you had a fair bit of freedom. He financed your art supplies, bought you records, helped you get back into school.

        Your parents never had a good marriage so in comparison, you were doing well for yourself. Better than your mom, who lived on wine and Xanax, or your dad, who worked his fingers to the bone in that office, hunched over a computer, addicted to porn and cigars.

        You often wondered if they had survived the initial outbreak, or if they were stumbling around King County somewhere with no heartbeat.

        You shook the thought away, eyeing Shane from atop the RV where you were supposed to be watching for walkers. His skin was shiny with sweat. You wondered how long it'd be before he disappeared into the wood again. Funny how Lori always seemed to disappear at the same time, no doubt leaving Dale or Carol to keep an eye on Carl. Funny how since you'd all set up camp there by the quarry, Lori hadn't been able to make eye contact with you. Funny how he had been short with you, yet somehow managed to remain controlling  as ever. You weren't allowed out of his sight unless he was already out of yours. You couldn't talk to men like Ed or Merle and his brother. You couldn't touch the guns, not until he showed you how to use one properly. You couldn't go wash up in the quarry unless he was there to escort you at night, which he conveniently never was. You couldn't--

        "You alright up here?" Dale asked.

        "Oh. Yeah." You shook your head clean of the whirlwind of suspicion.

        "Don't seem too focused." He observed.

        "Yeah, you're right. Sorry." You said, holding the binoculars to your eyes and turning your attention to the trees.

        "Why don't you go on and take a break. I'll keep an eye out for now." He offered.

        "Actually, you know what? That would be really great. Thanks Dale." You smiled and passed his binoculars to him. You wanted to protest. Watch duty was your favorite, and just about the only thing you could do to make yourself useful aside from washing other people's dirty underwear.

        You climbed down from the roof, expecting to walk over to your husband, but he wasn't where he stood just moments prior.

        You turned to Amy, who was sitting on the steps of the RV, fanning herself. It was a particularly hot day.

        "Hey. Did you see where Shane went? I just saw him over there." You asked, her pointing to where he once stood.

        "I think he went to check the perimeter." She said, holding her hand over her eyes to look up at you without being blinded. It was probably just about noon now with the sun high in the sky.

        "Right." You nodded. You scanned the campers around you. "What about Lori?"

        She shook her head.

        "No, haven't seen her in a while. Carl's over there with Carol. She might know."

        You sighed, thanking Amy as you made your way to Carol.

        "Hey. Seen Lori?"

        "Yeah. She asked me to watch Carl for a bit. Not sure where she went, though."

        You felt a heat in your chest. Exactly as you suspected.

        You jogged back to Amy. "Hey, which way did Shane go?"

        She pointed over to the tree line on your left.

        "Thanks, again." You smiled in a thin line as you marched to the woods. You were determined to put an end to this shit, one way or another.

        You knew they couldn't have gone far. You had just seen him not five minutes ago. You were sure you could catch up. If the Dixons were around, you'd be half tempted to approach one and ask them to track for you. Probably the younger one. That Merle would probably ask you what you were willing to give in return, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be looking for payment in the material sense. You heard quiet rustling and heavy breaths. You ducked down and made slow, quiet steps, glancing down at the ground periodically to avoid any snapping twigs or overly crunchy leaves. You came to some thicker bushes and brush, crooning you neck to peer over the leaves and thorns. 

        Your stomach dropped. There it was. His sweat stained white tee, panting over her navy blue tank top that fit rather loosely with all the weight loss. Her jeans and underwear in a little pile off to the side, his gun set right on top. You clenched your jaw. You wanted to storm over and yell obscenities, to kick them both into the dirt. You were stuck, though. You couldn't move. You were so angry that you were cemented in place. Most of all, you were hurt. You were younger than Shane, and younger than Rick and Lori, but somehow, some way you thought Lori was a friend to you. You watched Carl when she and Rick took date nights from time to time, you two grabbed coffee together, went back to school shopping for Carl just to get you out of the house.

        It would have been one thing had she not known you, had she been a complete stranger, but she was supposed to be a friend, and Shane, he was your husband. Tears stung at your eyes as your pulse became noticeable under your skin.

        That's when you saw something else, a human shape walking up behind them. Could it be? A walker coming to exact your revenge for you? No, you could never be so lucky. It was the Dixon, the young one. His boots were heavy against the forest floor, drawing the attention of Shane and Lori. They both scrambled, Shane standing and buttoning his pants back up as Lori sat and pulled her jeans over her lap to cover herself. 

        "Hey, man -- I -- We can explain --" Shane stuttered, Lori looking mortified.

        "Ain't me ya gotta explain to." Daryl shrugged, glancing over Shane's shoulder at you as you slowly stood to your feet from behind the bushes.

        "Look, man. You say anything --" Shane hissed, no doubt gearing up for some halfhearted threat, but Daryl cut him off again.

        "Won't have to." He told Shane, throwing another look at you, this time prolonging eye contact.

        Shane and Lori followed his gaze and landed on you.

        "(Y/N)" Lori breathed.

        You tore your eyes from the huntsman, shooting visual daggers at your unfaithful husband and his backstabbing mistress.

        Shane took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. You said nothing. There was nothing to say. You just looked at Daryl one more time before you turned around.

        "(Y/N), come on!" Shane called after you. "Let's talk about this."

        You didn't want to. You just stomped your way back to camp, ignoring the curious eyes as you pulled all your things from your shared tent with Shane. You really only had your backpack and a blanket. The two of you shared the sleeping bag and a single pillow, but you didn't want that. It would smell of Shane, and at that moment the thought of him made you nauseous. You took your bag and your blanket, and made your way down to the quarry. Surely that would be the most peaceful place to sleep, by the water, under the stars, away from everyone else. 

        "(Y/N.)" Shane said from behind you after he likely followed you back. "What the hell are you doin'?" He asked, referring to your backpack and blanket in arms.

        "Fuck you." You grumbled.

        "C'mon, what are you doin'?" He asked again. You spun on your heel, seething.

        "No, Shane. What the hell are you doing?!" You shouted, drawing eyes from all around. You didn't care. In fact, you saw it as an opportunity. "Sneaking off?! Getting your dick wet?!"

         "Don't do this here." He said quietly, glancing over his shoulder to where Carol sat with Carl and Sophia. They were all staring in shock, the whole camp. He reached his hands out to grab your shoulders but you stepped back, chest heaving with rage.

        "Oh, why? So your girlfriend's kid doesn't know she's getting down and dirty with you in the leaves out there?" You spat back, only loud enough for him to hear. "You haven't touched me in weeks. Not since the night we left home, but you can't keep it in your pants around your dead best friend's wife?"

        You shoved his chest with both hands, dropping the blanket to the ground in the process. His eyes grew dark, that pleading expression turning cold.

        "I don't give a fuck how sorry you are or aren't. I don't give a good god damn how guilty she feels. I hate you, and I hate her." You added, just to drive the knife in deeper. If they could stab you in the back, you'd stab them in the chest. 

        "Don't be stupid." He growled.

        "Stupid is having unprotected sex in the middle of the woods when your wife is sitting on top of an RV with binoculars. Stupid is fucking your best friend's wife. Stupid is--"

        He grabbed your arm with force, dragging you far away from the others. He lened in close to your face, eyes wide with fury.

        "You need to stop." He warned.

        "I am stopping. I'm stopping all of it. Congratulations, Shane. You don't have to hide your affair anymore. Because you no longer have a wife to cheat on. Oh, and by the way, you suck at hiding it. You both do. The whole fucking camp can see you two disappearing at the same time, every single day. We all see how you look at her, how you play house with her and Carl like your wife isn't sitting ten feet away. Is that what it is? You like making me look like a fool?"

        "I'm only gonna tell you once." He hissed, scowling down at you like you were the one who betrayed him. "Keep your mouth shut."

        "No problem." You sneered. "I'll keep my mouth shut, and you'll keep your distance."

----

        It was dark out. Despite the blazing heat in the daytime, the nights could get pretty chilly, especially down by the water. You didn't mind. You set against the cliff, back rested against your bag, blanket wrapped over you nice and snug. You enjoyed all the stars above. They were hard to see back home, but now, without all the light pollution, they were beautiful.

        "Shouldn't be out here alone." A husky voice rasped. You looked down past your feet to see the shadow of an archer, the very one who happened to catch Shane and Lori when you did.

        "Nah. If any of those freaks stumble through here, they'll be drawn to the fire and the lanterns. I'm safer than ever over here in the dark."

        "Mm." He hummed. "Y'alright? After--"

        "After I caught my husband fucking another woman? Yeah. All things considered, I'm better than ever." You scoffed.

        "Bein' mad don't mean ya gotta be stupid. Can't stay out here." He insisted.

        "Well, my tent is Shane's tent, and the RV is full." You sighed.

        "Jus' take mine." He offered.

        "Yours." You repeated. "And you're gonna sleep where?"

        "Outside. Prefer it that way anyway." He shrugged.

        "Yeah, no. I'm not kicking you out of your own tent."

        "Ain't kickin' me out if I offer." 

        "Well, thanks, but I'll be declining that offer."

        "Suit yourself." He said as he walked back to camp. Daryl wasn't the type to go out of his way for someone else. In fact, it was rather annoying that you couldn't accept his kindness when he felt obliged to offer it. He saw how you looked when you caught them, the sickening blend of grief and rage. You hadn't done anything to deserve that, at least to his knowledge, yet you were the one with nowhere to sleep. It didn't sit right with him.

        He remembered something, though. A bottle of whiskey he had stashed away in his tent. If he couldn't convince you to sleep somewhere warmer and safer than on the bed of red clay by the water, maybe you'd accept something to take your mind off it all.

        He ducked into his tent and grabbed his bottle, paying no mind to his fellow survivors all huddled around the fire making small talk. Lori and Shane sat near each other, Carl in between them talking to Shane about his favorite heroes, Shane telling him stories about his dad.

        Shane's eye caught Daryl as he made his way down the quarry with a bottle of liquor, no doubt on his way to you. He felt a heat in his chest, the same kind you felt when you found him rolling in the dirt with Lori. She noticed his sudden tension and followed his gaze. She looked back to Shane with worry, attempting to calm him with her eyes.

        Daryl found you laying on your side, backpack under your cheek like a pillow.

        "Ya sleep?" He asked.

        "No." You said, monotone and irritable.

        "Ya like whiskey?"

        You sat up. Of course you liked whiskey, this is the south.

        "You have some?" You inquired. He held the bottle out to you and you took it, twisting off the cap and taking a large swig. "Thanks."

        "Ain't a gift." He clarified. "But ya look like you could use a drink."

        He sat down a foot away from you, facing the water. You passed the bottle back to him.

        "Well, thanks for sharing."

        "Mhm."

        "What would you do?" You asked him.

        "Huh?"

        "I mean if you had a wife out here and you caught her fucking someone else."

        "Kick her outta my tent." He said.

        "And if it was her tent?"

        "Too bad. Shouldn't've been sleepin' around." He shrugged, swigging the bottle and passing it to you.

        "Uhuh." You nodded, sipping. "What else?"

        "You askin' me for advice or somethin'?" 

        "Something like that." You guessed.

        "Well I'd probably kick his ass for fuckin' my wife knowin' I was right there."

        "Mm. I'd love to but I can't exactly whoop someone who still has to look out for a kid."

        "Guess ya just gotta ignore 'em." He suggested, taking the bottle as you handed it over.

        "How? I live with them."

        "Want me to kill 'em?" He joked. You chuckled.

        "Kinda." You admitted.

        "Mm. Too easy. I'd tie 'em up outside the city and leave 'em to the walkers." 

        "Oh, you've put thought into this?" You asked. He tipped the bottle bac and took a gulp.

        "Nah. If I did I'd have somethin' more creative."

        "The hell's this?" Shane asked, suddenly looming over the two of you.

        Daryl stood up. "Just havin' a drink." He said, eyeing Shane.

        "With my wife?" Shane stepped forward, so Daryl did too.

        "Looks single to me." Daryl shrugged. He didn't come over with the intentions of making a move on you. Really he hadn't noticed you around at all. He, however, also wasn't one to back down from a fight, and he already had a distaste for the ex-fed, self proclaimed leader.

        "What?" Shane asked through gritted teeth, swaying as he grew more antsy to take a swing. 

        "You're a real piece of work, you know that Shane?" You sighed, standing up. You weren't phased by his sudden intrusion, you knew him too well to be surprised.

        "Yeah, why don't ya go back to sleepin' with the widow?" Daryl added. That was enough for Shane. He threw the first punch, but Daryl recovered quickly, getting a good knock to the ribs in before you inserted yourself between them, one hand to each man's chest.

        "Can we chill with the dick-measuring contest? He brought me a drink because he felt bad for me. Nothing else, because unlike you," you said to Shane, "some men are capable of keeping their willies tucked away."

