#can’t be that different than kids living under. whatever this is

[shutupineedtothink]

Ok this has been sitting in my drafts for a minute but since nobody asked for it, here’s my full Nicky headcannon. It leads into an insane MCU witch movie with Agatha, Wanda, Rio, Billy, Tommy (?), maybe Jen and even Alice. All the witches! I got yall.

So, Nicky Scratch. That boy is Agatha and Rio’s but most prominently he is Death’s Son, right. A demigod something or other, an entity, Something Else. Not really human/mortal, but certainly not dead either. He’s in the same class of whatever Rio is. Rio knows this from day one. Agatha does not.

That means two main things: Nicky isn’t really “dead,” (he wasn’t even supposed to be “living”) and that kid should have hella powers. We should have seen some indication of that imo in the show but I can explain it away easily enough in a minute. Either way, under the surface he should have scary magic along the lines of Billy if not far more powerful.

Except while Billy has essentially Wanda’s magic, creator magic, Nicky’s is much, much darker. You know, something fitting of a child of Death.

Let’s say Nicky has Black Magic. 👀 haven’t seen that one on the color wheel of magic colors yet amirite. (Except the Darkhold I suppose, which is an interesting connection potentially.) Or maybe it's like Dark Magic, as in literal darkness. Darkling style. Maybe it's somehow a dark/light binary, like how Rio is technically a death/life binary. Idk I'm working on it, but you get the idea. He's on another level, something adjacent to Rio but not quite the same.

His magic is so strong, corrosive, not evil necessarily but heavy and consuming, that it was killing his mortal body from the beginning.

That’s why he was never meant to live in the first place — like Rio he is Another Being, his magic is Something Else. It’s too much for a human little boy. He needed to join her to really “live” and have any hope of control over his magic.

His powers also make him a massive target for who knows what demons and underworld beings. … you see where this could go.

So in this version, let’s say Rio has a much deeper connection to Nicky on a magical level. She can tell when his magic is about to manifest in the world of the living and takes him right before that happens, otherwise both him and Agatha will be in danger. Perhaps she even tells Nicky what’s happening, and he can feel it coming too, which also accounts for why he goes with her so willingly, to protect his mama from his own power. Kind of a lot for a six-year-old to understand but again, he’s Special.

Maybe Rio’s even been keeping the monsters off Nicky and Agatha’s trail while Nicky was human. Tbh it was a miracle she managed it for six years alongside her other responsibilities. She never told Agatha a) because she didn’t want her being more afraid than she already was, b) because would it have really made any difference, Agatha would hate her either way and c) For The Drama.

When Rio takes Nicky, maybe she stashes him in some kind of purgatory space. Pocket dimension? Idk we have no idea what she has access to but let’s say she hides him away somewhere so that she can teach him to use his magic and keep him away from the demons. This is where I would pull in Alice if possible, after we see Rio take her into the smoke in ep 8 Rio makes her an offer to help her protect Nicky in purgatory for a while, because his powers are only getting stronger and she's starting to get worried something's going to happen. Yes, diverting a soul like that is wildly against the rules. She does it anyway for her son.

All of this of course makes Agatha’s hatred for Rio that much worse, because Nicky is still “alive” in a sense and Rio is doing everything she can to protect him and raise him and help him control his magic. She can’t tell Agatha any of this because anyone else who knows about Nicky is a liability. Again, she really shouldn’t have even let him live with Agatha in the first place, it was a massive risk to everyone involved. But she did, and Agatha has no idea what a gift that was, for her and for Nicky.

All of that said, this would set us up for some CRaZy MCU witch/underworld stuff. So here’s the rough outline of my movie: let’s say the demons finally find Nicky wherever Rio has him hidden and take him to the underworld, Mephisto, blah blah whatever. I’m not worried about the motive at this point. Age Nicky up to Billy’s age roughly so he can be a real character. Btw, in my head Nicky is still the sweetest bean, total opposite to either of his mothers, too good for this world, cursed with this insane power he doesn’t know what to do with. Obviously, we have some opportunity to develop him from there.

Anyway, once she finds out he’s gone, Rio is forced to tell Agatha the truth. There’s no one else she can trust to get Nicky back. (I’m imagining a juicy confrontation between the two of them where we just let Kathryn and Aubrey cook with the exposition.) Rio can’t go to the underworld herself for some reason, because of The Cosmic Rules, and the Jac Schaeffer rules of Rio can’t hang around on screen for too long (which I like, actually).

Rio only deals with the mortal plane and directing souls to whatever comes next. So it has to be Agatha who rescues him, but as a ghost she’s stuck on the mortal plane too. So now we gotta “bring her back to life,” because I need real life Kathryn Hahn in this full movie not as a ghost, you feel me. And she has to be able to use her magic. So we gotta manifest a new body around her ghost form. At first they think Billy can do it, but even he’s not that powerful, not to mention still relatively untrained.

… Do you see the vision yet?

There’s only one witch, who may or may not be dead, who can manifest Agatha Harkness back into a living breathing body. And Agatha HATES it with every fiber of her noncorporeal being, but she needs the Scarlet Witch to make her mortal again, so that she can go to the underworld and save her son. Of course, chaos and shenanigans ensue, and Wanda and the boys end up going with her.

I’m calling the movie — Agatha Harkness and the Scarlet Witch. It’s a team up babyyyy! It’s about women and power, Wanda and Agatha being two sides of the same coin, mothers and their sons, rewriting your story, reuniting and letting go, etc etc etc. Yes I have entire scenes already written in my head, no I’ll never actually write the fic or the screenplay, if somebody wants to run with this please let me know and I’ll give you what I got.

The point is, the story potential on Nicky is insane to be The One Who Brings Everyone Else Together and I really hope they don’t just throw it away.

[seilon]

capitalism by oingo boingo is so wild like. it’s jarring to hear a satirical song from the perspective of an older guy talking about how kids are socialist revolutionary special snowflakes these days. and it came out in 1981. so the “kids” are gen x. and yet it translates to being about gen z kids seamlessly 40+ years later. like wow we’re really still fighting for the same shit after all this time huh

[freshxsturniolo]

shes the one - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

chris was in awe. complete awe.

and he was completely and utterly in love with you.

he told you, every single day. he wasn’t afraid to tell you either. if you were alone together, if you were in the company of others, if you were not even there he would text you.

but right now, back at his childhood home in boston, he couldn’t believe his eyes. he couldnt believe he had found someone like you. the way you sat on the sofa with his dad, feet up and tucked under your legs, drinking a beer with him as his dad chatted away to you about everything and anything.

the way you would ask his mom if there was anything she needed help with when she was cooking or washing up. the way you jumped out of your seat when mary-lou announced she needed to run to the grocery store and you wanted to go for a ride with her.

you had met his family many times before, but there was something about this specific visit that felt so different.

he’s watching you now, finishing up drying your hands after you demanded mary-lou go sit with jimmy after cooking you all food and you said you’d wash the dishes.

“get the boys to help” mary lou had said once you had argued back and fourth about who would wash them, and you simply laughed, telling her to go and sit with jimmy AND the boys and to enjoy some time together.

but chris couldn’t handle it when his mom walked into the sitting area and she said, “that girl of yours, don’t be a fool and lose her.”

he had smiled and laughed, but he got up off his feet to come and see you and his heart swell at the sight of you washing up. you had given him a smile as you saw him enter, and a quick kiss as he walked by you before he started taking the dishes off the drying rack and washing them with a towel. you had shook your head with a laugh and continued on in silence, just grateful for his presence.

“i could have done this myself” you said now, drying off your hands. chris takes the towel from you and throws it into the laundry basket not too far away.

“i haven’t seen you all day” he says, and you roll your eyes as you lean yourself back against the counter, arms outstretched at the side of you.

“so dramatic, christopher owen.” you say with a smirk, and he can’t help but smile with you as he comes close to you, hands on your hips as he presses his hips against yours.

“if you’re not with my mom, you’re with my dad” he says, and you laugh as you bring your arms around his neck.

“i’m lucky enough to live with you back in la, im sorry that i want to spend time with your parents”

chris smiles. “never apologise. they love you”

now you smile. “good, i love them too”

he closes the small gap between you now as he lips reach yours in a soft but gentle touch. you can feel the shift in energy. you yourself knew that this trip felt slightly different. jimmy and mary-lou had always been so lovely to you, and they never had ever given you a reason to fear they didn't like you, but something about this trip felt different. your conversations with them felt easier than ever, you looked forward to sitting with jimmy on the sofa or running to the store with mary-lou. it had also felt different with his brothers too. you had lived with the triplets for the last 6 months, matt and nick where your best friends, but you felt the difference with them too. the way you and nick would just lay in his bed in a morning chatting, or you'd sit on his bedroom floor whilst you got ready for the day to listen to your shared playlist together but you knew chris wouldn't like it. or the way matt would pull you away from whatever you were doing to go get iced coffees. it was lovely, and comforting, and when you pulled away from chris right now you saw in his eyes too that something had shifted.

you're about to say something when jimmy enters the room.

"hey kids," he says. not an ounce of change or show of being bothered that his son was wrapped around the arms of his girlfriend in the middle of his kitchen.

"hey, dad" chris says, but he doesn't move away from you. your heart swells. chris was not afraid of public affection but you know full well the last trip here, he'd have pulled away from you now. would have probably given your waist a small squeeze and given you a small smirk but you'd have each pulled away. chris stayed put. his eyes hadn't left yours.

"i hope you helped with those dishes" jimmy says, walking over the fridge and pulling out a soda can. you peer over your boyfriends shoulder to look at him.

"he did" you smile, and jimmy laughs, but he's cut off by mary-lou.

"y/n, i feel so awful. is there anything left to wash?"

you look to your side as chris' mum comes walking over the both of you, looking into the empty sink and drying rack. she smiles as she places a hand on your arm, an arm thats still wrapped around her sons neck, and she gives it a small squeeze.

"thank you" she says, and you nod.

"of course!" you exclaim, and its you who's the first to unwrap yourself from chris. once mary-lou lets go of your arm, you slowly unwrap yourself from chris' neck, and when you look back at him, he lets out a small groan.

"chris" you laugh, running your hands down his arms just slightly and he eventually lets go. "im going to change into some comfies."

chris smiles at you. "okay."

you smile as you step to the side of him, squeezing slightly past mary-lou as she goes to grab a cup from the cupboard not too far from you, and you exit the kitchen and off to chris' childhood bedroom.

when you're gone, chris sighs and leans back against the counter you just removed yourself from, folding his arms across his chest before finally diverting his eyes to his parents. his mom is busy making herself a drink but when he diverts his eyes to his dad, he's leant against the island in the middle of the kitchen and he's staring at his son deeply. he gives him a smile, and chris smiles too before walking over. chris grabs himself and you a pepsi from the fridge, before joining his dad in the exact same position. chris knows once you're in your comfier clothes you'll come back into the kitchen for a drink, so he wants to wait for you. jimmy looks down at the two pepsi cans, and the thoughts that were just running through his mind as he was watching the two of you surfaced up to his lips. he can't help himself.

"you really love her, dont you?"

chris scoffs slightly, not a conversation he imaged to be having with his dad, but also never feeling so strongly about anything in his life. he looks up at his dad and a smile comes over him.

"yeah. so much."

jimmy shoves his shoulder with his son, a feeling in his chest. the first of his sons to find someone. the first son to bring a girl (or boy for nick ofc) home, properly. chris laughs as he takes a sip from his pepsi can.

"we can tell" jimmy says now, before he looks up to find his wife has joined them. mary-lou looks towards chris with a smile on her face.

"something feels different this visit. she feels like part of the family. properly." his mom says, and chris can feel himself wanting to open up. he swallows his own salvia that has built up in his mouth before looking between his mom and dad. but when his eyes reaches his dad, he knows he knows already. he gives him a nod and chris can't help but laugh.

"shes the one, dad. i know it."

chris doesn't need to look at his mom to know she's smiling from ear to ear, but his dad nodded in understand, a smile playing on his lips and hes leans into his sons shoulder, before ruffling up his hair.

"i know, kid. i know."

theres a nice silence then, gentle and comforting before the sound of your scream is heard. all 3 of them stand directly up before your laughter is heard.

"nick!" the 3 hear you scream, before laughter erupts from matt and nick. chris looks at his mom and dad with a confused expression as you and his 2 brothers can be heard laughing throughout the house, before you all enter the kitchen to join them. mary-lou and jimmy erupting into laughter as they see nick carrying you over his shoulder. you're clinging onto his waist for dear life as he walks you over to chris, putting you back down directly at his side.

you're changing into your favourite tracksuit bottoms and from the waft of chris' aftershave that enters his nose, he knows you're wearing one of his fresh love hoodies and not your own, and as you whip your head around and fix at your hair he sees your cheeks are flushed. you let out a deep breath of air before turning to mary-lou.

"you deserve a medal for putting up with these boys for 20 years." you laugh.

"we want ice cream" nick says now, coming behind you and putting his hands on your shoulders, giving them a shake. you dramatically roll your eyes before matt leans forward and swipes at the unopened pepsi can chris had got out for you.

"hey" chris says, taking it back. "thats for y/n."

matt looks at you directly in the eye before opening the can and taking a deep sip. you gasp, pretending to be offended before matt rolls his eyes and moves towards the fridge, getting you out a fresh can and placing it in front of you.

"thank you, bernard." you say, and matt groans.

"your girlfriend is insufferable." matt says, before grabbing his car keys from his pocket. "ice cream?" he says, before walking off and heading towards the front door.

nick finally lets go of your shoulders and walks off to follow matt, and jimmy and mary-lou laugh as they walk off back into the direction of the living area. when you finally turn around and face chris, he looks at you softly.

"you okay?" you say.

he smiles. "never better."

you stand on your tip toes to give him a kiss, which he accepts, before you grab his hand, your free hand grabbing the pepsi from a moment ago, and drag him out of the kitchen. he laughs at your eagerness, his mind going over the comfortableness you clearly felt around all his family. nick carrying you on your shoulder, matt jokingly stealing your drink, and he's about to tell you he loves you when you dead stop at the sitting area door. jimmy and mary-lou look up at you both, and a smile illuminates your face.

"do you two want some ice cream bringing back?" you say with a smile.

"no thanks, honey. thank you so much for asking" mary-lou smiles.

"are you sure?" you say.

"absolutely. go enjoy yourselves."

all whilst the small interaction, jimmy is watching his son stare down at you dotingly. when you carry on walking and drag chris with you, his son catches his eye just slightly, and jimmy gives him a nod of understanding.

when you reach outside, matt and nick are already in the car, but you dont get chance to get to them before chris stops dead, pulling your arm back. you spin around quickly, looking to see whats wrong.

"what's up?" you say, but chris pulls you in even closer and plants a kiss on your lips. you're shocked, but it doesnt take you long before you melt into him. when you pull away, you look up at him with a smile.

"what was that for?"

chris smiles. "i love you, thats all."

"i love you too, silly."

"no," chris shakes his head. "i really really love you."

you smile. "you are everything to me, chris. my everything."

"that feeling is mutual."

"will you two hurry up?" matt shouts from his car, and you giggle as you turn around and hurry over to the car.

chris watches you with a smile, wondering how he got so lucky.

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

Cold nights, red Flannel

Joel Miller X Afab!Fem!Reader

Summary: when the power goes out in your building Joel is more than happy to let you have his bed, but when his already sore back flares up in the middle of the night he’s given no choice but to share with you. Things play out differently than expected when he wakes up in the morning tangled up with you in between the sheets.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI) 18+ only, slow burn, dead child, dead people and the fire pit, cussing, age gap (reader is in their thirties), alcohol, Joel gets a ✨massage✨ thigh riding, teasing Joel, Dom!Joel, fingering, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, Joel is… big, slight breeding kink, raw p in v (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk.

Joel Miller Master List

Word Count: you’ve read my other stories right? This is long, buckle up butter cup.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The worst jobs earn the most money, it was something you were quick to pick up on, and if you wanted to live the best, you had to do the worst.

The burn pit was busier than usual, truck after truck with what seemed like no end in sight. Everything from your hands to your feet ached, clothes covered in the grey ash irritating your lungs, and the smell was unforgiving. You’ve already added your second bandanna, the lack of clean air nearly suffocating.

“You’re slowin’ down.” The man beside you notes, Texan accent laces his words as he crosses his arms over his chest, voice gruff from being here as long as you have.

“Coming from the man who has taken a water break every thirty minutes.” You snip back, lighthearted in your accusation, looking over to find your ‘coworker’, Joel Miller, tilting his head, brown eyes glaring under salt and pepper eyebrows. He points to the truck behind you, silently telling you to get moving.

You smile even though he can’t see it and turn on your heel, heading for the last body, but your cheeky attitude slips away. You swallow thickly, eyes scanning over the hooded and bound body. They are small in stature, an old cartoon character printed on the back of their white, clean shirt. They look so out of place on the blood and mud stained truck bed.

Only a child.

Joel is quick to notice your sudden hesitation, his own small smile falling as he follows your gaze.

“I’ll get ‘em.”

“No, it’s fine.” You stomp down your emotions, scooping the kid up, to light and frail, and walk them over to the fire. You whisper a prayer, like you’ve done with every child before and toss him over the wall. Soot blows up into the air, orange and red embers dancing among the cloud and you’re forced to pry your gaze away as the flame swallows their body.

“Last one!” A driver yells, the screeching of the reverse alarm cutting through the air. Relief washes over you, closing your eyes momentarily, the day was almost done.

“Son of a bitch.” You turn then, Joel’s looking at the truck in disbelief and when your attention lands on the man in the bed your jaw physically drops open.

The man before you is a literal beast, his height alone impressive but the muscle on him makes you thankful you never ran into him when he was alive.

Had to of been some kind of enforcer.

“Hey, yo, can we like get a horse or something? This guys fucking huge!” You call out to the truck driver who only sneers before disappearing back into the cab.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Joel shushes you, steeping up and dragging the guy by his thighs closer to the edge of the bed, huffing and grunting looking for the best leverage point.

You laugh slightly, steeping back. “Sure, whatever you say cowboy, he’s all yours.” You cross your arms, excited to see how this pans out as Joel tries to position the hulk. To your surprise he’s able to lift the guy onto his shoulder with a strained groan. “Oooo okay, you’ve been working out.” You let out a sharp whistle, his eyes glancing to yours as he stumbles for the fire, giving you a playful wink.

The banter is cut short with his next step though when he cries out in pain, nearly crumbling under the weight as something in his back spasms. You rush forward, grabbing onto the body, helping carry him the rest of the way and over the wall.

“Fuck!” Joel barks, face pinched as he hunches over, hand pressing into his back.

“What happened?”

“My back… I’m fine. “ He grits out between clenched teeth, sucking in a few breaths before trying to straighten up.

Someone blows a whistle, signaling the end of the day and people start to rush past you both for the pay out line, ignoring Joel’s insistent cussing.

You offer your shoulder for him to lean on but he waves away your concern, telling you he just needs a minute to collect himself before you both make your way to get your ration cards.

Instead of signing up for another shift you decide to give yourself the next two days off, hoping to sleep as much as you can before hitting the next work period hard. You walk off to the side, waiting patiently for Joel out of habit as he goes down the list, rubbing at his spine.

Being this far from the fire you realize how cold it is, the setting sun the only indication that it’s about to get colder, and you know spring is still a few months away.

You glance to Joel as he haggles with the enforcer, probably over the shortened pay. Over the last five years you and Joel have worked together on numerous jobs, and he’s never shy to insist the right pay for the services you both provide. Though at first never coordinated, you both realized how effortlessly you worked with the other, always fast and to the point with whatever resources given, both searching for the most money.

You recall noticing him when you arrived at your first job at this QZ, his hair a little less grey back then but eyes just as intense. It wasn’t until your fifth job did you say something to him after catching him watching you for the first hour of your shift at the pit.

With whatever confidence you had, you’d walked right up to him, hands on your hips and chin tilted up with a sarcastic smile. “Does my stalker have a name?”

The notion had been so wildly outlandish that after he stared at you for a minute, mouth open and eyebrows raise, he barked out a laugh. A true belly laugh that had everyone turning their heads in shock and confusion.

It was the talk of the job.

Some new girl got the old grump to laugh.

From that moment on Joel decided to stick close by, your fiery attitude attracting him just as much as your smarts. He taught you how to play the system, which officers were more lenient than others, and when he grew to trust you he began taking you on contraband runs. You picked up on the trade quickly, surprising him when you started going out on your own and Joel knew he’d chosen well.

Joel now limps over, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya know I have this stuff that can help with that.” You state, turning and walking with him towards your apartments.

“Got some icy hot, I’ll be fine.”

“20 year old icyhot? Yeah that most definitely will do the trick.” Your sarcasm isn’t lost on him as he glares done at you. You raise your hands in surrender, walking the rest of the way in silence as the street bustles with life around you.

Parting ways at your building you watch for a moment as Joel limps along, shaking his head back and forth, a clear sign he’s talking to himself. You snort, grabbing for the door handle only to have it ripped away, your next door neighbor nearly knocking into you as she storms from the building.

“Woah, Joanne, maybe next time you can just run me over and we will call it a day.” You snap, glaring as she turns at the sound of your voice, she’s the buildings ‘manager’, a lose term for someone who takes your money and doesn’t fix a damn thing unless it involves her apartment directly.

Not much has changed since the end of the world.

“The entire building is out! I’m trying to get someone to fix it!” Her wrinkled face is red with anger, greying hair disheveled like she’d been pulling at the roots all day.

“Wait what?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperation clipping her words. “There was construction going on next door and they clipped a line or something. No lights, no heat, no fucking water to the entire building.” She turns on her heel, not bothering for what you have to say next and stomps down the road.

You throw your hands up in frustration, groaning at the sky, mentally cursing whatever was out there when a thought comes to mind. You bite your lip, weighing out your options before you are rushing down the street in search of Joel.

Luck seems to finally be on your side as you round the street corner, finding him leaning against a light post, talking to a man you recognize but can’t place with a name.

Jogging over the shaggy haired man’s eyes flicker to you, his posture becoming rigid before he quickly dismissing himself. Joel turns, expecting an officer or worse, and his expression softens as you slow to a stop beside him. “Heya Sunshine.”

When Joel decided to take you in, he made it very clear to others that ran around in the same under ground circles that you were not to be fucked with, being one of the few in his inner circle gave you a type of immunity not so sparingly given out.

“Hey… shit… my power is out.”

“Did ya forget to pay?” He’s mocking you only slightly, concern still underlining his tone.

“No, it’s the whole building, Joanne said someone must have cut a wire or something… I was wondering if maybe… we’ll I’m still covered in all this…” You hesitate, hoping he will fill in the gap as you gesture to yourself but he only stares. Joel always made you use your words. “I was wondering if I could borrow your shower, I’ll be super quick, I swear.”

