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heartpascal · 1 year

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you’ll find the key

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part five of if the door wasn’t shut — after feeling hopeless, you decide it’s time to heal

▹ — a/n: guys, i apologise for the wait! usually it doesn’t take me so long to write but this was a bit of a struggle!! i hope it lives up to any expectations :( i love you guys sm <3 pls leave ur thoughts + feedback and if u would like to see anything else in this series !!!

▹ — warnings: bad mental health, arguments, like two much needed hugs, so many apologies (my brain is failing so please tell me if there’s anything i’m missing!!!)

▹ — general taglist: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours

masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

check out howl’s song associations!

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It was still storming outside.

Snow was coming down in heavy bouts, swirling all over the place with the force of the wind, and it was almost a goddamn blizzard. The ground was covered in it, and if it weren’t for the people already out in the streets, using shovels to dig away the snow in front of doorways, you were sure everyone would’ve gotten snowed in.

Not that you were going anywhere, anyway.

You hadn’t left Jesse’s side since you had gotten back to Jackson, after Tommy had a talk with you. They told you he was going to be absolutely fine, that all he needed was rest and to keep the wound clean. You still worried about him.

Part of you, despite knowing that what happened wasn’t your fault, still felt guilty. Out of the two of you, you were the more experienced one, and you should’ve known better, right? Should’ve caught wind that something wasn’t quite right sooner? You should’ve done something, protected him better, maybe?

You didn’t know exactly what you could’ve done differently, and you tried not to think of the possibilities, because the last thing you needed was to drown in guilt when you already felt bad enough.

Tommy’s chat with you hadn’t helped, either, and you know it was only because he cares, but it still hurt. The way he had looked at you, so angry, and scolded you for going back out there, for going after Joel when you and Jesse had barely made it out yourselves. He had called you irresponsible, which you would’ve argued against, if you hadn’t felt so guilty over the events of the day, if you hadn’t been worrying about Jesse.

You didn’t want to think about him being right, about how you could’ve gotten Jesse killed today, or yourself, god — Joel could’ve died, trying to save you. But was that really your fault? You wondered if everyone blamed you for Jesse getting hurt, as much as you blamed yourself.

“Are you really brooding, right now?” Jesse croaked, startling you from where you stood at the window beside his bed, staring out at the swirling snow. You turned to him, seeing his raised eyebrows, and felt almost thankful about the annoyance that arose when he looked smug, like he was right. “Unbelievable!”

“I’m not brooding, you asshole.” You murmured, unconvincingly. Jesse grinned, shaking his head at your denial.

“Oh, you so are.”

“I should’ve let them finish the job.” You responded flatly, breaking into a smile when Jesse laughed. The quiet lingered for a moment, both of your smiles slowly falling as the weight of everything that happened registered between you. “I’m sorry.”

Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his fingers picking at the edge of the blanket settled over him. “For what? Saving my life?”

“No, Jesse, I should’ve never put us in that situation. Especially after Pete left. I know better.” You replied, stepping towards the guy who had quickly become your best friend. You shook your head, eyes flickering around the room, until they settled on him. “Tommy took me off patrols, anyway, so.”

“What?” Jesse questioned, mouth hanging open. “Why?”

You stared at him, blinking in your confusion, and you tilted his head back to check his eyes were focused, that he wasn’t concussed, or something.

“Do you not remember what happened?”

“I remember just fine, thank you.” He responded, eyebrows creased as your hand left his forehead. Both of you wore incredibly confused expressions, neither knowing what the miscommunication between you could be. “Why would Tommy take you off patrols?”

“Jesse, you could’ve died.” You said, watching his face for the reaction, as if the information was new to him.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t your fault! You’re the one who saved me, who got me out. I don’t understand.” Jesse said, voice raising as he got slightly heated. He lowered his voice when he sat up, and pulled at his stitches, hissing in pain.

“No, I got us into it, and I was lucky to get us out.” You told him, as if it was a confession, and you frowned. You didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Joel, didn’t want to say that for once, the world had been on your side, letting you get him out, too. You didn’t voice it, but you don’t know what you would’ve done with yourself if he had died, trying to save you.

Jesse shifted, voicing your name, but you stopped him, smiling tightly in his direction. “It’s fine, Jesse. It’s for the better. Besides, means I’ve got more time to do my pottering.” You teased, though the words didn’t quite reach the way your teasing usually sounded. “Anyway, Dina showed up.”

“What? Why? Did she actually?” Jesse asked, his eyebrows raised as he looked to you with suspicion, like you were about to be making fun of him.

“‘Course she did. Whole town knows what happened, and she was worried about you.” You said with a grin that didn’t meet your eyes.

“The whole town?” He questioned, shutting his eyes and dropping his head back with a groan when you nodded your confirmation. “My family are so going to kill me, aren’t they?”

With a laugh, you reached forward to mess up his hair, “Oh, Jesse, you sweet thing. We’ve already devised a plan on how we’re going to do it.”

He slapped your hand away, glaring, but a smile pulled at his lips. He knew it wasn’t true, knew you were just entertaining his dramatics. What he didn’t know, was that his family had already been in, had already scolded you for getting their golden boy into trouble.

You moved back to the window, seeing a man across the road had given up on shovelling the heavy snow away from his door. Something heavy had settled on your chest, and you took a deep breath to try and get some oxygen past it. You didn’t blame Jesse’s family for what they had said to you — if you had been in their position, you probably would’ve been the same. They hadn’t quite approved of you, anyway, so you didn’t take it too personally. You were more than aware of everything you had done wrong.

Somebody cleared their throat in the doorway to the room, and you turned away from the window to see Joel stood there. He nodded his greeting to Jesse, a tight smile on his face.

“C’mon, kiddo, Tommy wants you to head back to the shop.” Joel said, repressing the sigh that wanted to leave his chest when you only nodded, stepping away from the window with a final glance outside.

“Well,” You said to Jesse, trying to muster up your best smile, “Duty calls, I guess. Feel better soon, okay?”

He called your name when you walked away, passing Joel as he stood beside the door, but you ignored it, feeling that weight grow heavier. Joel followed after you, a frown on his face.

You knew the route out already, and figured Joel was just the messenger, but he followed along, a few steps behind you as he limped on his injured leg. The wind was harsh when you opened the door, and you shivered when snow was immediately blown in your face. You lingered in the doorway, both hesitant to go out into the awful conditions, and feeling bad for leaving Joel hurrying on his bad leg.

Joel didn’t say it, but you knew he was here because Tommy didn’t want to see you. You couldn’t say you were surprised — not after just how angry Tommy had gotten. His face had been red, the steam pouring from his ears practically melting the snow around him, and it was the first time he had ever yelled at you.

“You doing okay?” Joel asked, hesitantly, as he paused in the doorway beside you, watching you as you wrapped your coat tighter around you. He knew that nothing was fixed, not even close, but there was something.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You replied, and he could hear the exhaustion in your voice, the way it pulled on your words. It was easier to hear than it was to see, but he just caught the slump to your shoulders, the way you held your eyes shut for a moment, before going to brave the snow.

He walked beside you as you headed towards the ceramics shop, your pace a touch slower than usual. You shoved your hands in your pockets, eyebrows creasing when you realised you must’ve taken your gloves off at some point. You tried not to sigh when you realised that they were probably lost, and just decided to chalk it up to another disappointment in an incredibly frustrating day.

When you arrived at the ceramics shop, it was a mission to get through all the snow that had started blocking the door. You would probably be snowed in, by nightfall. Joel helped you get rid of as much of it as possible, his gloved hands doing most of the work after your bare ones become too numb to continue.

You opened the door, feeling heavier than you had in months, and left the door open as you moved to the back of the shop, turning on the heater that sat there. You let your hands linger in front of it, just gritting your teeth at the sting that followed from warming them too quickly.

Joel lingered in the doorway, frowning at you, and furrowed his eyebrows as he called your name, watching your turn to face him. “I’m sorry.”

You gaped at him, stunned.

“You should have gotten a choice. It wasn’t my place to decide that for you, or to leave without havin’ a conversation.” He continued on, his words jumbling the slightest bit. “I still think you stayin’ was the best thing for you, the safest thing, but for whatever it might be worth, I am sorry.”

When your silence lingered, Joel nodded tersely, and stepped away, smiling tightly as he left the shop, shutting the door behind him. You blinked at the closed door, unsure what to do, unsure if you should have said something. But even if you should’ve, what would you have said?

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest, and everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Tommy wasn’t speaking to you and Maria would be more than upset with you, too. Jesse was in the infirmary, and that was on you. And even as you looked around the ceramics shop, all you saw was cracked paint on the walls, and dust that settled no matter how many times you wiped it away.

Hell, even the misshapen plates and bowls on the shelves just made your chest hurt. You didn’t feel any sort of pride for this place, anymore, and it was painful. It stung at the deepest parts of you, and you just settled down on the dirty floor in front of the heater, holding your head in your hands as you blinked back tears.

Why did you think you could do this?

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Initially, you didn’t intend on avoiding Jesse.

In fact, you had plans to go and visit him the day after everything went to shit. It was just that when you opened the shop door, the outside looked far too unfriendly, and you knew his family would be in his infirmary room.