        "Yeah, right, like he wasn't just waitin' for you to get drunk and start feelin' vengeful." Shane spat.

        "I don't fuck drunk girls, asshole." Daryl spoke up. "That's for cops and losers."

        "Man, you think you can take me? You want a piece of this?" Shane started to raise his voice now.

        "Yeah, c'mon then, prick." Daryl said, throwing his arms up. The two men stepped in circles around you as you tried to keep a barrier between them.

        "Yeah, come on then, pussy!" Shane shouted.

        "Pussy? Nah, man. You're the coward, slidin' your dick in some vulnerable window when ya had a tight piece o' ass right here waitin' for ya every night!" Daryl yelled back.

        "What is goin' on here?" Lori came in, eyes blazing between the three of you.

        "Wha'd'ya waitin' for, man? There's your side piece, go on and get her!" Daryl said.

        Shane lunged forward and you gripped around his torso tight, banking on the hope that he wouldn't hurt you to get past you, at least nit in front of her.

        "Don't fuckin' talk about here like that!" Shane seethed.

        "Yeah well ya sure didn't care 'bout me callin' your wife a tight piece of ass! I see where your priorities lie!"

        You couldn't afford to get distracted with the details as you put all your focus and strength into holding on to Shane to prevent anyone from getting hurt. However, the Dixon made some valid points.

        "Stop it, you two!" Lori begged.

        "Hate to say it," you strained against Shane's strength, digging your feet into the dirt as his strong frame fought against you. "But I'm with Lori."

        "Y'all need to calm down before--"

        "Is everything okay?" Dale's voice sounded from behind Lori, cutting her off. Amy, Andrea, and Morales stood with him. Lori sighed and put her hand over her forehead.

        Shane finally relented and you gratefully let go of him, turning to face the crowd of onlookers.

        "What happened here?" Dale inquired.

        "He was makin' a move on my wife." Shane panted, still coming down from the surge of adrenaline and rage.

        You scoffed, gawking at his audacity. You glared at Lori for a moment, running your tongue over your teeth before you shook your head and chuckled.

        "No, he brought me a drink because he felt bad for me, sleeping out here alone." You corrected.

        "Why are you sleeping all the way out here?" Andrea asked, shaking her head with confusion.

        "Yeah, it's really not safe. You should be up there with us." Amy added.

        "Yeah, Shane, Lori." You cocked your head to the side, crossing your arms as you looked between the two of them. "Why am I sleeping all the way out here? Hm?"

        Lori looked at you with wide, anxious eyes as Shane just shot daggers at you and Daryl. Lori looked back to everyone else, who seemed to be confused, except for Dale who had a knack for picking up on things.

        "Maybe we should head back to camp. It's getting late." Dale suggested.

        "I'm good." You rolled your eyes. "Thanks for ruining yet another peaceful moment." You said to Shane.

        "I'm confused." Andrea spoke up. 

        "Oh, allow me to clarify." You smiled, sickeningly sweet. Lori shook her head at you, but you ignored her. "Shane, my husband, and Lori, have been keeping a secret from us. Care to share with the class?"

        "(Y/N), man, come on. Why you gotta start problems?" Shane let out an exasperated sigh.

        "No? Okay, allow me to speak on your behalf, then. My husband has been fucking Lori, who, if you guys weren't aware, is married to Shane's best friend, who he claims is dead." You said.

        God, did that feel good.

        Everyone looked stunned, save for Lori who just looked humiliated and mortified, and Shane, who was more pissed than anything else.

        "Some leader, huh? A real honest guy." You added, just to add insult to injury. Salt in the open wound, if you will.

        "Oh...kay... Why don't we just.." Dale was at a loss for words.

        "Maybe (Y/N) can stay in the RV with us." Amy suggested.

        "Yeah, I think that'd be just fine." Dale agreed.

        "No need." You looked to Shane, smirking. "Daryl here has offered his tent."

        Daryl shot you a look. He had no intentions of being your pawn in some twisted revenge scheme.

        "You did?" Andrea asked.

        Daryl nodded. "Yeah, told her she could have it 'til she figures somethin' else out."

        "And you're gonna sleep... Where?" She wondered.

        "Outside." He shrugged.

        Shane scoffed and shook his head, hands rested on his hips in that police stance you had grown to hate. Your nostrils flared at him in disgust. 

----

        "Why'd ya do that?" Daryl asked.  You were all back at camp now. He was grabbing some essentials from his tent to make room for you. "Make it like it was somethin' it ain't?"

        "What do you mean? I told the truth. You offered your tent."

        "Nah, you wanted to get under his skin." He shook his head at you as you stood with your bag over your shoulder and your dusty blanket balled up in your arms.

        "I mean, yeah, but--"

        "But nothin'. I ain't gon' be part of your revenge and I damn sure ain't gonna be no rebound dick to ride 'til ya feel better." He cut you off before he stormed away.

Taglist || Masterlist

[deadgurlfilmz]

CHAPTER 1- “what. The. F*ck”

Ford pines x platonic!teenage!reader

Summary- Reader and their friends go out to the forest. When reader is looking for a secluded area to pee instead they find a creepy statue. That definitely won’t lead to nothing more… right?

Warnings- teeny bit of swearing, reader is gender neutral, this is probably the only time these friends will be in the story they are only here to add context for the chapter.

it’s been 4 months since stand and Ford returned from their travels on the Stan o’ War and for the most part life has been normal. fords house is still ‘The Mystery Shack’ Stan and Soos co-manage the shack, Ford still continues his studies of Gravity Falls even writing a 4th jornal (it’s more of a personal jornal just for Dipper) and best of all there is no Bill. The pines family is no longer being terrorised by demonic triangle. YAY!

Now for you a 17 year old kid living in Gravity Falls. You are very ordinary you go to high school, have a close group of friends, decent grades and like every other teenager in Gravity falls you want to get the hell out of there. Even with Gravity Falls weirdness for example the gnomes you’ve encountered (that tried to force you to become their wife), and the ghost that haunts you’re old hangout spot (the abandoned 24h convenient store) the weird and supernatural just never really interested you.

Now for the present. It is a Saturday afternoon July 2017 you and your friends (Maren, Rebekah, Owen, and Julia) All decided to go deep Into the forest just for something to do. Owen and Julia were walking ahead of you, Maren, Rebekah, and You were gossiping about some junior his name was something like Gary? Gideon? Definitely on those lines. You spoke about his criminal history what is insane as at the baby age of 11 this boy was in prison. You all continued walking until you shouted to the group.

“Wait guys! I gotta pee” you shout so Owen and Julia would hear aswell.

Rebekah turned to you “babe… where about are you gonna pee? We are miles away from any bathroom.”

You look around and see a patch of land totally hidden with thick trees. “I’ll go over there” you point.

“Cool. We’ll just be here” Owen nods.

You walk over to the “pee spot” you walk into the tall trees and as you do the vibe changes from ‘normal woods’ to ‘suddenly I don’t need to pee anymore’. You feel as if you are being watched. You walk further in trying to shake the feeling. That is until you see a stone statue sticking out from the ground. It’s triangle shaped. On the one hand it’s creepy but on the other how can anything look creepy when it’s wearing a top hat and bow tie? You take a quick picture of it muttering under your breath “ahaha this is cool” and quickly leave (without peeing). You head back to the group not mentioning the statue you saw. A few hours pass and it’s getting dark so all of you head home.

When you 5 make it back to main gravity falls you all go your separate ways saying byes. The walk to your house isn’t long just 5 minutes away from lazy Susan’s diner. You reach you’re home taking out you’re key from you’re pocket and letting yourself in, you heat up left over pasta in the microwave and go to your room. You place the bowl on your dresser when you see a black book sitting on your bed. You know for a fact you didn’t put it there. Curiosity takes over and you pick it up skimming through the pages and taking in it’s horrifying illustrations and stories.

Two things you notice about the book-

1) the book was covered in drawing of the statue you saw in the woods. (Strange)

2) there was one man who repeatedly showed up. You recognise his face from somewhere… you take a moment to think that’s when it hits you the mystery shack! This is the man who owns the mystery shack!! You need to talk to him ask him what the fuck is going on.

You close the book and toss it under your bed not wanting to look at it any longer the only thing you can say is

“What. The. Fuck.”

—————————————————————

Okay!!! Chapter 1 done. Yay!! I know the dates and ages of characters I’ve used may not line up with the actual plot of GF but oh well just try to ignore it lol

[stvolanis]

summer lovin’

PAIRINGS: JJ Maybank x priests daughter!OC

WARNINGS: foul language, religious imagery, unestablished relationship, JJ being JJ, mentions of marriage

NSFW WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, slight degradation, praise, pet names, biting, marking, overall cutesy sex

The heat was getting to JJ Maybank in more ways than one.

It started when his friend, who’s name he had no interest in remembering at a bonfire he attended with the rest of his friends, bet that he wouldn’t be able to fuck the priests daughter. Poor JJ didn’t even know who in the hell she was.

She was homeschooled, didn’t go to any parties and was rarely seen in town; having had all her food necessities at her little home-grown farm she lived on somewhere on figure eight. The only place people seen the jewel was every Sunday and Wednesday, bright and early, attending the local church’s 8AM service.

Now, jj by no means was a church man, but when this bet was laid upon him, best believe he was there bright and early in his best button up shirt, that just so happened to be his only button up shirt. His pants, perfectly starched to a crisp, and a cross pendant hung off of his necklace. The whole get-up, all for the priests daughter.

He was taken aback when he seen her for the first time. She was so different. Different form any of the other women he had ever met or seen on TV.

She was a small little thing. Dark brown hair braided with small pink ribbons on the end, and wispy bangs framed her porcelain-like face. Her eyes were a bright green, and if you were lucky, you’d be able to see them when they weren’t staring at her feet as if they were the most entertaining things she’d ever seen.

Her skin was pale, yet her face was scattered with disoriented freckles, almost from head to toe. Freckles covered her forehead to her nose, to her cheeks, down her neck and onto her shoulders that were revealed by her flowy sundress.

She followed her father around the busy church like a lost puppy, who had her mother hanging off of his arm like a proud trophy. Laylah, the priests daughter JJ was now so infatuated  with, only spoken when she was spoken to, and hid behind her family like the plague was near and out to get her.

He noticed that she played with the flowery rings on her finger when she was nervous, or when she grew bored from her parents talking to random, faceless people for too long. He’d watch Laylah tap her feet on the wood tile beneath her, creating a sense of beat before her father lightheartedly scolded her for being too loud, to which she’d mutter a small apology.

Laylah’s mother, who’s name was Christine, just so happened to be a part of Popes moms’ book club. JJ heard Mrs.Heyward call her christy when they’d laugh over tea, showing a sign of some familiarity. JJ was sure to intervene in Mrs.Heywards book club, much to Popes annoyance as he knew what was going on, with this new found knowledge if it meant getting closer to Laylah.

Laylah, on the other hand, had heard tales of JJ Maybank. All of them filled with vile rumors, yet nothing could have prepared her for the man that stood across the room so confidently.

His skin was tanned, probably from all the surfing he did when the waves were just right. She wondered if every man from the cut was as pretty as him. She shook her head from the thought with a blush coating her cheeks.

His hair was blonde, and messily grown out—yet it suited him. A strand fell onto his forehead, and her hand itched to reach up and fix it, but she knew she couldn’t. She’d never hear the end of it from either of her parents.

“That boy is such trouble, nowadays.” Her mother, Christine, would say at the dinner table. “Yknow, I heard he was caught stealing from the fish-mart, Isn’t that absurd?” She’d gossip to her husband, who nodded his head absent mindedly as he stared at his news paper. Laylah would just roll her green eyes.

JJ wasn’t an idiot. He knew when he was being eye fucked, so it was no surprise when that cocky smirk of his pulled at his lips when he caught her red handed eyeing him from head to toe.

He was aware of the female attention. Used to it, even—as cocky as it sounded. A quick fuck was all they ever were to him, and that’s all they’d ever stay. No one had ever come close to catching his interest, and JJ wanted to keep it that way, but you were making it so unbelievably hard for him.

He knew he’d have to settle down one day, but he had always dreaded the idea. Surprisingly enough, not because he’d have to be loyal, but because of the sheer commitment. He’d make a lousy, controlling, jealousy and possessive boyfriend…imagine how’d he’d be if he became someone’s fucking husband.

Laylah was different from the women who he was used to having one night stands with, and he he could tell this without even having to approach her.

She was sweet, pretty, quiet, innocent and obedient—but obedient in a way where he felt like she bit back her tongue a lot. Like she had a lot on her mind, but her voice was too weak to be heard. She was always expected to listen and do her school work at home, and do the chores her father assigned, but she longed to be a teenager.