Joel nods, looking down the road towards his building. “Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem, give me about an hour to soak my back first and then you can come over.” You’re washed with relief, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug, catching him by surprise.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” Before he can reply you’re sprinting down the street and around the corner, he stares after you blinking slowly before looking around, a blush staining his cheeks.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Having only been to Joel's apartment a handful of times, it took you longer than you would of liked to admit to find his door, and there may have been the help of an elderly man along the way.

This time though, as the door opens, Joel is on the other side. His greying hair slicked back and still damp, he’s dressed in a long sleeve shirt with matching black sweats. “Well, don’t you clean up nice.” You make a point to look him over as you step into his apartment, breathing in the warm air.

Joel only snorts. “Yeah, sure. Bathrooms that way, should still be plenty of hot water, I rigged my heater a few months back.”

You smile at that, “What a naughty boy you are, Joel Miller.” You wink following his direction, closing yourself in the bathroom.

Joel leans against his front door for a moment, appreciating this side of you that is rare to see, as much back and forth as you two give each other at work you personality blossoms when it’s just you and him. And damn was it flirtatious. Some way or another you’ve kept a spark of life through the last 20 years that has Joel hooked like an addict, even if he could never bring himself to say so.

In the bathroom you’re pulling out your bath products, setting them next to his and the contrast of them makes you laugh a little. Pinks and purples next to dull grays and blues. You have the fleeting thought to look for something special just for Joel on your next run as you twist the shower nob. The pipes groan before sputtering to life, you wait until the waters just a little to hot before undressing and stepping in. You hiss involuntarily, skin blushing under the heat before you relax.

This was the hottest shower you’d had in years and you might just have to start lying about your power being out to get more of this. You allow yourself to relax for a moment longer before you begin to wash away the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

You emerge thirty minutes later, steam following behind you, you’re dressed in your better winter clothes, but even that’s a stretch. Your sweater hangs on your frame, three sizes to big and moth eaten, your sweatpants in much the same condition.

Joel glances up at you from his rickety table, two mix match glasses and a bottle in front of him. “Is one of those for me?” He simply pours you a shot, sliding the glass across the table as you take your seat, curling your legs up under yourself. You lift the amber liquid in cheers, Joel mimicking your actions as you down the shot. It burns your taste buds, dropping into your stomach like a lead weight.

Coughing you turn the glass over, face scrunched in disgust making Joel laugh as he pours himself another. “Can’t handle your liquor?”

“Was never much of a drinker before all of this, haven’t acquired the taste just yet.” You manage to wheeze out, rubbing at your chest where it still burns. “Thank you again, it would have really sucked to of gone to bed still covered in that shit.”

Joel stands, chair scrapping across the floorboards. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Don’t need the whole building knowing I’m giving out free showers.” He gathers the glasses and takes them to the small sink, before opening his fridge, “How do you plan on staying warm tonight?”

“Um, probably throw on a extra layer and pray I wake up with all my toes.” You drum a rhythm on the table, watching him as he pulls a container from the fridge, grabbing two forks and walking over to you.

You attentions stays on the container as he drags his chair closer, setting it on the table. Inside is beef and rice and your stomach grumbles at the sight of it. Your eyes jump to Joel and he give you a smile, handing you a fork. “Eat.”

You know not to look a gifted horse in the mouth, splitting the container down the middle and enjoying the cold food as much as you enjoy the comfortable silence.

Joel suddenly lifts his head, sniffing the air before turning his gaze on you, stopping you mid bite to stare back.

“What?”

“Do I smell… cookies?”

Your face lights up with a grin. “Oh yeah, I was baking in the bathroom.” He doesn’t look amused and it adds to your enjoyment. “Sugar cookies, specifically. You have your contraband, and I have mine.”

Contraband consisting of feminine products you’ve scored over the last few years, keeping nearly 70 other women fairly stocked and your pockets lined.

“Where ya hiding them? Under this?” He plucks at your shirt, distaste written across his face making you laugh, a sound Joel likes a little to much.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miller.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively earning an eye-roll, his foot nudging your chair.

He slides you the rest of his food as he stands. “You can sleep here for tonight, I’ll take the couch.” He’s talking over his shoulder as he walks into his joined bedroom, leaving you to shovel the rest of the food into your mouth.

“Wait… your back, you should really sleep in your own bed Joel.” You can hear drawers opening and closing before a soft grunt of satisfaction as Joel finds whatever it is he is looking for. “I really don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”

“It ain’t an inconvenience, and my backs fine, the icy hot did the trick, just like I said it would.” He comes back into view carrying a very large red button down flannel, tossing to you. It’s thick, the fabric soft to the touch and smells clean with an underlying musk that’s unmistakably Joel. “That’ll keep you warm, a lot better than what you’ve got on now.”

“Really? Are you-.”

“Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Okay?”

A light blush tints your cheeks, glancing up at him through your lashes with a sweet smile that has his stomach tightening. “Thank you Joel.”

“You’re welcome.” He rejoins you at the table, watching you pick at a loose thread on the shirt.

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t know much about Joel, or maybe it’s the fact that this is the very first time you’ve been alone with him, no one else in the room, no traders. Curiosity sparks and it’s a hard flame to put out.

“Do you… are there things you miss about before?”

He glanced at you, your eyes still trained on the garment. “What do you mean?”

“Well like… I use to do kickboxing, I miss that a lot… I miss going on coffee dates with my girlfriends… things like that.” You shrug, refusing to meet his gaze incase he thought this was silly, ridiculous even. You were never good at small talk.

Joel is silent for a moment longer, biting at his lip. “I miss football with my brother.”

You smile. “Tommy right? My daddy loved football, he wasn’t going anywhere on Sunday night.” You laugh softly, resting your chin on your knee. “I miss mall Chinese food, they always loaded up so much on those plates and I could never finish it.”

“That was about the only thing I liked at the mall, we didn’t go there much though. I miss my guitar, I don’t even know if I could play it now if I remembered any songs…” Joel chuckles, “I loved the SNL show, tv in general I loved to stay up at night with…” His voice fades off, fist clenched slightly out of your peripherals and though you don’t know much you know at some point during the start of everything he had lost a child.

Clearing your throat you jump to change topics. “Do you like wine?” You lock eyes with him then, his expression a little more retreated.

“I haven’t found one I’m a huge fan of, but I never turn down a glass.”

Your smile does that thing to his stomach again and he can’t stop his gaze falling to your lips for the briefest of seconds. “Well good, there’s this lady I trade with in my building and she makes wine. I’ll have to bring you a bottle one night.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up, “trying to wine and dine me, Sunshine?” A blush creeps up your cheeks turning your smile sheepish.

“Maybe, only if you pay for dinner.”

Joel scoffs, the ease returning to his features as he tilts his head to the side. Your heart hammers a little faster under his gaze. “What a cheap date you are.” He mumbles softly, resting his elbows on the table leaning his head against interlocked hands.

“The cheapest.” You breath back, mirroring his posture. He smiles warmly butterfly’s erupting under your skin giving you that giddy school girl feeling that takes your breath away and turns your brain too mush..

“I’ll look forward to it then.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’d only been asleep a few hours when your name reaches your ears, startling you awake. You sit up mattress squeaking under your weight as you peer into the darkness.

“J-Joel?”

His sleep riddled voice bounces back to you. “I need help.” Instantly your scrambling out of bed, flipping on a light as you round the wall to find Joel looking up at you from where he lay on the couch, red faced and defeated.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t get up… I gotta take a piss.” Joel hasn’t felt this level of embarrassment since throwing his back out working with his brother and had to be carried down to the hospital. The feeling only digging deeper as he watches your face fall padding over to him, extending your hands.

“I told you to sleep in your own bed, Joel.” You abolish gently, pulling him to his feet. His grip tightens on your arms, hissing as his back straightens out, taking the moment to get his bearings before he releases you, grumbling something under his breath and limping to the restroom.

You sigh, going to your duffle bag and rummaging through its contents before you finally come across a small bottle of chamomile and lavender.

Joel comes out a few minutes later, eyes trained on the floor. “Sorry.”

“Hey it’s okay, I tore my shoulder apart when I was in highschool and could hardly use it for a year. Had to have people help me all the time.” You try to sympathize with his situation, your expression soft and warm as his eyes find yours. “But, luck for you, I think you only pulled a muscle. And I have something to help with that.” You lift the little bottle shaking its contents.

Joel eyes it suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, “I ain’t taken that.”

You scoff, grabbing his bicep, pulling him towards his bed. “You don’t take it, now lay down and lift up your shirt.”

Joel turns on you, looking horrified like you’ve grown two heads all of a sudden. “Excuse me?”

“Just trust me.” You pull him again, squeezing his arm, Joel hesitates, glancing from the bed then down at himself. “I use to be a message therapist. I’ve seen a thousand naked backs, yours isn’t going to be any different.” You encourage, smiling at him as he glances your way.

Sighing Joel relents, kneels onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head and laying down, folding his arms under his head.

Okay.

Maybe you were wrong.

Joel’s back is defined, scars littering in various stages of time, some more purple compared to others. Shaking your head you swallow your sudden nerves, kneeling beside him. You open the bottle, the smell instantly filling the room and dump it into the palm of your hand, the oil slipping between your fingers, soaking your sweats and you curse silently, setting the bottle onto the night stand.

“Tell me where it hurts the most.” You instruct, rubbing your hands together to warm the oil before placing them on Joel’s lower back, his hips twitching slightly at the sudden contact.

“A little to the right.” His skin is warm and he hums softly under your touch, shifting his shoulders and head, wishing he could see your face. “There.” You set to work, finding the knot in his muscle and kneading the area, digging your thumbs and palms into his flesh.

Joel groans, long and drawn out and a thrill works it’s way down your spine at the sound, “To much?” Your voice is softer than you initially intended it to be, much to sensual sounding.

It’s just a back rub. Nothing more, be more professional.

He shakes his head, his body relaxing fully. “You weren’t lying.” He’s muffled slightly by the pillow but you can hear his smile.

“Yeah I went to school and everything. It’s like riding a bike, you just never forget.”

“Get an A from me darlin’.” Your heart swells with his praise, staying quiet as you continue messaging his back, traveling up to his shoulders and back down to his hips, the silence interrupted occasionally by a soft grunt or groan coming from Joel.

It’s only when he goes quiet, his breath turning even and deep do you stop, whispering his name. When he doesn’t reply you ease away and into the restroom, washing your hands and shedding your oil soaked pants.

Joel’s soft snores are all that can be heard as you stand at the foot of the bed, chewing on your lower lip trying to decide what to do from here. The couch is now free, but there is only one blanket, which is now trapped under Joel. There are enough pillows to maybe set one between you both, make a little barrier of sorts…

Would Joel be mad if he woke up in the same bed as you? You shift your weight from one foot to the other, mind racing with every possible reason as to why he would be mad, before you finally take a deep breath and tiptoe to the other side.

Without giving yourself time to talk yourself out of it you climb under the covers, setting a pillow in between you, praying that Joel won’t be upset in the morning as you drift off.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel wakes up slowly, conciseness coming to him little by little with the early morning sun lighting the room. He’s warm, body heavy and mind sluggish from what has possibly been his best sleep in years. Selfishly he wants to hold onto it a little longer, screw whatever he thought he needed to get done today and bury himself back into his dreamless sleep.

It’s only when he shifts, his chin bumping something firm, does he feel the weight on him. Blinking slowly he lifts his head, looking down to find himself tangled up with you. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg slung over his hip while his own is slotted between your thighs, and you’ve seemed to have lost your pants; Joel being granted a perfect view of your black panties that hide little to the imagination.

And all of the sudden he’s overly aware of you, of how soft your waist is under his callused palm, of how you still smell of sugar cookies and lavender, of the little puffs of air leaving you full lips ghosting across his neck. Then there is how his flannel has morphed to your curves, twisted around your body showing the pudge of your stomach and his blood is rushing somewhere… South.

All he can think about is how damn good you look wearing only his clothing. Joel’s heart rate picks up, his fingers drifting to your hair on their own, carding themselves through the soft strands, “Sunshine.”

You hum in your sleep, grip tightening around him as you nuzzle closer, lips brushing the column of his throat making him hold his breath as you settle again.

I’m going to hell.

It’s all he can think, his body so readily responding to you and you’re not even aware of it. You’re in your thirty’s for fucks sakes he shouldn’t even be considering this… but…

Tentatively, his grip tightens on your hair, pulling your head back so he can finally see your face. You look so peaceful, your features soft and delicate in your sleep he almost hates to ruin it. Almost.

“Honey … sweet girl wake up.” Joel’s voice is firmer, cutting into your sleep, rousing you with a small grumble.

“What��” You voice is horse, rolling your head to the side as you yawn, sleep holding on tight.

“It’s just me.” He can’t stop himself, seeing the length of your neck exposed like that, he leans down, gently kissing the delicate skin and you gasp, body tensing slightly. “Just me.” His thigh shifts up, pressing between your own and he can feel the heat radiating off of you through his sweatpants and it makes him feral.

“W-Ah… what are you doing?” You whimper, eyes pinching shut, fingers digging into his ribs as he finds that soft spot just under your ear earning another small gasp.

“Repaying you… For last night.” His grip on your hair disappears, finding your hip and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes snap open, breath trapped in your throat at the intense look of lust etched into Joel’s face. Now that you can fully see him your stomach tightens, need zipping down your spine as your eyes drink him in.

Just like his back his chest is defined, shoulders broad with a light dusting of hair that runs down to his stomach, and just past the waistband of his sweats where you can clearly see the outline of his…

You swallow audible, causing Joel to snort. Your eyes dart back to his and you swear you can feel your body melting with the fire in his gaze. He dips his face closer, bumping his nose against yours and smiles as you nervously squirm, thighs clenching around his where it still rests pressed against your mound.

“This okay?” As he speaks his lips just barely touch your own and you already feel your thoughts emptying out one by one as you nod slowly, eyes never leaving his own. “Tell me, need to hear your sweet voice.”

“Th-this is okay.”

With that he’s on you, restraint snapping as he finally kisses you, rough and hungry and desperate. Teeth, tongue and spit, forcing a moan from your throat with the intensity of it all, that Joel is all too happy to swallow up. His thigh presses in closer, your hips bucking involuntarily, dragging a moan from low in his chest.

Your hands slide up to his shoulders, gripping anything you can find for leverage as he sinks you into the mattress, drowning you in the covers, the pillows, and him.

Arousal consumes you, sparking in your stomach and traveling through your veins making you light headed, having not felt this type of high in many, many years. You grind yourself up against his thigh, your slick wetting your panties and soon creating a darker spot on his sweats.

You moan as he pulls away, attacking your neck again and pulling at your shirt, trying to expose whatever skin he can. “J-Joel… m… what’s.. what’s gotten into you?” Your losing your breath, the hand he isn’t propping himself up with traveling over your body, down your thigh, up your side, fingers sliding along the other side of your throat making goosebumps raise the hairs on your skin.

“Just want you, been wanting you since I laid eyes on you.” He admits, your face flushing with heat. “D’ya know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you? All laid out and pretty on my cock.” A filthy moan leaves your lips, grinding against his thigh to relieve the ache building between your legs.

Joel sits back, both hands finding your hips, encouraging your movements. “That’s right sweet girl, just like that.” You whine into the air, hands dropping to the bed gripping the sheets. He stares down at you, lust darkening his brown eyes as you grind against him. “Make all those pretty sounds for me, it’s just us.”

You nod, chasing after your building pleasure, breathy moans falling from your lips. Joel ruts against the back of your thigh, hands bruising your hips in the most delicious way. “J-Joel… need more… please…” Your clit throbs painfully, the angle you’re at restricting you from rubbing it how you want against his thigh.

“So greedy, go ahead play with yourself baby, wanna see you cum on my thigh before I fuck you, senseless.” Your fingers find your clit and rub harsh circles through the damp fabric of your panties, flying to that familiar peak, teetering right on the edge as you moan his name, hips frantic, but you need more, you want more.

Joel coos softly, enjoying your struggle. The pinched look, the wobble of your lips, as you search for that last little something. “I know you can do it baby, cum for me. Show me how good you can be and soak my thigh.” His words are your tipping point, sending you spiraling into that void of dark bliss as your orgasm rips through you.

The noises that leave your delicate throat consume Joel, and he’s whispering soft praises that you don’t hear, watching your legs tremble and hand still. “There it is, did so good for me baby.” You go limp underneath him, chest heaving with each shuddering breath, eyes shut and mind to far gone.

“Let me get this off of you.” He takes his time, slowing down to let you ride your bliss, undoing each button of the flannel. “Sit up.” You hardly have to, just lifting your shoulders and head before he throws the flannel across the room and you’re sunk back into the pillows.

Your panties and his sweats follow shortly after. His lips back on you, kissing between your breasts his beard scratching your skin in the most delirious way. “Joel…”

But his fingers are finding your slick heat, a groan reverberating through his chest and into yours. “So fucking wet, you liked that baby? Like getting yourself off on my thigh?” Warm embarrassment fills your belly, reigniting that fire. You nod slowly, keeping your eyes shut to avoid his intense gaze. “You getting shy on me now? Just a second ago you were fucking my leg.” He smiles against your skin watching the red tinting your cheeks grow darker, turning your away from him.

“J-Joel don’t… Don’t be mean.”

“Not bein’ mean.” Two thick fingers are suddenly sinking into you, a shrill cry retching itself from your throat. “Just given ya what ya want.” Your brain turns to mush with each pump of his fingers, hands scrambling to find any perches, a set of nails digging into his shoulder, the other tugging at the sheets. “Fuck… you’re so tight, gotta get you ready for me.”

His thumb finds your clit, working the bundle of nerves making moans echo through the room. Those thick fingers press against that gummy spot inside you that makes your hips stutter, your moans a little louder and he smiles in triumph, teeth nipping your breast watching the skin bloom with red marks. “S’that the spot?”

“Mmhmm…” it takes everything you have just to hum out an answer, mouth hanging open, thighs trembling as you’re brought back to orgasm, again. Climbing that mountain, no running it, to your tipping point.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers baby, you gonna cum again so soon?” Joel doesn’t need your reply, even if you could give him one, your hips rocking to meet the rhythm he’s set. He doesn’t ease up, watching you come undone below him with a few more expert swipes of his thumb across your throbbing clit.

You make him feel young again, his body thrumming with pure, carnal lust. Something he hasn’t felt in years as he draws his slick coated fingers to his mouth, tasting you for what, hopefully, will be the first time of many. “Mmm… So sweet baby, I could spend hours just eating you.”

You whine pathetically, shaking your head back and forth, hair clinging to your face with sweat. “C-can’t…” Joel shakes his head, laughing darkly before tapping your cheek with the pads of his fingers.

“Look at me, Sunshine.” The timber in his voice makes you obey instinctively, finding his steady gaze. He grips your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks making your lips pout comically. “I know you’ve got one more in ya, I need to feel your cunt squeeze my cock. Think you can do that for me? Hmm?”

Joel shifts closer as he speaks, settling himself between your shaking thighs. His cock brushes against your puffy lips drawing a small whine from the back of your throat. You nod, Joel letting go of your checks as arousal washes through you once more, almost painfully so, as he rocks forward, the underside of his cock slipping easily through your damp folds, coating himself in your cream.

He hunkers over you, forcing your legs wider and rests on one elbow as he guides his cock to your opening, nudging in. “Relax darlin’, don’t wanna hurt you.”

Before you can even comprehend what is being said Joel thrusts forward, sinking in a few inches with a grovel moan. Your toes curl, eyes squeezing shut with a whine, the stretch hurting in a way you never want to stop.

“F-fuck Joel… s-so big.” A hand slips into his hair, tugging harshly causing him to gasp, a wicked smile pulling at his lips.

“You haven’t seen nothin yet, little girl.” He pins you to the mattress with his weight, thrusting until he’s fully seated inside you, heavy balls pressed to your ass. Your pussy squeezes him tightly, pain mixing with the pleasure intoxicatingly. He’s big, bigger than any man you’d been with in years, and as he pulls out only to thrust back in, the head of his cock kisses your cervix.

“Oooooh fuuuck!” You cling to his shoulders, his neck, his back, legs locking around his middle; anywhere to pull him closer as his pace evens out, fucking into you roughly. The old bed squeaks, headboard tapping the wall and above it all are the sounds leaving your lips to mix with his.

“Feel so good baby… been dreaming about this pussy.” Joel huffs out between thrusts, pressing his forehead to yours. The farther he slips into his arousal the thicker his accent gets, words dripping onto your nerves like honey.

“Wanted you to… so long Joel .” You pant, rocking your hips to match what he’s giving you. That glorious pressure building again in your body, cunt fluttering around his cock. “Don’t stop… oh fuck please don’t stop.” You can feel every ridge and vein rubbing along your walls in just the right way, his mushroom head bullying that sweet spot making your eyes roll.

“Not gonna stop, baby. Not gonna stop.” Joel groans, one hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he bullies his cock into you.

Your fingers slip between your bodies, finding your clit with a soft moan, rubbing tight circles. “I’m… im gonna cum…” you whine against his lips, noses bumping, breathing each others air.

“Come on then… cum on my cock baby, let me feel it.” Joel knows he won’t last much longer his thrust starting to turn sloppy. “Fuck… wanna fuck you full of me, watch it drip out. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Let everyone know who fucked you so good huh?” You thighs squeeze his hips in response to far gone to acknowledge him as you topple over the edge, crying his name as the pleasure blinds you momentarily.

Joel cusses burying his face in the side of your neck, your cunt sucking him in . “Fuck baby, fuck baby, fuck!” He pulls back, cock twitching and jets of cum landing on your stomach and abused lips. He fists himself, grunting against your shoulder as he comes down, body relaxing and dopamine flowing through him.

“J-Joel…” You breath, feeling his weight more and more.

“M’ Sorry…” He whispers, rolling himself onto his back, your stiff legs dropping to the mattress. You’re both panting wildly, chests heaving and sweat coating your skin.

You blink at the ceiling slowly, the neurons in your brain starting to fire again. “Well…” A small laugh bubbles out of you, Joel lazily looking over at you confused. “I’ve never been woken up like that before.”

Joel scoffs loudly and your giggle turns into a full laugh, lifting your head to look down at yourself. “Do I at least get a rag?”

“Better, ya can come get in the shower with me.” Joel groans as he sits up, giving you his hand. “Gonna need another one of those messages after that.”

[blue-slxt]

Imagine petite!human reader literally being used as a living fleshlight😩

Like she’s so small she can just be lifted off the ground and pounded🥴

Honestly don’t even care who it’s written for feels like a Jake, lo’ak, or quaritch kinda senecio

Sincerely, a no where near petite girlie

Thank you so much for your patience. I've been working on like a million different things at the same time so I am so behind on requests. But I looove this idea. Something about just being manhandled however your partner wants you to be is so fucking aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh😩! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut.