Perhaps it was a cowardly move, staying at the shop, locking the door and pretending the outside world of Jackson didn’t exist. Really, you were going to go and see him the next day. Swore to yourself that you would. But when the next day came, you didn’t even attempt to unlock the door to leave, figuring that it would be best to just leave him and his family to it. Dina was probably with him, too, so your absence wouldn’t be felt all too much.

Each day you said you would go, started with you justifying your staying in the shop. It went the same way, waking up and thinking you should go and see him, but the moment you got into the front of the shop, you thought better of it.

You blamed it on everything but what it actually was. Whether that be the snow, the heater in the shop that broke, the concept of him having quality time with his family… you used it all to reassure yourself that he didn’t need you by his side.

Besides, you knew he wouldn’t be in the infirmary for long. And by the fifth day, there was a knock against the shop door, barely heard over the howling wind outside. You remained in the back room, telling yourself it was probably nothing important, and after the heater broke, you couldn’t afford to open the door, anyway.

Even with the door closed, your breath misted in front of your face, and you had to rub your hands together more than once to generate heat, especially considering you seemed to have misplaced your gloves.

On day six, you kept all the lights off, and didn’t bother to poke your head around the doorframe to see who was knocking at the front door. After a few moments of loud knocking, his voice called out your name, and you were sure he was likely squinting through the shop window, trying to catch sight of you.

You barely even noticed the way you held your breath so it wouldn’t cloud the air, and alert him to your presence. You pretended the harsh exhale after he left was just a sigh of exhaustion. In some ways, you guessed it was.

By day seven, he knew what you were doing.

“Open the door,” Jesse yelled, still knocking wildly against the wood, and you were sure he was peeking in the window, too. “I’ve been to Tommy’s, the dinner hall, the greenhouses, the stables, hell — I even went to Joel’s. I know you’re here, stop hiding.”

You stayed in the back room.

After a while — much longer than you expected, especially given the still-awful weather — Jesse gave up, leaving the door at last. You frowned at the empty can of food in front of you, chest aching from the cold and everything that had happened over the past few days.

You hadn’t left the shop in the past seven days, surviving off of the short supply of long-life food in the cupboards. But that was your last can of it. As much as you knew you would have to leave, have to go get some more food in order to survive, you still didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see anyone, didn’t want them to see the shame that was so visible in the curve of your frown, the dip of your brows.

It made it easier to hide, knowing Jesse was the only person looking for you. There had been no sign of Tommy or Maria, which pained you, but didn’t surprise you. Part of you wondered if they’d ever speak to you again, but you didn’t want to linger on the question, too afraid of the answer.

It was day eight that you had no other choice — the temperatures were dropping even further, and with no heater it was becoming too cold for you to take. The need for heat and food led you to the dinner hall, which was surprisingly empty, and you settled at your usual table with a plate of cooked food, feeling the chill that had begun to settle in your bones fade.

Most people would be staying inside their homes, the cold too much to bear, so you were surprised when Ellie waltzed into the hall, eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to grab herself some food. You dipped your head when she began looking in your direction, and clutched at the fork in your hand, holding your breath.

“So you are alive.” Ellie drawled, settling down in the seat opposite you with her plate in front of her. “You know your friend has been coming ‘round for the past few days, won’t leave us alone.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

She sighed, poking at the food on her plate. “Thanks for going back for Joel, by the way.” She pretended not to see the way your head snapped up, eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her.

“I wouldn’t leave him to die out there,” You said, after a moment, the words hesitant as they left you. “Especially when he went to try and help me.”

Ellie nodded, shoving food into her mouth, and you quickly followed her action. The silence between the two of you stretched uncomfortably, and you hated how everything had changed. Why couldn’t they have just let you come with them? Why did they have to push you so far away?

“He’s a good guy,” Ellie said, a frown on her face. “He makes stupid decisions, but only because he cares about us.”

You looked at her, wondering when the two of you had grown up. You remember the jokes you had shared during your travels, the way she had been able to make you smile even when doing so seemed impossible. She had made life in the apocalypse almost bearable, and now here you were, sat at the same table, but miles apart.

“Maybe, but you were right about one thing. I don’t know what happened, so if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” You told her, instead of acknowledging her words about Joel. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to think about any of it.

It would be painful, you were sure, to hear about everything they had experienced. You could guess that a lot of it wouldn’t be pleasant, and it would likely hurt to hear about all the things you had missed out on, all the things that maybe you could’ve protected them from. But you were willing. It wasn’t forgiveness, it wasn’t a ticket back to being in each other’s lives, but it was progress.

And progress was all that you could offer, so it would have to do.

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” Ellie said, a tight smile on her face as she looked at you, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise at your words.

You nodded, and the two of you ate in silence.

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After stocking up on some more long-lasting cans of food, you were prepared to hunker down in the shop for a while longer. You hadn’t been able to trade for another blanket like you had hoped, but you weren’t all too surprised. With the stormy weather, everybody wanted more warming supplies.

You had survived worse conditions, though, in worse places. One harsh winter in Jackson wouldn’t kill you, even if your heater was broken, and you still hadn’t found your gloves.

The shop door was locked once again, and you had taped the bottom of it to try and stop the cold draft from seeping into the room. You considered bunkering down in the back room, taping the door shut and staying in there with all the blankets and layers you had, but you thought better of it. You wanted to be able to hear the front door with ease, still on edge after the ambush with Jesse, especially considering the raiding attacks that had slowly begun to ease off.

Despite whatever had gone wrong, however angry Tommy may be, you knew he’d rely on you if the time came. You were sure of it. Everything the two of you had built couldn’t have been toppled by this one event, right?

Your gun was still laid by the shop door, and your ammo never left the jacket you always wore. Just in case. If anything were to go wrong, you wanted to be ready.

The call of your name shook you from your racing thoughts, the contemplation of everything that could happen pausing as your head snapped up. Maria’s voice was loud, and she hadn’t knocked. You didn’t have a surname — didn’t know whoever came before you long enough for them to tell you, didn’t know everyone who came after long enough for them to share their own. So she settled on your first name, yelling it loudly.

“Open the door!” Maria demanded once again, kicking the bottom of it with her foot. “Come on, open it. You’re not fooling anybody, and it’s freezing out here, little Troy can’t stay out here too long.”

With a sigh, you stood. She knew how to get to you — bringing baby Miller was a harsh plan, especially because it gave you no choice but to let her in. Not that it was much warmer in the shop than it was outside, but she didn’t know that.

You unlocked the door, pulling it open just to fit yourself into the crack of it. Facing Maria was terrifying, because you didn’t know what to expect. Even as she held on to baby Troy Miller, who was bundled up in more layers than you could count, she was totally unpredictable. She could be in a motherly mood, or that merciless Jackson council member.

“Hi,” You said, nervously. “What’re you doing here?”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping forward until you’d opened the door for her to step inside of the shop. Maria’s stern expression immediately fell, and you could feel nerves building in your stomach.

“Is your heating out?” She asked, turning on you suddenly, harshly. When you nodded meekly, she handed Troy over to you, not faltering even when you opened your mouth to voice your confusion.

He babbled at you, a toothy grin on his face, and you held on to him tighter. It hit you then, how much you actually cared about these people. Your brain short-circuited when you thought about something bad happening to this family, and it made you feel sick. Suddenly, you were regretting the meal you had eaten with Ellie.

“Well, I think Jeremy should be able to fix it up.” Maria sighed, standing from where she had crouched down to inspect your broken heater. “But he’s way busy with other heater issues. Come on, you’ll stay with us.”

“Maria.” You urged, repeating her name another time when she didn’t answer you, too busy thinking about options and solutions, as always. “I’m fine. Go home.”

She sighed heavily, turning to you with that stern look she’d been wearing since the moment you were left behind in Jackson. “I know you and Tommy are going through a rough time, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been living here with no heat?” Maria shook her head with scoffed laughter, not reaching for Troy even as you offered to hand him back, instead moving to pack some of your clothes into a bag. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“It’s not my home, Maria,” You said softly, perhaps the softest she had ever heard you.

It was disquieting, at the least, for you to behave in such a way. Throughout the whole time Maria had known you, you had been sharp edges and bitten words, even when you had grown to care for them, that hadn’t changed all that much. It was a constant, your stubborn attitude and harsh nature, always slamming doors shut too hard, always charring food when you were unsupervised, because you’d turn the heat up too high. You were impatient, practical, realistic. You weren’t soft.

Maria’s face curved into a frown, and she stopped her presumptive actions in packing up some of your things. She looked at you, looked at the lines that were beginning to dig into your expression, looked at the way your shoulders slumped as you held on to her son.

“Maybe not,” Maria offered, and looked around at the shop that was not as pristine as the last time she had seen it, before looking back to you. “It could be, though.”

You shook your head, sighing but not finding any relief from the action, only feeling the same tightness to your chest. “I’m not a Miller.” You said, and it was true, because the space behind your name remained as empty as ever, that absence something you had felt your whole life.

“You’re as much a Miller as I am, as he is.” Maria reasoned, gesturing towards her son in your arms as she looked at you. She didn’t want to say too much, didn’t want to overwhelm you, but you had practically been adopted by the two Miller brothers. Two men who were so far from perfect, who made so many mistakes that they almost lost you, who cared too much. Hell, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it, you had adopted their mannerisms and tendencies.