She longed to go out and have fun, meet people and actually have friends. JJ knew she’d love the rest of the pogues, and she’d fit in just right. Laylah wanted to party, and maybe even drink. Maybe even meet a boy or a girl who peaked her interest—but she knew she never could. She laughed at the idea in her head. How silly of her to think such things?

This was her life. Being the priests quiet, obedient daughter.

JJ was like a breath of fresh air, as she was to him, too. They lived two completely different lives in two completely different worlds that finally decided to collide on the outskirts of a warn-down church.

When he watched her walk outside, he knew he’d be stupid not to follow suit.

She sat on the steps of walk way leading up to the church, and he watched like a creep as she pulled out a bubble-gun lollipop from her bag and stuff it into her mouth with a sigh. JJ smiled before making himself known by taking a seat next to her.

Her mouth fell agape for a moment, like a fish out of water. She didn’t know what she should say, or what she should do. Maybe she should run back inside, or run for the hills? No, that couldn’t be right. This wasn’t right. But it felt like it was.

“You’re a cute little thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled out, fishing out one of his joints from his back pocket. She gawked as she watched him light it, bringing it to his mouth and taking an easy puff right outside the steps of Gods house.

“I-I’m not supposed to talk to you.” She admitted, looking down at the lollipop that embarrassing had fallen out of her mouth when she was gawking at him. He smiled, almost knowingly. “Whys that?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

“You’re a bad man, JJ. That’s what my momma said.” Laylah spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. JJ grabbed his shirt covered chest, feigning pain. “Ouch. Broke my cold heart, baby.” He said, smiling when he saw a ghost of a smile paint her pretty lips.

“You don’t seem bad.” She said after a while of silence, glancing over at him. He shook his head. “I’m the worst.” He admitted, though lightheartedly. She hummed in acknowledgement. “I think I’ll decide that for myself, mister.”

JJ smiled.

From that point on JJ Maybank was completely enraptured with the small girl.

He made sure to come to church every Sunday bright and early just to be able to see her, and when no one was looking, the two of them would sneak out and talk till the service was over and she had to leave with her parents.

She learned that the rumors of JJ being a thief were half-heartedly true. He admitted that he had stolen a few things here and there, but only when he really needed to. He trusted you enough to know about his troubles at home, and how stealing was the only way to make sure he was able to live comfortably.

Of course, it upset her. She hated that he had to go through what he did, and she knew he deserved better than what life had dealt him. She was glad he didn’t try to sugar coat it like everyone else seemed to when they spoke to her. Everyone treated Laylah like she was a child, and she just had to take it.

But JJ—he made her feel like a woman.

He listened to her when no one else cared to, and he comforted her in his own odd way with understanding. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, he listened to ever honey-covered word that slipped past her plump lips like they were law. He clung to every sentence, and every laugh.

He wanted to know how many more laughs she had. Besides her usual giggle, he wanted to count them all. He wanted to know what made her upset, and what kept her up at night. He wanted to scare every bad thing away. Chase away her worries and woes, just to see that smile he grew to adore so much.

What was once a bet was turning into so much more, and JJ didn’t know how to feel about it. He wasn’t used to the feeling of caring for someone ever since his mom. He didn’t want to hurt her, like he seemed to hurt everyone else. She was delicate and sensitive, and like Christine said, he was a bad man. No good for a girl like Laylah Moore.

Fear consumed JJ at one point when he caught himself daydreaming about a life he didn’t know he’d enjoy while in the middle of class.

The thought of coming home to Laylah after a hard day. The house smelling of his favorite food, roasting warm in the oven. She’d turn around with a sweet smile one her face, kissing all over him while letting out little “I missed yous” and “how was work?”. He could picture himself wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they swayed together, a slow song playing in the background.

He shook himself from the thought with furrowed brows. it was unfair. All of it. He knew she would never be able to be with a man like him—and it was a thought he’d have to shake out of his head.

But till you realized that, he’d have her in every way he could.

So there the both of them were, sat snug on Laylah’s pink sheets. Her legs were spread and trembling as JJs fingers slipped past the band of her underwear, working at her sensitive bud. His fingers teased at her entrance as her hand gripped on to his upper arm; nails digging into his muscle when he entered her knuckles deep.

Her mouth hung agape as wayward moans fell from her lips that were swollen from JJs relentless attacks on them. “Shh, honey. Know it feels good, but y’gotta be quiet, mama.” He cooed as he curled his finger, making her walls clamp around his fingers.

“Don’t want your daddy to find out that his daughters a whore for pogue dick, hm?” He mocked, his free hand coming up to wrap around the base of your throat tightly. Laylah whimpered, biting down on her lips to suppress her moans.

“Can I stuff this pretty pussy, baby? Hm? Want my cock to fill you up?” He asked, his breath leveled with your ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her head way thrown back onto his shoulder as she felt her end near. “S’wrong, JJ! have to wait f’marriage.” She slurred.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Gonna marry you anyway, pretty baby.” He said, not realizing what he said till Laylah’s doe eyes peered up at him. “Really, JJ?” She asked with hopeful eyes.

Fuck. How could he say no now?

“Course, s’long as you let me use this cunt whenever I want.” He replied, kissing the side of her cheek sloppily. Her bottom lip sat snug between her teeth, deep in thought. JJs fingers had long slipped away from her pussy, and his fingers that were still coated in her slick tenderly rubbed at her thighs.

“S’gonna hurt. That’s what my friend told me.” She muttered, doubts creased into a frown. JJ rolled his eyes. “Just gonna hurt for a second. It’ll feel good right after, promise.” He reassured. God he wanted to beat up the stupid friend who told her that. Making his life harder than it needed to be.

“Pinky promise, JJ?” She asked, holding out her manicured pinky. His interlocked with hers, and in a flash, JJs cock was aligned with her entrance—her juices spilling over and acting as a lubricant as he slid his cock between her folds.

His chest swelled with pride as he watched the way her eyes never left his cock, almost frightened. “Too big, JJ. S’not gonna fit.” She said, shaking her head back and forth. “I’ll fuckin’ make it fit.” He huffed out.

His fat tip prodded at Laylah’s entrance, teasingly almost before he plunged his cock inside of her with one harsh thrust. Her eyes widened and tears pricked her eyes as the stinging pain in her lower region began to become too much. It felt like she was being torn in half. “Take it out, JJ! Hurts too bad!” She cried out.

He wiped the tears from her eyes, kissing her trembling lips. “I know, shh, I know. Just give it a second, yeah? It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He whispered, kissing anywhere his lips could reach to distract her from the pain. She clung onto him; her nails digging into his back. A trophy he’d later wear when he goes out surfing with his friends.

His cock sat inside of her, and she could feel the twitch of his cock, and the way he pulsed inside of her. God, it took him everything in him to not start fucking her into oblivion. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he didn’t want to further hurt her.

So, he waited. And as soon as she breathed out a small whimper that sounded more of pleasure than pain, he slowly began to rock his hips into her. “See? S’not that bad, pretty baby.” He grunted out, throwing her legs over his shoulders and wrapping his arms around her thighs tightly.

Her mind felt fuzzy with bliss as his tip kissed her cervix. Her hand reached to cup the side of JJs cheek, and he froze for just a moment. Her touch was tender, and so fucking full of love. The love he craved but was to afraid to accept. But he’d accept it for her. He’d do anything for her.

He melted into her touch, and his lips crashed down onto hers as he began to pick up his pace again. Their lips molded together perfectly, and nothing could prepare JJ for the words that slipped past her lips next. “I love you.” She said, but it was barely above a whisper.

He didn’t hesitate with his response. “I love you too.” He said, digging his face into the crook of her neck, planting a soft kiss. Laylah’s hands tangled in his hair as her legs wrapped around his waist, securing his position inside of her as she felt her stomach tighten.

“I feel weird, JJ.” She moaned, her head lulled to the side as he smothered her neck with kisses, and laid fresh hickies on her breasts. “Just let it go, baby. Squirt f’me. Know you can, baby, give it to me.” He moaned out against her, his thumb traveling down to play with her clit.

“O-Oh God!” She moaned out, the grip she had on his hair slightly tightening, almost painfully, but JJ didn’t care. He rather enjoyed it. “Not God, sweetheart. Me. Say it. Say my fuckin’ name.” He urged, biting down on her nipple painfully.

“JJ!” She moaned out again and again like it was a prayer, but was muffled by his hand clasping around her mouth to quiet her noises. She was wrapped so tightly around him, and he just barely managed to pull out when he reached his peak.

JJ’s cum painted across Laylah’s lower stomach, almost beautifully against her pale skin. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as she watched JJ jerk himself off a few more times, his cock releasing a few more drops from his mushroom tip.

He looked so pretty like this. Mouth hung open as he panted, and the small mound of blonde hair that sat atop his cock was drenched in her fluids. His hair matted to his forehead from sweat, and that boyish smile dancing on his face as he moved the hair out of her face.

It felt right now. Laylah was no longer ashamed of her feelings, nor was she afraid of what figure eight would say when she would bring JJ along with her as a personal plus one at an important meeting of her mothers.

Before, she was living, yet she never really felt alive. She drug herself out day by day, like an endless cycle of disparity and orders. She hated getting out of bed, as there was never anything for her to look forward to throughout the day. Nothing to keep her going. She was just there.

And as she laid on top of his chest, tracing stars over the muscle of his arm, she felt content. she felt happy. She felt free. And most of all, she felt alive.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

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[queenofallimagines]

Black!Witch!Mc getting chosen for the exchange program

I was writing about another request but then I specifically thought about how they would try to teach magic to MC but she was doing hoodoo so here we are✨

__________

Student Council:

- First off IMAGINE the audacity of getting kidnapped w no warning and now demons saying you gotta stay here for a full 365 days??

- Unserious

- I’m immediately putting a ‘no demon allowed’ sigils on the inside of my door so they wouldn’t be busting in 24/7 without knocking🙄

- Meeting belphie and telling he’s full of shit

- “I really am a human-“

- “Bullshit, I can feel your bitter ass spirit a mile away”

- Mammon knows what’s good so he’s already with the program

- “I had this bottle of Florida water just laying around. Not like I got it for you or anything but like here I’m throwing it out anyway”

- “I don’t know if human spirits would like this whiskey but like we had it lying around in the kitchen so just take it no one drinks it.”

- Baby I still see the price tag on it,,,,,

- Leaves fancy cigars in your room and when you mention them bc you KNOW they wasn’t there before he’s like “idk maybe you’re imagining things”

- “Satan has been doing research or whatever on human magic so maybe he left there here for ya to find.”

- He WILL gaslight you into thinking he isn’t like being helpful but like he’s not good at it

- Depending on where your from and if you work with more water and Sea based stuff Levi will be drawn to you like a moth to flame

- You smell like sea water and he peeps that

- When your around it feels peaceful like watching waves reaching the shore

- Asks you if you’re secretly like a mermaid

- “Maybe”

- He can not tell if you’re joking with that smirk Mc!!

- He sees you wearing pearls and starts just like giving you more of them

- “I got these from the bottom of that marinara trench or whatever and I thought you’d like them!”

- “You mean the MARINA TRENCH Levi???”

- He probably knows how to make jewelry out of them so he def does

- Gives you earrings and bracelets and says it’s for a cosplay

- “Yeah, the main character is like this really cool pirate queen who’s like secretly a siren.”

- “Oh damn That’s sounds cool what’s the name of it?”

- “…..I forgot but like trust me it’s REALLY good.”

- He is making up FAKE anime to get you to wear his gifts I am so sorry bestie

- Gifts you with seashells

- “I mean like humans pick these up all the time right?”

- “Is there a creature still living in there?”

- “You don’t want a little friend????”

- Please go put that back where you found it😭

- You like to chill in his room the most bc I mean look at it, it’s a big as fuck aquarium and it just feels like a vibe

- Was thinking about getting you this rly elaborate bathtub to keep in his room for you

- Like a blow up mattress💀 but it’s a Victorian claw foot tub

- But then you say that you can just sleep in his with him and he’s struggling to breathe

- “Y-you sure? I mean like I can sleep on the floor-“

- “It’s your room I’m not gunna make you move and besides there’s definitely enough space in there for both of us.”

- Gets all the softest blankets and pillows from all over the house like he’s snatching peoples shit up😭

- Stiff as a board when you first get in but then when he wraps his arms around you he feels at ease like he’s relaxing on the beach at night and knocks out

- Sweats he sleeps the best when you’re with him

- Satan is immediately fascinated

- Trying to see if he can pinpoint the meaning of the jewelry and clothes your wearing just from looking at you

- Noticed you always smell like incense

- Like he knew you were in the house bc he can smell sandal wood and lotus when he walks by

- “You’re not a regular human are you?”

- “You’re not really a regular demon are you?”