“Make sure you don’t break my bed with your big ass.” You playfully scold Lo’ak while pulling on your spaghetti strap shirt. He flops his entire body weight onto your bed making it creak. It was times like this when you really took note of just how big of a size difference there was between you. Of course, the Na’vi were much bigger than average humans already, but you were even on the small side for humans. Watching how his body can’t fit properly on your bed while you could be swallowed whole by your sheets and blankets never ceased to amaze you. He waves you off with a ‘yeah, yeah’ while he makes himself comfortable putting his hands under his head. You roll your eyes at him and start to search through all the DVDs you have for something for you two to watch.

“What are you in the mood for this time? Something funny? Romantic? Dramatic?” you fire off the different genres as you toss aside disc after disc.

“Hmm…” he dramatically hums thinking about his answer.

You don’t bother to look at him while he mulls it over and you continue searching. You faintly comprehend the sound of him shuffling and moving around behind you, but you pay it no mind until a pair of big hands find their way on your small frame. Lo’ak’s lips brush lightly over the back of your neck and it almost tickles when he speaks.

“I think I’m in the mood for something sexy” he presses kisses onto your neck and shoulder.

“You are so corny” you say with a laugh, but you still lean into his touch anyway.

“Just put on whatever. I’d rather watch you anyway.” His low voice in your ear makes your nerves come alive with this intense fluttering all over your body. His impatience is rubbing off on you so you hurriedly throw whatever you can reach into the player without really bothering to look at what it is. Once the movie starts playing, you turn around to face Lo’ak and he immediately swipes you up off the floor and your legs lock around his waist while he presses his lips to yours. Holding onto him like this gives you the perfect feel of his cock straining against his tewng and poking you right between your legs. Clearly, he can feel it too from how his hands hold your hips and grind you down against him. Every move brushes against your covered clit and gives you small tingles of satisfaction, but it’s not enough. He’s got you so riled up now that you decide to have a little more fun and push his limits. On any given day, Lo’ak could, and would, fuck you until your body felt like jelly. But on occasion, he would lose himself and by the end, even your brain would feel numb and fuzzy filled with nothing but him possessing you completely. That’s exactly what you need right now.

Without warning, you unfold your legs from around him and let go completely dropping to your feet on the ground. His puzzled expression is nothing short of adorable.

“Shit, I just remembered that I have a report to finish” you say walking over to your computer desk and sitting down.

“Babe, you have got to be kidding me right now.” You were never one to deny Lo’ak what he asked for. Ever. Not even when you would join the clan for communal dinner and he would pull you off into the dark out of view of everyone else.

“It’s only going to take a few minutes, Lo.” You say sitting down and pulling your hair forward and exposing your neck. Lo’ak groans behind you. You know how much he loves when you present your neck for him to mark. He’s starting to catch on to your little game. If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it.

“If it’s only going to take a couple minutes, then do it after” he says pulling your chair away from your desk and over to the bed. He spins you around to face him and heat settles between your thighs at the way he’s eyeing you right now. “I need you, mamas.”

“You’re doing a whole lot of talking and yet, I’m still fully clothed” you say with a sly smirk.

He chuckles lowly to himself, “oh, you are asking for it.” In one swift motion, Lo’ak pulls you onto his lap by your waist. Your hands brace against his chest to keep yourself from flying forward. His face settles in the crook of your neck and he nips lightly at your skin making you jump.

“Now, am I going to have to rip these cute little shorts off of you or are you gonna behave and take them off yourself?”

“Don’t…I like these ones.” You whine.

“Then get rid of them. Right now.”

You shift yourself around so that you can maneuver out of your shorts while he pulls his tewng to the side to expose his thick, hard cock that was already leaking precum from the tip.

“Already so hard, love. Is that for m—”

“Don’t try to get cute with me” Lo’ak cuts you off by grabbing you by your waist and slamming you down onto his dick in one quick snap.

It feels like an electric shock is shot up your spine and goes straight to your head being immediately filled to the brim. He gives you no time to adjust before he’s fully lifting your body by your waist up and down on his cock.

“Ah! Fu-ck! Lo-ak!” Your words and breaths are broken from how he’s making you bounce on top of him.  

“Shit, your pussy is so fuckin perfect” he says through gritted teeth.

His big hands on your smaller frame completely take control of your movements and you have no choice but to let him have his way with you. His dick continues to bully its way into your tight cunt and kiss your cervix making your toes curl.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum inside of you, mama. You want that, hm? Want me to fill you up?” his voice is lighthearted, but you can tell from the look in his eyes and his laser focus on you how close he really is and how badly he wants to give you everything.

“Yes, yes, yes, please Lo’ak!” your vision is already starting to spot as you near your own high while he keeps using you as his own personal fuck toy.

“Hng, shit!” he bucks his hips up to match the way he’s moving your body for you a few more times before the heat of his cum starts to fill you from the inside out. It sends you over the edge into your own orgasm and your pussy clamps down on him even tighter if that was even possible. Lo’ak sucks in a sharp breath feeling how tight you are around him and his forehead falls forward onto your chest waiting for you to stop milking him for all he’s worth.

His hands finally let go of your waist and they fall to sit on top of your thighs while you both try to catch your breath.

Suddenly the TV booms from across the room, “I am Bruce Almighty! My will be done!” making both of you snap your head in its direction.

“What the fuck movie did you put on?” Lo’ak laughs breathlessly.

“I have no fucking clue and I kind of don’t really care” you laugh equally out of breath. “But it looks like we still have some time before it’s over…” you lightly suggest.

He already knows what’s on your mind and a devilish smirk crosses his face.

[spooky-holtz]

Sicilian Scheming

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Prompt: "I seen you were looking for ideas for fics and was wondering if you’d write one where Mellisa’s Nona comes to visit her at Abbot during summer planning where she meets teacher Reader and essentially forces them to go on a date together even though they don’t get along well but they end up really hitting it off then a time skip to their wedding where Nona’s bragging about getting them together?"

I've diverted from the prompt a little but the core of it still stands. Strap in.

--------------------

Make no mistake, you absolutely love teaching the third grade but by the time summer comes around, you’re glad to see them go. Summer vacation gives you a chance to relax and enjoy your time away from the stuffy brick building that is Abbott Elementary, spending weeks at a time curled up on the window ledge of your apartment basking in the sun with a good novel and often a crisp glass of wine.  

You rarely get chance to see your co-workers save for the coffee dates you have with Janine, often meeting the smaller woman around the corner from her home to sit and chat in the large glass windows as the rest of the world passes by. You spend hours at a time chatting about anything and everything your rather uneventful lives have thrown at you, fingers curled around a sweating glass of flavored iced tea. These breaks are always among the highlights of your year, giving you a chance to wind down and refresh ready for the next group of kids that you will take under your wing.  

By the time the summer break winds down though, you’re eager to get back to school and see your dysfunctional work family. There’s nothing you love more than the first day after weeks apart, hearing all about Barbra’s annual cruise with Gerald, or Jacob’s latest mission to get himself “down with the kids” - it usually involves some god awful Tik Tok trend that he should NOT be doing, but you don’t have the heart to stop his rather spirited approach to engaging with his students.  

You love these conversations but there is somebody else that you find yourself searching for the second you step foot through the green doors of Abbott; Mellisa Schemmenti. The older woman has become an infatuation for you, her rigid exterior always melting when you interact. She knows exactly how you take your coffee, always leaves a seat open for you during meetings, and takes every opportunity to compliment your appearance - whether it's a new pair of earrings, or a slightly different shade of hair dye, Melissa will always notice.  

She makes you feel special in the smallest ways, always leaving you with the hope that she might actually like you back. It feels juvenile and you can’t help but imagine yourself as one of the kids you teach every day, sending heart eyes across the room at each other at any given chance, just waiting for her cheeks to flush and that small, suppressed smile to appear on her glossed lips.  

Your crush is no secret, but you would never tell anyone - well, except Janine who had managed to guess exactly why you get so nervous around the older woman after a few glasses of wine at the last faculty holiday party. You didn’t have to say anything; your longing looks toward the redhead on the other side of the teachers’ lounge as you nursed a plastic cup full of cheap alcohol was enough to prompt your friend to ask. You could never lie to Janine’s puppy dog eyes, especially not with a buzz courtesy of the liquor store across the street.  

You can’t help but let your thoughts drift toward thick Philly accents as you sit in the gym on the first day of school, squashed between Jacob and Janine and caught directly in the middle of their conversation about whatever new Netflix documentary series dropped last week. You’re really trying to listen, but your thoughts are consumed by bright red curls and glittery lip gloss, not true crime documentaries.  

You find yourself scanning the room as the pair babble on and you notice that the seating arrangement is half empty as you wait for the rest of the faculty to arrive and for Ava to take the stage for yet another development week speech that will go down in infamy at Abbott. She’s already poked her head from behind the curtain on the stage twice, clearly impatient to make her grand entrance to a group of less than willing participants.  

You begin to hear the telltale sound of heeled boots clicking against the linoleum floor and you feel yourself freezing into place just as Melissa waltzes into the hall, Barbara in tow. You don’t know if you’re impressed or terrified at her ability to constantly wear those shoes and the thought makes you realize that you’ve never actually seen Melissa at her normal height. 

Just as you suck in a deep breath, her eyes scan the room and instantly land where you sit, sandwiched between two of your rather enthusiastic co-workers. As her green eyes meet yours you see them shrink at the smile she sends your way, her pearly white teeth cutting through the shiny pink lip gloss she’s always wearing. You send a similar smile back, overjoyed at the fact she merely noticed you. God help your heart rate when she decides to talk to you for the first time in two months.  

Your attention is pulled away by Barbara, who waves enthusiastically from behind Melissa, making her way toward the empty seats directly in front of you. Your eyes dart back to Melissa as she follows the billowing of the older woman’s cardigan, heels still impossibly loud against the floor. 

The dark button down she’s sporting is tight against her torso, the sleeves rolled up to reveal her deceptively toned forearms. You have to remind yourself to look away for a split second, the thought of getting caught ogling her by one of your co-workers forcing you to tear your eyes away. You look toward Janine who has trailed off her conversation with Jacob, the pair watching you and Melissa like a tennis match. You feel your shoulders slump at Jacob’s knowing look, the excitement practically making him vibrate.  

“You’re kidding, you know too?” You sigh. 

“Uh yeah, you don’t exactly hide the heart eyes,” he scoffs. He must see the deer-in-headlights expression on your face because he continues, “I wouldn’t worry, she was definitely just throwing them right back at you.” 

You have no time to reply as the subject of the conversation reaches the row of seats in front of you, sitting in the hard plastic chair and turning her torso to see you, hand resting on the back of her seat. Her smile is wide again as she looks to you. The panic brews in your throat and your palms instantly become sweaty at the prospect of Melissa feeling the intensity of your feelings.  

“Hey hun, it’s been a while,” she says, her eyes still crinkled from the smile she wears. Her focus is entirely on you, ignoring the duo that sits on either of your sides.  

“Yeah, it has,” you manage to stammer out, “How’ve you been? You look good.”  

You inwardly cringe at your words but you’re not lying. She’s obviously had her hair dyed ready for the new school year and it’s even brighter than usual, making her even easier for you to pick out of a crowd. She looks so full of life and at ease, the break clearly having done her well. Her smile grows impossibly wider at your compliment, putting you instantly at ease.  

“It was great,” she replies. “Spent a lotta time at the beach with my family, so I’m not as pasty as you may have remembered.” 

She throws a wink your way with the last statement, causing a pink blush to cover your cheeks within seconds. What you wouldn’t give to actually see Melissa at the beach, totally relaxed on a sun lounger with a drink in hand. The image turns your cheeks an even deeper shade of red and Mel clearly catches on, her smirk letting you know that she knows exactly where your thoughts have gone.  

Before you even have chance to reply, Ava makes her grand entrance from behind the curtain to a chorus of groans that echos throughout the room.  

You can feel Janine’s elbow nudging into your side, your friend having had a front row seat to your entire interaction with the redhead. The action earns her a swift kick to the ankle under her seat, accompanied by a hissed “don’t you dare”.  

The meeting is over almost as quickly as it begins, Ava rushing back to her office to catch the latest episode of Real Housewives - she didn’t explicitly say it but you all know that’s the only reason she would be running back down the hall. You won’t complain though because it means you can get started with your work to prepare your classroom for the year ahead. You stand from your seat alongside Jacob and Janine and have all intentions of getting back to work when Melissa turns around again. Her emerald eyes stop you in your tracks, mid-stretch, your arms flexed above your head.  

“I never got the chance to tell you earlier, but I really like your dress,” she says, completely catching you off guard. Your hands fall, hanging limply by your side and brushing against the floral fabric of your clothing. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wear it specifically to catch her eye this morning. The soft smile she wears on her face makes your heart melt, the look on her face only reserved for you. “It's real pretty.” 

You both stand there for a few seconds, blushing like lovesick teenagers and staring into each other's eyes when a throat clearing brings you back to reality. Janine claps her hands together, flustered by the interaction.  

“Okay, I’m gonna get back to my classroom and, uh, get started on cleaning. Have a good day guys!” She calls as she walks away with Jacob in tow, enthusiastic as ever as he throws a thumbs up your way. You know that within five minutes of leaving the school gym she’ll be in your classroom waiting for the rundown on what the hell just happened between you and Melissa, as if she didn’t see it all happen from inches away. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob shows up with a bag of popcorn to join in with the gossip session.  

“Oh shit, yeah, I need to clean before Nonna shows up,” Melissa mumbles, “I don’t wanna even think about the earful I’ll get if my classroom is a mess.” She doesn’t even stop to think before she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the gym and down the hall toward her classroom. You don’t have time to process her words before her best friend speaks.  

“Well, I guess that just leaves us,” Barbara says from her place next to where the redhead stood. She wears a gentle smile on her face that will always help you feel at ease. She reaches her arm out to you, linking your arm within hers as she turns to walk. “Come on honey, I’ll walk you to your room and tell you all about the cruise I had with my Gerald.”  

After a rather lengthy conversation about ‘Sea Barbara’ and her less-than-christian antics, you’re back at your door for the first time in months and can’t help but feel like you’re home. Nobody particularly likes their job but that couldn’t be further from the truth for you. Already, you’ve planned out the next year and can’t wait to welcome your little Eagles back into the classroom.  

It’s a full hour later by the time you actually hear another person’s voice - Janine chose to keep her distance but will no doubt grill you about Melissa at some point today. It’s just a matter of when.  

You hear the signature clicking of her heels before you can see her, her footsteps considerably slower than usual. You can hear her talking as she walks, though you can’t make you exactly what she’s saying. The footsteps grow louder and slower before you hear a knock against your doorframe, the door propped open by a thick stack of textbooks that you’ve wedged in front of it in a desperate attempt to get some airflow in the stuffy room.  

The sound makes you whip your head from where you stand on your stepladder, stapler and crepe paper in hand as you put together a display for the kids. You know exactly who will be standing there, already smiling as you turn and meet her eyes.  

“Hey Hun,” she says, “I’ve got someone here who wanted to really meet you.”  

For the first time you notice the presence beside her. You don’t need to take any guesses that this is Melissa’s infamous Nonna, the older woman clearly having stamped her grandchildren with her genes - she looks exactly how you imagine Melissa would in her old age, her hair silver and leaning gently on a cane.  

“Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!” she exclaims, making you jump and stand up straighter, terrified at the prospect of already being on her bad side. You climb down from the ladder as she stares at you, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress in an effort to get rid of any creases that may have formed during the morning. “You said she was pretty, but not this pretty!”  

You feel your shoulders relax as you laugh at the older woman, taken aback, Melissa by the side of her groaning loudly with a “Nonna, really?” You move toward the pair holding your hand out to shake the wrinkled one of the grey-haired lady before you. Her fingers are adorned by the same kind of jewelry that Melissa wears, her Sicilian heritage extremely clear from the large signet rings that she wears across her hands.  

“And there’s no mistaking that you must be Nonna,” you grin, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re like a living legend around here.” She closes her hand around yours, the other still gripping her cane.  

“Pretty and complimentary?” She remarks, turning to look at her granddaughter whose face has managed to turn the same colour as her hair. “Well, you kept a lot quiet about this one.” 

You can’t help but look at Melissa at this statement, catching her eye and smiling even wider, Nonna’s remarks already making your grin impossibly wide. Her brow relaxes itself slightly, the hard lines around her eyes softening when she sees the pure joy on your face at finally getting to meet the woman you’ve heard so much about over the last few years.  

“I’m not sure if I want to hear exactly what you know about me,” you joke to her, catching Melissa’s eye yet again. The poor woman looks unbelievably flustered but it's a welcome change in your dynamic. She usually gets to revel in the fact that you turn into a puddle in her presence, but now you can only hope to add to the quickly darkening hue of her cheeks.  

“Trust me, you do. This one doesn’t shut up about you,” she says, smiling slightly and cocking her head toward Melissa who is actively wishing that a sinkhole would open up beneath her feet. She lets go of your hand and moves further into the classroom, leaning ever so slightly on her stick but still moving with all the confidence of your favourite Schemmenti woman - at least you know where Melissa gets it from now.  

Your eyes dart to Melissa, the older woman already looking back at you with a silent apology in her eyes her teeth worrying her bottom lip. You reach out and rub the top of her arm over her shirt in a small act of comfort, letting her know that this entire situation is doing nothing but working in her favour.  

“Ya know, it’s nice seeing something other than my Melissa’s classroom or the reception desk at this school for once,” Nonna says, almost speaking to herself. She looks around the room almost in awe, taking in the displays in various degrees of completion around the room.  

You follow her further in, Melissa hot on your tail behind you. She’s so close that you feel her almost walk straight into your back as you stop closer to the older woman, her once intimidating heels stuttering slightly on the wooden floor.  

“So, tell me,” Nonna begins, turning in place to face you, “What brought a girl like you to Philly? I know you’re not a local.” Her eyes twinkle as she asks, and you have a sneaking suspicion that she already knows the answer to her question from the tales her granddaughter has seemingly told her about you.  

“I just wanted a change,” you answer honestly. “I only thought I’d be here a couple years, but it’s been five and I can’t see myself leaving any time soon.” 

At your statement you hear Melissa sigh by your side. As your head turns to meet her gaze you see just how much it softened at your words. She knows just how much you love your job and the dedication you’re willing to put into making sure these kids make it. Year after year she’s been the one to help you draft lesson plans and mark countless piles of work over a mug of coffee in the teachers’ lounge, helping you when you feel slightly out of your depth in more ways than she could imagine. 

It’s only when she’s this close to your face that you can see the glittering of her lip gloss as she smiles slightly, her lips pulled together in a look that conveys so much softness.  

“Do you like Italian food?” Nonna asks, breaking the tense silence that has fallen between you. You feel the redhead beside you jump, both of you completely forgetting that her grandmother is just meters away from your little moment. You can’t answer quick enough, crying out for her approval and hoping that you can focus back from the incredible green eyes that are currently burning into the side of your head.  

“Oh yeah, I absolutely love an Italian,” you stutter out, “Can’t get enough.” 

You inwardly cringe at your words as you hear Melissa snicker by your side, Nonna’s eyes twinkling with amusement again. You hear a quiet “Bedda Matri” from Melissa through the giggles that shake her body.  

“I bet ya do,” Nonna says, her grin revealing her impossibly pearly white teeth. You can feel yourself getting warmer and you’re not sure if it’s from the stuffiness of your classroom and its broken windows or from the pure embarrassment radiating through your system. “You know, I taught Melissa everything she knows about Italian food. Maybe if you’re nice she’ll cook for you sometime.” 

Nonna’s eyebrows are raised as you turn to meet Melissa’s eyes, the older woman shrugging in your direction. It's nice to know you aren’t the only person completely lost in this conversation.  

“Oh, I know!” Nonna exclaims, making the pair of you jump yet again, “Melissa, how about you cook this nice girl the family baked ziti tonight? Say, 7 o’clock?”  

“Uh sure, if you don’t have anything on?” Melissa says, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion once again.  

“No no, I’m totally free,” you stammer, your cheeks matching the deep red of your co-worker's hair. “I’ve got your address too.” 

“Wonderful!” Nonna almost shouts, her shrill voice echoing off the semi-bare walls of your classroom. “You’re going to love it, trust me.” She says, throwing a wink your way.  

You don’t particularly want to admit that the smaller woman is, but you do love it. So much so that two years later you’re twirling around a dance floor in a lacy white dress, Melissa in a matching getup and shiny new diamond rings on your left hands. As Billy Joel croons the chorus of ‘Just the Way You Are’ from the speakers set up around the room, you hear a familiar voice chirp up from a table just out of reach of the dance floor.  

“You know, they would never have gotten together if I hadn’t practically knocked their heads together,” Nonna says, her voice carrying over the song as she explains her matchmaking services to Melissa’s Uncle Tony. You feel Melissa grin where her cheek rests against yours, your expression matching hers as you hear the older woman carry on. “I’m telling you now Anthony, this wedding wouldn’t even be happening if it wasn’t for me.”  

You feel Melissa begin to giggle where she stands, her hands resting against the lace at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing gently against the surface as you sway together. You hear Nonna carry on, adamant that the life you’ve built wouldn’t be possible if not for her, and as much as you don’t want to give her satisfaction, you both know she’s right.  

[capquinn]

Under Red Skies | Q. Hughes

summary: after a fight with your ex-boyfriend, you go back to the one person you know will always have you. pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes content: angst, insinuated smut, sorta fluffy word count: 935 ↪ masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Shutting your car door soundlessly, you let herself into Quinn's apartment with the key he cut just for nights like this.

The nights that end in catastrophe when you and your boyfriend fight and breakup, and you run to the only person you know will have you.

“This is stupid,” Quinn whispers, watching the rise and fall of your body in the dark. Blue tinted and tempting.

“What is?” You question, though you already know the answer.

Stop going back to him, you hear his voice in your head. Just as he had told you the second time you found yourselves in this peculiar situation.

Childhood friends turned something more - you weren't sure there was a label that existed to describe it all exactly. There was history there, but it was juvenile. A fling as teenagers which fizzled as you both left for college, and things had remained platonic and normal ever since.

It was when you started seeing a guy who travelled in the same social circles that suddenly Quinn started looking at you differently. He found himself rolling his eyes whenever you arrived together at the bar and went looking for reasons to hate the bloke. It was hard at first but once you called Quinn that first night you had a fight, angry and crying, finding reasons wasn't such a challenge anymore.

That was when things changed between you. He had listened to your ranting and reassured you that things would be okay, and then when you were saying goodbye at the end of the night, the hug lasted for a moment longer than you were used to. His hands lingered on the small of your back, and suddenly you were friends and something more.