It showed in the way you held Troy, the same stance that Tommy used. It showed in the frown on your lips, that looked far too much like Joel’s to be a coincidence. The furrow between your brows reflected Joel and Tommy’s own, a crevice built from worrying and frustration and anger. You reminded Maria too much of how Tommy had been when they first found him — eyes glassy, lost, and without purpose.

She had seen the change in you since you had been left in Jackson, so many ups and downs, but you had been doing better. And now, here you were, looking more lost than you ever had.

“That’s not true, Maria.” You replied, tense. It wasn’t true — Troy was a Miller by blood, and Maria was a Miller by marriage. Both choices that Tommy had made. It wasn’t the same for you, it couldn’t be. Tommy had never chosen you — Joel had dropped you in his lap before running away, and didn’t that make you the furthest thing from a Miller?

“It is true.” Maria refuted, stepping forward to hold a hand firmly against your face. “You’re a Miller, no doubt about it. Now come on, we’d better get going. Got a lot to talk about.”

She was finishing shoving your things inside of the backpack at her feet in a few moments, and was swinging it over her shoulder before you could protest, making her way out of the door. Holding her son, what choice did you have but to follow?

The two of you were silent on your journey to Rancher Street, and you felt the nerves bubbling up from your stomach, leaving an unpleasant tingling in the back of your throat. It was tense, though that could have been all from you. You were still holding Troy, having him half buried in your jacket to make sure he wouldn’t be cold, despite the fact your jacket wasn’t the warmest.

When you arrived to her house, Tommy wasn’t there. She didn’t say anything, so you didn’t mention it, much preferring to ignore the issues that would likely arrive whenever he returned. Instead, you settled Troy down, removing some of his layers at the rush of warm air that came the moment you stepped through the door.

Your hands were tingling, in a strange state between feeling and numb after the sudden temperature change. You settled them under your legs when you sat down on the couch, Troy at your side as Maria clambered about the kitchen, having already dropped your bag down beside the sofa.

When she came back, it was with a steaming mug that you recognised — one of your very own design. It was a dark green, close to black, and had your poor recreation of a bear on it. You remembered thinking it was going to come out brown, remembered the shock when it was green.

She handed it over, and you used the hand with slightly more feeling to take it from her, holding it close to your chin to allow the steam to flow over your features, warming your nose. “So,” Maria said, drawing your attention from where you’d been keeping an eye on Troy, keeping the hot mug away from him. “First, you and Tommy fight, and then you ignore your best friend?”

You stared at her, teeth clenched in shock, and recalled the way Ellie had mentioned the boy. Clearly, he was pestering everybody who knew you. Maria’s eyebrows raised, looking expectantly at you.

“‘M not ignoring anybody.” You murmured, voice catching in your throat as you spoke, and you took a sip of boiling hot tea to get rid of the lump that had formed. The burn soothed you, in a strange way, warming your insides the slightest bit as you breathed steam.

“Mhm, is that why he’s been ‘round here, bugging us ever since he got out of the damn infirmary?” Maria asked, expression tightening slightly as you winced, and knew she had got you.

You shook your head, moving your other hand from underneath your leg to cradle the mug in both palms, breathing a relieved breath at the warmth finally reaching your fingers. “Doesn’t know how to stop, does he?” You said, moving your eyes to the swirling drink in the mug, not looking up even as Maria hummed. “I’ll tell him to leave you be.”

“Ah, but that would require talking to him, which you clearly haven’t been doing.” She told you, a slight teasing lilt to her voice, to make it seem less serious than it truly was.

Maria remembered the night you and Tommy had arrived home, with you shoving at his shoulder whilst he laughed loudly, a bright teasing smile on his expression. It was probably the lightest she had ever seen the two of you, with Tommy not feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders for just a moment, and you smiling like you hadn’t faced unspeakable things. She remembered the way you had scrambled to correct Tommy’s statements, whacking a hand against his forearm when he interrupted you.

She remembered Troy waking up from where she hadn’t long settled him down, and remembered the way you had immediately gone to calm him down after hissing a “Look what you’ve done now!” at Tommy, who had only laughed.

Maria remembered the way her head had settled against her husband’s shoulder, exhausted to her very bones, motherhood feeling much harder than she remembered. Especially with her aged bones, keeping up with a baby was more difficult than she remembered. She didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he could actually run around. Maria had just been grateful to have you there, to be able to rest with Tommy, trusting you to look after her son.

You challenged her motherly instincts, sure, but Troy was on another level — it was a lot more to deal with when your child wasn’t basically self-sufficient.

“I’m going to,” You said, though there was doubt in your voice. “I am.” You repeated, as if that would solidify your statement, as if it would make it any more truthful.

“Listen,” Maria sighed, saying your name, and waiting for you to look up from your mug before she continued. “I know what happened on that patrol. I know. And it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, so why are you ignoring Jesse?”

You swallowed, scratching a fingernail over a small crumb of clay that hadn’t gotten smoothed down before being fired. “I just… I care about him, and he could’ve died, Maria. Tommy was right, I—I was irresponsible, and I could’ve gotten us both killed.”

Maria shook her head immediately, picking Troy up when he began to fuss, and she stopped you. “No, Tommy was speaking from a place of anger. Of fear. You did everything right.” She affirmed, staring intensely at you, as if daring you to argue against her. “Except, maybe, going after Joel, but I know why you did that. I get it. If I had been in your position, if it were my…— I would’ve done the same thing.”

“I just didn’t want him to die, because of me.” You said, voice quiet again, and Maria’s heart ached for you, something squeezing so tightly in her chest that it physically hurt. “I don’t want Tommy to hate me forever, either.” You added after a few quiet moments, eyes following a bubble around the edge of the mug.

“He doesn’t hate you, kid, not at all. He was scared, he didn’t want to lose you.” Maria reasoned, but you still didn’t feel better, not after just how angry he had gotten. Not after he had practically shoved you out of his sight, the moment he was done yelling, unable to even look at you. Not after he had sent Joel as a messenger, refusing to speak to you himself.

“Maybe,” You offered, because it was the best you could do. You couldn’t agree with her, couldn’t disagree, either. The only person who would actually be able to decide those things was Tommy — and he was nowhere to be found. “I’ll talk to Jesse.” You decided to say, in the end, hands gripping tighter on the mug. Just saying it aloud made it seem all the more real, and you regretted it a moment afterwards, thoughts stuck on what Jesse would say, what his family would say.

“Good.” Maria said, nodding at you, “He’s a good kid, he deserves to know his friend is still here.” She stood to her feet, heading to the kitchen with Troy in her arms, waiting for her to feed him.

Twenty minutes later, when Maria had gone upstairs to put Troy down for a nap, the front door banged open, a rush of cold air being let in.

“Maria!” Tommy yelled out, his voice panicked, and you could hear him shuffling through his bag in the still-open doorway. With furrowed brows, you placed the cold mug down on the floor beside the sofa, standing up and making your way to peek into the hallway. “Maria, you here?” He shouted again, more desperate this time, and when you finally saw him, you saw that he had snow still clinging to him, and he had brought clumps of it in on his boots, slowly melting puddles on their floor.

“Tommy?” You questioned quietly, both not wanting to speak to him, but also getting increasingly concerned by his behaviour. His head snapped up to you, and he blinked in surprise, his shoulders slumping and hands pausing in their rummaging.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy said, approaching you quickly and wrapping his arms around you tightly before you could get a word in. You blinked, shocked, and slowly wrapped your own arms around the man, who just held your head closer to him in return. “You scared the shit outta me.” He admitted, a slight tremor to his voice. He breathed out a heavy sigh, arms squeezing, and you wanted to look at him to express your confusion.

“Is everything okay?” Maria asked, a slight panic to her own voice, but she relaxed at the image before her. Tommy’s eyes opened as he rested his head on your own, and he looked to his wife as he nodded gently.

He moved away from you slightly, hands moving to hold your shoulders tightly, finally able to see your confused face. He sighed, his shoulders dropping like they had been holding the weight of the world. “I went to the shop, wanted to apologise. Couldn’t find you or your things, and it was freezing.” Tommy told you, his head dropping until his chin rested against his chest for a moment. “Thought you left.”

His arms pulled you back to his chest, and you didn’t resist him, though your heart was racing in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

Maria frowned, “I didn’t know you were going. The heater’s broken, so I told her to stay with us.”

Tommy nodded again, his breath held in his chest as he let his heart rate calm down. You let him hold on to you until he was ready to let go, just keeping your face hidden in his shoulder as your arms wrapped loosely around him, fingers numb from the cold once again.

When he finally released you, you took a small step back, cheeks warm with remaining shame from your last conversation with the man. The rest of you, however, was freezing, especially since you had removed your multitude of layers in the warm house. Tommy frowned as you shivered, cursing under his breath as he turned to shut his front door, his frown deepening when he saw the water covering the hallway in front of the door.

He waved Maria away when she gave him a stern look, and she nodded once she saw his expression, smiling tightly at you before heading back upstairs to settle Troy back down, after he had been fussing from his father’s shouting.

Tommy turned to where you stood, hands wrung together to try and generate some more warmth between your digits. He sighed again, a seemingly very common thing for him at the moment, and he stood up straighter to talk to you.

“I’m sorry,” He told you, his voice reflecting his words in its apologetic tone. “I should never have spoken to you the way I did. Wasn’t fair of me to blame you for things that weren’t your fault. Or for me to judge you for doin’ exactly what I would’ve. What I should’ve.”