- Probably gets into it w you be you’re not taking any of his shit and you’re quick to clap back

- Traps him in a corner with salt

- “Time out. Sit your ass down”

- Stops getting mad somewhere along the line and starts getting turnend on by it

- Like may just set up scenarios behind the scenes that cause you to absolutely loose it

- An euphoric feeling washes over him when he sees you pissed off

- 🙄😒 he setting up scenarios for you to beef w Radom people

- Like it’s enough

- Likes to see you mad at him but he knows he has a limited amount of times he can do that in one sitting as not to damage your relationship

- Finds the way you do magic fascinating

- Throws him off a little bit

- How you just find shit and make it work??

- “Okay so for this spell it says we need like finely aged Demonus, frankincense resin, and blood.”

- “Okay well I got pine needles, old grape juice, and apple cider vinegar.”

- ????

- And he’s literally flabbergasted when IT WORKS PERFECTLY

- “That’s not the rules???”

- “Ion need those that’s optional.”

- “Hello?????”

- Scratching his head in frustration bc like?? YOURE NOT FOLLOWING THE BOOKS AND YET THINGS WORK??

- “Listen, when you don’t have things on hand you gotta substitute. It’s like the same thing kinda if you think about it.”

- “No it’s not!! You can’t substitute mullein for graveyard dirt!”

- “Says who🤨”

- Watches you like a child the way he hovers over you analyzing what you’re doing

- He was waiting on shit to backfire but he sees you doing things with ease and his curiosity is eating away at him

- “How long have you been doing this?? For you to just be quick on your feet like that?”

- “I don’t know? My whole life? It’s just like something you do everyday without thinking.”

- His nosey ass is always in your business

- Asmo is entranced by your appearance

- He can feel the energy coming off the jewelry you wear in an instant

- “Oooo where did you get those?”

- “It’s been passed down to me”

- “What’s the name of your grandparents? I might know who it originally belonged to👀”

- Clown ass will find out he ran through some of your family

- “I remember hearing about this one great great great great cousin that cheated on his soon to be wife and disappeared forever after they got married.”

- “Wait hold on I remember that name! That might have been be lol. I seduced him and then broke up the marriage and made a deal with the wife to make him disappear. Good times”

- “HELLO???”

- Like any generational curse he’s def behind it

- “My aunt cursed the family to never find love” ass shit and he’s like daaaam that’s was me my bad let me left that lol

- Clown

- Has you charm his jewelry

- Even tho he can do it himself he wants to watch you do it

- Beel

- What a sweetheart

- Likes when it’s your turn to cook

- Giving him snacks or cooking food that eases his hunger pains

- He’s holding you like a teddy bear

- Walks into your room like 🥺”snack pwease?”

- Your ancestors love him

- “Go give beel this”

- “….i bought that for YOU”

- “Okay?? Go feed my baby!”

- Like absolutely crazy

- Satan is their fav white boy

- In an “lmao this funky little white bot got some spice in em”

- Like he does In canon like Afro beats so IMAGINE they hear him singing like Marvin Gaye and they’re like “yeah this the one”💀

- The most annoying mf EVER

- He walks into your room and is like “oh I ain’t here for you”

- ????

- “Ayo don’t just roll up in here KNOCK first??”

- “Oh Mc I didn’t come here for you- good afternoon grandma McRae, I wanted to show you I aced my finals😌”

- AND THEY WILL HYPE HIM UP?????

- Mammon is that cousin that you know always in some shit but he’s the one who do the most to help out

- Leaves Grimm on your altar

- You’re surprised he didn’t just snatch it but when you catch him bc it’s been accumulating and you know YOU ain’t put that much there

- “What you mean?? For good luck I ain’t miss yet at the casino”

- Imagine how tired we are

- Will hide Goldie there and they will NOT let Lucifer find it💀

- “Don’t worry baby I got this you run along now” INSANE

- Very “go make sure he ate breakfast this morning” energy

- See now belphie is so annoying

- Hoping and PRAYING that they don’t know about lesson 16 bc it’s like on sight

- Lilith is chilling on that mf altar and she will bring the WHOLE FAMILY to beat his ass

- So imagine they’re not beating his ass 24/7 and this is after the party when you guys made a pact

- He comes into your room while you’re busy to sleep in your bed because why would he sleep in his own if he wants to bother you??🙄

- “Hey Mc I’m gunna sleep in here they’re being too loud.”

- “…..hello and good afternoon to you too, I’m doing great how was your day😐” like he don’t ever be saying hello

- He feels this weird ass vibe in the room and he looks over at your desk

- “You a spell or something? What’s up with all that stuff?”

- “Hm? Oh no it’s just an altar for my ancestors I made one shortly after I got here.”

- Hums before wrapping himself in your blankets

- They all in his dreams whew

- He’s seeing people he’s NEVER seen before glaring at him and being like “you done lost your mind”

- Assumes he’s entered one of your dreams until Lilith is like

- “Why did you do that?”

- He was surprised to see you were related to her the first time

- IMAGINE they show him a flashback of what happens but he gets to see what we saw and Lilith last words to us

- And then he’s surrounded by people being like 😒😒😒

- He’s on his knees crying fr

- Want Lilith to beat up her brothers like “don’t mess w my baby👿” because we’re like her niece or whatever minus a few eons like her direct descendant

- She do not play about you at ALL

- She’s putting the fear of god in him before she’s like “I know you’re sorry and you’re my brother and I love you but don’t do that shit again”

- Only reason he ain’t get it worse is bc you love him💀

- They still baby him to an extent bc he is the baby of the family and since he can talk to them directly he will be asked to deliver messages for them

- but he woke up struggling to breathe

- And you’re like ?????

- Worst nightmare he’s ever had

- Getting all the other babies out the way they like Solomon but in a sneaky way

- “There he go again up to something “

- “I would never🥺” and he’s literally plotting

- They talk to like the most I think because he’s like idk how that works but they seem happy when I leave treats up there

- He runs to them when yall pick on him

- “Leave that baby alone!!”

- Simeon is the golden child obviously

- Picture perfect and so respectful

- Will leave a feather from his wings there just bc

- Everyday it’s “tell Simeon I said hi!”

- Like okay :// enough he can probably go see yall face to face

- Saving the very best for last Lucifer

- Comedy relief

- They be messing w him heavy

- Moving things around so he can’t find it

- His favorite pen runs out of ink and when he gets a a new one it starts working perfectly fine

- Missing matching socks

- Like just bc it’s funny

- They do however see he’s shouldering all this stuff that he really don’t need to and that he’s head over heels

- Suddenly his lunch feels more filling and comforting

- His paperwork seems less like an endless mountain

- When you’re not there he will go to the alter and leave little things

- Also asking them for advice on how to purpose

- All of a sudden you’re getting signs for a wedding

- “Are there even this many doves in the devildom????”

- “A wedding or union is in the future”

- “?? What do you mean by that auntie?”

- “😊”

- “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!!”

- Jokingly mess w him bc COME ON it’s Lucifer!

- Stressing him out is like prime entertainment

- Honorary members of the anti-Lucifer league

- Satan leaves a little pin in there that says that LMAO

- Lucifer internally sighing bc wow his family got even bigger (he is not complaining, glad to see more of Lilith kin and how she had such a long strong lineage)

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝟏

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: After moving to Hawkings for a fresh start, you meet a boy with kind, brown eyes who will quickly become a friend and maybe something more. The only problem is: you took something that belongs to him by accident and now you don't know what to do.

A/N: Yes, there will be more parts. No, i don't know when. I hope this start doesn't suck.

You kind of hated how you had thought moving there was a good idea. Of course, your aunt had told you that she would welcome you with open arms if you ever decided to go and live with her but she had never told you that the people there seemed to look all the same and that everyone would have stared at you in a weird way, being the only crazy person who moved there after years of no new arrivals.

Hawkins was a small midwestern town located in Roane County in the state of Indiana and it wasn't hard to tell that it wasn't a very busy or interesting place even though you were driving down the main street for the first time, heading towards the house where you were supposed to live for quite some time, if everything would have gone as it should and your aunt hadn't decided to get rid of you after a few days, like you had basically done with your parents.

You looked first on the left and then the right side of the road, while the music was still playing loudly in the vehicle, trying to figure out which way you were supposed to go, then you remembered that you had a map of the city somewhere in your pickup.

You glanced at the back seats, where there were several suitcases and a few bags full of things that you would probably never need and which were just taking up a lot of space in your car already always full of various junk.

You noticed a lamp peeking out from a bag and wondered for the second time that morning what the hell was going on in your mind.

"C'mon, where are you?" You talked to yourself, searching through the sea of ​​objects scattered on the dashboard: a concert ticket, some polaroids containing memories of a life you were leaving behind (which had fallen from the ceiling of the car where you kept at least fifty of them fixed with tacks), a horror book by an unknown writer (the school library had crossed it out because it was considered inappropriate for kids), a shoe whose match had been lost while you were packing your bags, a half-empty green spray can and no trace of the city map.

The car behind you honked: you had not moved for at least two minutes.

"I'm trying to figure out where I need to go! I'm sorry!" You shouted through the rolled down window before the car passed you and a man gave you the middle finger.

"Rude." You commented, sighing and thinking about what to do.

Did continuing to wander around the city until you found the right path make sense?

You were about to restart the pickup when you saw a boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen and a taller, blond boy wearing a green and white jacket talking to each other as they walked along the sidewalk.

You grabbed your leather jacket and got out of the car, hoping no one would complain about the inappropriate place you were leaving it. Your driving teacher was probably right when she told you you sucked at parking.

"I'll be right back Casper." You said to the thing in the passenger seat. Nobody responded.

You reached the two boys just as the blond guy took the hat off the younger one, laughing.

You didn't immediately understand what was happening.

"Sorry, do you know where I can find-"

"Hey! Give it back!" The younger one tried to grab the hat while the other laughed, raising his arm straight up so he couldn't reach it.

"Give what back?" The blond laughed.

You cleared your throat. The two turned to you suddenly.

"What do you want?" The older one asked in an annoyed tone, looking you up and down.

"I wanted to know where Piney Wood Lane was but now I don't wanna talk with you anymore. Give the hat back."

He snorted as if I had come to ruin the party. "You can never have fun with you weirdos around."

You caught it before it landed in a puddle as the blonde dropped it to the ground.

He pointed to the kid saying something like "I'm not fucking done with you" before walking away.

"What a nice guy!" You yelled after him as he turned the corner.

"As always." The younger commented.

"Is everyone like this around here? I just moved but people like him make me want to go back to where I came from." You handed the hat back to him with a half smile.

You hated people like that guy, you had never understood how anyone could take pleasure in making someone else suffer.

"Not all. Most but not all, some of my friends are really cool. Thanks for that." He put the hat back on his head, covering his short curls, on his face a grateful expression even if you didn't do much.

You found yourself wondering what these "cool friends" of his were like.

"Good to know." You sighed ironically.

“I'm Dustin, by the way.” Dustin smiled at you.

You said your name and shook his hand, you thought that you had known that kid for about five minutes and you would already do anything to protect him.

Dustin looked at the car parked behind you. “Your car is so cool!” He commented in amazement, pointing with his finger at the drawings standing out against the black background, on the side of it.

"Thanks, it's a mess but it represents me, I think."

“Wait, what is that thing sitting in the passenger seat?”

"Oh, that's Casper!"

"It's a-"

"A skeleton, yes. My biology teacher let me borrow it from his class."

Dustin looked at you questioningly.

"Okay, I stole it. But he's a great travel companion, and never complains about the music I choose."

Dustin laughed. "I swear, you would love my friends."

"And I really would like to get to know them but now, could you help me find Piney Wood Lane? I lost the map in the middle of all the shit in my car."

"Sure I can, I know that street!" The boy nodded, hoping that you could become one of his "cool friends".

That afternoon, what had become your room was already full of stuff scattered around and suitcases that you didn't feel like unpacking everywhere. The posters you would soon hang were on the desk but you had decided to leave Casper in the car for a while longer. You had put most of your clothes in the closet and packed a bag full of spray cans with the intention of going out and finding a nice wall to do your first mural in the new town.

That time you didn't have any of your friends to make sure the cops didn't come but you figured that for your first few days there, you could manage on your own.

You grabbed a book in case you found a quiet place to read: you felt safer when you went out taking a book with you, even if you weren't sure you'd find a place or time to read.

“Are you going to explore the town?” Your aunt asked with a smile as you came out of your room with your bag over your shoulder.

You couldn't help but be grateful to her, she had said she would treat you like a daughter and give you a room of your own and that was exactly what she had done. You hadn't seen her in years and you didn't know each other very well but for the moment you seemed to get along well and your relationship seemed more peaceful than the one you'd had with many people in your old hometown.

Maybe this was really a new beginning for you.

"Yeah, something like that." You tried to sound convincing.