Quinn hesitates, unsure if this needed to be questioned again. Did he really need answers or real reasons? “You don’t have to go, y’know,” he says instead, extending a gentle hand to caress the delicate skin of your cheeks.

“You know I do,” you reply in a breathless whisper. You lean into his hand, and then turn onto your side. You're face to face, almost sharing the same pillow.

It’s silent.

You take his hand into your much smaller one, bringing it to your mouth and kissing his palm. He knows what it means. It came each time, and it hurt just as much as it did the time before that. What was once a gesture of utter adoration, he feels differently now. All that he cannot have is made explicit.

He rolls onto his back and sits up, resting against the headboard.

“We can’t keep doing this," he mutters.

You scramble to sit up. “I know,” you say hopelessly, allowing it all to come flooding right out from where it has been dammed for weeks now since that very first night. “It’s just… it’s complicated." You aren't sure if you're sticking around with this guy for the hope of things turning around and your love life lasting longer than a handful of months, or if you were protecting your relationship with Quinn. Afraid of the unknown and reluctant to jump off the precipice. "This is complicated. What if this is ruined? Will it be worth it?"

How are you both able to live on the threshold of something special and what disproves it all?

“I think it is,” he answers, reaching over to turn on the lamp.

He sees you clearly now. He’s been here one too many times before. Asked bad questions, wished for things to be different and distracted his heart from cracking until you come back the next time things went wrong.

“You deserve more than whatever he's giving you," he tells you firmly. "And you know that too or else you wouldn't come here every time you end things. Why won't you give us a try?" He's met with silence, and he feels the familiar ache in his heart. "If you're worried about what happened when we were kids happening again then you're making a mistake 'cause we're older now and I'm ready for it this time." He's not normally so forthright, and now you're dazed. It's difficult hearing what he's saying over the hammering of your heart. "Truth is, I wanna be with you."

And here's another truth. You knows his eyes. He means everything he says.

You fill the space that separates you both and kiss him. It’s electric. You're whirling around his galaxy except that he is right there underneath you.

Something thuds inside you that is more than mere heartbeats. It brings you so close to blurting things out that you probably shouldn't.

And you do.

“I love you,” you murmur, overcome with one too many truths.

He kisses you once more. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he mutters, his heart not quite willing to believe you. He presses your foreheads together, and he's breathing heavily, noses brushing.

“I do. I do mean it,” there’s a strain to your voice. Desperate for him to hear. “I want this. I want you.” Your lips brush his, hands clutching at his shoulders, fingers digging into bare skin.

He’s silent, and you press your cheek against his, pulling meanings out of shared breaths. Make lightning speak with your lips along his jaw in a way that he hasn’t experienced before.

Who is he to question love?

“Take what you want,” he pleads, hands sliding down your sides. “I’ve been yours all along.”

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 23: Boothill x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4976

Warnings: Afab!reader, age difference, gunplay, a tiny bit of coercion on readers part, gun in mouth, dry humping

A/N: Okay, so I'm officially a day behind but! This one was a bit of a challenge for me, both because I've never really written any gunplay scenarios before but also because it was a bit of a brain twister trying to lock down his old west mannerisms with the silly potty word substitutes 🤭 Hopefully I didn't do too bad on either front!

⭐

The Galaxy Rangers were somewhat infamous for enjoying reckless games. The sort that more often than not ended in disastrous results, particularly when more than one of them had been taken out of commission by an unlucky Russian Roulette bullet. But like moths to the flame, those of you who lived by the creed of the Hunt were inexorably drawn to high adrenaline situations and the kind of fast paced excitement that made most others shy away for fear of life and limb. 

You were no different in this regard, and neither was Boothill. 

He’d mentored you for a very short while, back when you first took up Lan’s bow and set out into the vast cosmos to bring about some form of justice in a largely unjust universe. Treated you much like a daughter, in fact. 

And that just made the current situation of having his revolver shoved in your face all the more thrilling. 

“Fudging hell, girl! I almost blew your darned brains out! You can’t go around sneaking up on people like that. It’s not smart and it’s not safe!”

“Sorry.” You murmur, tipping your head just enough to peer around the barrel of his gun so you can pin him with a wholly innocent smile. “I just wanted to surprise you. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” 

“Well, ya’ certainly surprised me.” Sighing out a terse, mildly bothered huff, Boothill fluidly relaxes out of his practiced shooting stance and gives his pistol a quick twirl before holstering it at his hip. The nervous people standing around the two of you who had backed up into a loose circle at the first sight of his pistol visibly relax but still quickly go about their business to avoid getting caught up in whatever trouble was brewing here on this particular street of Penacony’s Golden Hour. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, perfectly calm and casual now as he looks you up and down with a considering glance. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, I suppose. You didn’t exactly fill me with an overwhelming sense of confidence when I first met ya’, you know?” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, eagerly rocking up on your toes to lessen the height difference by a small margin. “Is that why you took me under your wing? To improve my chances of survival.”

He scoffs at that, metal hand coming up to brace along his equally metal hip. “I ain’t that fudging kindhearted so don’t get it twisted now. I just happened to see a little cowgirl who couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag if it was soaked through, and I couldn’t abide by that. Didn’t want you to go giving the Galaxy Rangers a bad name or nothing.” 

A certain, naively hopeful part of you sinks at that. You knew how he’d treated you before, of course, but that was a few years in the past now … “Is that really all you see me as? A little girl?” 

“And what pray tell am I supposed to see you as if not that?” 

“I’m not a kid, for starters.” 

“Tch. I can see that. That cute lil’ dress you got on isn’t gonna’ make me forget about the first time I ran into ya’ though. You weren’t no better than a fool headed little brat trying to shoot yer daddy’s gun out in that field.” 

You warm slightly at that, completely ignoring everything else he’d said in favor of focusing on the important bit. “You really think my dress is cute?” 

“Bah! Enough of this. I ain’t got time for it.” 

Turning on his heel, Boothill decisively starts to make his way further down the road on a straight course for the looming facade of the hotel up ahead. And you just push into motion to trot right along after him, having to work your legs double time to keep pace with his long strides. 

It takes him a prolonged beat to realize you’re following him and when he does, he snaps his head in your direction with a low growl of warning. “What do you think you’re doing, girl? I said I ain’t got time for it!” 

“I just wanted to catch up, that’s all.”

“Catch up!” He echoes you loudly enough to make some of the passersby glance over with varying degrees of confused and indignant looks. “What is there even to catch up on, huh? I’ve just been putting bullet holes in bad guys for the last some odd years and I reckon you’ve been doing the same since you’re still standing here. Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

The two of you reach the sloping stairs at that point and start to make your way up together. It does not escape your notice that he seems to be far too focused on chiding you to give his purposeful strides any further thought and he was likely just retracing the same path he’d taken before. It was probably best to keep him talking then. 

“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about me? After all, you did take the time to teach me how to handle a gun. I’d think you’d be more interested to know how that’s panned out in the long run. I promise I’m a much better shot now.” 

Boothill lifts a dark brow at the playful lilt in your voice, allowing a sharp toothed grin to tug at his mouth now. “Is that so? You must think you’re something real slick if you’re trying to brag. Think you’re big enough to beat me in a quick draw, little missy?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of taking you on in this lifetime.” You murmur, smiling to yourself when he beats you to one of the front entrance doors by a single step so he can yank it open to grant you entry. Evidently his gruff manner of a chivalrous gunslinger was so deeply ingrained in his subconscious that he doesn’t even give it a second thought now and you certainly weren’t going to question it. 

Slipping into the hotel lobby, he comes in after you with a big, boisterous laugh, his boot spurs rattling with each step. “Well, at least you understand the pecking order. You’re still a few decades too early to go up against me and hope to win, but don’t let that discourage ya’. You must be good enough to have survived this long.” 

“It’s really only thanks to you, Mr. Boothill. I had no idea what I was doing until you came along!” 

“Aww, shucks. Stop it, darling. You’ll have this old dog blushing here in a minute if you keep that up.” 

You wonder if cyborgs that are more machine than man could actually blush as you totter along next to him. Through the lobby, up an elevator, into one of many hotel lounge bars and then up another set of stairs until you find yourself wandering down a long corridor together. He still hasn’t quite figured out your angle while you keep layering compliments and feeding just enough of a line to keep him talking about something or another to distract him. It clearly works too, and Boothill doesn’t even hesitate to unlock his room's door nor does he seem to stop long enough to realize you’re slipping inside with him, right on his heels and just as unobtrusive as any shadow. 

His gruff laughter dying off to a slow, drawling chuckle, the Galaxy Ranger turns towards the little coffee table just inside the spacious room and moves to unholster his pistol so he could set it down. But he freezes halfway through the motion as if suddenly realizing he hadn’t made the trip up here alone. For a harrowing stretch of moments he doesn’t move so much as a finger before all at once rounding on you with an aggressive bark

“You! What do you think you’re - -“

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Boothill.” You tell him sweetly, batting your lashes for extra effect. “You let me in here, remember?” 

“Like hell I did! I never gave you an invitation to come sashaying in here, you little - -“

Quickly ducking under his reaching hand, you dance back to keep at least an arms length between you and him, giggling the whole time. “Hey, don’t be mean to me! I’m your precious junior, aren’t I?” 

“Muddle-fudger!” 

The next handful of seconds feel like they go by in a torturous, slow motion blur. 

You’d underestimated the full scope of his reach and now that he knows you’re playing games with him, he doesn’t hold back. 

His hand strikes out at you like a snapping serpent, full force and quicker than you can conceivably react. You were good, all things considered, but not quite as good as him. 

Your neck is suddenly caught between the cool, pinching metal of his bionic fingers, his palm slamming into your throat hard enough to make you gag. 

Winded and startled, Boothill drags you stumbling towards the table where he shoves you back against it, half picking you up by the neck to get you on top of the shuddering surface. 

Then he’s slamming you down to lay flat out, the force of the impact dislodging a disgruntled sound from your aching chest. 

And he finally leans over you, pinning you there with his hand locked against your throat so he can shove the barrel of his gun right in your face again. 

It’s over in the time it takes you to blink, leaving you dazed and panting as you stare up along the dark iron muzzle to look into his face. You’re not the least bit surprised to find he isn’t even breathing any harder after all of that and you let out a threadbare, groaning laugh, unable to help yourself even when you were staring death right in the eyes. 

“What is so funny, huh?” He dangerously snarls, nudging his pistol at you for emphasis. “Fork me, I don’t remember you being crazy but it looks like you knocked a few screws loose somewhere along the way. Are you looking for me to remedy that for you?” 

His thumb curls up at that to pointedly flick the safety off with a click that sounds deafening from this close up. 

You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stopper the moan that tries to rattle its way up your constricting throat, carefully shifting against him to feel the solid weight of his narrow hips between your legs. Although pissing him off hadn’t exactly been your goal when you’d first approached him, this was still very much turning out as you’d hoped it would. 

“I’m afraid it’s not my head that needs fixing, Mr. Boothill.” 

A genuinely perplexed look crosses his face at that. “Son of a nice — what the hell are you even saying, you little brat? You don’t make a lick of sense, you know that?” 

Drawing a slow breath to steady yourself, you cautiously bring your hand up to grasp at the metal wrist pinning your neck down. That he allows it instead of pumping you full of lead right then and there seems as good a sign as any to keep going, so you do. 

“Do you want the truth?” 

“If you value your life, you’d better start talking quick.” 

“It’s you, Mr. Boothill. You’re what’s wrong with me. And it’s not my head that’s the problem. It’s down here.” Stiffly, you roll your hips upward to deliberately grind your cunt against the front of him. It’s hard to say if he can feel anything at all with so much of his body being metal, but he sees the shuddering motion and trails his attention down to the spot where he’s standing between your legs. 

His mouth drops open to reveal that razor sharp row of teeth again, gun hand wavering slightly in your face. “Huh?” 

“Do you remember when you were teaching me how to track and take down bad guys? I thought you were so cool, Mr. Boothill … I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all this time either. I was hoping I’d run into you again someday even if the chances were slim to none, so when I saw you on the street it felt a little bit like fate.” 

“Wha — fate? Girl, have you lost your gosh darned mind? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in possession of a flesh and blood body. What the fudge do you expect me to do with you?” Irritably clicking tongue, he angles his pistol skyward in a smooth, well practiced motion and eases back just enough to pin you with a hard look. “Maybe if you’d caught me before I had to sell my soul to the reaper then we could have talked, but I’ve got too much to do to be messing around with you like that. I ain’t got nothing for you I’m afraid.” 

You see the grim resignation in his expression for what it is, understanding that he was going to pull away from you before he actually moves to do it. He only makes it so far as letting up on your neck though before you manage to rouse yourself enough to bring your legs up and wrap them around his deceptively dainty waist to lock him there. 

Stiffening slightly, Boothill glances down at the lurid spread of your thighs, soft and form fitted to the sharp contours of his hips. Your dress had ridden up in all the excitement and now seemed dangerously close to flashing your lacy underwear at him but not quite yet. All it would take is a simple nudge of your hand though, and you hold the breath in your lungs as you watch him mentally process through that fact. 

“You little hussy - -“ 

“Please, Mr. Boothill.” You beg, tightening your legs around him. “I know this probably isn't what you would have had in mind otherwise but … there is something you could give me. An extension of you that would make me just as happy as anything else would.” 

He seems to go still for the stretch of a single heartbeat, and then another when he slowly brings his shuttered gaze up to look you in the face again. You’re not entirely sure what’s going through his head in that moment, but he seems less angry with you now and a bit more interested in what you had to say. 

Finally, he almost thoughtfully tips his head to one side. “What do you mean?” 

You send the pistol in his hand a pointed glance, making him suck in a stilted breath. Evidently he’d never thought about it or truly considered this as an option before, or maybe he simply hadn’t thought anyone would ever be fool enough to want that. But for better or worse, as a Galaxy Range or perhaps as a follower of Lan’s hunt, you weren’t scared of a little risk to go with the pleasure. 

“You’re fudgin’ serious.” He murmurs, sounding equal parts impressed and appropriately cowed. 

A brief laugh huffs out of him as he shakes his head, and you slowly reach one of your hands down to just pinch at the front of your dress so you can tug it up. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we parted ways, Mr. Boothill. I always knew your body wasn’t whole anymore so I guess I just kind of naturally started thinking about potential substitutes.” 

“And now here you are.” 

You smile at that. “Yes, here I am. Offering myself to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You feel the first cool waft of air against your silk and lace panties then, shuddering ever so softly as you inch the fabric higher still to give him a good look at you. Running into him like this had been the very definition of an unexpected encounter so you weren’t wearing anything overly sexy or revealing, but they were still cute. They also showed off the pudgy seam of your cunt where the material was lightly moulded to you, thanks to the damp slick starting to gather along the crease as much as from the nudge of his pelvis when he’d pinned you down. 

He just stares at you for an uncertain beat though, looking at your pussy with a clear note of wanting reflected in his one visible eye but quickly concealed with a quiet scoff. Turning his head to focus on something else, he raises his gun to thumb the safety back on before somewhat warily bringing it down to waist level where he hesitates. 

“I could really hurt you doing something like this, darling.” 

“You won’t. I trust you.”

Your breath is coming a little quicker now, sped up by the onset of anticipation and quick mounting excitement. He was tempted, that much was obvious. Either because the lack of a working, fleshy cock made encounters like this unnecessary and redundant for him, an exceedingly rare indulgence he didn’t often have a chance to participate in anymore, or perhaps it was simply because he was just as much of a thrill seeker as you were. Maybe even some deadly combination of the two. 

But you could tell in his confident, hot headed swagger as much as his face, the only part of his original body that was still left, that he was not actually the old dog he sometimes fashioned himself to be. He’d likely been approaching his mid twenties when he underwent the full transition to a bionic body and was in truth only a few years older than you. That he’d chosen this path over keeping his cock, something most men centered their whole identity around, spoke volumes of his true nature.

That is what had stuck with you all this time and what kept you awake on many a lonely night. There was something so uniquely charming about him in a rugged, old west kind of way that you couldn’t help but want him as you do. 

So you slowly inch your legs further apart, letting them settle into a wide spread that leaves your pantied cunt vulnerable and plainly offered up to him. Boothill’s gaze wanders down to regard you at the shift, his yearning for the warmth of your body settling across his face in a pained grimace. There was very likely some part of him that missed his old skin and you were all too happy to give him the chance to feel even a small fraction of what it was like to be human again. 

“Right here.” You prod, fingers slipping back down to just feel over the apex of your mound. 

Listlessly rousing himself, Boothill lifts his gun to nudge it into the space between your thighs where he lightly runs the cool metal barrel over your underwear. It’s a featherlight and fleeting sensation, but so monumentally heavy in its implication that your chest hitches with a little gasp. 

He seems to settle into the idea quickly enough at the threadbare whimper you let out and he presses the hard contour into you a bit more firmly to trace over the outline of your labia. You draw in a faintly shuddering breath in an attempt to steady yourself somewhat as your hips twitch up into the sensation, encouraging him on. 

“If I would have known this was the kind of hairbrained stunt you were going to pull later on,” He drawls in a gruff voice. “I never would have gone out of my way to help you out back then. You’re nothing but fudging trouble, girl.” 

“I only learned from the best.” 

That earns you a quiet, scoffing laugh, but Boothill keeps the motion of his gun steady and light even when you roll your cunt against it in search of more of that gratifying pressure. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling unbearably antsy like this when you've thought of and fantasized about this exact moment too many times to count, so you reach down a little further to catch the side of your panties with a finger. 

Slowly pulling it to the side for him, you carefully watch Boothill’s face to see the mild flash of surprise that crosses his expression. It’s gone in an instant though, replaced by a hungry, masculine edge as he peers down at the invitingly soft seam of your body, the vaguely damp curls that frame the tight, warm clutch where he would have happily buried himself in a past life. That’s not feasible now though, and he makes do with simply inching his pistol closer to just barely touch cold iron to your labia. 

Your reaction is physical as much as it is mental, sharply pulling in a breath at the firm nudge against the most tender part of you. His gun is hard and unrelenting, something that registers in your mind as innately dangerous despite the exceedingly gentle way he touches you with it. Caressing over creases and folds with a fleshy drag to part the lips and expose more of your cunt to his voracious sights. 

“Well I’ll be darned. You’re already getting wetter than a cucumber in a women’s prison, you little trollop.” 

A rattling sound of confusion slips out of you at that but you’re a little too focused on what he’s doing to you to focus on his strange turns of phrase right now. 

Shuddering faintly, you push up on your elbow so you can glance down and get a better view of the tarnished gold barrel prodding at you. The simple visual alone is so much better than you could have envisioned it would be, especially when he was standing over you like this in reality and not in your dreams. A quiet, needy mewl slips out of you then as you redirect the fingers between your legs inward to pull your labia open for him. 

Boothill issues a low whistle into the static charged air, directing the pistol upward to tease over your clit which weakly clings to the iron muzzle. The resulting meaty jostle makes you seethe and eagerly jut your hips up in search of more, feeling very nearly delirious now with the potent rush of arousal. You already felt like you were going to cum but you didn’t want it to be over just yet. 

“Please.” You rattle, starting to fidget on top of the table. “I want you, Mr. Boothill.” 

“Well, you can want it all you want but that don’t mean I’m gonna’ give it to ya’.” 

He starts to pull back then, pistol sliding away from your cunt, and you noise a frantic sound of confusion at him. 

That’s about all you manage before he’s suddenly leaning over you with a decisive motion, his open hand bracing on the table next to you while his narrow waist slots into the squeeze of your inner thighs again. You full on tremble at the sudden proximity of him as much as the not so subtle push of his front against your pussy. He’s just as hard and unrelenting, and cool to the touch as his gun is, but that doesn’t deter you half as much as it excites you. 

You feel wild and frenzied now, half crazed with the fast pumping sear of adrenaline working through your system as you tip your head back to look up at him. There’s a grumpy frown tugging at his mouth, grudging acceptance written across his face, and you shudder fiercely when he brings the pistol up to draw it across your lips to let you taste yourself on the barrel. 

“Open up that pretty little mouth of yours, darling.”

Unhesitatingly, you do exactly that, tongue flicking out to trace a suggestive line over the muzzle. Your mouth is immediately overwhelmed with the taste of oil, bitter residue and such a blinding, overwhelming sense of danger that your eyes immediately start to roll back in your head. You felt like you were moments away from cumming completely untouched, so worked up and excited that your pussy involuntarily clenches tight around nothing. 

It makes your head spin alarmingly fast and you don’t even think to fight it when he angles the gun to slip it past your open lips and just wedge the end of the barrel between your teeth. Groaning a delirious sound around the intrusion, you flex your mouth to find a comfortable position but it’s no use. It’s too wide and sharply edged for your jaw, and copious sheets of drool quickly begin to pool in the back of your throat while you choke on the cold, bitter taste. 

Rumbling a low sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a pleasured groan, Boothill tentatively rolls his metal hips into you, grinding himself against your cunt to make you spasm on top of the table. With your mouth mercilessly wedged open like this all you can do is plaintively mewl and groan increasingly strained noises while he finds a rhythm to settle into. And it just makes your pussy impotently throb, the pressure of his bionic waist pushing against you so exquisite it just serves to wind you up even tighter until you’re all but vibrating underneath him. 

“Holy Wubbaboo.” He breathes out, awed and a little taken aback as he starts to work his hips faster. Harder. Driving the front of his body against you vigorously enough now that your tits begin to shift under your clothes. “Wasn’t thinking you’d actually like this so darned much. You really are out of your mind.” 

Even though he says that he doesn’t stop fucking into you much the way he would have with a cock, the almost hypnotic pace coupled with the constant application of pressure on your cunt quickly making you slip into a dreamy haze. You were soaked and only getting wetter, and likely leaving sticky slick all over the front of his skin tight pants. But that doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest, his breathy grunts of effort mingling with the tremor of your muffled groans. 

And as the seconds bleed into minutes, the powerful flex of his hips driving into you soon starts up a tiny, sticky wet click where your drooling cunt was clinging to him. It’s just as if he was really fucking you and sound makes you positively writhe in place, so turned on and desperate to be touched that you bring your hands up to blindly fumble with the top of your dress. Your tits spill out with a fleshy bounce and Boothill mutters a particularly colorful curse under his breath when you latch onto them, needily tugging at your own nipples. 

Your jaw hurts from having it wedged open for so long but you barely even notice it now, or the bubbling threads of spit that start to run down your cheeks as he shifts the gun to sedately nudge it towards the back of your throat. Even when you uncontrollably shake and judder there on the table, back bowing into a dramatic arch at the first, pulsing onset of your orgasm, he just follows you with his hand to keep your lips stretched uncomfortably wide around the barrel. 