You stared at him, at the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists at his sides, a slightly nervous habit, you had noticed.

“Tommy, you were right,” You responded, continuing on even as he shook his head, “I messed up, and I could’ve gotten Jesse, or Joel, or even myself killed.”

“No.” He said firmly, reaching out and holding onto your shoulders once again, his grip tight as if you might slip away. “I was wrong. You hear me? I should have been proud, proud that you were so brave, that you saved your friend and your— and Joel. I should have been proud that you made your way back, that you did it without some old shithead tellin’ you what to do.” He rambled on, shutting his eyes and looking almost regretful.

You ducked your head, feeling far too emotional, a lump formed in your throat at his words. Just somebody who you looked up to, who you trusted, telling you that you hadn’t done anything wrong… it was almost too much.

As many mixed feelings as you may have had over the whole situation, the most prevalent one was guilt. It had been surrounding you, weighing so heavily on you, hell, you didn’t even realise how much it had been pulling you down until Tommy came in, lifting it all off of your shoulders.

“You did good, kid.” He told you, squeezing your shoulders, and you hated the way your lip started trembling.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Tommy laughed, the sound watery and almost broken off, “You can cry as much as you want.” He pulled you in, feeling your arms squeeze around his middle as he held on to you so tightly, he was almost sure he’d never let go again.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Your closed fist was raised up to the door, a hair’s width away from making contact with it, but you had frozen. And it wasn’t because of the cold.

There was something that had settled heavily in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and slow. You felt, distantly, like you might throw up with the way it was sitting, but tried not to think on it too much. You were aware of the way your chest was rising and falling, almost too aware, and you tried to put it out of your mind as you attempted to steel yourself.

“You gonna knock, or are you just gonna keep standing there, looking stupid?” A voice asked from behind you, making you spin on your heels, fist pulled away from the door. You held a hand against your chest, breathing a heavy sigh as you saw the culprit of the scare.

“You’re an asshole.” You murmured, eyes studying your beaten up boots that were covered in melting snow. You looked up to him, and felt some relief when you saw Jesse crack a slight smile at your reaction. It faded far too quickly for your liking.

“So?” He prompted, eyebrows raising at you.

You frowned, repressing the urge to grumble at him, but you knew that he should’ve been the one angry at you. Hell, he probably was. “I just came to say… I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked, annoyed. But when his expression didn’t budge, you sighed through your nose. “Okay. I’m sorry for ignoring you after the infirmary, and I’m sorry you got put into the infirmary at all.” You said, looking back down the where the melting snow was seeping into the hole at the side of your boots. You should probably get new ones.

Jesse didn’t say anything for a moment, and you picked at your fingernails while you stared at the ground, your nerves sending your pulse into a fluttery mess.

Finally, you heard him snickering, and your head snapped up. “Well, I just can’t believe this. You, apologising?” You glared as his smile slowly grew, though you knew that the whole thing wasn’t quite solved, at least it was good to know that Jesse was still acting his usual asshole self with you. “Come on, you little asshole.” He said, gesturing for you to follow him. You did.

He glanced at you every so often, shaking his head at your stoic expression.

The two of you arrived at the dining hall soon enough, standing in the queues silently whilst waiting to collect food, until Jesse nudged you and led you over to the table you so often shared.

“You do realise I would never blame you for something that happened on patrol, right?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he awaited your response, shovelling food into his mouth as if he was starving. He reminded you an awful lot of Ellie, in that way. You wondered if they had met.

With a roll of your eyes, “Well, now, yeah. Do we have to talk about this? I said sorry, didn’t I?” You murmured the last part, shovelling your own food into your mouth, refraining from rolling your eyes again when Jesse snickered at you.

“How could I forget? You prefer to brood rather than talk about your feelings.” He responded.

“Okay, I don’t brood—”

“Yes, you do—”

“And do you enjoy talking about… feelings?” You said, ignoring his interruption. He stared at your raised eyebrows, the expectant look on your face.

“Sometimes, I do.”

“Maybe when it comes to—”

“Dina!” Jesse said in a high pitched tone, cutting you off and looking at you with widened eyes. You looked behind you, seeing the girl of the hour approaching your table, an amused look in her eye. She nudged you with a grin as she walked past, sitting on your left and smiling widely at Jesse’s surprised expression.

After settling down, she looked back up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

You snorted out a laugh, not expecting to hear such an old expression coming from her — it sounded like something Joel might say. Jesse glared at you, unamused by the grin you and Dina shared.

“Yeah, Jesse.” You goaded, smiling at his indignant huff. “Not want to talk about feelings, anymore?” You asked. You leaned backwards as he swiped his arm out, trying to knock the cutlery from your hand as it was heading towards your mouth. Dina laughed at his failed attempt.

“So you two are talking again, then?” Dina said when her laughing faded, and you glared at the way Jesse grinned, unhappy with the fact he was telling her such things. You supposed that you couldn’t blame him — after all, you had spoken to Maria about it. It just so happened that Jesse was your only friend your actual age.

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed at the man.

“Unfortunately,” Jesse mocked, making a face at you. “Somebody finally came to their senses!” He said, after he was done poking at his food as he frowned at you.

“Somebody is having regrets about it.” You responded in turn, smiling sarcastically at him.

“Back to normal, then.” Dina concluded, smiling when the two of you nodded. She didn’t know you all too well, but from the time she had spent with you in Jesse’s infirmary room, she was a fan. You clearly cared about Jesse, way more than you would admit, and she could admire that.

You looked at Jesse, “Back to normal.” He echoed, smiling at you.

You pretended that the sigh you let out wasn’t one of relief.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“You should really clean this place up, you know.” Jesse commented as you unlocked the door to the pottery shop, his eyes scanning around the room, the chill to the air making him shove his hands in his pockets. He looked at the dust covering the surfaces you usually cut clay on and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I’ve been a bit busy.” You replied, moving to the newly fixed heater that Tommy had brought over when he walked you back to the shop that very morning.

“Oh, yeah, avoiding me.” Jesse said, grinning mischievously when you shot him an annoyed look over your shoulder, focusing on turning the heater on, placing your freezing hands in front of it when it finally started shooting out some warmth. You sighed at the sting, just glad to feel your hands once again.

You sat down on a dusty stool, turning to Jesse when he sat down beside you, relishing in the heater that was finally working. “Okay, so maybe I’m not the best with… feelings.”

“No kidding,” Jesse snorted, his smile fading when you stared at him, deadpan. “Sorry, go on.”

“But I can say that I do care about you. Sometimes. When you don’t piss me off.” You told him, drawing in a shaky breath that filled your lungs with cold air. “I just… relationships are complicated, you know? And painful, a lot of the time. I didn’t wanna go through that again, I guess, but you’re persistent.”

Jesse smiled as you spoke, somewhat amused by your words, but even you could see the softness to it. The absence of that teasing edge his grin usually held. It was reassuring.

“If this is about Joel—” Jesse attempted, shutting his mouth when you cut him off.

“—It’s not about him.” You interrupted, quickly, the back of your neck feeling hot despite the heater being quite far from you. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” You added on, after thinking about it for a second. You generally tried not to think of Joel, or the whole situation with him and Ellie, but could it really have effected you that much? It’s not like Joel was the first person you had lost.

He was the first to walk away without a fight, though.

A small part of you fought that fact, because he came back. Did that not mean anything?

“Can I speak yet?” Jesse asked, a slight teasing lilt to his voice. It brought you out of your thoughts, and you smiled despite the topic at hand. With a nod from you, Jesse went on, “Thanks. I’m just saying, maybe Joel isn’t all that bad. I’m not defending what he did, but the guy clearly cares about you.”

“So I should just— just forgive him? For leaving me?” You asked, looking at Jesse as if he had all the answers.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” He said. “Maybe you don’t need to forgive him. Maybe it’s time to just… move on with your life. Forget about what he did, and focus on what he can do. You miss him, don’t you?”

You frowned, looking away from the intensity of Jesse’s gaze. The two of you were friends, yes, and he was the closest friend you’d ever had, maybe besides Ellie. But being so open, it was strange. Likely the effect of the apocalyptic world you lived in, and perhaps it was another difference between that world and the little safe haven of Jackson, Wyoming.

“‘Course I do. He and Tess… they were everything I had.” You replied, your eyebrows creasing at the thought of the woman, at the memory of your life in Boston QZ. It made you realise that it had been a while since Maria had cut your hair, and Tess would’ve chastised you for not reminding her to cut it if you had let it gotten this long in Boston.

It all felt so far away.

When you thought of Tess, your heart ached. Though, it wasn’t quite the same as it had been on your journey with Joel and Ellie. You felt her absence, maybe more than ever, but it wasn’t all bitter. You felt… appreciative of her. She may be gone, but at least you got to have her for a time.

You really wished that she could’ve seen this place, though. You often wondered if she would’ve liked pottery.

Joel would probably know.

“Tess may be gone, but Joel isn’t. Not anymore.” Jesse reminded you, hesitant in his words. You realised that you had never really told him, or anyone, about Tess.

“Y’know, if Tess were here, she’d probably tell me to get over myself,” You laughed at the thought, a sad, watery laugh, but Jesse smiled with you despite not knowing the woman. “She’d kick Joel’s ass, though.”