"Okay, don't get in trouble on your first day here."

You smiled.

"Oh, I would never do that."

You jumped off the trash can you were standing on, in the alley you had chosen for your mural.

You turned the spray can in your paint-stained hands, observing the work on the wall in front of you: you liked dragons in fantasy stories, you thought it might be nice to experiment with something like that.

"Yeah, you don’t look that bad." You said to the creature painted on the wall, before noticing that the sun was starting to set and it was probably time to go home.

You put the spray cans back in your bag and threw the empty ones into the bins you climbed onto.

Then, you heard a noise.

"Please don't be a cop." You muttered to yourself, placing your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the alley.

The footsteps got closer.

"Please don't be a cop." You repeated, keeping your gaze down as you rounded the corner, hoping to escape, that way, from whoever was coming in your direction.

Of course, luck wasn't on your side, as always: you collided with the person who was coming in your direction and if they hadn't grabbed you by the arm you would have surely ended up on the ground like the rest of your stuff.

Your book, your bag, and several spray cans scattered across the ground, some rolling away from you.

"Shit." You said through your teeth, looking up to look into the eyes of the person you had collided with.

A gentle and slightly worried gaze met yours, his chocolate brown eyes watching you as if to make sure you were okay. His expression was completely different from the way the boy who was bothering Dustin had looked at you that morning.

His messy, curly hair was brown like his eyes and his slight smile was reassuring.

"Are you good?" He asked, letting go of your arm after making sure you wouldn't fall.

"Oh, thank god you're not a cop!"

“And neither are you, good for both of us.” He chuckled before helping you pick up what you had dropped. You did the same, so quickly that you didn't even realize you had put something in the bag that didn't belong to you.

"I'm fine." You grabbed the spray can he was holding out to you, your fingers grazed his, adorned with chunky silver rings, and the action made you feel a weird sensation that you couldn't identify and that only lasted a few seconds in your stomach, “thank you.”

"It's a pleasure. It's always nice to help pretty girls break the law." He chuckled.

"I wasn't breaking any laws." You rolled your eyes, aware that you both knew you were lying, almost without realizing that he had called you pretty.

"Then why did you hope I wasn't a cop?"

"Maybe I just think they're not nice."

"Well, believe me, I've been arrested several times and I can guarantee you that most of them aren't."

You raised your eyebrows. "You've been arrested several times? What the hell did you do?"

"You really don't wanna know."

“Okay mystery man,” You rolled your eyes, the boy laughed at the nickname and you immediately liked the sound of it, then you held out your hand, introducing yourself.

He shook it and you felt that feeling in your stomach again but decided to ignore it, “Eddie.”

"Okay Eddie, are you good at giving an unbiased opinion on a mural done in an alley while standing on garbage bins?" You asked and without even waiting for an answer you started pushing him towards the dragon on the wall.

Usually you didn't need random strangers' opinions on your street art but this time you felt like you wanted to spend more time with that metal singer looking guy with the sweetest eyes you'd ever seen. And also, he wasn't a stranger anymore, he was Eddie.

“Oh sure, I was born for that.” He stated confidently.

Your laughter echoed down the alley as you reached the mural.

"There we go. Now you are an accessory to the crime."

"Well, in reality.... I didn't do anything. I'm just an innocent witness."

"You have paint on your hands."

"I don't-" He looked at his palms and realized you had stained one of his hands with green paint when you held it. "Oh, fuck you."

You laughed. "So? What do you think?"

“I think it's worthy of being on the cover of a metal album, it's amazing, really.”

"Well, thanks. For now it will stay on the wall of a dark alley."

"Really, that's so fucking cool. You should do this as a job or something like that."

"Well, I'm still in high school and I'm looking for someone who needs a babysitter to earn some money so... not yet, I guess."

"Well then I guess we'll meet there."

“Are you still in high school?”

Eddie sighed, as if expecting a joke on that.

"Hey, we don't judge people here. What do you expect from a girl who's spending her Sunday afternoon with a stranger chatting in front of some garbage cans?"

"I expect her to be cool as hell. And well-" He paused, as if thinking about it carefully, "I think she is."

You couldn't help but laugh again.

When you got home you still had a stupid smile on your face. You liked Eddie, you liked the way he made you feel like you didn't have to pretend to be someone else around him, you liked the way he called you "pretty" five more times that afternoon, you liked the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music, you liked the way he kindly asked you if he could walk you home since the sky was getting dark and he didn't want anything bad to happen to you, you liked the sound of his laughter and the way he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks when you told him that your opinion on Hawkings had become better after you met him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Your aunt asked you when you entered the house.

"I met a boy."

She smirked.

"Don't look at me with that face, I just met him. He was just being nice."

"Mh-mh sure." She laughed as you rolled your eyes and walked into your room, leaving your bag on the bed.

When you unzipped it, something inside caught your attention: a small, brown leather-covered notebook you'd never seen before.

Your first thought was how the hell did he end up in there, then you remembered your clash with Eddie a few hours earlier. Was it possible that you had taken it without realizing it?

You got under the covers with the notebook in your hands. It was small but the pages were so many and so thin that someone could have started writing in it years before and still not filled it all.

You knew you shouldn't have done it, it might have contained private things, but you couldn't resist.

You opened it.

As soon as you did, a black and white photo of a girl with dark hair and a sun dress fell off the first page.

She was smiling and she was really pretty, you wondered who she could be. In the background you could see a garden and the sun shining in the sky.

It was wrinkled as if someone had held it in their hands for a long time.

Then, you read the first lines of the first page of the notebook. The writing was messy but legible, some words had been crossed out and rewritten probably due to some grammatical error or unclear thoughts.

"I realized that I almost don't remember her anymore and that's the thing that scares me the most. I don't want to forget her."

You couldn't help but wonder how you could feel the pain in those words simply by reading them in an old, crumpled notebook.

Tags: @jacklesbrainworms @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon @flawiette @needylilgal022 @bubsonnobx @yujyujj @findmeincorneliastreet @kennedy-brooke @witchwolflea

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 22

Part 21

They went outside in silence, Steve deciding not to talk anymore until Eddie revealed more. And Eddie was waiting for the right moment. They got horses from the stable, one for both of them and set off for the same forest as before. The one where Steve had seen his first demobeast. Eddie waited until they got to the treeline before speaking. He was honestly appreciative of the fact that Steve hadn’t asked too many questions on the way.

“I know you’ve been learning a lot about the creatures here. What do you remember?”

“They like the cold and hate the heat. That’s why they start hibernating in spring and don’t come back until the first frost usually”, Steve replied. “They’re carnivorous and will eat people too, but they don’t come near human settlements.”

All things he hadn’t known before coming here. He had been taught that those monsters always sought out human flesh and that they roamed uncontrollably all over these lands. That exterminating them was the right thing to do. 

“What about where they come from?”, Eddie asked.

“When their numbers get low, offspring will pop off a fully grown demogorgan.” It was odd to know of a creature that didn’t need to reproduce the traditional way.

“No, I mean where they all came from. Originally.” Eddie stopped and Steve did too. They had come to the same small clearing as before, the one with a cave where many of the beasts were waiting out the warm spring and hot summer. Eddie dismounted and tied his horse off to a tree. Steve stayed up, unsure of where he was going with this and Eddie understood.

“No one has told me that. I didn’t think anyone knew”, Steve said. Besides the fearful whispers that they came from the darkest of nightmares. 

“There’s more than one world”, Eddie started. “And they come from one different than ours. It looks like ours but it’s colder, darker, less forgiving. The kind of place they’d normally thrive in.”

“How’d they end up here?”, Steve asked.

“Long time ago, longer than anyone else remembers, a dark wizard came to this land”, Eddie leaned against a tree, keeping within eyesight of both Steve and the cave. “It probably seems silly now but he wanted to destroy everything. He wanted to make it like the world he came from.”

That clearly hadn’t happened. At least not in totality. “So you stopped him?”, Steve asked, finally dismounting.

Eddie smiled ruefully. “In short, yes.” He didn’t want to keep Steve out here too long with the whole, sad story. “The wizard was destroyed and the gates between our worlds closed. But that left a lot of his army still on this side. They’re neither good nor evil, they’re just beasts and I couldn’t bring myself to kill them all once their strings were cut from their master.”

Eddie sat down on the ground and Steve joined him. They didn’t touch, still a bit of distance between them. The only sounds in the forest were the rustling of trees in the wind and bird whistles up high. 

“I became their new master”, Eddie continued. “I meant for this place to just be for us. Humans… they took everything from me. I didn’t want to be around them if I didn’t want to. But eventually the land healed from the war. And with that, people came.”

A twig broke somewhere and Steve wondered what it was. He hadn’t thought of predators in these woods outside of the demobeasts. But surely there had to be something else that took their place on top when they slumbered.

Steve was never taught the history of this kingdom. Only that it was a stain on the map, a blemish to be cleaned. That the people here would be grateful to be absorbed under a new, fair ruler as opposed to an abomination. Now, he could see how untruthful that was. Eddie was beloved by his subjects. A coup would only destabilize the area. It had Steve thinking briefly about his heir situation. But he supposed a king that lived on for centuries had no need to procure a royal line.

He looked up right at the exact moment to meet Eddie’s eyes. Those same eyes had watched him with another man, almost transfixed.

“Why were you watching me?”, he asked.

“I wanted to know who had gotten your attention. I was…” Concerned? Drawn? Allured? ….Jealous? “Curious.”

“Well did you sate your curiosity?”, Steve asked, arms crossed.

“In one way.” But in others… “I shouldn’t’ve intruded on you and Jason. I told you that you were free to come and go. Stalking you was never my intention.”

“But you did. And you stayed, even when I noticed you. Why?”

“I couldn’t look away”, Eddie confessed. 

The moment felt frozen in time as Steve looked from his intense gaze to his lips, already so close. It wouldn’t take much to bridge-

Eddie pushed him down out of the way before Steve’s ears processed the thundering roar behind him. As he looked up from the ground, he saw Eddie’s hands pressed against the chest of a large bear, keeping it at bay. He only saw that sight for a split second because he blinked and suddenly Eddie was changing. He grew in size into a bear more massive than the one that attacked them, fur bristled like a dark cloud, and teeth revealed in a snarl as he pushed the other bear back.

The horses were whinnying in fear and Steve’s even ran off, untied and untethered. Steve back up and got to his feet, feeling helpless without a weapon to fight back with. Eddie let off a roar that shook the trees and the other bear sized him up for only a moment before backing off and disappearing back into the forest. Eddie fell forward, standing on his four paws now and looked to Steve. It had been so quick. Just a moment ago it felt like they were sharing something, well, something rather tender. 

Then like a shock of lightning, Eddie had shown a display of power that Steve had yet to see. Bears were nothing to sniff at, had Steve been alone and without a weapon, he would’ve been skewered on its claws. With a trembling hand, he reached out towards Eddie. Eddie stepped closer and let Steve feel the fur on his cheek. It was softer than he imagined. And it made him imagine that Eddie’s hair felt just as nice. Steve dropped his hand and Eddie turned back to his human form.

“Sometimes when they hibernate, another animal will come and try to disturb them”, Eddie said. “I can’t save them all, but I try and keep most of the predators away.”

“My horse…”, Steve said, looking to Eddie’s still tied to the tree.

“It would’ve gone back home to the stables”, Eddie said. Which meant they had to return before someone saw Steve’s steed return without him and went into a panic. Eddie was about to suggest he take a winged form so that Steve could take his horse when the prince spoke up.

“I’ll ride with you then.”

Eddie was too stunned to disagree, or to even think of why Steve shouldn’t ride with him. Wordlessly, he went back to the horse, calm now that the danger was gone and allowed Eddie to mount first. He reached a hand down and Steve took it, settling in behind him. Eddie felt arms wrap around his middle. Arms that felt more thick, more solid than he had initially thought. Steve felt broad and warm against his back.

At least in the back of his mind, while he was distracted by the need to steer the horse properly, he was jealous of anyone who was allowed to touch Steve without any sort of pretense.

Part 23 coming soon

Taglist

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent  @snakeorsquid  @ignoremyworld  @theclichefortunecookie 

@goodolefashionedloverboi  @just-a-tiny-void  @0body0disphoria0  @cinnamon-mushroomabomination  @samsoble 

@jamieweasley13  @y4r3luv  @xtkxkrzrizir  @un-knownperson  @greekgeek24 

@justdrugsformethanks  @potato-of-the-lord  @notaqueenakhaleesi  @swimmingbirdrunningrock  @queenie-ofthe-void 

@nebulainajar  @lil-gremlin-things  @nicememerino  @robininblue  @hornedqueenofhell 

@anne-bennett-cosplayer  @moomkin77  @here4thetrama  @bookworm0690  @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane @puppy-steve

[last-starry-sky]

put your ear to my heart // or set your teeth against my throat

shifter/monster!price x f!reader (this was written for @the-californicationist's nameless challenge, so he isn't named, but Price was def. my inspiration!)