That’s how you finally cum, wailing an incomprehensibly shrill sound that’s almost entirely smothered by the pistol, fingers frantically pulling at your teats. Your pussy almost hurts from all the hard, unrelenting pressure of his metal frame but release still registers as a great relief somewhere in the back of your cotton stuffed head which bonelessly lolls back in a stupor while you pitifully twitch through the spasms. 

It’s over much too fast, just as you’d known it would be when you realized how quickly you were climbing that peak, and a deeply frazzled sound slips out of you when he at last moves to ease the gun out of your mouth. Left raggedly panting and trying to swallow down the lingering bitter taste of iron, you simply lie there while he straightens up to stand over you. The fact he does not immediately move from his spot between your legs catches your attention only in so much as a dreamy, far away thought, but you don’t quite have the power to act on it or even speak about it. 

And then his hand comes up to unexpectedly slip under your chin, forcing your face back around to make you look at him. For a long moment the two of you just stare at one another, you trying to steady your breathing while he just seems to thoughtfully study you with a little wrinkle of deliberation forming between his knitted brows. 

Finally, Boothill clicks his tongue and readjusts his grip to hold along your jaw so he can keep you still when he leans down to hover just short of your nose. “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself fudging killed yet if this is how you get your rocks off.” 

“Only when it comes to you.” You murmur back, smiling a pleased, self satisfied grin up at him. There was no denying you felt incredibly good on a physical level, yes, but even more than that … the fact he’d neither sent you away or shot you dead for the insult makes your chest feel helium light. Oh, but you could have stayed here with him for a lifetime just like this. 

“Well, darling. I’ll admit, you’ve managed to pique my interest. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep you alive, especially with the way you like to carry on, but it might still be fun for a while. Whaddya’ say? Want to tag along with me again for a while?” 

As if you had to even think about your answer.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[grievedeeply]

dating glenn rhee headcanons

fem!reader (no pronouns used) | tws: it's the walking dead so.. gore, death and injuries are all talked about. 

notes: this is formatted a bit differently than my other dating headcanons, but i wanted to branch out a bit if that makes sense. i feel like i can go into more detail without it getting messy or making you have a headache. it’s a lot to read without any breaks in between. let me know if you like this way! this is incredibly self indulgent.. so. thank you @energeticsirens for encouraging me in my delusions <3

FIRST MEETING & HE REALIZES HE LIKES YOU

when glenn first meets you, he tries not to stare. he lets his eyes linger on you for a few moments but he doesn’t want you to notice that he’s looking at you 

you’ll become an integral part of the atlanta group. you’re skilled with your weapon of choice, you’re kind and you’re honest, you’re genuine, and that’s what draws glenn to you to easily. you’re just.. good. 

he falls first. he can’t help it. you’re frequently assigned to runs with him which annoy him a bit at the beginning. he’s just used to going into the city on his own and he felt like another person would just drag him down until you came along

you’re capable and you’re a good listener. you don’t question his decisions.. you trust him, and god, it feels good to be trusted. you easily put your life in his hands right from the very beginning

he realizes he likes you at the most mundane moment. you’re just sitting around, talking to someone at camp about whatever it might be.. but you smile and you laugh, and he feels his face heat up

and then you smile at him, waving at him from where you sat. he’s gone, really 

his heart belongs to you long before you ever realize he likes you, but it’s sooo obvious to everyone else in the group

it’s all in the way he looks at you. his eyes get so soft and he has a little grin on his lips every time he sees you 

YOU REALIZE YOU LIKE HIM

it’ll take you a little longer for you to realize that you like glenn. you’ll think he’s attractive from the moment you meet him, but it takes you awhile to even admit your feelings to yourself

you realize you like him in the middle of atlanta. you’re scavenging for supplies— the essentials like food that hasn’t gone bad or clothing that’ll protect against the elements— and glenn is looking around for anything for the kids 

"they’ll get bored with the stuff back at camp,” he says, scouring every isle through the store, “it’s hard enough for us out there. can’t you imagine what it’s like for them? they’re just kids.” he tells you, finally meeting your eyes. 

“the least i can do is find a new toy for them.” he mutters under his breath. he turns a corner and exits your line of sight.. but all you can see is him and his beautiful smile in your mind 

when you return to camp that night, glenn’s carrying an extra bag. he found it somewhere in one of the stores you passed through and filled it with anything and everything he thought the kids would like

you watch as they gather around him, eyes sparkling in curiosity. he pulls the toys out of the bag and they all hug him, knocking him to the ground in the process

he laughs, and you go weak in the knees. you knew then that what you felt for him was more than platonic.. but you didn’t care 

glenn’s heart is what draws you to him. for a man living through an apocalypse, he’s determined to keep his kindness. it’s admirable, and you can’t help but to fall for him

HOW YOU GET TOGETHER

glenn is a bit of an overthinker. he wants everything to be perfect for when he asks you out. or.. as perfect as it can be in a world like yours

realistically, none of the things he wants to do with you are possible. he can’t take you to an aquarium. he can’t bring you to a restaurant. he can’t do all of the cheesy, cliche stuff he saw in the movies before the world fell because it just isn’t possible anymore

his confession comes in the heat of the moment, after a near death experience on your end at the prison. walkers are flooding through a breach in the fence and it’s a picture that’ll be forever etched into his mind. you’re holding a walker back from your neck with your bare hands and he’s powerless to stop it. he watches from the corner of his eye as you finally dig your knife out of the holder on your belt and into it’s skull. it falls to the floor and you pull back with a huff 

he resists the urge to run to you and instead breathes out a sigh of relief that you’re still alive and standing with him. you go back to killing walkers as if nothing had happened, but his thoughts linger on how you almost died right in front of him

once the waves stop and the fence is back up, glenn goes to find you. you’re in a more secluded area of the prison, sitting with your back against the cold brick of the wall

“you mind?” glenn asks, gesturing to the empty spot on the floor between you. you shake your head and he sits next to you. you sit in silence for a little while, just enjoying each others company

“no bites?” his voice cuts through the silence. “no bites.” you repeat back to him, a breath escaping through your lips

“i thought.. you almost died, y/n.” he mutters, finally turning his head in your direction. he had been staring at the wall before but now his eyes are pouring into yours, and you don’t know what to do or say anymore. “i’m alright,” you reassure him, pulling up the sleeves on your shirt to show your skin to him. no bites, as you promised. 

“i know. but seeing that made me realize that i don’t want you in danger. ever. i care about you too much to let something like that happen again.” he tells you, voice filled with determination. “i’m sorry,” he says immediately after, “but i can’t.. i can’t.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “can’t what?” you ask, and his words cut you off from being able to continue your train of thought 

“i like you.” 

the room is silent again, and you can practically hear the beating of your own heart in your ears. glenn doesn’t break your gaze as he waits for you to say something.. anything

“fuck, glenn.” you whisper out to him, shaking your head, pulling your lip between your teeth. “i like you too.” you tell him after a pause

you can see his face light up, and he immediately wraps you in the biggest hug he can muster. his grip is tight, and his face is buried in your neck

“you have to promise me that if you need help you’ll call for me, okay?” 

“okay,” you reply.

you can feel him smile against your skin. 

FIRST KISS

he wants your first kiss together to be special. but god, he wants to kiss you so bad. he doesn’t know how much longer he can resist doing it

he just.. adores you. he looks at you and the weight of the world falls off his shoulders. he has so much he needs to protect but he sees you and it feels normal again

the two of you spend a lot of time on guard together. it’s a quiet way to get to see each other and glenn thinks it’s really special. sometimes you’ll get distracted and start talking. talking about life before the world fell, and you’ll talk about the future 

it’s in one of these moments that he kisses you. you’re talking about something, and you aren’t even looking at him. you’re looking up at the sky or at the trees, he can’t tell, but you just look so.. beautiful. your eyes are sparkling in the sunlight and your smile is so bright

he can’t hold back anymore. he lifts his hand to your cheek, and you turn to look at him. his gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

“can i kiss you?” he asks. you nod, blinking a few times. his voice was so soft. you never wanted to stop hearing him talk

with your words, he closes his eyes and presses his lips to yours. his lips are just as gentle as his voice is, and his touch eases you into him and makes you weak at the knees. his other hand moved to cup your other cheek, and yours fell limp at your sides. he held onto your face and kept you close..

you were made for him, he thinks. your lips fit against his so perfectly, he can’t help but to believe it. two pieces of a puzzle made whole

he pulls away, chuckling breathlessly. his eyes meet yours, and the two of you just laugh, melting away into each others arms. his forehead presses to yours, and he doesn’t ever want this moment to end

FIRST I LOVE YOU

he says it first, and it slips out without him even realizing he said it

the two of you finally have some downtime, away from the responsibilities of helping to keep your group safe. you’re sitting together, your fingers entwined as you talk about whatever might be on your mind

glenn’s paying attention, he swears he is, but he gets so lost in you that he forgets to respond sometimes. his gaze is soft and he is completely and utterly infatuated by you

you wave your hand in front of his face and pull him out of his thoughts, a soft grin on your lips. still, your eyes show concern

“you alright?” you ask after a pause, and he nods, eyes skimming across your features. he wants to memorize you. he wants to keep every single detail of you in his memory

“you sure?” you ask again, brows raised as though you don’t believe him. he nods again, moving a little closer to you. “just thinking about how much i love you.” he says through a smile, and your features soften

it takes him a moment to realize what he said, but he can’t back on it now, and he doesn’t want to. he’ll just look away from you for a few moments until your hand comes to rest on his cheek, turning his attention and his head back to you

“i love you too.” you whisper, pressing your forehead to his

he swears his heart melts in this moment. he had never felt so loved and safe in someones arms before. he lets out a relieved sigh, his arms wrapping around your waist

“good,” he chuckles, “i love you so much.” he says again. he doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of saying those words

you nuzzle into him, “i love you too, glenn.” 

he shuts his eyes. everything is perfect. 

INTIMACY

glenn adores being intimate. moments where he gets to hold you in his arms are very few and far between, so he cherishes each and every one of them

when he’s around, he’ll most likely have a hand on you. it might be wrapped around your shoulder or your waist, but it’s there. you help to ground him into reality, but he really just likes feeling you next to him

he loves to cuddle. there’s something so special about laying down next to you and scooping you up into his arms

he’ll usually be the big spoon.. but on his bad days, he just wants to be held. he loves feeling your lips on his neck and hearing your reassuring words, even if they’re muffled by his skin

he loves falling asleep next to you. sometimes, you won’t even be touching, but by the morning your legs are tangled together and your head is buried in his chest

he’s really big on kissing, too. he just adores the feeling of your lips against his and he never wants to stop once he starts. your lips are so soft and so sweet, he’ll melt into your arms as soon as you start kissing him

kissing him out of the blue will always get him flustered. you’ll come up to him and kiss him for a few seconds and walk away, going back to whatever you were doing before. he’ll just watch as you leave, slack jawed and blushing 

it isn’t just physical intimacy that you two share, though. you’re both very open about your emotions. you’re transparent about your feelings and deepest fears, helping each other to get through anything and everything

he’ll talk about losing you. ever since he met you, it’s his biggest worry. the world is cruel and unforgiving, and one misstep could result in you getting hurt or killed. he can’t handle thinking about it, but you reassure him

you may not have all the time in the world, but dwelling on it now when everything is okay won’t do anything but make yourself miserable

you’ll take his hand in your own and rest your head on his shoulder, whispering soft ‘i love yous’ over the breeze  

LOVE LANGUAGES

glenn doesn’t restrict himself to just one love language.. so he’ll indulge in every single one of them to cater to the moment or how he’s feeling

first, acts of service. he’ll find himself doing anything and everything he can to make your life easier. if he has time, he’ll help you with whatever task you might be working on. he’ll make you breakfast every day so you don’t have to cook. he’ll do your laundry when you’re feeling down. little things that— in his eyes— make all the difference

gift giving. he loves to give you gifts. he’ll find all sorts of different things while he’s out on a run, and sometimes they just happen to remind him of you. it could be a toy of your favorite animal, a book you mentioned liking, a poster of something you enjoy.. anything. he will shower you in these gifts when he can. he just feels like you deserve it

quality time is big for glenn. he loves being around you. he’ll just sit in silence with you if that’s what you want to do. as long as he gets to be in your company for awhile, that’s all that matters to him. there’s something so special about sitting next to you and relishing in each others just.. being there. it helps him remember that you’re real, and you’re his

words of affirmation is a frequent one for him. he says he loves you over and over again. he sees you often, but he won’t let you walk away without hearing him say it to you. he compliments you, your skills, your beauty and your kindness, all the time. he’ll also just tell you how much he appreciates you and how much he values you being around, even if you aren’t actively talking

psychical touch! glenn loves holding you, as mentioned before. the feeling of you next to him is so grounding. the world may be horrible now, but he has you, and that’s what having you in his arms makes him remember. he loves holding your hand, kissing you, any sort of thing that lets him hold you tight

MISCELLANEOUS

he’s just.. the sweetest person in the world. he would lay down and die for you if he had to, and he truly believes he got lucky with you

he loves with everything in him. he loves with his heart, his soul, his mind, everything. he will absorb you and enjoy you as much as you will let him. he will never tire of you

he is so great at comforting you. if you’re feeling upset or stressed out, glenn’s by your side. his arm wraps around your shoulders and he’ll let you talk about it. if you don’t feel like it, he’ll tell you how much he loves you and all of the things he adores about you

he has the most soothing presence. just him being next to you is enough to calm you down, make you happy, anything. his voice is soooo.. so soft too

he’ll whisper sweet things in your ear throughout the day and as he gets more confident in himself in terms of your relationship, he’ll do a bit of teasing in front of the others. he’ll kiss you in front of the group, he’ll wrap his arms around you and hug you from behind.. all of it flusters you, and he lives for it 

he loves to look at you. he gets lost in your eyes so easily and he’ll find himself staring at you a lot

he’s the bravest person you’ve ever known. he’ll stand in front of you and protect you no matter what the situation might be 

he’s just.. so sweet. the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. loving, caring, gentle and so incredibly beautiful inside and out

he has the purest heart and intentions and it shows in everything he does 

it shows in how he loves :) 

[primussavethesemechs]

I want the human/cybertronian life difference to be talked about more in canon

Cuz I mean. it’s RIGHT THERE.

Just a smidgen of true acknowledgment I BEG YOU HASBRO‼️

i mean come on all it takes is someone mentioning how long the wars been going for one of the humans to go “4 MILLION YEARS???? WHAT THE FUCK HOW OLD ARE YOU???”

And optimus or ratchet to be like “…5/7 million?” And all of the humans to have a break down CUZ WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUVE BEEN ALIVE SINCE BEFORE THE HUMAN SPECIES EXISTED??? WE WERE MONKEYS WHEN YOU WERE BORN???

And the (woefully uniformed) cybertronians to be like “??? What do YOU mean your species was still evolving when I onlined, how long do you guys live?? A thousand?? A few hundred??”

And the gobsmacked humans to be like “??? NO WE HARDLY LIVE OVER A HUNDRED ITS CONSIDERED AN ACCOMPLISHMENT?? AVERAGE OLD AGE DEATH IS LIKE MID 80s!! TECHNICALLY THE AVERAGE LIFE SPAN IS 72 OR SOMETHING???”

Cue the autobots being like “😨 72??? THATS A CHILD WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT⁉️”

the more attached/emotional bots looking at their charges and realizing that not only are they sparklings compared to them but they’ll die as sparklings too in just a few decades, causing them to straight up have a mini meltdown.

Yeah they’re in a war and they’ve lost plenty of friends, but never to anything as predictable and inescapable as old age.

It’s the seeing-it-coming part that gets to them, the slow dread of knowing that even if they do everything right and keep them out of danger and they stay healthy there’s nothing they can do to stop them from withering away in a couple of decades.

Most versions of bumblebee looking at their charge/friend and realizing his assumptions about the fact that since they’re both still young that they’ll have plenty of time to just. Live together and have fun- are wrong?? Immediately tears. Even if cybertronians can’t cry tears he’s doing whatever the equivalent is and running away to cry in his room. And then running back to snatch them and take them with him cuz HE CANT WASTE A SECOND IF THEIR LIFESPANS ARE REALLY THAT SHORT HES GONNA JUST HAVE TO SPEND 24/7 WITH THEM

This whole concept ESPECIALLY applies to TFP since all of them got their own little human buddy and there’s only like 5 autobots to begin with (of the main season 1 crew) they’ve lost so many of their own so recently, their numbers are already dwindling down to nothing, they’re losing the war and the kids are what’s given them a major morale boost. To continue fighting they need hope, and the kids have kind of become their hope for the future- to know they’ll die off in under a century despite how young they still are is a shot to the spark.

Look me in the eye and tell me bee wouldnt panic hearing that Raf only has 70-80 years to live. LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME HE WOULDNT HAVE SOME KIND OF FIT OVER BEING TOLD THAT HIS LITTLE BUDDY (from a cybertronian perspective) HAS A LIFESPAN EQUIVALENT TO A LATE STAGE TERMINAL ILLNESS DIAGNOSIS. Bee would start treating Raf like a kid with stage 4 cancer 😭

I just KNOW bulkhead would have the worst reaction other than bee, maybe even worse cuz he looks at miko and realizes she’s used up basically a fifth of her entire lifespan already and she’s Still So Little and straight up starts weeping. That’s his DAUGHTER you can’t take her from him so soon it’s not FAIR! He might have to go destroy a canyon wall or something to let some of the anger and grief out

Arcee is Not taking it well either.

She JUST got attached to this one, just got used to a new partner and your telling her that no matter what she does he’s never going to last as long as tailgate of cliff jumper did?? Even if both he and she do everything they’re supposed to do to protect him and extended his life?? Depression time baby

Optimus and ratchet don’t react as much outwardly to the news as the others but inside they’re both 💔💥

These kids have brought optimus a level of contentment he hasn’t felt in vorns, and he sees how bright their spirits shine- Only to now know those precious spirits will burn out in less than a century- it gnaws at him inside, yet another strike from the cruelty of fate

Ratchet is devastated but refuses to acknowledge it, these kids- yes even miko- have become his pseudo grandkids and he’s not ready, nor will he ever be ready, to outlive them. Jacks reminds him too much of a younger optimus, still learning and still hopeful. Miko is… well she has a fire to her that ratchet can appreciate (when she’s not actively annoying him) she’s determined enough to make anything happen which he does begrudgingly respect even if he wishes she wouldn’t just throw herself into any and every situation just for fun.

And Raf…

Raf is his apprentice, the only one of the kids to understand him and listen intently to his stories of cybertron. To show appreciation for his work and his ideas, to Listen and Learn and Improve his inventions. He harbors the most fondness for Raf since he sees so much potential in him, and has taken him under his wing in teaching him cybertronian language and biology.

He feels almost like he’s training a student to take his place- only for the ground to be ripped out from under him to know that Raf will never have the chance to succeed him, will never even outlive him.

A parent should never have to bury their child, and ratchet already feels that he has.

-

TLDR the autobots find out humans have fruit fly lifespans next to them and become one big soggy mess of tears, optimus and ratchet included although they try to have a stiff upper lip about it (and fail to varying extents)

I swear this was supposed to be about any and all continuities but TFP took over completely😭 idk it just fits the best since they focus so much on how attached the bots get to the kids

Edit: btw this was inspired from the fact I found out that the cybertronian equivalent to a year (yes I know technically they have solar cycles which are roughly a human year but what they consider a year vs their lifespan/time perception is different) is a vorn. A vorn is 80 HUMAN YEARS. I saw that and went “oh wow a vorn is like a whole human lifespan!😃” and then I went “OH A VORN IS A WHOLE HUMAN LIFESPAN 😀“

[garbinge]

That One Christmas Without Carmy

Michael "Mikey" Berzatto & Platonic!F!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge (22/30)

Word Count: 2k A/N: A little flashback with Mikey.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of abuse, angst, sadness, depression. Other fics from this universe The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak @kmc1989

It was the one Christmas Carmy didn’t come home. With how things were with him, you weren’t shocked. He barely answered your texts, you talked for two minutes every few months. Things were just different, you knew he was distancing himself. It took some time but you put the pieces together as to why and weren’t going to force him into anything. 

You walked into the house, apple cider in your hand, something you did every year you came. Sugar hated that Donna drank herself a mess every holiday, which made bringing alcohol feel wrong, not to mention when you started coming over for these events as an adult, you were still under the legal drinking age and you knew food was off limits when Donna was cooking the 7 fishes. So apple cider it was. 

Not bothering to engage in whatever conversation was happening in the living room, you moved throughout the house looking for a quiet corner to just collect your thoughts. Life had been pretty rocky lately, you just moved back not that long ago and you still felt like you were trying to get your footing from being in Indiana with the jackass that was your ex. You weren’t sure what life held for you, but the pressure alone was enough to weigh you down. 

You let out the deepest sigh as you collapsed your back on the wall next to the pantry where Mikey was standing, the only quiet corner of the house that wasn’t the bathroom which was currently being hot boxed by the Faks. 

He let out a chuckle and a head shake, letting his long hair fall all crazy around him. 

“Just need a minute.” You stared at the ceiling. 

“Feel that.” Mikey was now staring up at the ceiling with you. “Sorry about the craziness.” 

“Ironically, Mikey, this is the most stable environment I’ve been in.” 

“You know that’s fucked, right?” He looked over at you with a smile. 

“Beats sitting in an empty house waiting for a santa that never comes.” You remembered the one Christmas in middle school where your dad told you he was going to visit Santa and to stay in the living room and he’d be back with gifts, he didn’t show back up for 3 days, and all he had in his hand was a public indecency ticket and a 6-pack. “I don’t think you get how much this shit means to me Mikey. You, Sug, Carm, shit, even Richie. You guys saved me, Donna being well,” you pointed to the kitchen as a way to replace any verb that just felt completely underwhelming in comparison of the action, “it’s something I’d happily deal with just to have your guys company.” 

“We love you, kid.” He grabbed your shoulder, staring at you. 

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. 

“You talk to him lately?” 

“No.” He answered quickly. “You?” He was now staring down at the floor, waiting for an answer.

“Not really. Maybe a month ago. He actually called me once, wished me a happy half birthday.” You chuckled and looked over at Mikey who was making a weird face. “It’s like a tradition.” You started to explain since he looked very confused. “We’ve done it since we were kids.” You shrugged. “But other than that and a text to let me know he wasn’t coming home, he hasn’t answered my calls. Barely texts me back.” 

“You know last year, he was standing right there where you are, giving me shit ‘bout talking to Claire Bear for him.” He laughed at the memory while you rolled your eyes. “Jealous?” Mikey caught you and smirked. 

“Barely.” You huffed. “It’s just so crazy you guys can’t see it.” You shrugged and looked at Mikey who was giving you a look like ‘are you going to continue?’. It made you laugh but you obliged. “You’re gonna make fun of me and him for saying this, but Carm, he’s so delicate. He gets tipped off his scale so easily you gotta ease him into things. I bet you, you, Richie, and Fak bum rushed him about how hot she is, and how he needs to hit that and whatever. That shit throws him off, you gotta be smooth with it. When he’s here, he’s waiting for something to tip the scales, that's why it’s so easy to tip.” 