“Is that even possible? Joel’s like… badass, man.”

“Nobody was more badass than Tess. She was awesome. Used to boss Joel around, all the time, she ran half of the smuggling underground at Boston.” You smiled when Jesse raised his eyebrows, surprised. “And she used to cut my hair. Always told me it was better to keep my hair short, even though she had long hair.”

“Bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, humour in his words.

You shrugged, “Think she was just trying to keep me safe, in her own way. Tess didn’t want to keep me, to start with. Joel convinced her.”

The more you thought about it, the more you realised that it really was because of Joel that you were allowed to stay with the two of them. You remember hearing them argue on a few occasions, something about a great family that Tess knew nearby. But Joel had never let you go too far.

He’d told you about Tess’s family, though it wasn’t really his place to do so. He had done it in an attempt to comfort you one night when you were young, after you had gotten upset at Tess disregarding you yet again. Joel had explained that she didn’t like getting attached to anybody, especially kids, after she lost her own child. He had told you that it was what they had bonded over, at the start.

“Sounds like this Joel guy really wanted you around, huh?” Jesse said teasingly, only grinning when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, you asshole, when the hell did you get all wise?” You asked, glaring at him as he feigned an innocent look. You cracked first, smiling at his expression, feeling a softness to the grin as he matched it with one of his own.

“Distance makes the heart grow wiser, I guess.”

“It’s fonder, Jesse. It makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Shut up, I’m the wise one here.”

You looked at Jesse then, as the two of you shared a laugh, and you wondered if this is how friendship felt before the apocalypse, or if that warm feeling in your chest was exclusive to post-apocalyptic relationships.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“Didn’t think you’d be coming back here.” Joel commented gruffly as he made his way to the kitchen with a nervous energy about him.

“Me neither,” You said idly, watching him fumble around the kitchen. You wondered if it was just a Miller thing, being terrible in the kitchen. It certainly seemed like something Joel and Tommy had in common, but you hadn’t really thought about it when Joel had asked if you wanted some tea, in a bit of a panic at your presence.

He didn’t say anything in response to that, seemingly mulling your words over. Joel didn’t really know what to make of your presence, certainly not expecting to see you at his front door when he opened it.

“Oh, wait,” You said suddenly, causing him to look over to you in the doorway from where he had been about to put tea in the two mugs in front of him. You pulled your backpack around on your shoulder, digging through it for a moment before pulling out a bag. Joel’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between you and the bag, waiting for an explanation. “Look.” You said, handing it over to him.

He took the bag, opening it up and unable to help the grin that broke onto his face at the sight of coffee beans, the scent of them immediately soothing some of the man’s tension.

“Where’d you get these?” Joel asked you, his voice lighter than you had heard it since Boston. The sound of it made you grin, despite everything.

“Found ‘em on a patrol, a while ago. Been hiding them from Tommy, so don’t tell him.” You responded, realising that this was probably the lightest conversation you and Joel had held for a very long time. How long had it been?

“Wouldn’t dream of it. He’s a thief, always has been.” Joel said, smiling. “Right, the tea.” He said after a moment, placing the bag of coffee beans beside the mugs he’d set out.

You snickered as you noticed the mugs, grinning as Joel turned to you in question. “Seems like Tommy’s not the only thief in the family.” You said, gesturing toward the white and orange mug he’d placed down, recognising it from the batch you’d given Tommy and Maria.

Joel, at least, had the decency to look slightly embarrassed about stealing the orange coloured owl mug you had made and gifted to his brother. Either that, or embarrassed about getting caught. It had slipped his mind, really, more of a habit to grab it out of the cupboard, considering it was the one he used all the time.

He opened his mouth to try and craft some sort of defence, but felt any words he might’ve had die on his tongue as he turned to you. Seeing you smiling, well, it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You often smiled at Tommy and Maria when he caught sight of you with the two of them, hell, you smiled a lot around that friend of yours, Jesse. Joel even remembers the times you would smile back in Boston, even though life in the QZ was much harder than life in Jackson.

But it had been a long time since Joel had seen you smile in his presence.

Each time you and Joel interacted after he had left you behind, your face had a way of falling, of crumpling in on itself before it hardened, staring at him with an expression of stone.

It had his heart aching in his chest, finally seeing you smile around him. He hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, after he stayed silent for a moment too long, the smile on your face fading into something of confusion. Joel shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts, clearing his throat and offering up his best smile in return.

“Nothin’,” Joel answered. “Nothin’ at all.”

You let his response linger in the air between the two of you for a few moments, and it seemed that the both of you were thinking of how life used to be. You were a long way from Boston.

“I could’ve made you your own, y’know.” You said, after a the silence stretched on, reaching out and picking up the mug he had stolen, looking at all the imperfections that had seemed invisible, all that time ago when you had made it. You’d like to believe you were much better in your craft, now.

“I like this one, just fine.” Joel responded, plucking it from your hands with a raised eyebrow. You snickered at his actions, moving to look around the kitchen, missing the soft grin stretched over the man’s face.

“God, you fixed that?” You asked suddenly, taking a wide step to look at the slight imperfection on the countertop, where you remember carving a deep gash in the material one night by shattering a particularly heavy plate upon the counter. You were almost sure it wasn’t fixable, that perhaps it could look better, but would always be extremely noticeable.

Joel nodded, back to his task of sorting out tea, but spoke when realising you were faced away from him. “Oh, yeah. Took me a couple tries, though.”

You hummed in response, going back to looking around the kitchen that you remembered so well. Most of the damage you had caused on the room had been fixed, which created a strange feeling in your chest, though you couldn’t tell quite what it was. Relief? Disappointment?

It wasn’t as hard to be in this house as you had expected it to be. You were awaiting that crushing feeling in your chest, that emptiness that left your ribs aching. Surprisingly, you felt… light, almost.

Joel didn’t know exactly what to expect.

On one hand, he wanted to feel hopeful, to belief that this would be the beginning of your relationship with him healing. But then on the other hand, he was reminded of just how much he had hurt you, of the tears that had spilled from your eyes when he had left you behind, the grit of your teeth when he had returned. He tried his best not to expect anything at all, to just remain… happy that you were here, in this moment.

Even if there were no other moments like this one.

He tried not to focus on how much that thought hurt.

“You and Ellie settled in, then?” You asked, trying to fill the silence in the room. There was also that part of you that wanted to know, that wanted to know everything.

Joel repressed the sigh that built in his chest. “Gettin’ there. She, uh, she’s had a tough time, but you know Ellie. She loves to be gettin’ into everybody’s business.” He refrained from looking in your direction when he asked you the same question. “You settled in alright here?” He wanted to add more on, but thought it best not to try his luck.

“I guess so.” You responded, thinking of how different your life was now, to how it was back in Boston, or even to how it was when you were on the road with Joel and Ellie. “It was… tough at first, but Tommy and Maria were good to me. And I got the shop, so.”

“And that boy?” Joel asked, trying to remain casual, though you heard the suspicion.

You smiled at his question, at the way he avoided looking at you. Back in Boston, when you had been much, much younger, Joel had tried to get the thought into your brain that boys were bad. He was protective of you, and distrustful towards the world. You couldn’t blame him.

“Jesse? He’s, uh, he’s my best friend.” You told the man, shaking your head at the way his shoulders relaxed the smallest bit. “He’s a good guy, you know. I care about him.”

As protective as Joel was, though he knew that he didnt really have any right to be, he couldn’t deny that it was nice that you had a friend your age. That you could count on someone, could trust someone, out of your immediate circle. He remembers that you had been lonely in the QZ, with only him and Tess for company, nobody your age that you could speak to or trust.

It had been a relief, almost, when you and Ellie had developed a friendship on the journey. Joel only hoped that the two of you could have that again.

“I’m happy for you, kiddo.” Joel responded, the nickname coming out almost like a reflex, like it was involuntary. It was what he had always called you, though, so you weren’t surprised.

“Jesse, uh— it was actually Jesse’s idea for me to come here.” You said, and Joel couldn’t deny the relief that spread through him when you didn’t immediately reject the nickname, or pull away at the sound of it.

Joel floundered for a moment, looking for something to say, eventually settling on uttering a quiet, “Sounds like a smart kid.”

You smiled, taking the mug off of Joel as he finally finished making the tea, avoiding your eyes. “I guess.” You replied, cradling the warm ceramic mug tightly in your hands. “Somehow, he seems to know what I need to hear, before even I know.” You said, humour coating your fond tone.

Joel smiled. “Sounds familiar. Tess was always like that, with me.”

It was one of the first times Joel had openly mentioned her name since she died. For some reason, it made your shoulders feel much lighter, like the burden of not being able to talk about her had been weighing you down.

“I miss her.” You confessed, looking for his reaction.

“I do, too, kiddo.” Joel admitted, his words softer than you had ever heard them. You thought about what it must’ve been like for him, to lose the companion he had held as close as he dared for close to two decades. You couldn’t imagine.

You hesitated, opening your mouth, before closing it again, only going ahead when Joel gave you a reassuring nod. “You knew her much better than I ever did.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think you could… I don’t know, just— just tell me about her, one day?” You asked, the hope in your words making Joel’s heart ache.