[NSFW - MDNI - MIND THE WARNINGS: ~1k, mentions of murder, blood and gore, minor character death (reader’s bf), pet names, implied abuse of power, kidnapping, monster fucking (extra hair, claws, and teeth mentioned but nothing specific), unprotected piv sex, biting, crying, noncon/dubcon, mating press, cumming inside, unsanitary sex? (idk what to say here lmao), breeding kink (mentions of rutting and pregnancy), fingering, oral.]

Something lives in these woods.

A shapeshifter. A monster. Something you should stay away from. It lurks in those hills. Made a home somewhere in those thousands of dense trees in the forest around the mountain. This place has been it’s home for ages longer than this area has been a national park, you see. 

It belongs to him. Not to you.

It doesn’t mind making one or two of those asshole "campers" or "hikers" disappear when they wander into his home, disrespecting his land either. This thing, it’s careful too. Nothing like how an animal would kill. Too smart. Too clean. Something that leaves nothing behind but an abandoned campsite. A smear of blood on a tree. A forgotten boot in a stream. A missing persons report growing colder by the year.

You don’t have to worry though, miss. You seem nice enough. You take only photographs, leave only footprints when you visit. Every single time. You stupid, silly thing. I guess it’s for the best that the loud, stupid man that you brought with you - he was your boyfriend, you said? shame - never came back from taking a piss in the middle of the night. 

See, he didn’t follow the rules. Put out the fire. Stay on the trails. Never go anywhere alone. He didn’t care to learn that they weren’t your rules. They’re his rules, and now it’s too late for him.

It’s okay, little lady. I know you’re scared. It’s only natural when things like this happen in the dead of night! So how about you pack up your backpack and I give you a ride to the nearest ranger station? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea? It’s about to get awfully cold, and with your friend - sorry, boyfriend - missing, I can’t leave you alone out here. 

The cabin is nice and cozy. I know you’ll like it. I’ll radio in the missing person - never mind that it’s supposed to piss rain for the next few days. The search team will never find what’s left of the body - and make you some hot cocoa. Strip down, let your soaked clothes dry by the fire, then you can curl up in my bed, sleep off this whole terrible situation. 

Shame how those two people went missing last summer. That couple, remember? They found the guy a couple miles from the campsite I heard. Nasty stuff. Probably a grizzly or wolf from the damage. The rangers didn’t have much to show the cops by the time they were able to get there. Shit like this always happens right before the worst fucking weather, I swear. It was enough for a death certificate at least. The poor girl was never found, though. Heard she was a pretty experienced hiker. Loved that park, too. I sure hope they find her one day, even just to give her parents closure.  

Meanwhile; you, miss missing person, are curled up safely in the strong, hairy arms of the thing that took rescued you that night. He covers you in flannel and furs, with enough wood next to the fire to keep it going through the night. No need for you to even think of leaving his hidden little love nest. He likes to hold you, your naked bodies twined together. He pets your hair and whispers sweet nothings about how perfect you are, how lucky he is, while you sleep curled into his chest.

His claws and canines emerge unintentionally at the thought of your shit-bag dead boyfriend. The thought of anyone besides him ever having you, of taking you away from him, it makes him see red. Makes him want to howl at the moon.

Don’t worry though, pet. He’ll slake the worst of his bestial need far away from you. Tear into some flesh, drink their warm blood. Their dying screams a background hum to the pounding in his ears. 

You enjoy seeing him after a kill. He’ll return to you: sauntering up bold and naked, hair matted to his body with sweat and gore, mud spattered up to his thighs. He’s still in the in-between: thick body-hair not yet all the way receded, claws clacking the wood floor, mouth full of long, sharp teeth. 

How sweet it is when you wipe their unworthy blood from his mouth before you tiptoe up to kiss him. 

You act so gentle then, but he knows you’ll keen and cry for him to take you harder. Let his claws dent your soft flesh. Leave love bites, wet and red, down your neck. So open and soft and destructible for him. He loves to tear into you, cock pounding you speechless. Sometimes you cry, wet rivers running down your flushed cheeks, breathlessly begging too much. Your cunt doesn’t lie though. You’ve been soaked from the very beginning, only getting wetter once he pushed your legs to your chest to rail you into the bed. He’ll cum with a long, low growl, nuzzled into your neck. His cock emptying against your cervix. 

Blood, mud, cum, sweat, rain, slick. It coats his happy trail, hair painting your belly as he fucks you. He loves seeing the mess he makes of you. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open, as he watches his cum ooze from his woman’s raw hole. Fuck he can’t wait to breed you. Come fall his rut will hit with those first long, cool nights and then you’ll be his. Permanently his. He’ll watch you grow round and ripe day by day, his little monster inside you, as you tuck in for the winter. 

For now, though, he’ll have to be content with fingering your ruined pussy open. His tongue lapping over your neglected clit, sucking at you slowly until you quiver beneath him. You try to push him away, but he won’t move until he gets his fill. He’ll grunt, ignoring you to focus on slurping every bit of sweetness from your folds, leaving you clean and perfect once again. 

He may be an animal in the shape of a man. He maims and murders. He kidnapped you, forced you to live this life. He never gave you a choice. Never will. But he will always eat you out until you’re shaking, crying out his name into the night air. You’ll always look at him so softly after, patting his cheek or ruffling his hair, as he catches his breath against your belly. It doesn’t matter how rough he was, how much blood is caked in his hair or mud there is underneath his nails. Right now, laying together sweating, panting like dogs: he is yours and you are his.

He’ll silently pull you to curl up in bed with him. Just like he always does. And you’ll fall into the warmth of his body, like you always do. Caressing your body, running his fingers through your hair. You sigh and sound so at peace. It makes him wonder if you would leave if you had the chance. Maybe, just maybe, this is right where you always wanted to be.

a/n: i SWEAR i was just trying to get back into the groove of writing daily, just wanted to jot this idea down in my random ideas doc, and this happened :x thank you very much to @gemmahale for linking me to the challenge! I hope you all enjoy and have fun guessing the entries!

The title is from the song “the garden” by the crane wives.

[lunarmelon]

TimeSkip!Garou Relationship Hcs! Pt.2!

This is definitely all over the place but that’s okay. This isn’t proofread lolz. Enjoy🍛🩵

Issues. This man has issues. Parental issues. Abandonment issues. I feel that aspect of him gets overlooked in fanfics.

He didn’t care what people thought about him in during his monster arc(not true) but when you told him you cared for him, that changed him. He wanted your approval, your opinions, your thoughts. Despite that, he would question why you care for someone like him. Someone with flaws like his. Again, abandonment issues. Needs reassurance from you. No one else. Well, besides Tareo and Bang.

Occasionally would find it hard to communicate nicely. Would be blunt about things, but not in a asshole way with you. He just doesn’t know how to say things sometimes.

During an argument, he would yell trying to get his point across. After an argument, he would go out and take a walk for a bit. Probably wont talk to you for a while, needs clarity. After awhile, will talk to you and figure something out together. That’s if the argument was abt something important.

Will sometimes pick up extra shifts, or work random jobs on eBay, just to do something extra for you both. Can’t say much in words, but will do things with and for you. Acts of service, and quality time.

He kinda likes to match outfits. Not like those cheesy ass Mickey/Minnie stuff(maybe king/queen lolz)

Didn’t listen to much music before since he didn’t have a phone. Now, he likes listening to music, but will still prefer silence. Will randomly send you songs that say, “listen to this!” Or “reminds me of you”

I would see him living outside but close to the city. A nice small house with the basic necessities near a woods and river. Nature is healing for him.

If he goes on a walk, he’ll return with a rock, a stick, or a flower and will give it to you and say, “For you” or “look, found this while out. Pretty cool, huh?”

He will catch himself wondering what future you and him will have. Will you both have kids? Adopt? How about pets? Will you both move? Somewhere dangerous? Somewhere nicer? Will you both have figured things out? Will you both still be together? …..duh!

Will follow you around. Going to the grocery store? He’s tagging along. Need to tend to plants outside? He’ll grab the watering can. Grabbing a snack from the kitchen? He’s right behind you. Taking the trash to the dumpster? He’ll hold the other trash bag so you don’t have to. Quality time.

He also loves ‘doing your own thing in eachothers presence’ thing. Finds it relaxing and enjoyable.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Sugar & Spice Racks - Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Eddie has taken Senior Woodshop three years in a row now and to be honest, he's gotten pretty good at it. So he decides to make his girlfriend a gift for his final project.

Tags: Fluff, Love, Joking, Banter, Bad puns, Spicy references, Small amount of Spice, inner healing/healing.

Words: 3.2k

A/N: This story sits somewhere between Labels and Discrepancy but it doesn't really matter where. Established relationship is the main thing. Regardless, it should be able to be read as a stand alone.

~~

No doubt Eddie thought he was being sneaky. But much like a big dog that didn’t know his size, Eddie was a man that didn’t know his volume. 

Karmen had heard him coming from three streets away. The beat up old Gaucho Van wasn’t exactly running smooth anymore and the way Eddie pushed it to the limits of its abilities on a daily basis while he blazed a trail going at least 10 miles too fast around Hawkins suburbia wasn’t doing it any favors. It revved and spluttered as it turned down her small street and yet he still pushed his foot to the floor to get from the corner to her place in ten seconds flat. Slamming on the breaks right before her drive and practically skidding into the space next to her car.

He would hit her car one day and she would make him pay for it because she’d chastised him one too many times already about the way he drove through the small streets filled with children playing.

“I have good reflexes” He had argued, as if that would matter when push came to shove.

To his credit, he had taken her criticism under his wing and was driving at a more respectable pace when she was in the car with him. She figured that he probably weighed up the pros of arriving at his destination thirty seconds earlier and the cons of never having sex again and chose wisely.

However he didn’t seem to take into account the fact that slowing down on her street alone didn’t save her from the knowledge that he had screeched around several corners before he got there.

Because again, Eddie was loud.

After he’d jumped from the driver’s door he’d slammed it shut. He didn’t mean to, she knew that. But the hinges weren’t what they used to be and the door didn’t latch properly if it wasn’t closed firmly.

She’d started to make her way down the hall from her bedroom after the first crack of the door that shook the whole vehicle. Expecting to hear him clomping up the front steps like a Clydesdale by the time she reached the living room but instead he was now slamming the back doors of the van one by one.

Bang.

Bang.

And another for luck as he thrashed his shoulder against the left one that never closed right on the first try.

He didn’t lock it. He only ever bothered if he was leaving something valuable inside. Figuring that if someone went to the effort to start the sucker without the keys they probably deserved it.

Now he was clomping up the front steps and she was narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the strangely shaped, badly wrapped package in his arms. The one he realized he was holding with both hands as he stopped in front of the door and stared at it dejectedly for a solid ten seconds before Karmen made a move to help him inside and simultaneously he sighed and put the package on the ground as he fished around in his pockets for the keys he’d just stored away.

She stopped beside the couch, deciding to see how this played out as Eddie had already begun to fumble with the lock and was now pushing the door open an inch, ready for an easy entry. He bent down again, picking up the package with a grunt and pressing his shoulder into the door to open it.

He paused, hissing out a long groan as he pulled away from the wood. Closing his eyes and pursing his lips before huffing out another breath and maneuvering himself so he could wrap a fist around his keys that were still in the lock. 

The ones he had just slammed his hip into as he tried to push open the door. 

That would bruise for sure.

He tried to pull the keys out, one arm wrapped around his cargo while the back of the hand that held the keys balanced it precariously at the bottom. He jerked his entire body sideways, ripping them from the door a lot easier than he had anticipated and stumbling backwards, only just catching himself before he went ass over tit back down the front steps.

Karmen had seen enough, jumping to his aid. She had stopped heading towards him because she thought he had it handled but it slowly became clear as she watched him struggle that if she didn’t open the door for him, he wasn’t coming inside any time soon. 

She grabbed onto the handle, pulling it towards herself and clearing Eddie’s path as he headed back towards it with a frown of concentration on his face that looked like maybe his plan was to try and use the force to push it out of his way. 

“Oh.” He jumped involuntarily as the door moved, stopping only for a millisecond before realizing what had happened and trying so desperately to recover from his shock. But his big beautiful eyes were still a little too wide as they locked with hers. 

A smirk as involuntary as his jump formed on her lips as he flushed under her gaze.

He was definitely trying to use the force.

“Hey.” He greeted her as he moved through the threshold. Stopping to plant a wet kiss on her cheek and turning her smirk into a grin.

“Hey.” She said back, closing the door behind him and turning around to see he had headed straight to the kitchen counter to unload his cargo.