“It was cousin Steve, not Fak, but you’re not wrong, that is what happened.” He nodded, letting his hand rest on the frame across from him as his head dropped and his back was still against the other side of the frame. “It’s like you’re his best friend or some shit.” It was meant as a joke, a light hearted comment but it held a lot more weight for you.

“I don’t know about that anymore.” 

“What happened to you out in Indiana. Could tell shits been different for you since then.” Mikey continued the conversation, his leg now lightly kicking the door frame as a subconscious tik. 

“Some really fucked shit happened. After all of it, I went to see Carmy, could tell he was working really hard to separate himself from this, and I just so happen to be a part of this. I think I tip the scales.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I most definitely tip the fuckin’ Carmy scales.” Mikey laughed, looking back down at the ground. 

“You know, you’re like a brother to me, Mikey.” That comment brought his eyes back up to you, his head nodding and his hair flopping all over the place as he acknowledged you. 

“I love you like a sister, you know this, sometimes even more than Sugar, you don’t ask Ma if she’s okay 20 times a day.” He teased, a smile growing on his face. 

It was nice to see him smile, it was so rare these days it felt like. 

“Your moms scales are easily tipped, too. Probably where Carm gets it.” You were now walking past him in the door frame and sitting on the radiator box that was parallel to the stairs. “Guess I got my dad’s scales, untippable.” You shrugged as you jumped up. 

“Think I got mine’s too.” Mikey’s eyebrows raised, he shifted his positioning, so he was facing you since you moved, but quickly mimicked how he was standing before, back against the door frame, hand on the opposite side holding him up. “How is your Pops?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s Christmas Eve so, drunk, probably in a casino.” 

“Some things don’t change.” His eyes were now connected to yours. 

“And yet I feel like I can’t recognize my life anymore.” Your legs began to kick back and forth slightly hitting the radiator beneath you.

“Well, a lot of things do change.” Mikey shrugged, a smile growing on his face at the irony of his statements. 

“Funny guy.” You smiled back. 

“Bear made me this drawing that Christmas. Told me about Copenhagen.” He let out a deep sigh. “I tipped the scale though.” 

“He just misses you, Mike. Wishes he was doing this with you.” It was spoken like it was so obvious and Mikey missed all the signs. 

“He told you that?” It was curious how he asked, like he knew all along, but there was some shit no one but him knew that prevented it all from happening. 

“No, but I know he told you that, he’s my best friend, I've known him since we were kids, I know what he’s thinking before he thinks it.” You spoke jokingly but obviously.

“It’s just a mess here.” Mikey wasn’t in the mood to joke about this and you could tell that immediately.

“But it’s home.” You spoke in the same seriousness.The doorbell rang and you looked at Mikey and quickly nodded your head to the right. “I’ll get it.” 

Mikey stayed leaning against the pantry’s door frame as you walked over to the front door. With a smile, you tossed open the door, expecting to see Pete or even one of the Fak’s since they always managed to lock themselves out every year but your heart dropped when you saw him. 

“Hey, I uh, called your dad, said I could probably find you here.” 

The last time you saw this man was when Richie was pointing a gun at him in the middle of The Beef which was last year. That added with the fact that he mentioned talking to your father, you barely got to talk to him and he can just call him up and he offers up your information like its nothing. The feeling of your heart dropping was quickly being replaced with rage bubbling in every part of your boddy, but your hands and arms specifically. 

“What the fuck do you want.” It must’ve been obvious you were getting angry because the man in front of you lifted his arms in a sense on innocence but you knew there was nothing innocent about him. 

“Was back in the area, missed you, I know how much you love the holidays, figured maybe we could go out, catch up, or not talk at all.” His eyebrows raised and as he was talking you definitely smelt the alcohol on his breath. 

“You should actually get the fuck out of here.” Your hand was firm on the door, despite them shaking, ready to slam it closed. 

The man took a step forward now, his begging mixed with a desire to show power. As his hand rested on the door he began to slightly push it open against yours.  “Don’t be like that, I always hated when you were like that, you’re too pretty to have an attitude that ugly.” 

Suddenly, the pushing on the door stopped and you felt a hand right above yours. Turning you saw Mikey standing behind you, taking all the weight of the door in his hand as he held firm with a deep frown on his face. 

“Pretty sure she told you to get the fuck outta here.” 

You weren’t sure if you were mortified or happy someone had your back right now. 

“I’m talkin’ to the lady, alright, don’t mean to be a bother, you don’t–you don’t gotta get involved.” It was said to be nonchalant but anyone could have read between the lines. 

“No, you’re not talkin’ to the lady.” In a way so opposite of his other hand, Mikey lightly touched your shoulder and smiled at you as he nodded behind him. Quickly he was taking your hand in his and moving you behind him. “C’mere sweetheart, stand right there.” He turned his attention back to the man at the door and hardened his face again. “You’re talkin’ to me. Who are you?” 

“I’m a friend.” He pointed to you and tried to peak past Mikey at you. 

“You ain’t shit. This is my house, my property, and she’s my friend. So I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out of here.” Mikey gripped the guy up with such ease, if it wasn’t for the flex of his muscles and the veins on his arms popping out, it wouldn’t have been obvious as to how hard his grip around this guys neck was. He tossed him down the stairs almost like a ragdoll, it helped that the man was in the bag drunk and had little to no reflexes readily available anymore. “If you ring this doorbell or do any other shit in or around this house, I’ll kill you.” With that the door was being slammed and he was turning to look at you. It broke him to see someone he saw as family so scared, your eyes were terrified still. 

He was tossing his arm over your shoulder and pushing you back through the kitchen and to the dining room where the chaos was. A sure way to keep your mind off everything. 

“Hey, c’mon now. Ignore that, let’s steal one of those cannolis, yea?” 

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Kids and a 'break up'

quinn hughes x nhl player!reader

note: takes place probably april 9th

warning: period blood, maybe getting second hand embarrassment, pregnancy/kids talk (no one gets pregnant)

word count: 1k

The sun shining through the blinds, waking Y/n from her deep sleep. Slowly slipping Quinn’s arm from around her waist, shuffling towards the bathroom, the cold apartment is a stark difference from the warm bed especially with just wearing a pair of Quinn’s boxers and a cropped t-shirt. 

The girl washing her face and brushing her teeth, then moving to the toilet, only then did Y/n notice the crisis she was in. She hadn’t gotten her period in a couple months, and it always was irregular so it was only a matter of time until this happened. 

“Oh fuck..” Y/n mumbles to herself, before getting a tampon from under the sink, Quinn had bought some without her asking after the woman started staying over more and more. The boy was always so thoughtful towards her and it wasn’t just this, he learned that she hates onions and when they went out with the team the other night he reminded her to ask for no onions when she forgot, and always lets her have a bite of whatever he’s having. And it was to the point where it was starting to worry Y/n that maybe Quinn was getting attached, but that was not something to worry about right now.

 Then washing her hands, and exiting the bathroom to find Quinn stripping the bed. “No Quinny, you don’t have to do that.” she assures the boy, walking over to her side of the bed to take over, “No, no, I can. Grab another pair of boxers from my drawer.” What he was saying was embarrassing, the fact he saw the blood spot on his boxers she was wearing, but the way Quinn said it was so caring, and understanding. That she couldn’t help but not feel embarrassed at all. Folding up the sheet, and moving towards the door, “I’m gonna go wash these.” “Thanks, Quinny.” “Of course.”

After changing into a new pair of Quinn’s boxers, Y/n makes her way into the living room and seeing the man sitting on the couch, “Hey, baby!” “Hey, sorry about that.” “Nah, it’s fine, it’s natural.. And at least we know you’re not pregnant.” maybe not a good topic to bring up with your teammate/fuck-buddy, especially when he wants more from their relationship. 

“Oh well, don’t have to worry about that.” The woman laughs out, but looking up when she didn’t hear Quinn join in, “What do you mean?” Looking up from her phone, “My tubes are tied, I can’t get pregnant” “Ever?” “No not never, I also got my eggs frozen so after I retire if I want kids I'll have them then.” At that, Y/n thought the conversation was done. But Quinn was not done at all.

“‘If’? You’re not sure you want kids?” Quinn had made all these plans for them in his head, but this was the first time he thought they might not happen; for a reason other than him being too scared to ever ask her out on a date.

But Y/n being Y/n was oblivious to the fact that Quinn clearing wanted more, and that this conversation to him wasn’t between friends, it was between himself and the girl he wants more than anything. So of course, once again, she gives him a one dimensional answer, “Well it’s hard to say, not anytime soon. Not that I had a guy even if I did want them now.”

“What about me?”

There was a significant shift in the air, Y/n finally realising how important this conversation was to him, putting down her phone; looking into Quinn’s eyes, reading every thought, and feeling every emotion. “...Quinn. No. No- that’s not fair, you knew this was nothing serious. We agreed this was nothing serious-”

Quinn abruptly stands, walking into the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water, “I wasn’t done! Quinn, we said we wouldn’t get attached, that this was-” “Well you can't control when you love someone.”

After another pause between them, Y/n not knowing how to process or respond to Quinn’s confession. He loved her. And before this, Y/n thought she didn’t have any feelings other than sexual attraction, but at this moment; Y/n couldn’t say that.

And that terrified her.

“Quinn. We can’t do that. And I don’t feel the same-” The woman was cut off, by Quinn finally fully expressing his emotions, harshly setting the glass in his hand on the counter with a loud noise, “Don’t tell me you don’t. ‘Cause with the way you act with me I can tell you do. And I know that scares you, but I'm tired of pretending that I don't want more with you.”

Turning her face away, no longer being able to look at Quinn any longer without bursting into tears. Because, god, he was right. She liked him- maybe loved him, but that doesn’t change the fact she wasn’t ready. “I don’t.” She had never lied to Quinn, it felt weird coming out of her mouth. 

“Bullshit! I know you do!” “I don’t love you.” “Why can’t you?”

Turning her face back to face the man, tears streaming down her face, and seeing the mirroring image back at her on him. “I think we should end this… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh well, don’t have to worry about that.”

Quickly gathering her things, Y/n exits the apartment she has grown to know so well over the past few months, she loved every part of it. Hot tears were rolling down her cheeks, while in the elevator, in the lobby, and getting in her car. Slamming the door shut, mad at the world, and at herself. “Fuck!” Y/n loved the time she and Quinn spent together, wishing she could let herself be happy, her heart telling her Quinn would never hurt her, but her head telling the opposite. What she didn’t expect to happen was her doing all the hurting.

After the door shuts to his apartment, Quinn letting out all his feelings and emotions, slams his fist into the wall; making a small dent. “Fuck!” At the start of their ‘relationship’ he couldn’t even call it that, Quinn thought he would finally break down all her walls and get to be with the girl he loved, someone he thought would never hurt him, that he spent so much time making sure he didn’t cross boundaries and didn’t hurt her, what he didn’t expect was her doing the all hurting.

~taglist~

@books-hlmc

[waitimcomingtoo]

Joke Me Something Awful Just Like Kisses On The Necks of Best Friends

Pairing: Peter Parker x Best Friend!Reader

Synopsis: Peter deals with the aftermath of kissing his best friend

a/n: is it obvious I got dumped and rewatched new girl 😍😍

Masterlist

“can I come over”

Peter picked his phone off the floor of his fire escape to read the text from you. Peter frowned and got the sneaking suspicion that something was wrong but decided not to worry until he knew there was something to worry about.

“always :) come out the the fire escape when you get here” Peter texted you back.

Ten minutes later, you crawled through Peters window from inside his living room and took a seat next to him on his fire escape. Before you said anything, Peter could tell from the look on your face that you had been crying. His heart hurt to know something had made you cry and he grew determined to make you happy again.

“Hey, Parker.” You said in a quiet voice.

“Hey kid. What’s wrong?” Peter asked and reached over to put a hand on your back.

“What makes you think somethings wrong?” You smiled sarcastically and pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands.

“Probably the panda eyes you got going on.” Peter chuckled and used his thumb to wipe your the mascara that had pooled under your eyes. You gave him an woeful smile and wiped the rest of the mascara away with your sleeves.

“You know that guy I’ve been talking to?” You began. Peter felt white hot jealousy course through him as he was reminded that Brad Davis had asked for your number three months ago and you’d been talking to him ever since.

“Brad? Yeah. I know him.” Peter said without looking at you.

“Well, we had a date tonight after him flaking on me past few weeks. We’d been on a handful of dates at this point so I hoped this would be the one where he finally asked me to be his girlfriend.”

“Did he?”

“Nope. And I could tell he wasn’t going to ask about twenty minutes into the date. So I decided that if he wasn’t gonna ask me, I was gonna have to ask him. And you know what he said to me when I asked?”

“What did he say?”

“He told me the “date” I was so excited for and spent hours getting ready for wasn’t a date to him. In fact, I learned tonight that none of our “dates” were dates to him. He didn’t see them as that. He saw them as us hanging out or whatever.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Peter frowned. “I thought he liked you?”

“So did I. But he never did. He just liked the attention and the compliments and the praise I gave him. I never actually meant something to him. And I know that because he looked me in my eyes tonight and told me he didn’t want to be in a relationship because he didn’t see me romantically. But this whole time, I thought we already were in a relationship. I just thought we hadn’t labeled it yet. But no. We were on completely different pages and now I’ve wasted three months of my life that I can never get back. I just feel so stupid.” You said and started to break down. You covered your face with your hands and cried into them as Peter rubbed your back.

“You’re not stupid.” He assured you. “Brad is stupid.”

“No, I am.” You sniffled. “I can’t believe I gave him my first kiss. I can never get that back.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet. Having one with a jerk is better than not having one at all, right?” Peter offered weakly. It stung him to learn that you had kissed another boy, but he knew he couldn’t be upset about that right now.

“You haven’t kissed anybody?” You asked and cracked a smile.

“Don’t look so happy.” Peter gasped and playfully shoved you. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile while secretly feeling relieved that Peter hadn’t kissed anyone yet.

“I’m sorry. I think that’s sweet. You’re saving it.”

“Am I saving it? Or is it that no girl wants to kiss me?” Peter laughed wryly.

“That’s not true. Believe me, I wish I saved mine. It would’ve been way better with a boy who liked me.” You told him. You locked eyes for a minute and felt a magnetic force pulling you towards Peter. Your eyes dropped to his eyes but before anything could happen, he looked away. He didn’t want to, he just panicked.

“He’s an idiot. And you deserve better.” Peter said to avoid an awkward silence.

“Whatever that means.” You smiled sadly before resting your head on his shoulder. Peter rested his head on top of yours and you stayed that way for a while in comfortable silence. Knowing you were still upset, he brought up a story he hoped would make you laugh.

“You know, when I was little, I thought the first kiss always happens on the first date. Like, there is no other possible scenario where a first kiss would happen. And the first date had to be at a sit down restaurant at a table for two. It was the only situation that my mind could generate in which a kiss could happen. And I would lie awake at night and try to figure out how two people could kiss when there was table between them.”

“And the table absolutely has to be there?” You teased him.

“Of course it does. Because if it’s not there, that means they’re not on a date. And if there’s no date, there’s obviously no kiss.” He scoffed, making you smile again.

“Well I can see why this kept you up at night. There’s a lot to think ago it.”

“Uh huh. And that’s not all I laid awake at night thinking about. Because then I had to consider logistics. Like, when the kiss happen? Right as you sit down at the table or after you finish eating? Or just sometime during the date? And after they kissed, does that automatically mean they’re boyfriend and girlfriend? Or would one of them have to ask? It kept me up at night. It’s all very confusing.”

“It really is. And now it’s even worse. Because now, it’s not just dating. Now, there’s the talking stage. The talking stage didn’t exist when we were little and hopeful about love.”

“I know.” Peter agreed. “The only thing I knew about love back then was that the boy and the girl kiss at the end of the movie. I wish it was still that simple. It doesn’t make any sense anymore. Why is it that you can be dating someone but not in a relationship with them?”

“I can tell you why.” You smiled sarcastically. “Because not everyone wants to use the word “relationship”. Instead, they just kiss you and hold your hand and take you on dates and tell you they like you and treat you like their girlfriend but never actually call you their girlfriend. They never actually give you the satisfaction of admitting that you mean something to them. And you know what the worst part is? My entire view of myself has shifted meanwhile he is probably totally fine. He’s unscathed by this and I was maimed. I just feel so angry. I’m angry because it meant something to me and he ended it like it didn’t. How could he do that to me?”

“Maybe you can’t understand why he did this to you because you would never do this to another person.” Peter said, catching you by surprise. You looked at him and gave him a soft smile to let him know what his comfort meant to you.

“Yeah. Thanks, Pete. Thanks for listening.” You said and gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m always here to listen. And I’m sorry he broke up with you.” Peter said as he rubbed small circles on your back.

“He didn’t though. Because he was never my boyfriend.” You laughed sadly. “We never got to define what we were because he didn’t want to. But I wanted to. My feelings had a name. He just wouldn’t let me speak it.”

You fell silent for a minute as you replayed all the times Brad had made it seem like he liked you in his head. You debated if you were crazy and imagined the whole thing or if Brad just couldn’t admit his true feelings. Your bottom lip began to tremble when you thought about how everything was going to change now and felt a tear slip down your face.

“I fear it’s all just fucking impossible.” You said quietly. Peter looked at you for a moment while you looked down at your hands. He wanted so badly to take your pain away, or to at least take your mind off what had happened.

“I’m just thinking out loud here. And it might be totally stupid and insane and a horrible idea.” Peter began.

“Say it.” You prompted out of curiosity.

“You said you wanted your first kiss to be with a boy who really likes you, right?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Well, I’m a boy who really likes you. And I haven’t had my first kiss yet. I think we have ourselves a real two birds with one stone scenario here.” Peter said, making you laugh. He smiled now that he had you laughing again and hoped he has succeeded in cheering you up.

“Peter Parker.” You playfully gasped. “Are you suggesting we kiss right now?”

“I might be. Think about it, you get a do over first kiss and I get an actual first kiss. Plus, we’re best friends so you’ll always remember your first kiss as being with someone special. And then we can just pretend it never happened. It’s a win win for both is us.”

“The offer is very tempting.” You said and tapped your chin.

“Right?” Peter laughed, happy that you were playing along.

“Oh my God. Remember that episode of ICarly where Sam tells everyone Freddie’s never kissed anyone and he gets bullied and then she reveals that she’s never kissed anyone either and then they kiss? It would be so Sam and Freddie of us if we kissed right now. We’re even on a fire escape like they were.”

“If I told you that’s where I got the idea from, would you be too cringed out to kiss me?” Peter asked sheepishly. You grabbed his shoulder as you broke down laughing, sending a blush to Peter entire face.

“No. I don’t think so. Honestly, it makes me want to kiss you more.” You said through a laugh that made Peters blush deepen.

“Okay cool. Come here then.” Peter said and put his hands on either side of your face. You both leaned in before pulling away laughing. You both knew it was just a joke, but you secretly both wanted it to happen more than anything else in the world. When your laughter died down, you looked at each other as a comfortable silence filled the air. A look of realization dawned on both your faces as it became clear to you that the other was down to really do it.

“We’re not actually gonna kiss, right?” Peter asked as his eyes fell to your lips.

“No. That would be way too weird. But thank you for the offer.” You smiled and leaned towards him.

“Anytime.” Peter said right before your lips connected.

You pulled away after just a few seconds and gave Peter a wide eyed look. He nodded to show that he was still into it and you immediately leaned back in. This time, he cupped your face as your hands wrapped your his wrists.

At first it felt weird and hesitant and you couldn’t stop thinking about how this was the guy you’d been calling your best friend all your life and had seen do a million embarrassing things.

Then it, it changed. This kiss became assured and confident and all you could think about was how you’d wanted this all your life.

The innocent kiss became heated quickly when you found yourself climbing into Peter’s lap while slid his hands up your back.

“Oh shit.” You whispered once you pulled away. You looked into each others eyes as Peters face turned so scarlet, it was maroon.

“How was that for a first kiss?” He whispered and tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I could say the same for you.” You smiled before leaning in to kiss him again. You only got to kiss for a few minutes before you heard Mays voice.

“Dinners ready.” She said, making you and Peter jump apart.

“God May!” Peter exclaimed. “Don’t you knock?”

“Knock on what? You’re outside.” May pointed out.

“The freaking windowpane! I don’t know!” Peter continued to shout while you covered your face in embarrassment.

“When you’re done sucking face, dinners on the table.” May smiled innocently before walking away. You and Peter couldn’t look at each other for a long time as the reality of what just happened settled in. You sat in a palpable awkward tension until you finally mustered up the courage to speak.

“We should probably…” Peter trailed off and pointed inside.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You nodded and quickly got up.

The three of you sat at the dinning room table in complete and utter silence. You pushed your food around on your plate, too consumed in your thoughts to eat anything. You wished you had gotten chance to talk about the kiss and what it meant but that was impossible with May sitting there. Meanwhile, you and Peter kept making awkward eye contact across the table before quickly looking away.

“So what have you two been up to?” May asked, making your entire body cringe.

“May.” Peter whispered in disappointment.

“What? Just asking.” May played dumb.

“We were just having a chat.” You said weakly.

“Kinda hard to talk when your mouth is pressed against someone else’s mouth though, isn’t it?” May shrugged as you choked on your drink.

“May!” Peter exclaimed and covered his face.

“What? Am I not supposed to address it?” She asked. “I used to give you guys baths together. Then I walk into my own humble home and find you frenching on the fire escape.”

“May!” Peter squeaked as his entire face turned red.

“That was so Sam and Freddie of you.” May snorted.

“I know right?” You laughed as well and accidentally made eye contact with Peter. You quickly stopped laughing and looked away.

“So are you two a couple now?” May asked causally and took a bite of her food.

“May.” Peter said in a grave voice.

“No. That was our first kiss.” You said, making Peter look at you with wide eyes.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed.

“What? What am I supposed to say right now? Please tell me and I will say it. I am genuinely asking. This is the most confusing day of my life.” You whimpered and looked back down at your plate.

“Maybe we should just go back to silence.” May suggested and you both nodded in agreement. You ate the rest of your dinner without saying anything, thinking the hard part was over. After you put your dishes in the sink, you awkwardly stood in the kitchen and looked at Peter.

“What do we do now?” You whispered to him.

“I don’t know. What do we usually do when we hang out?”

“I have literally no idea. I don’t remember what we do.”

“You guys usually go to Peter’s room.” Mag said with an instigating smile.

“Oh. Right. Peters room.” You gulped and looked at Peter again. He gave you and shy smile and a weak wave.