“‘Course. I’ll tell you whatever you’d like to know.” Joel said, smiling gently at you, nodding his head towards the living room, a soft look on his face as he sat down beside you on the couch. “Ask away, kiddo.”

You were quiet for a moment, feeling lighter than you had possibly your whole life. “Do you think she’d like pottery?” You asked, sharing a knowing smile with Joel. He laughed at the concept, something so amusing about the idea of Tess Servopoulos, the renowned smuggling boss, sitting in your shop and making dinnerware.

“If it was with you, I reckon she’d have liked anything.” Joel responded, something truthful to his words.

You smiled, and asked more about her.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

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spaceshipellie · 1 year

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ok ok rockstar!ellie x actress!reader ,, ellie being like obsessed with reader and her films / shows and says smth about u during an interview. reader seeing it and talking about it in another interview. even better if readers a bit older than ellie and ellie had a poster of reader in her room when she was younger sjshsg

the blades

rockstar!ellie x actress!reader

part one (two pending)

summary: ellie’s band did a song for your upcoming movie and you both mention each other in interviews.

warnings: reader is like 5-6 years older than ellie but they’re both in their twenties

author’s note: i love this concept so much i want to write more rockstar!ellie x actress!reader in future!! tysm for the request, i hope you like it 🖤 wc: 800

“so let’s talk about your latest single, caves, which is for the new movie end of beginning, right?”

“right,” ellie nodded at the interviewer, twisting the rings on her fingers which rested in her lap. she was usually pretty nervous doing interviews, still only feeling truly comfortable in front of a crowd when she had her guitar hanging from her shoulders.

“it’s an incredible song and goes so well in the movie, i mean…” the interviewer’s voice trailed off as they turned to the audience who were whooping and cheering at the compliments. “well they certainly agree!”

“thank you, we’ve had so much fun getting to be a part of it,” dina beamed her award-winning smile.

“so were you able to meet the stars? what did they think?”

“we did briefly which was amazing,” dina carried on, “and i think they loved it!?” she turned to jesse.

“yeah they thought it was great which for us, you know, was crazy as they’re super talented people so that recognition was uh, was amazing. ellie especially loved it,” jesse said, sneaking in a jab at his band mate and best friend.

“really ellie?” the interview seemed keen to know more.

ellie stretched her arm up, nervously scratching the back of her head and tried to fight a smile off her lips. “yeah, i mean i…oh man, thanks jesse.”

“anytime.”

“i’m a huge fan so it was a trip getting to meet them,” she finally settled on.

“meeting y/n?” the interviewer pushed.

“yeah, meeting y/n was great.”

“why do i feel like there’s more you’re not telling me?” the interviewer joked.

“well,” she awkwardly laughed, “no, i mean she’s an insanely talented actress and i’ve loved her movies for years so it’s always pretty crazy meeting someone like that.”

“that, and the posters,” dina leaned into ellie’s shoulder. ellie tried to refrain from swearing on tv.

“posters?”

“yeah,” she admitted, “i had a poster of her on my wall when i was like 16.”

“was she a bit of a celebrity crush for you?”

“something like that, yeah.” ellie’s cheeks had gone bright red and they felt hot under the bright stage lights and mini interrogation she was experiencing.

“oh it’s all coming out now,” jesse laughed and dina laughed with him. ellie chuckled, embarrassed, whilst shooting them a glare.

she ran her hands down her face. “oh, i can’t believe you just made me admit that on tv.”

“she’s probably going to see this,” the interviewer said, “and she’s on here next week.”

“oh god, don’t even mention it.”

— a week later —

“so, y/n! thanks for being on the show.”

“thank you for having me!” you shot your best smile at the interviewer and the crowd, who cheered.

“you’re new movie end of beginning is out now, is that right?”

“yes it’s out now and we had the premier last week which was an incredible night!”

“it looked amazing, as did you, so stunning!”

“thank you so much.”

the interviewer went on asking you more questions about your role in the movie before bringing up ellie’s band, the blades.

“you might have already seen but last week we had the blades on our show and they said it was amazing to work with you.”

“yes! i loved the music they made for this movie, they’re all beyond talented. it was great to meet them as well, super lovely guys,” you praised.

“were you a fan before?”

“yes i am actually, i saw them live on their tour last year so yeah, i’ve been a fan for a while.”

your cheeks felt hot all of a sudden as you had a feeling where this was going.

“well, i think they were definitely fans of yours, or at least one of them was!” the interviewer prodded, smiling. you laughed shyly, not wanting to be the one to admit to anything in front of a live audience.

“ellie said you were her celebrity crush.”

“i heard, yeah,” you smiled down into your lap, trying to compose yourself.

“i think you’d made a cute couple,” the interviewer beamed and the crowd cheered. “they think so!”

“i um,” you stammered, “yeah she’s cute.”

you thought she was more than just cute! you had been a fan of her band for a couple of years and had swooned over the way her skilled fingers plucked her guitar strings over and over again. the outfits she wore. the way she sits with her knees apart and hands clasped together in interviews. the smiles and smirks she has whilst on stage. the tiktok edits you had saved.

“well make sure to invite me to the wedding,” the interviewer laughed. you shyly nodded, trying to stifle the wide grin that wanted to take over your face. you almost hoped ellie wouldn’t see this but there was no doubt that she would… she did, and she had a shit-eating grin on her face the entire time.

#anon requests 🌷#ellie williams drabble #rockstar!ellie x actress!reader #rockstar!ellie williams x actress!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #rockstar ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #spaceshipellie asks #ellie x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams oneshot

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yoonieper · 2 years

Text

Santa Baby | JHS

"Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight~"

❅ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

❅ Genre: coworkers to lovers, kinda fluffy, smut

❅ Rated: U for Unexpected

❅ Warnings: fingering, protected sex, a little spice to get your day going 😌

❅ Word Count: 3.1k

❅ Summary: A company dinner turns into a night of unexpected passion with your work friend.

❅ Thank you: Thank you to @jamaisjoons for the banner (ik you made this a year ago 😅)~

❅ Author’s Note: This was very rushed so it’s shorter than I planned, but hope y’all still enjoy (a cup of spice is always nice :’D)~ I have more Hobi fics planned so stay tuned for that~ This was actually meant to be posted last year for an event my net was hosting but y’all know me, can’t meet deadlines for shit :’)

JHS Entertainment. You had only started working at the company earlier this year and it was the place you had dreamed of being at since you decided you wanted to go into the film industry.

The position wasn’t exactly what you pictured, you were oftentimes stuck on a computer editing rather than helping film big ideas like you had hoped. You had to make your way up the ladder in order for you to get to where you really wanted and within the months you worked at JHS you had already managed to get promoted. You knew it was going to be a long road ahead of you but you still felt proud of yourself as the end of the year rolled around.

During your time at the company you had even made a few friends. None of you had really hung out with each other outside of work, the most being anytime your department heads invited you out to dinner, or the one time a few months ago you all went on this “team-building” retreat.

You never thought you would be a big fan of those types of things, anytime in the past you’ve been dragged into those situations you wanted to be anywhere but with your coworkers after hours.

This time though, anytime you’d walk into work you had fun memories to laugh with your coworkers about because of them.

You would always laugh with Jess about that time on the retreat that Gavin drunkenly professed his love to the director by singing his heart out and spilled wine all over her expensive outfit (they’re dating now).

You would sometimes gossip with Tisha about all the countless rumors you would hear about Peter and Cassie and their supposed affair despite both of them being married after she caught them making out in the bathroom.

You had great memories working here, your boss was nice, your coworkers for the most part were amazing, you really had everything to be thankful for as the year began to close out.

Working at JHS even gave you the opportunity to meet him, Jung Hoseok, one of your best work friends. You both worked in the same department and he was hired just a few months before you. You both bonded over being the new person and that connection eventually blossomed into your friendship today.

As much as you loved your job, most of the people you worked with you could only foresee being a work friend and nothing more. Hoseok and Ruby, another coworker who was hired around the same time, were the only ones you could actually see yourself staying in touch with if you were to ever leave.

You guys had even tried to make plans outside of work occasionally but work or home duties always got in the way you would always need to cancel. You still wanted to try and make an “unofficial meeting” happen eventually.

You had your friends and your fair share of relationships with your team and you couldn’t honestly be at a happier point in your life.

It was this optimism that when your department head announced that they were hosting a “holiday” company dinner party you didn’t groan like some of your coworkers around you in the fact your time off might be interrupted for an evening. If anything you for some reason was a little excited at memorable moments that could be made at an event like this.

On the day of the dinner you spent a good amount of time getting ready. This was the first time your coworkers were going to see you dressed up and you wanted to impress.

You had bought this knee-length, tight baby blue dress. It was just the right amount of not too out there considering the occasion, and sexy with the small slit that came up your thigh and how the dress hugged your figure. The spaghetti straps and low cut of the neckline offered a little extra dash of spice to the outfit with the way it offered a tasteful amount of cleavage.

What were you hoping to accomplish wearing a dress like this to your company dinner? Absolutely nothing, you just wanted to feel good, look good, as you tried your best to enjoy yourself at the dinner party. Who knows, maybe there might be someone at this party you might catch the attention of.

You honestly didn’t think that would happen, all that might come out of a night like this would be having a little fun, taking advantage of the open bar, getting bored out of your mind, and maybe one interesting thing happens that you might still be talking about after the holidays are over. You certainly didn’t expect for the night to go the way it did.