“I thought you were sleeping.” He said so damn innocently. Too innocently to be a joke but she laughed anyway. Shaking her head as he tilted his like a confused puppy.

“I was.” She answered simply as she made her way across the room. He held out his arms expectantly and she wrapped her own around his neck. Relishing in the feel of his strong arms around her back as he pulled her flush with him. He leaned down as she tilted her chin up and pressed his lips against her in such a chaste way that she found herself chasing him. 

He pulled away, kissing a trail across her cheek and down her neck before burying his face there and taking in a long, deep breath. 

Karmen unlocked her arms from around his neck and let them slide down his biceps before snaking in between their bodies and wrapping them around his waist. 

Eddie breathed out slowly, tension he hadn’t realized he had been holding on to seeping out of him with the exhale as he closed his eyes against her skin.

“I missed you.” He murmured, lips brushing against her pulse point as he spoke. 

He heard the small gasp she tried to hide at the way his words tingled her skin. Unable to pretend he hadn’t as she felt him smile against her neck.

“It’s only been a day.” She chuckled softly. Not meant to judge but instead explain away the longing feelings she had also felt during his absence. To justify how silly she was being in missing him after only just over twenty four hours.

“A long day.” Eddie corrected, pulling himself out of his hiding place and looking down at her with tired eyes. Equally wary orbs stared back as she rested her chin on his chest and he removed one of the hands squeezing her to him and pressed it against her forehead.

“Do you feel any better?” He asked, narrowing his eyes as he assessed her temperature with his palm. It was very sweet. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that you couldn’t feel if someone had a migraine or not through temperature.

“A little.” She replied with a pout as he pouted back empathetically.

She had called Eddie the day before to let him know she was leaving work early and going home to bed. Not saying exactly what she meant in the moment but he caught the gist anyway.

Don’t bother coming over. I won’t be awake.

He had asked if he could do anything to help and she had told him that while she appreciated the offer, she just needed to sleep it off. She’d had plenty of those debilitating headaches in the past and she knew from experience the only thing that really fixed it was rest.

Unfortunately she had been wrong. She’d woken up in the morning with her head still pounding. Calling out sick from work and spending the day in bed snoozing on and off while sipping a Pedialyte. 

By now at 3:30pm, her migraine had finally lessened to a regular headache but the after effects of lying in bed all day were still haunting her.

“Poor baby.” Eddie pouted, a little more condescending than he had intended. His eyes widening as hers narrowed under his palm. “I bought you a gift.” He added quickly, pulling his hand away from her forehead and gesturing towards the package he’d put on the counter.

“Ooo.” Karmen cooed, wiggling her shoulders excitedly. “What is it?” She asked, following his hand with her gaze and looking over the strangely shaped present. It was very haphazardly wrapped in a light blue crepe paper. The sticky tape he’d used to secure it wasn’t doing it’s only job being sticky very well and the seams were lifting all over the place revealing that whatever it was, was made of wood.

“It’s just something I made.” He answered, suddenly shy. He looked away from the gift as he spoke. She could feel him tense under the question. “You don’t have to use it.” He added quickly as she pulled away from his embrace and reached for the gift.

“You made it?” She asked as soft fingers pulled at the loose tape and the wrapping began to fall away with ease.

“Like, I completely understand if it’s dumb.” Eddie continued, seemingly not hearing her as she pulled the paper away from the stained wood inside. “I just, I had to make something for my final in Woodshop and I–I mean I’ve done it like 3 times now so I’ve gotten kinda good.” He said with a shrug. “A-and you mentioned you needed one and couldn’t find one s-so I…” He paused, mid ramble. “I don’t know, it’s probably dumb–”

“Eddie.” Karmen said softly, turning back to him and placing a calming hand on his chest. “Breathe.” She reminded him, with a laugh. She was pretty sure he hadn’t taken a breath since the long one in the crook of her neck. “I’m gonna’ love it.” She assured him. “Show me.” She said gently, gesturing with her head towards the almost fully unwrapped gift. The largest fold of paper still blocked the majority of it as Karmen turned back and pulled it away with a gasp.

“It’s a spice rack.” Eddie said dumbly as Karmen stared at it. Eyes raking over the details as Eddie felt compelled to fill the silence with more rambling.

“You um, you said you needed one so…” He repeated, eyeing her warily from his place beside her before flicking his eyes back to his creation and then back to her. He watched as she furrowed her brows, lips pressed together. “Honestly, it’s silly, don’t worry about–” Eddie began, cutting himself off as she looked up at him with watery eyes and he realized she was pressing her lips together to try and keep herself from crying.

“I love it.” She said simply, voice small. 

“You do?” He asked, feeling silly immediately. He had made it with the hopes she would like it. Tried to make it exactly so she would like it. 

Why was he questioning it?

“I do.” She confirmed, turning back and reaching out to touch the smooth wood on the shelf in front of her. “You made this?” She asked again, running the fingers of one hand along it while the other wiped at her eyes.

“Yeah…” Eddie answered, watching her carefully and sucking on his lips as she admired his work.

It was a traditional looking spice rack with three shelf-like tiers for jarred spices. It had gorgeous curves along the vertical sides. The board that backed the shelves came up higher than them and also had curves at the very top that reminded her of gentle waves meeting in the middle. Under that Eddie had burnt the word ‘Spices’ which was situated between two cute little ducks, both facing outwards in their respective directions.

Karmen turned to him suddenly, flinging herself into his arms and wrapping hers around him tight. He caught her despite the surprise. Smiling to himself as she squeezed him tightly.

“You listened.” She said after a moment, pulling back and watching as the confused puppy head tilt made its second appearance of the day.

“What?” He asked, confused by the statement.

“You listened!” She repeated. “When I said I needed a spice rack.” She laughed. Remembering back to a few months earlier when she had mentioned it off-handley while they were looking through market stalls at the Fair. 

She had been talking about the irony that she had decided to purchase a spice rack at the next market she attended which normally were filled with people selling their handcrafted woodwork. 

But of course as soon as she decided she would buy one she couldn’t find a craftsman to save her life.

“I wasn’t even really telling you, I was just kind of talking to myself because I didn’t think you’d care.” She admitted softly as Eddie frowned at her sadly. “But you listened and then you made me one and it’s gorgeous!” She exclaimed, gesturing towards the gift. “I love it so much.” She assured him again as he looked down at her with his own teary eyes.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but ask again.

“Yeah!” She shouted excitedly “There’s little ducks on it!”

“Mm.” Eddie hummed in reply. “I nearly didn’t put those on.”

“Why?” Karmen asked, scandalized. “I love ducks!” 

“I know.” He chuckled. As if anyone could ever not know that Karmen loved ducks and other water birds. Her house was full of them. “But Mr S hates stylistic choices and I wanted to make you happy but I also wanted to pass Woodshop.” He explained.

“Did you?” She asked.

“Yeah!” He nodded, just as excited.

“Yay!” She laughed, holding up her hand for a high five.

He took it eagerly, slapping his palm against hers with vigor before pulling her back into the hug needily and she rested her cheek on his chest. Listening as the wild beat of his heart began to calm.

“No one’s ever made me anything before.” Karmen admitted after a moment of comfortable silence as they enjoyed just embracing one another.

“Isn’t John a builder?” Eddie asked bluntly. Squinting as she chuckled in his arms.

“Yep.” She replied. Her best friend John was a builder.

“Didn’t he renovate your bathro–”

“Eddie–” Karmen stopped him quickly.

“Hm?” He hummed, looking down at her.

“Don’t question it.” She said with a shrug as she pulled away.

“Okay.” He said simply, watching as she fiddled with the hair-tie on her wrist.

“Just take the reward.” Karmen said jokingly as she scooped her curls together into a low ponytail. Eddie’s eyes widening at the motion. Mouth suddenly full of saliva, he tried to swallow it back as she pulled the tie over her hand and secured her hair in place. 

He knew what that meant. He was hard already.

She’d Pavolved him.

“Babe…” He said softly as she grinned at him, sinking to her knees and reaching for his belt. “You don’t have to do that.”

He wanted it, he really did. But she still wasn’t well. If anything he should be the one tending to her.

“I want to.” Karmen responded simply as Eddie held out a hand to help her up. She ignored it, reaching for his waistband.

“No you don’t.” He snickered, wiggling his hand at her.

“Just let me.” She argued light-heartedly. “Why are you fighting this?”

“Because I know you still have a headache.” He answered quickly. “Come on, get up.” He said as he placed the hand she was ignoring in front of his fly and blocked her from it.

She sighed in exasperation, still trying to get past his defenses.

“Did John get a reward?” He asked. Shrinking under her pointed look as her head snapped up despite the fact that he had asked with the intention of annoying her and making her pause her advances.

“I’ll put my hair back down so fast.” She warned, as he huffed out a laugh. 

“That’s the plan.” He admitted, Ignoring the way she pulled at his hand to try and remove the obstacle. “Also that’s not a no.” He mumbled, her eyes flicking back up to him dangerously.

“He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t put little duckies in my shower.” She answered sarcastically.

“Okay, seriously though.” Eddie said softly, taking her offending hand in his and staring down at her with lust-blown pupils that he knew she could see and hoped she ignored.

“As much as I so desperately want to accept your offer…” He began, his treacherous cock twitching in his jeans. “I must decline.” He said regretfully, voice cracking in an undignified manner and forcing him to clear his throat as her lips quirked at his misfortune. 

“I made you a gift because I love you. I don’t need a reward for that. Besides, you’re not feeling well and I’m more than happy to jerk off in the shower and pretend you were a part of it.” He admitted, making her laugh through a sigh as she finally gave up the fight and let him pull her to her feet.

Her head did still hurt.

But if spending her late teens reading magazines had taught her anything, it was that sex was the magic cure for just about every ailment.

Or at least that was what the male editors wanted her to believe.

Anyway, she wasn’t letting him win that easily even if she was conceding that he had been right. 

“What if I just needed an excuse to get your cock in my mouth.” She asked, just as cheekily as he had been a second before. Her voice low and sultry as Eddie exhaled sharply at the words, abdomen clenching.

“You can’t just say shit like that.” She grimaced, voice sounding strained as doubled over slightly and brought a hand back to his crotch to try and adjust himself.

Jesus Christ he was hard.

“Yet you can talk about jerking off in the shower like that’s not hot as fuck.” She countered, crossing her arms as he scoffed at her.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie agreed sarcastically, the hand on his crotch bawling into a fist as he screwed his face up humorously and mimicked jerking himself off to show her what she was missing.

“Looks hot to me.” She shrugged. “At least let me watch.”

“Deal.” Eddie said quickly, pointing towards the ensuite bathroom. “Come on, I’ll try to make it… Spicy.” He said deliberately, jerking his head towards the gift as Karmen stared at him tiredly.

“Heh?” He asked when she didn’t laugh. “Get it? Because… Because spices and…” He trailed off as she began to smirk. “I thought that was a good one.” He said softly, caught off guard as she launched herself at him for the second time. Peppering his face with kisses before staring deeply into his eyes.

“Very funny.” She smiled. “Don’t take too long in the shower or the water might get… Chili.” She joked, making him snort.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t take up too much of your… Thyme.” He quipped back as she cackled in response, taking his hand in hers and pulling him towards her bedroom.

“Don’t be a Dill.”

~~

More Notes: Eddie KNEW what he was doing to Dustin with the bat-tle pun. 🤣

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tags: @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[cosmic-spider]

Weclome to Gravity Falls

Lake cryptic >>

Looked out the window of the bus as it passes tall Pine trees. You here your two friends a few sets behind you talk and joke around.

You had came with your two friends Mable and Dipper Pines. To spend your summer in a small unknown town called Gravity Falls.

The place sounded familiar to you, but you brushed it of. Dipper and Mable were going to be living in there Grate Uncle  Stan's house called the Mystery Shack.

The S on the sign on top of the roof fell of. So it said Mystery hack instead. You on the other hand we're going to be in a cottage farther out in the woods.

So when you three got off the bus arriving in the town. The three of you agreed that you should all got things settled first. Then meet up at the Shack

As you told the twins that you would fallowed the detections on your phone of where the cottage was. You eventually found were the cotta would be.

In a big clearing in the woods the size of a football field. You looked around to see if anything was close by. After making sure the cost was clear you moved a rock of the side of a tree.

Under the rock was a hand scanner. Putting your hand on it. The scanner blue light scared your hand then it pricked your finder getting a blood sample.

The ground then started to slowly rumble as it then opens up as a small ordinary cottage house. You went inside and cleaned it up a bit since it was keeper neatly already.

Getting out of the cottage you then clapped your hands making the cottage to then shape shift into another looking home that was basically made in a giant tree.

You pulled out a key with a weird looking eye on it. Tre eye was black with a golden brown cat like ires.