“Would you like to go to Peters room?” He asked in a soft voice. You finally stopped feeling so awkward and let yourself relax.

“Would Peter be there?” You asked and cracked a smile.

“If you want him to be.” Peter answered.

“Okay. Let’s go.” You smiled and started walking towards his room.

Once you were inside, you shut Peters door behind you and leaned your back against it.

“Sooo…” Peter drew out the word and looked at you with puppy dog eyes.

“So.” You repeated and struggled not to look at his lips.

“What do you wanna do?” He asked and took a step towards you.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?” He repeated as he leaned over you.

“We could watch a movie?” You shrugged as you tilted your chin up towards his face.

“Yeah. We could. Or we could…” He trailed off and slipped an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Yeah. Or we could…” You trailed off as well as you nodded your head.

“Or we could…” He whispered before connecting your lips in a kiss. He pressed you against the door as his hands slipped up beneath your sweatshirt. You tangled your fingers in his curls, something that you always wanted to do, and gave them a tug.

“What is happening right now?” Peter asked against your lips.

“I have no idea.” You laughed against his mouth and went back to kissing him.

“Do you want it to stop?” He pulled away briefly to ask you.

“I never want it to stop.” You told him before bringing him right down into a kiss. Peter smiled against your lips before picking you up to carry you to his bed. He carefully laid you down on his Star Wars sheets without ever breaking the kiss. You made out on his bed for a while and lost all sense of time. Peter kissed your lips softly before trailing kisses down your neck. He didn’t do that for long because he didn’t want to stop kissing your lips. You felt butterflies in your chest as you kissed Peter, something you didn’t feel when you had kissed Brad. Peter felt the same warm excitement in as he tried to memorize the way your heart beat against his chest. The perfect kiss was only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You and Peter jumped apart and he rolled off of you as you pulled your phone out.

“Shoot. Sorry. It’s my mom.” You sighed in annoyance when you looked at your phone.

“Oh my God. It’s 9 pm?” You shot up in bed when you realized the time. Your curfew was 8 pm and you were ten minutes from your apartment.

“Mommy?” You said in a weak voice when you answered the phone.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Peter heard your mother scream on the other end of the line. You scrambled out of Peters bed and went over to his mirror, leaving him with a feeling of disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it got. Peter and I were just…studying.” You lied as you smoothed your hair and rubbed off the rest of the lipstick Peter had smudged.

“I’m on my way home now. I swear.” You told your mom before hanging up. You gave your appearance one last look before turning to Peter. He was sitting up now with a pillow his lap and a yearning look in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with his messed up hair, unbuttoned shirt, and budding hickies on his neck.

“I, uh, I gotta go now.” You said and pointed to his door. You couldn’t take your eyes off each other, each desperately wondering what the kiss had meant to the other. Peter nodded slowly but couldn’t mask his disappointment.

“I’ll walk you home?” He offered and got off his bed.

“Sure! Just uh…” You trailed off and gestured to your neck. Peter looked down and realized how many buttons you had managed to unbutton on his flannel. He blushed in embarrassment and quickly buttoned his shirt back up.

You and Peter walked to your apartment complex in total silence, hand accidentally bumping every now and then. Neither of you knew what to say and neither wanted to say the wrong thing, so you said nothing at all. The third time your hand bumped into Peters, he went to reach for it but you tucked it into your pocket. You reached your lobby eventually and turned to look at Peter.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” You said and looked into his eyes. You desperately tried to read his expression but it was too dark to see anything.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nodded, never taking his eyes off you. He stepped closer to kiss you goodbye, then took a step back. He didn’t know if that’s what you wanted and don’t want to impose. You noticed his hesitation so you stepped forward yourself and kissed his cheek.

“Night, Parker.”

“Night, kid.” He smiled softly. You disappeared and that was the last he saw of you.

All night, Peter tossed and turned his bed and he replayed the entire evening. He couldn’t stop smiling and pinching himself to see if he was really awake. As much as he hoped this meant you would finally be together, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t know if the kiss was just a one time thing only happened because you were upset. He didn’t sleep all night in anticipation of seeing you the next day to find out where your relationship stood.

Peter focused his eyes on the passing crowd when he stood at his locker the next morning. Ned was telling him some story about a TV show he had watched but Peter couldn’t hear a word over how hard he was concentrating on finding you. He desperately wanted to tell Ned what had happened between you two, but he wanted to wait until he had discussed it with you first. Just when Peter had given up hope on finding you, he heard your voice behind him.

“Hey.” You said out of nowhere, making Peter jump out of his skin.

“AH!” He screamed. “Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry! Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened and you covered your mouth with your hands as you apologized.

“You scared me. Like a shadow you are.” Peter panted as he held a hand over his pounding heart.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to approach you.” You grimaced, knowing you had already blown it.

“Not like that.” Peter said out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry! Oh my God. I need to go.” You panicked and started to walk away.

“Kid, wait!” Peter called out and ran after you. You quickened your pace but he still caught up to you and gently grabbed your arm.

“Slow down. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” You asked and avoided making eye contact.

“Last night. And what happened.” He said in a quiet voice as his face blushed from the memory.

“I wanted to talk about that too.” You relaxed when you realized he wasn’t going to pretend it never happened like you feared he might.

“Good, good.” Peter smiled shyly. “So what does this mean-“

“Hey guys.” Ned appeared out of nowhere, cutting Peter off.

“AH!” You and Peter both screamed.

“Damn. What’s with you two?” Ned laughed in confusion.

“Nothing.” You and Peter said in unison.

“Real creepy vibe between you guys. Just so you know.” Ned said as his eyes shifted between you and Peter.

“I have to go.” You blurted and ran away.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Peter protested.

“Gotta blast!” You called from down the hall before disappearing behind a corner.

“Do I wanna know what that was about?” Ned asked Peter.

“I’m gonna tell you. I just have to talk to her first.” Peter assured his friend and went to try and find you. He didn’t have any classes with you before lunch and had no luck spotting you in the hallways. Finally, he smelled your perfume wafting in the air once he sat down at his usual lunch table. He turned around and smiled as you sat down beside him. Ned and MJ noticed the way you and Peter looked at each other and immediately felt that something was up.

“Hi.” You smiled flirtatiously at Peter as you set your lunch bag down.

“Hey, kid.” He smiled shyly in return. “Did you change your hair?”

“Yeah. I had to take a test so I put it up.” You said and touched your ponytail, feeling pleased that he had noticed the simple change.

“I like it. It looks pretty.” He complimented you.

“Oh, thanks.” You laughed shyly.

“It’s nice. You look good with your hair up.” He remarked and reached up to touch it. You both got flashbacks to the night before and made knowing eye contact. Ned and MJ exchanged a look as they watched the usual behavior in front of them play out.

“Do you want a baby carrot?” You offered to break the tension.

“Yeah. You want an Oreo?”

“Sure. Cheers?” You asked and held up the Oreo.

“Chin-chin.” Peter smiled and held up his carrot.

“Oh, uh. Neck neck?” You laughed in confused as you knocked your Oreo into his carrot.

“Chin-chin means cheers in Italian.” He explained to you when he saw you confusion.

“Really? I didn’t know that. You’re so smart. I feel like you know so many random little facts.” You complimented Peter and leaned on your hand to stare at him.

“I don’t really. You’re the smart one. You know way more than me.” Peter replied. You smiled in appreciation of his compliment and gave his arm a fond squeeze.

“What the hell?” Ned asked, breaking the lavender haze you and Peter had slipped into. You both looked at Ned, having completely forgotten that he was there.

“What?” Peter asked innocently.

“What…the…hell?” Ned repeated. You and Peter exchanged a nervous look before playing dumb.

“What’s wrong?” You shrugged and took another carrot from Peter.

“That my question. What wrong?”

“Ned, you’re dropping articles again.” Peter whispered.

“I not!” Ned exclaimed.

“Nothings wrong. Everyone calm down.” You mumbled in embarrassment.

“No. Something is definitely going on between you two.” MJ jumped in in agreement.

“Hardly anything is going on.” Peter said, making you look at him angrily.

“Hardly anything?” You whispered harshly.

“You know when I lie I get a stummy ache.” Peter mumbled to you. You immediately felt bad and put a hand on his face.

“All right. Not that I particularly care about any of you, but I enjoy drama. What happened between you two that’s making you act so weird?” MJ inquired.

“Nothing.” You repeated. “Nothing happened.”

“Uh huh. Sure. And Peter, could you confirm that for me?” MJ asked and turned her attention to Peter. Peter looked between you and MJ in a panic before coming clean.

“A lil sum sum happened.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly.

“Peter. Why would you tell them that?” You groaned and covered your face.

“He didn’t have to tell us anything.” Ned stated. “You think we couldn’t tell from the moment you sat down? You think we can’t smell it on you?”

“Fine. You really want to know what happened? We kissed. That’s all. Y/n and I kissed.” Peter said in the most nonchalant tone he could manage at this time. You held your breath and waited for your friends reactions as their jaws dropped simultaneously.

“You kissed?” MJ asked.

“On the mouth?” Ned add.

“A bunch of times.” Peter nodded proudly as you hide your face again.

“Oh my God.” You mumbled.

“When did this happen?” MJ a questioned.

“None of your business.” You said at the same time Peter said “Last night on my fire escape.”

“On your fire escape? Like Sam and Freddie?” Ned asked.

“Exactly!” Peter nodded in excitement while your face palmed. Peter noticed your reaction and felt bad for letting that slip.

“I’m sorry.” Peter apologized and rubbed your back. “I didn’t mean for them to find out right away. I wanted to discuss this with you before we told them.”

“I know. Me too. But I guess the cat is out of the bag now.” You sighed and looked at Ned and MJ, who were still sitting in stunned silence.

“So you two hooked up? In May’s humble home? In her good Christian household?” Ned gasped and pointed between the two of you.

“First of all, I’m Jewish. And second, we didn’t hook up. We just made out a little.” Peter said and tried to make it sound like it wasn’t as big of a deal as he felt it was.

“You made out?” MJ laughed in surprise.

“You’re Jewish?” Ned whispered in an equal amount of surprise.

“Yes and Yes.” Peter nodded proudly. He snuck a look at you to see how you were reacting to all of this and you looked like you had just seen a ghost.

“I’m flummoxed. I’m absolutely flummoxed by this. My my my. I feel I might faint.” Ned said and fanned himself.

“I mean, I definitely saw this coming.” MJ shrugged and went back to reading her book.

“Wait, so are you two a couple now?” Ned asked, making you and Peter freeze. You looked at each other and struggled to come up with an answer since you never got a chance to talk about what last night had meant. You both started to say sentences that didn’t really seem to go anywhere.

“I mean, we didn’t really get a chance to-“ Peter began.

“-it only happened last night so we haven’t-“ You added.

“There’s still a lot we need to talk about but, um…” Peter looked at you and hoped you’d finished his sentence for him so he could know what page you were on.

“Yes?” Peter said at the same time you said, “No?”

Peters face immediately crumbled as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“No, no, it’s fine.” Peter cut you off. “I didn’t mean to answer so quickly.”

“I don’t even know what we are. I didn’t-“

“It’s okay. We haven’t talked about it yet, so.” Peter smile sadly at you before looking down at his lap. The guilt over giving the wrong answer was killing you and you needed to remove yourself from the situation.

“I have to go.” You said and got out of your seat.

“Please don’t go.” Peter asked and took your hand.

“Gotta blast.” You pulled your hand out of his and ran out of the cafeteria.

“Damn it. She keeps blasting off when I try to talk to her about our relationship.” Peter grumbled.

“Don’t ever say she’s blasting off ever again.” MJ grimaced.

“But you saw that right? I tried to talk to her about us and she blasted.”

“Please. I’m begging you. Stop saying it.”

“You just have to get her at a time where she can’t blast.” Ned suggested.

“You too?” MJ cringed.

“What am I supposed to do?” Peter asked desperately.

“Well what do you want to do? Do you want to be her boyfriend?” Ned asked him.

“Yeah. I do. Of course I do.” Peter smiled softly.

“Then tell her that.” Ned urged.

“No.” MJ spoke up.

“No?” Peter frowned.

“Don’t tell her. Show her.”

“Show her? What do you mean?”

“Last night, she told me about Brad before she went to your place. You know, before your little fondling party happened. Anyway, she told me that what hurt her the most is that Brad could never admit how he felt about her. He was always playing games and leaving her guessing about how he felt. So if you want to be with her, you gotta do the opposite. Show her that you like her and you’re not afraid to admit that to anyone.”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?” Peter worried. “What if she doesn’t want me to show her how I feel?”

“She does.” MJ insisted. “I know she does.”

“How do you know that?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows. MJ sighed before deciding that if this was gonna be solved, she had to tell Peter your greatest secret.

“Because I was the one who had to convince her to give Brad a chance in the first place since she was still hung up on you.” MJ admitted. Peters eyebrows raised in surprise before a smile tugged at his lips.

“She was?” He asked in disbelief.

“She likes you, dude. But she never knew how you felt. Nows your time to tell her.” MJ told him. Peters smile grew as he realized what he had to do. Now that he knew how you felt, he felt confident enough to seal the deal.

“Not that I care.” MJ added after a beat of silence.

“Thanks MJ. I’m gonna go show her how I feel.” Peter said and got up to leave.

Meanwhile, you were standing by your locker and trying to remain calm. You were freaking out thinking you had just ruined your relationship with your best friend forever. You shut your locket and leaned your forehead against it, cursing yourself for messing everything with Peter up.

“So. You and Parker, huh?”

You turned around and saw Brad standing behind you with a disappointed look on his face. You thought you’d feel sad to see him, but you just felt annoyed that he was talking to you.

“What? How do you even know about that?” You asked when you realized what he said.

“I heard you and your friends talking about it at lunch.” Brad replied. You opened your mouth to tell him to mind his business, then decided to give him some of his own medicine.

“Yeah. Me and Parker. What about it?” You asked and folded your arms.

“Nothing. Just wasn’t expecting you to move on so fast.”

“Move on from what?” You asked him, making his face drop.

“From…from me.” He said quietly.

“From you? Oh my God, did you think we were dating?” You laughed in his face. Brad’s jaw tightened and you could see his hands ball into fists.

“Yeah but we were talking for three months. And we went on dates and stuff.” He reminded you.

“Dude, we were just friends. Sorry if you got confused.” You laughed again and rolled your eyes a little.

“Oh. Yeah. That’s cool.” Brad nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Peter was watching this interaction from down the hallway with a proud smile. You had made Brad feel as badly as he made you feel and it couldn’t feel better. Peter let you have your moment before joining your side.

“Hey.” He smiled at you and wrapped an arm around you.

“Hey.” You smiled in return and leaned into him. Brad watched the two of you and felt a twinge of jealousy in his chest. Peter sensed like and looked at him as if he was just now noticing he was there.

“Oh, hey Bart. What are you doing by Y/n’s locker?” Peter smiled innocently. You turned your face to the side to hide your laughter as Peter purposefully called Brad the wrong name.

“It’s Brad.” Brad said, his annoyance evident in his voice.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Peter whispered to you but purposefully did it loud enough for Brad to hear.

“This guy? You know my name.” Brad scoffed.

“No. Sorry. I don’t.” Peter played dumb, making you chuckle as you leaned into him.

“I literally just told you.” Brad snapped. “It’s Brad. Brad Davis? ring a bell?”

“Bread? Bread Davis?” Peter asked and cupped his hand behind his ear.

“Brad.” Brad repeated and emphasized the “d”.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Braz David. Just to circle back, what were you doing by my girlfriends locker?” Peter asked. You raised your eyebrows in surprise when you heard what Peter called you but warmly accepted it. This caught the attention of students passing by which made Brads face heat up in embarrassment and anger.

“Nothing. I wasn’t doing anything.” Brad mumbled and averted his eyes. He looked around at the people snickered and whispering about him and shrunk into himself.

“Cool. Bye then.” Peter smiled wildly and waved goodbye. Brad rolled his eyes and gave you one last look before walking away. As soon as he was gone, you turned to Peter with an excited smile.

“That was so good! We totally got him back for what he did to me!” You whispered in excitement.

“That was all you. I just put the final nail in the coffin.” Peter smiled shyly.

“I heard. So, girlfriend, huh?” You smiled coyly and wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah. If you want.” He in a way that was confident to show you how much he wanted you but still allowed you to turn him down.

“I do want. And not just because it would be super embarrassing for you if I didn’t want to after you so loudly called me your girlfriend in front of all these people.“ You smiled teasingly and gestured to the hallway full of students.

“Well thanks for sparing me the embarrassment, kid.” Peter said as he took your chin between his fingers.

“Anytime, Parker.” You chuckled before closing the space between you to kiss him.

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey @20fandomfangirl

@lavender-writer @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @mara-twins

@maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker

@every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah

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@maybemona @alexxcorona113

[strawberrypillz0]

// mentally ill ryo / jirai here (i say Ryo as I don’t have BPD but am mentally ill).

You really need to quit w/ the gatekeeping of the term as it falls on a spectrum. I believe jirai is a term that can be flexible and it’s weird to be so… anal about how it’s used. Modifiers such as fashion / lifestyle jirai exist. This community’s urge to gatekeep and romanticize self harm is fucking crazy and why I don’t publicly associate w jirai bc I actually want to get better.

TL;dr like any other word of the language it can be used flexibly with modifiers.

You will live😚

Anyways, I’m using terms like lifestyle/fashion jirais and everyone does so why are you crying rn.

Romanticising your mental illnesses overall isn’t a good thing, there is nothing cute and nice about being mentally unstable.. but I will hold your hand when I will say it - it’s a coping mechanism 😱 I was always pro recovery and me saying “why do you guys want to be associated with people who are mentally unstable so bad? Yall should be happy that you don’t need to” is basically saying that I would rather call myself Ryo and be mentally stable than be pissed that I can’t call myself a LANDMINE (which is basically a word that is supposed to insult mentally unstable (mostly) women). Nobody want to be mentally unstable, no matter in what cute paper you will wrap it, I always hope everyone will get better and don’t associate myself with anti recovery people cuz they are bunch of weirdos who I don’t they are even mentally unstable, just edgy kids who think wanting to kill yourself/SH is so cool and they are so different.

There is nothing wrong that people want to protect their community where they find a comfort and they are not scared of being judged, there is so many fashion jirais complaining about jirais venting etc under tags. I said before that I don’t mind people wearing jirai as a style as long as they are respecting actual jirais (lifestyle) and don’t call them weirdos and shit. Yes, I said that a good alternative would be to call yourself ryousangata cuz this is what basically “fashion jirai” is - and is there anything wrong with wanting wear cute trendy clothes? Absolutely not, so why is it seem as something bad when I suggested it?

You don’t need to be associated with jirais, nobody care actually. I’m glad you want to get better - so me and other people who probably ask themselves everyday why they need to go thru it, why they can’t be healthy.. just because someone is trying to cope it doesn’t mean they don’t want to get better. I wake up everyday and ask myself why, how long and if I will ever be free from this - just because I will add funny image later it doesn’t mean that I absolutely hate being mentally ill and would do anything to get rid of it, my blog is just a little safe space where I can express it thru posting whatever I want to make myself feel better or people who go thru the same thing. I often go thru jirai tag and reply to people who struggle, cuz I wish they will get better.

Anyways, I hope everyone will have a good day today and remember to take care of yourself 💖 I’m really grateful to be a part of such an amazing community :)))

[sixhours]

happy birthday, baby girl - pretend

Ellie has never had a birthday. Joel can fix that.

Series masterlist | Read on AO3 | In progress

Rating: Teen Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel and Ellie, Ellie Williams, Joel Miller, birthdays, swearing, fluffy fluff, canon-compliant Words: 2.5k

“May 15th.”

Joel looks up from his place at the kitchen table, his latest project spread across the work surface. It looks like a lamp. “What?”

“You said I could pick a birthday, so I did. It’s May 15th.”

He considers this, then nods. “Alright then.”

Later, she walks into the kitchen and sees the date circled in red pen on the calendar, already two weeks gone by, Joel’s printing in block letters.

ELLIE B-DAY

And that was that.

She turned 15 on May 15th, the day she and Joel walked back into Jackson and started a new life. A clean slate, Joel said at the time, although that’s proving easier said than done. Ellie’s slate seems to be written in permanent ink.

Jackson is weird. They’re assigned to the same house as before and given a few weeks to settle in and “acclimate”, which just means a lot of sitting around. Or in Joel’s case, fixing things. He stomps around the house frowning at squeaky hinges and tinkering with pipes and she rasps The Contractor under her breath whenever he’s in earshot.

Jackson Joel is different from regular Joel. Jackson Joel says things like “mind your manners” and “eat your vegetables first” and glares daggers when she swears in front of people. Jackson Joel walks around the house in socks and sweatpants and a t-shirt. Jackson Joel doesn’t carry a rifle or even his hunting knife.

Jackson Joel is a stranger, but he’s the only stranger Ellie knows, so she guesses she’s stuck with him.

Their new life feels like pretend, like when she was a little and the kids in FEDRA school played Soldiers and Fireflies in the rec yard. She’d get so into it, her imagination so carried away with whatever part she was playing that when she inevitably got captured or shot, her heart would be pounding in her throat.

Now she pretends she belongs in Jackson. She pretends she lives in this strange house with Joel and pretends they’re a family. She pretends Joel actually cares about her (not my daughter sure as hell ain’t your dad) and that she’s not just some freak kid (cargo) he’s been saddled with. She pretends it’s fine that the Fireflies couldn’t make a cure. She pretends Joel isn’t lying to her about whatever happened at the hospital when she was asleep. 

She pretends it’s normal for a 14-year-old (no it’s 15 now, even your stupid birthday is just a random day you made up, it’s all pretend) 15-year-old to crawl into bed with her pretend dad when the bad dreams won’t stop. She pretends it’s normal to wake up screaming every night.

But the thing about pretend is that none of it is real, and she’s still waiting for the game to be called off.

Like everything else in her life, it can’t possibly last.

That first night, she’d stood in the middle of her pretend room smelling of lavender soap and wearing new pajamas that were not hers. I’m right across the hall if you need me, he’d said, but the ten-foot gap between their closed doors might as well have been a thousand miles.

She went to bed, tucked her knife under her pillow, stared at the ceiling of her pretend bedroom in her pretend house, and listened to…nothing. There was no Joel breathing at her side, no crackling campfire, no crickets chirping or spring frogs croaking–nothing but her too-loud thoughts and a racing pulse in her ears.

Finally, when her heart threatened to beat out of her ribs and her palms were sweaty and her skin practically burned with the quiet, she’d padded into the hallway with her blanket and pillow clutched to her chest. Joel was already standing outside his room in his T-shirt and sweats (it’s so weird, where was his leather jacket and jeans and flannel and boots, how was he supposed to protect them wearing fucking socks) looking as lost and tired as she felt.