You in fact did turn heads the minute you walked into the room, your face was burning as you saw the lingering eyes of your coworkers and the quiet whispers they probably didn’t expect for you to hear.

You thought that would be it for your moment of fame, another coworker would walk in and everyone’s eyes would be on them for the rest of the night. However, when you made it to where Ruby and Hoseok were sitting you were instantly overflowed with compliments from Ruby that had your face burning brighter than the sun and Hoseok… well, for a while your friend didn’t say a single word, as for quite some time he couldn’t stop staring at you.

You liked to think you knew your friend group well, you’ve been working together for nearly a year now, but the minute you were taken out of the work environment you saw a whole new side of Hoseok. He was your friend, yes a friend who made you gawk the first time you met him. He was handsome, kind, and was the source of joy that would get you through your workday.

He was your friend and your workplace crush— a crush you no doubt shared with a lot of your coworkers. You never considered acting on it, at least not until you felt a little more confident he felt the same way. As of now, you had no indication that he liked you, but apparently you weren’t completely off his radar like you had wondered. You managed to catch his attention and tonight was the night he wanted to let you know.

You, Hoseok, and Ruby were laughing one minute, the next thing you knew she was making up some excuse to talk with Jerry, literally the most boring guy ever (he one time talked both you and Ruby’s heads off about his excitement watching the paint dry on his fence), and that was the last you saw of your friend the entire night.

“So what now…?” You asked as you watched her scurry off.

“Mmmm, I think we can still have fun with just the two of us.” Hoseok smirked at you and you were a little taken aback by the way his voice changed. It instantly had flags going up in your mind. It had been a while since you were in this position, but for some reason you got the sense he was flirting with you.

“Oh really? What makes you think that?” You chuckled, turning your attention fully to the beautiful man in front of you.

For a little while he didn’t respond as his eyes continued to scan over your form. You were getting warmer than when you held the attention of almost everyone here.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I can’t get over this, you look absolutely amazing tonight.” He flashed you one of his signature charming smiles and suddenly you did not know how to act. It seemed your intuition was very correct.

You truly did not know your friend as well as you thought you did, because the entire night you found yourself taken aback, smitten, and blushing like a schoolgirl the minute he would just smile at you. He had turned up his flirt game all the way to a thousand.

While you undoubtedly had some type of feelings for him, you had this picture in your head that he was just the softest, most oblivious guy to the game you've ever met. At work, he can’t even take compliments without saying how amazing the entire team is. You even one time tried to shoot him a subtle flirty text to kinda see where you stood and if you had any chance whatsoever.

You [11:53pm]: Are you a triangle? Cause I think you’d be acute one ;)

Hobi <3 [8:24am] Idk, I see myself more as a oval tbh :p

To be fair that was not one of your greatest hits of all time, but that was definitely not the response you expected after spending all night tossing and turning thinking about what he might say in the morning, only to wake up to him calling himself an oval.

Since that day you never once pictured your friend being a flirt. You were definitely shocked to find out he was seemingly a very experienced flirt because this man had more game than any other guy you’ve ever talked to.

It only made you wonder, was he really as oblivious as you thought he was or…?

If you ever needed a bigger sign that your crush for your friend wasn’t as silly as you thought, Hoseok made sure to give you a bright neon one with a billion arrows pointing to the answer.

It was as if the dinner party wasn’t happening as the two of you chatted like you were on a date. The soft lighting of the candle set the mood as you both chatted away, completely ignoring your coworkers around you. It was like you were in your own little world, lost in each other’s eyes.

You both also made it to the dance floor eventually. Your arms were wrapped around his frame as you both slow danced to the soft band that was playing a jazzy rendition of Santa Baby.

To be honest, the night was a blur, everything happened so fast. One minute you both were drinking cocktails at the open bar, the next you were feeding each other pasta, dancing the night away, and way too soon for both of your likings, the dinner party was ending.

You were some of the last two people leaving.

Hoseok had draped his jacket across your shoulders as you both waited for an uber. You were smiling like an idiot because he offered to take you home and your mind was spiraling at the possibilities.

You hoped this was going the way you thought it was.

You thought briefly about the consequences of whatever was happening between you and Hoseok. Based on what you’ve heard from movies, books, along with your friends, relationships between coworkers never end well and make things extremely complicated in the workplace.

You were a little wary about pressing further, but the way he held you close as the chill November air blew over you both, and you reminisced about the night you shared, you figured you would worry about later. All you hoped was he would kiss you at least once tonight.

Once your uber pulled up, you got your answer. The minute you closed the door behind the both of you his hand was on your thigh and he kindly asked the driver to hurry.

Oh.

Suddenly you were hot all too quickly and the 15 minute ride to your place seemed like an eternity.

He didn’t make things any easier, his cool hand lightly stroked your warm thigh, inching up higher and higher as he calmly looked out the window at the city night life outside. You wanted to scream, moan, push his hand up further, but you focused on trying to stay as calm as you could until you made it to your apartment.

You felt like you were nearly about to lose your mind by the time you both were racing out the car and hurrying to the elevator.

You both hadn’t really said much to each other for a while, letting your actions speak louder than any words could but as you both made it to your front door suddenly the lingering questions needed to be answered.

You stood in front of your door and Hoseok cooly caged you into his arms, close, but not as close as you wanted him.

“I had a great time tonight~” He smiled down at you, his eyes fleeting down to your lips.

“Me too…” You wanted to say more, say how happy tonight has truly made you but the way he looked at you made anything more complex leave your brain.

“I was thinking… tonight doesn’t have to end just yet…” His voice was low and fuck, why wasn’t his lips on yours yet.

In a moment of clarity you jumped at the opportunity. You leaned forward to meet his ear.

“Only if your plans for the night end with you inside me.” It was bold and usually you were so. Hoseok’s charms were enough for you to forget all of your hot girl training.

When you pulled back you were satisfied to see a stunned look on his features before he chuckled darkly.

“Turn around, I need that door open baby.” It was a command that had you weak in the knees. You followed quickly, reaching into your little clutch for your keys.

Suddenly his hands were on your waist as he pressed himself into your ass. “That’s been my plan since you walked in.” He sighed and you felt it, just how much he wanted you.

You hastily pushed the key in the hole, turning the lock and leading the both of you inside.

Before you had time to realize what was happening, your back was against the door and his lips were on yours, so soft and so perfect as he cupped your cheek and pulled you close.

Your hands desperately came up to tug at his suit jacket, throwing it on the floor as quickly as you could before moving to pull at his tie. You both didn’t make it far, at least far enough to make it to your room. You both ended up leaving a trail of your clothes that led straight to your couch.

You hastily climbed on his lap, the moment of separation unbearable as you quickly went back to meet his lips. You relished in the moan he let out as you ground your hips down, eagerly searching for some type of friction.

You felt Hoseok’s hands run up your thighs before settling on your hips and he started lightly tugging on your panties. You were taken aback when you felt his hand slip past the fabric and started rubbing circles over your clit.

Your body instantly reacted, breaking the kiss, as you stared at him with pleading eyes.

“Fuck— Hoseok, please…” You sighed enjoying the pleasure his fingers were bringing you but you wanted more. It was only the minute his hands made it onto your skin did you realize how long it’s been since someone has touched you like this.

“Shit, you’re so wet already…” He marveled as he ran his fingers through your slick folds.

“Do you think you can take me now?” He asked, just as impatient as you were.

When he got here he thought he was going to be able to absolutely worship your body, but the minute his lips were on yours, suddenly all he could think about was how soon he could get his cock inside you.

You nodded but almost screamed when his fingers slipped inside.

“No teasing please, I need you n—“ You pleaded.

You felt so good around his fingers, he couldn’t wait any longer to finally feel you.

“Can you grab my wallet out of my pants? I have condoms in there…” He looked over where you had nearly torn them off trying to get them off of him.

You hurriedly did as he asked, finding his wallet thankfully quite quickly before you were back on his lap and handing it to him. It only took a second for him to find it and get it on, but that second felt like an entirety to you before you happily sank down onto him.

You both moaned together at the feeling. You kissed him hurriedly as you took a second to adjust. Your hands racked over his back, that pesky dress shirt in the way of feeling him completely, and into his dark brown hair.

“Please baby…” He moaned, begging for you to move.

You didn’t need him to tell you twice and you slowly started moving your hips to a steady rhythm that quickly had you throwing your head back.

“Shit, you feel so good.” Hoseok groaned, slapping your ass lightly.

Who knew this day would turn out to be this way? From a friend you had yet to meet outside of work to suddenly having his cock sending you to a new dimension. It was a great turn of events for you.

You only hoped that this wouldn’t be the end, that he might stay the night even, that he might ask you out on a date later. For now though you were happy with this, so so happy.

Before you knew it he was spilling inside you and he used his fingers to quickly push you over the edge as well.

You both were out of breath, your thighs burned but you couldn’t stop smiling down at him.

He sweetly kissed your nose before pecking your lips once more.

“So, what does this mean for us?” You asked curiously.

“That I have to see you again outside of work, and this time not at a company dinner.” He laughed and you joined in, your heart welling with joy.

“Only if that means we get to do this all over again.” You smirked.

He thought about it for a moment. “I think I can work that into our plans.”

“I’m excited~” You smiled.