The cottage was fantastic on the inside it took you a bit to clean up the place of its dust and spider webs. You then checked by our phone to see when the delivery truck was going to arrive.

You knew that this version of the house was the one you would be staying in the most. The other form was just a cover up. In a clap of your hand it can change from being one to the other. Even if you were inside of the house.

Looking at your the mirror in your room. You see what you look like. The way your hair was down to the shirts and shirt you had on.

Walking up the mirror you touch your right cheek and look into your eyes. "You know you need to keep this look of you want to stay hidden."

"It has to be this way."

"He told you you had to. Even if I want to tell the twins. You can't Y/n you know you can't."

shaking your head brushing off the felling, and get back to unpacking your stuff. As well as already getting things in there place.

Checking your phone you see that it was now 4 pm you arrived here around 1. "Well might as well get done groceries as well as other supplies."

As you walked into the forest bin the detection of the town you hear the muffled sound of a..... heavy stomping ?

Stoping in your takes you look around to see if anything is around you. "Naw it's probably a tree that fell down somewhere."

 As you continue to walk you eventually made it to the town. It was true to its name it was small. It looked more like a neighborhood of stores. The so called Mall was only two stories tall plus looked to be the average size of a Walmart.

Plus a lot of things were so close together. There was a bar only two stores down from a library.

After a bit you got everything you needed. As you walked back  to the forest you decided to pass by the  Mystery Shack. When you  turned the corner to get to the front door.

You see a giant monster made up of gnomes? You then see Mable and Dipper use a leaf blower as a rocket launcher to the giant gnome monster. Making all the gnomes scatter around the place. 

You see how tired Mable and Dipper were, so you decided to not go up to them at the moment. So instead you continued your way to your home.

When you got back you put your stuff of the kitchen table. Then getting your phone to text the twins.

They both said that it was ok that hey also had a tough day getting settled in as well.

After getting all the food into the fridge and pantry. Plus cleaning and other hygiene stuff in place/ stock.

You went to your room as got changed and got into bed.

》 ━━━━━━━━━ ⊱✫⊰ ━━━━━━━━━ 《

Time skip

The next day you wake up and do all your morning routine stuff. You then when over to your closet and moved some Jacket to reveal a secret door.

Opening it showed that it healed a not of glass containers with a orange looking liquid inside of it. You take on of the bottles and drink it all down. "Plah this tastes awful." Then changed into something cute.

Plus making your breakfast and taking some cash with you in case. Walking in the detection of the shake you see that's were are a few cars parked outside of it. Probably tourists.

Go into the shake throw the Gift shop area. You see a another teenager at the register. She had red hear and a green plad button up shirt with some boots on with a lumberjack hat on.

She had her feet up on the rejuntes desk as she read a magazine. Of to the other side of the gift shop. Was a tall middle aged man that had a green shirt with a question mark on it, and a brown cap on.

He seemed to be a handy was as he was fixing up a shelf and had a tool belt on. Walking over to the teen so see if the twins were here.

"Hey are Dipper and Maple Pines here?" The teen looked over at you from the side of her magazine before putting it down on the counter. "Yeah there here. Just give me a second."

She then got up and went over to a door next to the vending machine and yelled into the door. "Mable! Dipper! There's someone here for you!" You jumped a bit at the sudden yell she did for the twins.

She then got back to where she was. "Your not from here." She said as she then looked throw her phone.

" No I'm not. How could you tell?" You asked as you took a seat on a barrel next to her.

"Well when you live in a small town like this. You basically know everyone that lives here." The teen said then put her phone back into her pocket.

"So what's your name and how do you know the Pine twins?"

"Oh sorry forgot to introduce my self there. Im y/n and I'm a friend of the twins that is also staying here for the summer."

"That's cool. How come your not staying here at the Mystery Shack?"

Well I'm staying in a cottage that's a bit farther out in the woods from here. (Quick y/n come up with a excuse) "It's a old family house, but I'll be in it for the summer."

"Oh that's nice plus you have a cute dress. I'm Wendy Corduroy  by the way" she raised her fist to you.

"Well nice to meet you Wendy." You retired the jesters giving her a fist bump.

The sound of two running foot steps were heard. As the twins then came throw the door of the inside of the Shack.

"Y/N YOUR HERE!!" Mable yelled out as she tackled you with a hug. That badly slowed you to breathe.

"Mable.    I can't.    Breathe." You patted her on the back to try to tell her to let go.

"Mable let go y/n can't breathe" Dipper came up to his sister.

"Oh sorry y/n. I'm just so excited to see you again" Mable said as she let go of you.

"Mable you say me yesterday. Your acting like I've been gone for the past month." You said as you got your breath back.

"Well might as well since we didn't get to show you the shack  yesterday." Dipper chimed in as be patted you on the back.

"Oh your right Dipper we should show her around the shack. Then many the town to." Mable said as she then started to jump around me and Dipper.

Well I already went into town yesterday. So all I need to see is the Shack." You told them, but Mable then grabbed your hand and ran farther into the shack. Dragging you in the process.

But before the two could even start the tour. They were stoped at the door by a old man in a suit.

"Wow there you two. You may be living in my shack but that dose not mean I'll let your little friend in." He stud in front of us as he blocked the path.

"Aww come on Gruncle Stan. You can make an exception for y/n PLEASEEEEEE" Mable said as she then gave him the puppy dog eyes.

"Ok ok. Stop with the dog eyes Mable. I swear umm going to go blind if you do." Stan said as he then rubbed his eyes.

"Ok fine she can come over to the shack but you got to give me something in return. If I'm going to let you come here?" Stan said as then looked at me. "So what do you have to offer kid?"

You then went through your purse and got out a stack of money. "Well I have about 650$ on me."

The twins and Stan look at you in disbelief. Then grabs the stack of cash putting it into his pouches.

"Ok it's sealed you can come over to the shack when ever you want kid!" Stan said with a smile on his face as he pushed the three of you into the house part of the shack.

"Oh my name is actually y/n!" You tried to correct him. But a new group of tour cam into the shop getting Stan distracted.

"Well um either way let's go show you the shack y/n" Dipper said as they continued to walk.

"Yeah! Oh here's the living room!" Mable said as she pulled you to the living room that had a tv and one yellow couch infront of it. Then a dinosaur skull next to it. The room also had a long aquarium next to the wall.

》 ━━━━━━━━━ ⊱✫⊰ ━━━━━━━━━ 《

Time skip brought to you by the twins showing of the shack and ending it in the empty attic.

“That's the whole Shack y/n!" Mable said as we went up the empty attic.

“ I’m a lot surprised that Stan has a few weird things around the place."  You said as you got on the ledge next the stain as window.

"Either y/n I found a weird Journal in the woods yesterday." Dipper said as he then grabbed a old looking maroon colored journal. That had a gold six fingered hand on top with the number 3 on it.

"Wow?! so what dose it have in it?" You said as you got up and looked over his shoulder.

"Well almost anything!" It's a journal that has a lot of weird creatures from this town.

"Yeah it helped us yesterday when some gnomes said I was going to be there queen blah!" Mable said as she she did some type of craft of to the side.

" Mables right  y/n. At first It was amable dating some guy Norman. I was skeptical at first and thought he was a zombie from the journals descripción." Dipper said as he flipped throw a few pages before stopping at the zombie titled one.

"But in reality it wasn't a zombie at all. It was actually a bunch of gnomes in a discuses. They wanted to make amable there queen." Dipper then flipped a few pages back to another page with gnomes in it.

After a good hour of two Stan told the twins that they would be going to the store to get a few things.

"Oh well we got to go y/n." Dipper said as he got up.

"Oh what if you come with use?!" Mable said as she jumped up and down.

"Sorry maybe next time since I went shopping yesterday. But Dipper do you mind if I can look through the journal and take a few picks of it while your gone?"

You asked as the three of you went down the stairs to the front door.

"Sure I don't mind. Here take it  you can give it back to me tomorrow when you come back." Dipper handed you the journal  as they then got into Stan's car and drove of.

As you made your way home you continued to read the journal and taking a picture of it after reading the page.

The writing was a bit hard to read since it was in cursive, but you could read it.

》 ━━━━━━━━━ ⊱✫⊰ ━━━━━━━━━ 《

Time skip

After a hour of reading the journal you arrived to one's of the final pages. It had a image of a figure that was triangle with a top hat and a bow tie.

 The page was so ominous. Well the whole journal was, but something about this page specifically made you feel off. You kept getting the feeling that there was something else wrong with it.

You didn't even try to read the page deciding that you read enough about the journal for now. Taking a pick of the page closing the journal. Then doing your things to get reader to sleep.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

1 9 8 5/9 19/ 4 9 19 3 15 22 5 16 9 14 7/ 20 8 5 / 23 5 9 18 4 14 5 19 19/ 15 6/ 20 8 9 19/ 20 15 23 14

6 9 14 4 9 14 7/ 1 14 4/ 21 14 3 15 22 5 18 9 14 7/ 20 8 5 / 19 5 3 18 5 20 19/ 15 6 / 5 22 5 18 25 20 8 9 14 7

2 21 20/ 8 15 23/ 12 15 14 7/ 3 1 14/ 19 8 5 / 11 5 5 16/ 8 5 18/ 15 23 14/ 19 5 3 18 5 20/ 8 9 4 5 14

[formulaforza]

furniture-- c.leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 750 a/n: thank u dani for snapping my writers block. art imitates life fr fr here

Are you busy? You texted him, tossed your phone onto the ground next to you and assessed the situation in front of you for the hundredth time. Pieces of wood everywhere, harware everywhere, a cordless drill your dad had given you when you moved out years ago–one he didn’t show you how to use. 

What had started as a simple Friday evening project, rearranging your apartment living room, had transformed into an all-consuming weekend of furniture and clutter shopping. The Ikea box–boxes–sit torn apart on the floor and the instruction pamphlet is disheveled amongst the mess somewhere. 

Never for you, he replies, you roll your eyes. 

You reach for your phone, quickly type out your response. Come over? You text, and immediately follow it up. Not for the reason you think.

He’s knocking on your door twenty-five minutes later, three knocks, pause, and then another. Just like always. You try to manuver your way out of the maze of wooden boards and dowels and hardware and the dreadful drill to get to the door. He’s on his phone when you open it, quickly shuts it off and shoves it in his pocket and smiles at you like an idiot. “Hi.”

“Help.” You say, straight-faced and serious because you’re in so over your head it’s not even funny. He laughs, you swing open the door nad mumble out a preemptive apology. 

He chokes your name out through a laugh as soon as he sees the mess. “What have you done?” 

“Can you help me?” You say over his shoulder, over his shaking head. Disbelief, amazement, fear, probably all of the above because you’ve truly created a monster.

“Cherie, what am I looking at, even?” He scratches the back of his head, his neck, just inside the collar of his t-shirt. 

“Entertainment center.”

He tries not to laugh. Fails miserably. “Are you sure?”

“I think.”

“Oh, mamma mia.” He shakes his head, looks at you and reflects your pout. “You’re so cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to help me, or not?” You are so far beyond help, mon amour, he sighed, told you to get something to drink and that he would figure out how to undo whatever you’d done and build the furniture the way it was originally intended to be built. “You don’t want my help?”

“I am scared of your help.” You would be offended if everything you’d managed to put together looked even a little bit like what the end goal was, but, he was probably right to be scared by what you could do. You were a little scared by how badly you’d managed to screw it up. It felt like maybe someone should take away your rights to adult if you couldn’t built a simple peice of furniture. “If I teach you, you won’t have to ask for my help next time.”

“This is truly an enlightening experience,” you say, pop another piece of fruit into your mouth. “Dinner and a show.” Who knew watching your guy-who-isn’t-your-guy play with high stakes Swedish legos could be so attractive. It’s just furniture, you’d try to remind yourself, and then he'd use your drill like his dad taught him how to use one instead of just giving him one as a gift. 

“Who gave this to you?” He asked about the drill the first time he picked it up. “I don’t think they liked you much.”

You laughed. He laughed at your laugh. “My dad,” you answered, and he shrugged his shoulders, didn’t confirm or deny his previous claim. You don’t know if he plays it safe because you’ve told him too much–or too little–information.

Despite a few of the screws angled just a bit awkwardly, the only real victim of the entertainment center debacle of 2023 is a single wooden dowel that snapped clean in half. “Do you have super glue?” He asked when the two of you finally stopped laughing about it. I have nail glue, you told him, and only time will tell if the cosmetic solution actually worked. 

“My hero!” You joked, stood up on your tip-toes to throw an arm around him, admired your–his–work now that the console had been set in it’s forever home. “I could not have done it without you.”

“You would’ve figured it out.” He says, smiles down at you like he isn’t a liar. “It just would have been…”

“A disaster?”

He chuckles. “Abstract.”

“Oh.” You laugh, kiss him because how can you not? “You’re sweet.”