“I can’t–“ she began.

“Are you–“ he began.

They’d stared at each other in the dim light, neither knowing what the next step should be.

Finally, she’d huffed a sigh and stomped past him into his bedroom. She tossed her pillow on the unrumpled side of his bed and climbed in, pointedly facing away from him. She stayed like that for a minute or two, waiting for him to grumble at her, to send her back to her room. Eventually, she’d heard the creak of the hardwood behind her and felt the bed shift and jostle slightly as he got in.

“Wake me up if I snore,” is all he’d said.

She didn’t sleep for shit that night, and she’s pretty sure he didn’t, either…but at least it wasn’t so fucking quiet.

And the days pass, and it’s all so fucking weird, and still, they pretend.

Two weeks later, she wakes gasping for breath, clawing her way back from a cold, burning shack in Colorado, shivering and sweating through her nightshirt. Joel is there. She sleeps curled up against his back, so all he has to do is roll over and wrap one strong arm around her, the movement so natural and practiced that most of the time he barely wakes up.

“S’alright. You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson. You’re with me.”

It’s the same words whispered in the same way to her temple every time, like a mantra or a prayer. It may be pretend, but it works. She settles back to sleep with her head tucked under his chin, nose pressed to his chest.

Later she wakes again, not from a dream this time, but because the other side of the bed is cold.

Joel is gone.

Her heart clogs her throat and she throws the quilt off her body and scrambles out of bed.

Faint light from the stairwell. She creeps down the stairs, knife clutched in her hand. What if someone broke in? What if they got Joel? Jackson was supposed to be safe, but what if–

But it’s just Joel, standing in the kitchen holding a spatula. He looks up when she wanders over.

“Hey, kiddo–what’re you doin’ up?”

She squints and rubs at her eyes, a flash of anger nipping at the heels of relief.

Why did you leave me?

“Why is it so dark?” is all she can think to say, throat tight.

“It’s three-thirty,” he says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought maybe I’d work on the house, but I didn’t want to wake you, so I uh…”

He looks down at the counter in front of him. A big mixing bowl surrounded by boxes and tins and cracked eggshells, all of it covered with a dusting of flour.

Playing pretend, she thinks blearily.

“So…you thought you’d cook?”

“It’s baking, actually, but…yeah.”

“What are you making?”

“Cake…I hope,” he says, gesturing to an open cookbook off to the side.

“Have you done that before?”

“Nah…but can’t be that hard. Just eggs, flour, sugar–we don’t have sugar, but we have honey and syrup, and then the flour is, uh…oat somethin’, I think…”

He looks at the book again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You can just swap things around like that?”

“Uh…think we’re gonna find out.”

She comes over to peer into the bowl, wrinkling her nose.

“Looks like diarrhea.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully it don’t taste like it,” he mutters, kneeling to open the corner cabinet, peering inside, looking for something.

Feeling brave, Ellie sticks her finger in the gooey mixture and gives it a sniff; it might look like shit, but it smells good. She takes a tentative lick.

“Not bad,” she says. 

Joel looks up from his perch on the floor. “Hey, don’t–don’t eat that–s’got raw egg in it. It’ll make you sick.”

“Dude, we’ve been eating twenty-year-old canned stew for, like, weeks.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then thinks better of it, shaking his head and going back to the cupboard.

“Was tryin’ to find a pan in here,” he says. He has to reach deep into the back corner until the upper half of his body practically disappears into its depths, grumbling something about shoddy kitchen cabinetry over the clang of pots and pans that haven’t seen daylight in two decades. Eventually, he emerges holding a dusty silver pan in the shape of a donut.

“Think this is a bundt pan,” he says, taking it to the sink and washing it out. “But it’ll have to do.”

“Now what?” she asks, feeling more awake. 

“We…pour the batter into the pan,” he says, reading directly from the book.

“Can I?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, wiping his hands on a towel. “Have at it.”

She tips the mixing bowl into the pan, spilling a little in the process. It oozes onto the counter.

“Now what? We put it in the oven?”

“Uh…yep.”

She slides the pan into the hot oven, carefully pushing it to the middle of the rack, then closes the door. Joel turns the little kitchen timer and it starts clicking away the seconds. It reminds her of a tiny, tomato-shaped bomb.

“Did you do stuff like this before?” she says, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter, watching as Joel grabs a towel and begins wiping up the spilled batter and flour. She tries to picture him in his shoddy apartment kitchen in the QZ wearing one of those stupid aprons that says “Kiss the cook”, tries to imagine him and Tess in that dark, sad little corner of Boston whipping up a batch of muffins or cookies, the two of them acting all domestic and shit. The image is so weird, so out of place and wrong and not-Joel, she blushes.

“Uh…no. Not really. Used to buy cakes, usually. The grocery stores sold ‘em, all pre-frosted and decorated and the like. Fancy…flowers n’ shit.”

“So…no diarrhea cakes?”

He huffs a soft laugh. “No.”

“What about Sarah? Did she like to bake?”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess she did. She’d make cookies with the neighbors sometimes. But she liked the grocery store cakes fine, too,” he says. “Always insisted we get a cake for my birthday. Don’t care much for sweets, but…was more about the tradition, I s’pose.”

His eyes have gone soft the way they always do when he talks about her, his voice rough around the edges. He sighs, clearing his throat.

“It’s gonna be a while. Why don’t you go on back to bed, kiddo?”

“Don’t want to,” she yawns. “I’m invested now. Gotta know how this weird cake thing ends.”

He gives her a tired smirk. “How ‘bout a movie, then?”

Soon she’s curled up on the couch with Armageddon in the VCR. Joel tucks an afghan around her, leaves her with a pat on the head. From anyone else, the gesture would be patronizing, but from Joel, it’s nice. Comforting.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She drifts in that half-space between wakefulness and sleep while the movie plays, something Joel picked out about asteroids and meteors and oil drilling. She pretends she lives in a house where she watches movies and bakes cakes with her pretend dad at 3 a.m.

When the timer’s mechanical ding sounds, she scrubs at her eyes and pauses the movie. She follows the scents of warm vanilla and honey to find Joel dozing at the kitchen table, arms folded with his chin tucked to his chest.

“Hey dude, your diarrhea cake’s gonna burn.”

He rouses and blinks at her, eyes widening as he fumbles for the hot pads on the counter and moves to open the oven. A fragrant heat wafts out as he takes out the pan. Ellie isn’t sure what the cake is supposed to look like, but it smells amazing.

“Now we gotta make the icin’.”

“The icin’,” Ellie says, mimicking his drawl. “Gotta make the icin’.”

He side-eyes her, then goes back to frowning at his cookbook. 

“I reckon we don’t have any ‘icin’ sugar’, whatever the hell that is…but…we got syrup.”

Joel puts a generous dollop of syrup into a clean bowl and Ellie pours in some cream and a splash of vanilla extract at his instruction. She sticks her finger in and tastes it, pronounces it good enough. Joel doesn’t scold her this time, even hands her the spoon to lick clean when he’s done.

“Moment of truth,” he mutters to himself as he turns the pan over on a plate and pulls it up to release the cake. No luck. Grimacing, he smacks the thing a few times, runs a knife around the edges and upturns it again. The cake finally comes out, but the top half stays firmly stuck inside the pan.

“Guess I was s’posed to flour that,” he sighs.

The result is a raggedy donut-shaped ring. It looks like a mess, but Ellie digs out a chunk of the cake’s stuck top and pops it into her mouth. It’s sweet and fluffy and warm, way better than a twenty-year-old chocolate bar.

“Dude…that’s fucking awesome.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Not bad for diarrhea cake.”

With that, she digs out another crumbly-soft piece from the pan and stuffs it into her mouth.

“Hold on now, still gotta add the icin’.”

They drizzle the sticky-sweet icing over the ragged bottom half of the cake. Ellie sneaks another fingerful or two from the bowl and Joel pretends not to notice. Then they stand back to examine their work.

“Well, it ain’t gonna win any prizes, but…”

“Can we eat it already?”

“Sure, kid.”

He opens a drawer and finds two forks, giving one to her. But just as she’s about to dig in, he puts up a hand.

“Hold up. We should do this proper.”

He goes to the mantle in the living room and returns with a candlestick. The base fits neatly in the center hole of the cake like it was meant to be there. Joel lights a match and sets it to the wick, and the faint smell of the burning candle makes Ellie think of a campfire under the stars, sheep ranches on the moon.

“Make a wish,” he murmurs, shaking out the match.

She arches an eyebrow in a silent question.

“It’s, uh, a birthday thing,” he says. He’s getting better at hiding that “sad little orphan girl doesn’t know what a birthday is” look, at least. “You make a wish before you blow out the candle.”

“Then…I wish for infinite wishes,” she grins.

Joel chuckles. “It don’t work like that. Gotta keep it to yourself or it won’t come true.”

“That sounds like bullshit.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, it does, come to think of it. But that’s how it’s done, anyway.”

She watches the candle flicker, the white wax dripping down.

“You wish, too,” she says, suddenly self-conscious.

“Alright. On three?”

“On three,” she agrees. “One…two…three!”

He doesn’t even try to blow out the candle. He’s too busy watching her, that same soft look in his eyes. The flame flickers out with one strong breath, and she wishes to keep pretending for a little longer.

[smok3r7]

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

One: All Alone

Series Masterlist or Main Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: How did you, out of all people, end up in this situation? You knew about it all, yet it still happened to you. How does losing a significant person in your life make you vulnerable and weak? You meet the man who ends up being the reason your soul burns to death.

Word count: 3.4k

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of verbal and physical abuse from stepfather, mentions of women/children in shelters and domestic violence situations, self-hatred, angst, violence against raiders, blood, slit throat, young death, overkill by stabbing, vomiting, dark fic

—

Shameful. Detached. Callous. Numb.

These are the emotions that are now embedded into your skin, so much so that you can’t remotely begin to remember who you were as a human before your marriage to Nate, seven years ago. Ever since you found Jackson and got married the same year, you were known only as Mrs. Rossi, Nate Rossi’s wife, his beautiful little house wife who always made sure dinner was on the table and did everything for him, and in all honesty, you were fine with it for the first year. You were the happiest you could have been living in the apocalypse - Nate got you anything you wanted and made you feel safe.

He would go out on patrol for supplies with Tommy and he would bring you back the things you absolutely needed, from the best foods to the best board games. This was so different for you - you had always been independent and never let yourself rely on a man, or anyone for that matter. So you got comfortable and truly believed you were secure since you were being taken care of for the first time ever - big mistake, because just after the second year of being married, the true side of Nate started to come out.

—

When the outbreak started about twenty years ago, you were in your mid-twenties, lived in a small town in Tennessee and worked with women who wanted to leave their domestic situations. You spent a lot of time, more than you wanted, at women’s shelters trying to help these women who were at their lowest and completely suffering. You didn’t directly work for the police department, but you were technically working under the “Welfare Department”, and if the situations were bad, the cops would call you, or your one other partner, for help.

You had a love-hate relationship with your job. You absolutely loved it when you were able to save a woman, or her children, from the violence and yet, you despised it when you weren’t able to save them - which happened a lot more than you liked to admit. You knew how hard it was for a lot of women to leave their abusers, even if they were treated like the dirt they walked on, the men were able to sink their talons into these women for as long as they wanted. But you had a really hard time understanding how the women who had kids stayed with the man when he abused the kids also.

Your own mother experienced abuse so badly it almost killed her, and she had gone back and forth with him for four years, but she would not give up on him. It got so ugly that, one time, you found her bloody and a bruised mess, curled on the kitchen tile, unconscious. She would be dead if you hadn’t been there. Your step-father, Roy, had beaten her with a wooden baseball bat because he thought she was cheating on him with his best friend. Yet, she stayed with him for two years after that. You witnessed a lot of fighting between your mom and Roy between the age of fifteen and nineteen, to the point where you were stepping in to deflect his anger and violence from your broken mom, to you.

And this is why you had a hard time understanding why women stayed when the kids got involved. Your moms last straw was when Roy laid hands on you for the first and only time - she kicked him out that same night. He had cornered you while shouting in your face about how you and your mom were whores and didn’t appreciate anything he did. You pushed him away from you, and he backhanded you so hard that his knuckles left a mark on your cheek. You screamed bloody murder and your mom came in holding a knife with her eyes about to burst out of her head.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” is all she said, as her body was violently shaking but her face was blank.

He left that day and never came back, and your mom and you were thrilled that he was gone, the both of you finally feeling like you could relax. Soon, however, reality kicked in - the reality that your mom was reliant on Roy because he worked and paid the bills, so you and her inevitably ended up battling poverty, so badly that she almost lost the house she owned for eleven years.

In spite of this, your mom found her way, and she ended up getting promotion after promotion at her job. It took her five years after he was gone for her to feel genuinely comfortable again, with money and with herself. She was the reason why you decided to work with battered women and children, as you never wanted people to go through something like your mom and you had. You also knew that it was possible for women to get back on their feet, that it wasn’t easy, but it was possible.

But here you are, years later, in a worse marriage than your mother had, way worse than most of the women you’ve helped along the years, and your own self twenty years ago would be so disappointed in how you, out of all people, got stuck with an abusive husband.

——

Before marrying Nate and before living in Jackson, you were a badass. Surviving by yourself for thirteen years just by constantly moving, you never stayed in one location for longer than four days. In the beginning, you had overheard FEDRA talking about a camp in Boston, and ended up reaching it in the fall time. After about a month there, you found out about the fireflies and you knew Tommy through one or two incidents before he left everything and traveled out West, creating his own camp. You decided you wanted to leave Boston, realizing that the camp just wasn’t what you had imagined, so you snuck out six months later and headed West.

Doing it alone was the most efficient way to survive - you didn't have to worry about anyone else, only you. You quickly mastered shooting a bow and arrow along with guns - the bow was your talent though. You could shoot clickers from yards away and none of the others would be set off, and you were a quick thinker because If something didn’t go as planned, you instantly thought of a backup plan.

Evading FEDRA was another thing you were especially good at, all because you had a radio that had all the stations they used on their walkies. You knew their every play. Even if it didn’t pertain to you directly, you knew about it. Groups and raiders were something that you took care of from a distance, mainly due to the fact that a lot of these groups were men, and even though you could fight a man off, there was no way you could stop all of them by yourself - it was simply unrealistic. You would stumble upon a group of raiders inspecting a building for anything, and you would stay a couple of blocks away, following them for a few days just to study them. The way they talked to each other, what they talked about, who was the leader, who was the weakest link, how comfortable and trained they were with their weapons, and what was their watch rotation at night.

Depending on how smart and big the group was, you would either shoot them with your bow from afar as they were occupied with something and causing chaos, or you would sneak into their base at night, tiptoeing around and silently stabbing them one by one. You would then proceed to steal whatever you could carry with you. Killing was never something you looked forward to, but you looked at it like this; it was either killed or be killed in this new world. If they found you, they’d do worse than just killing, and you’d be damned if you allowed that to happen. So maybe sometimes you got pleasure from making sure these animals never got to hurt anyone again, and that didn’t make you evil, just a little malicious - which you didn’t mind being.

You didn’t mind being alone all the time either, except for when some nights got lonely. After the first three years, you started to hate being alone. You missed having someone to at least talk to - all you had was yourself. You kind of started to go stir crazy from talking to yourself, from reminiscing about your past life always, making you upset more often than you’d like to admit. But you always got up and did whatever you had to for the day, and you came to terms with the prospect of traveling and dying alone.

However, during the winter, after a couple days traveling through Nebraska and being by yourself for eight years, you stumble upon this girl, alone, stealthily trying to cross an open road. You’ve been hiding behind a tree up on the hill right by it, camping there for two days just to see if anyone would come by. But this girl looks no older than seventeen, and she reminds you a lot of yourself, looking like she knows what she’s doing and having things she needs. You’re still hiding, but peek your head to the side to see her, and she turns right towards you, making you snap your head back. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself.

“I saw you,” the girl yells towards you, in a raspy tone of voice, “I know you’re alone. As long as you don’t try to kill me, I won’t try to kill you.” You’re unsure of what to do or what to say, but your instincts tell you to show yourself, so you step out from the tree with your hands up like a truce.

“I’m cool with that,” you yell back, actually getting a chance to look at her.

She’s about five foot three, has the fit yet curvy body type, and looks healthy. Her hair is a dark red color in a messy bun but you can tell it’s long, and although she has a healed scar across her right cheek from what looks like a knife, her face still has this soft look to it. Her backpack and the gear on her back looks worn, like she’s had it for years, her ripped jeans and long sleeve shirt fitting her like they’re all she has along with her black combat boots. You also take note of the weapons that are visible, that she’s holding a bow in one hand with arrows on her back, a rifle strapped along her back, a pistol in her holder on her hip, and a large hunting knife on a thigh holster. This girl is smarter than she puts on, you think as you examine her.

“My name is Rosa, what’s yours?” She asks you, and the two of you are now only about ten feet away from each other, just talking, no weapons drawn. You tell her yours and ask how long she’s been alone.

“Forever. My mother died by FEDRA agents when I turned ten, but she had taught me everything I needed to know to survive,” she explains as her eyes scan your body, then repeats the question back to you.

“Forever. I was in the Boston camp just about eight years ago, but hated what they did. So I left and I’ve been heading West, a guy I know had left before me to head there also, I heard fireflies talk about a new settlement somewhere over there.”

She nods her head and asks, “So, like… Could I come along with you?” Her face shows that she is clearly tired and needs to rest, but you’re hesitant. This could be a big ass ploy, but there’s something screaming that she’s being sincere. You also have this weird gut feeling that you need to take care of her, and it’s the same feeling as seeing the kids in domestic situations back before the apocalypse. You are almost too eager to reply to her, “Yes, you can! I just have some ground rules that I follow, and as long as you can keep up with that, we’re all good, hun.”

She then comes up to you and hugs you, and your body freezes, not having had human contact in years. Yet, she somehow feels like home. Your arms naturally wrap around her shoulders and you two stay like that for a little while, and having the comfort of another living person who you trust is a feeling you can’t even explain.

Rosa and you grow to have a mother-daughter kind of relationship over the next five years, which actually makes a lot of sense in some way, since you were in your early thirties and she was about eighteen when you met. You two built a connection so strong, incredibly fast, like it was meant for you both to stumble upon each other that one day. But one night after you two go to bed in an isolated cabin Rosa found, the worst happens.

“NO-“ Echoes in the room you two share, shocking you awake in a panic, realizing that it’s Rosa’s voice. As you turn to look in the other bed, you see a dark shadow-figure slicing her throat with a large blade, and in a blind rage, you grab the knife under your pillow and lunge towards the attacker, who must’ve not realized you were even in the room. He has no time to react as you start to stab his body over and over and over, not stopping, not caring if he has others with him - he killed Rosa and you have to get revenge. By now, the attacker’s body is on the hardwood floor next to Rosa’s bed and you’re still on top of him, stabbing him repeatedly while screaming and sobbing.

“Why her?! Why not me?!” You scream at the top of your lungs as you stab him for the final time, leaving the knife in his chest and you stand up to look at the mess. You stare at her bloody, lifeless body, the long slice along her neck, full of blood that soaks the mattress under her and her body below, her golden brown eyes wide open along with her pale mouth, and her gorgeous red hair now soaked with blood. The sudden urge to throw up climbs your throat, so you cover your mouth with your right hand and sprint behind you to exit the bedroom, and as soon as you reach the other side of the door, you vomit onto the floor.

After a minute, you swipe your face with your bloody hand and walk out the front door, trying to process what just fucking happened. You open the front door and the sun and cold air hits you in the face immediately, the most gorgeous morning it’s been in weeks making you even more angry because Rosa should be here and be able to enjoy this weather - the way the white snow lays perfectly on the ground and trees, the sun causing the icicles to glisten as they hang, and the wind blowing just enough to make it a bit cooler. You’re standing outside, looking into the sky as tears sting your face, and a piece of your heart breaks in your chest. Rosa was like your child and she told you that you reminded her a lot of her mom. You just lost your girl.

You shake your body, clear your throat, and whisper, “Okay.” A minute later, you walk back inside, grab all of your belongings and some of Rosa’s things you either need or simply want to keep, then you stand over her body one more time as you kiss her forehead and close her eyes.

You leave the cabin, not looking back again, and after a day of walking, you come across a sign that reads, MOTEL 6. The building looks dirty and rundown, but you can’t really complain anymore. You end up clearing the whole building with no issue, which has about twelve rooms, and a total four clickers scattered throughout.

You find the room that is the least destroyed, room 616, and you whisper to yourself as you open the door and walk into the bedroom. After closing the door, you put your back to it and slide down, and as your ass hits the cheap dirty carpet, the true emotion is allowed to leave your body. The anger, grief, and pain is finally able to leak out of your skin with tears that come out of you like a waterfall. You end up in the bathroom and you stare at your reflection, at the amount of blood staining your hands, chest, and face - all horrific. The fact that you know that most of it is from Rosa's killer makes you feel disgusted. The reflection you see of yourself, makes you want to die, just to be with Rosa.

You make yourself shower, since this motel magically seems to still have running water - warm water at that. You scrub and scrub the blood that has stained your skin over the course of a day, just needing to feel clean again. After turning your skin almost raw, you change into the one other pair of clothes you have, and check your perimeter one last time before you go to lay down in your room and sleep for the night.

The sound of a shotgun cocking wakes you up, your eyes open and you see two men standing over your bed with guns pointing right at you. “Who the fuck are you?” The man closest to you demands, he’s blonde with a buzz cut and a patchy beard to match, but he has a face that looks like he doesn’t play around.

“I’m just moving around, was gonna leave when I got up,” you instantly respond, basically defenseless, then turning your attention to the other man at the foot of your bed. He looks kind of familiar but you can’t put your finger on where from. It’s right on the tip of your tongue too.

“You by yourself?” The familiar man asks with a southern twang to his question, and it then clicks in your brain, Tommy.

“Yes, my dau- my friend just died yesterday,” you remark, and they lower their guns to the floor.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tommy says with a different tone than before, and the other man stays quiet.

“Thank you,” you start, still very confused, “Um…who are you guys?”

The man next to you scoffs and replies, “You really don’t know?” You shrug your shoulders with honest curiosity, because last you checked on your map, you were still in Nebraska.

“Sugar,” Tommy laughs, “You are in Wyoming and you have stumbled upon Jackson.” You can’t believe it, you’re in disbelief and filled with sadness. Rosa just had to survive one more day and she would’ve made it with you.

“No way,” You laugh out of disbelief, the two men having a confused look on their faces.

“Yes ma’am. I’m Nate and he’s Tommy, he and his wife are a big founder of the camp,” Nate replies as he sits on the bed next to you, and that’s how you get introduced into the safe life of Jackson and how you meet your ultimate demise, Nate Rossi