“Mhmmm, but first you have to tell me where your room is so we can do this properly.” He chuckled.

Oh.

You pointed to the door that you were facing and before you even realized you were squealing as he picked up and carried off for even more fun.

You really didn’t know your friend it seems, but you were excited to see him in this new light. Who knows what else he might be hiding?

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rainkays · 3 months

Text

UNTIL DAWN OC | JOEY MCKINNON !

SHE/HER, 18, 📍SALEM, OREGON. INTP. VIRGO.

CASTED WITH CAILEE SPAENY & WROTE BY ALYSSA

“it matters where you are…”

JOEY MCKINNON, best friend of josh washington and samantha giddings had been quietly pining for a certain blonde party girl for years. she met the girl in middle school, a few years after meeting josh and chris. she quickly grew close with sam, both quiet and often found themselves left in the corner at parties to their own devices. she soon found herself on the invite list to the annual blackwood getaway, and sat out on the prank after passing out with josh and chris.

A YEAR LATER… joey accompanies her friends back to the mountain after the tragic deaths of hannah and beth. joey tried to remain as close with josh as she could, but months with only one word responses had her bitting her nails down to the beds for her best friend. she was arguably the closest with josh, and spent countless nights at his house watching cheap horror movies with even cheaper special effects.

JOEY AND JESS’S relationship was rocky, to say the least, since the prank that had taken place a year before their reunion. despite her newfound relationship with mike, joey couldn’t help but find herself even deeper in the hole when she thought of her. most would never pick the two girls as friends, but they got along surprisingly well. joey was almost sure that with their current circumstances, she’d never find a moment to tell her friend how she really felt.

WHO IS JOEY MCKINNON?

JOEY is an 18 year old photographer, born and raised in salem oregon. her love of photography stemmed from her mother’s job as a local journalist, joey soon taking after her as the photographer for the yearbook and school newspaper. after the death of her mother in elementary school, she moved into the giddings residence. she soon met the washington’s, as well as their close friends.

HER BOARDING SCHOOL DAYS were much more lively than she once assumed, sneaking into jess’s room at night to watch her favorite rom coms and eat candy they’d snuck in from visits into town. she and josh took film class together, proudly working on their own horror film for their final project, starring sam.

DETAILS ! joey is an avid film watcher, horror being her favorite genre. some of her favorite’s being evil dead 2, i spit on your grave, christine, the reanimator, and the lost boys. she and josh love going to concerts, and have seen the smashing pumpkins, the maria’s, slowdive, and paramore. she also loves taking jess to drive online movies on the weekends and going on hikes with sam during their breaks.

NOTE ! wanted to say thank u for all the support lately & that i’m so excited to be bringing my oc to you <3 shoutout to @endofradio for the inspo to finally post joey bc ive been scheming her up for so long and cant wait to post more in depth about her relationship with the other characters!

#until dawn #until dawn oc #original character #casted with; cailee spaeny #my girl <33 #until dawn remaster #UD

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panzershrike-pretz · 8 months

Note

when you get this, answer with five mutuals you love and why! then send to five other people <3

@isazmoon -> BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WORLD WHO DOESN'T USES TUMBLR A LOT!!! SHE'S THE BESST OF THE BEST AND I'M SO GLAD TO HAVE KNOWN HER FOR 3 YEARS NOW!! Love u, Moon

@minha-xuh -> I LOVE TALKING TO GIH! She's such a cool person with so much talent, it's insane! Funny, as well! A point added just by being brazilian obviously 🇧🇷 gotta stick together

@ronsparky -> third brazilian on the list today because we all should take over the world, honestly- I like Jess a lot! She's lovely to talk with (even if we don't do so that often) and a good friend! I have no complaints at all uwu

@blueberry-ovaries -> I might have to kill you 'cause you're not a bird obssesed person. Who knows. I am rapidly approaching your current location (I love seeing you appear on my dash! Do continue if you live!!)

Aaaaaand @grumpy-liebgott -> you are cool. I see you on my notes all the time and I can't help but smile when it happens! I may not know you too well but thank you! You are very cool >:3

#pretz ask #🥨🪶

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vivaladicamillo · 1 year

Note

I saw your posts asking for ideas and I was thinking what If you wrote something about you being Bams younger sister and filing cky coz April doesn’t want you to get hurt and you have like secret relationship with Dico or Ryan

DICO/MARGERA!READER

thank u so much for the suggestion!!! im gonna do it for dico this time bc one, theres no fanfics of this silly dude and two, i havent written abt dico in SOOOO long. this ones for the dico lovers out there love yall, a dying breed🫡

WARNINGS: dangerous stuff, fluff, bran being bran yk

———————————————————

being bams younger sister has its ups and downs

bam as a brother is A NIGHTMARE

hes just such a dick

making fun of u, annoying u and being the “younger brother” type character bc hes just like that

u were 2 years older than him

so when u started kinda liking his life long friend, “dico”

it was kinda awkward bc u yk, hes ur brothers best friend

one night, u were just chilling at the house alone

ape and phil went out, bam was probably out skating somewhere and jess had band practice so having a empty house all to urself?? hell yea!

as u sit on ur couch, just watching some stupid ass movie thats on someone knocks at ur door

when u answer it, its Brandon dicamillo himself (dico)

“hey, uh is bam around?” he asks looking kinda nervous

“nah, i thought he was put filming with u, but its 9:00 he should be back soon.”

“ah ok, ill just wait in my car till he gets here then, thanks.” he smiles at u

“come on bran dont be a stranger! i’m m just watching a movie just wait inside till he gets back.”

you held the door open for him and he walks in and plops down on ur couch

in your spot.

“asshole what the fuck thats my spot”

“didnt see ur name on it.” he says smirking “also what kinda horse shit are u watching? let me show u some real funny shit.”

dico then proceeds to put on an old western movie

“what the fuck dicamillo??”

“what??! this shit is so funny watch this.” he says pointing to the tv as some guy dressed as a cowboy gets shot on screen

the acting was terrible yes, but the way dico was hysterical laughing at it kinda made u smile

his laugh, his interests, just his goofy personality made ur heart flutter

u didn’t realize that u had been staring into this mans whole soul for ten mins until he turns to u and smiles

“may i help u?” he says kinda chuckling

“oh, uh sorry..” u say blushing and kinda turning away

the silence that took place after could have killed u right then and there

until he turns to u

“hey uh.. ive been actually meaning to talk to u about something…” he says, that nervousness kinda coming back from before

u nod ur head as he starts to confess to u

“listen, i know ur my best friends older sister and this is kinda weird but… ever since i met u, i thought u were so cool! i wouldnt have expected u to like masters of the universe and filming bits as much as do…”

“yea, i can see how u couldnt have seen that coming bc of my brothers”

“yea, but anyways, ive always kinda…been into u, im super sorry if this is weird i didnt mean to make it like that i just think..”

u smile, did fucking brandon dicamillo just confess his love for u ??

“bran..”

he turns to u

“i feel the same way, ive always had i just didnt wanna make things awkward if u didnt.” u smiled at him and scooted closer to him on the couch

“really?!?” he said in shock

“mhm, i like you… like A LOT”

u move in closer and you two end up making out on ur couch

after that day u both agreed to date without anyone knowing

yea it was suspicious when u two wouldnt be able to film or hang out at the same time on the same day but the guys kinda brushed it off

u two went of secret little dates

dico would surprise u ALL the time with cute date spots

random cat cafes, parks, family ran restaurants, he just found little cute places in westchester to take u to, and u LOVED IT

when bam realized u obviously were seeing someone bc u were WAYYY to happy, u decided to snoop

going through u room he ended up finding one of dicos shirts hidden under ur bed

thats when bam decides to confront u about it……

—————————————

might make some type of part two to this but it depends if yall want it or not, hope u enjoyed! also please keep sending in requests i love them sm !! yall are so creative i love it sm

#DICO NEEDS MORE LOVE!!!#made this for my bestie #love u bestie hope u enjoy #hes so silly i need to write for him more #SEND IN DICO REQUESTS PLEASEEEEE!!!!!#jackass #cky crew #cky x reader #brandon dicamillo #cky4 #cky2k #dico cky #cky3 #brandon dicamillo x reader #cky clip

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redrattlers · 2 years

Note

Hey Em!! Imma just so some random ones okay here goes: 7, 28, 33, 45, 55, 64, 70, 89, 94, 100, 111, aaaaand 107. Love u! 🧡

hi aria! thanks for stopping by 🥰 hope you’re doing well!!!

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

definitely not! i’m not in a place where i’m actively dating rn and there’s no one in my life i could see myself with in such a short period of time!

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

my sister, my group of friends from uni, my teammates and probably @httpsgfg too ❤️

33. Spell your name with your chin

let’s do redrattlers cause em is a little short : treseastlkersd LMAO

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

responsibilities and commitments?

55. Favourite blog?

tough question cause i don’t tend to have favourites in life in general but here’s a few blog i particularly enjoy on tumblr dot com. meg @kaleidoscopeminds won the title of my favourite gif maker in 2020 and i haven’t looked back since. i think molly is the person i prev tags the most, i love everything that’s going on at @burstingsunrise 🫶 jess @daydadahlias makes me laugh a lot! i really really really love moodboards and anyone who makes them, @calumsash @chamaleonsoul @crossedwiress @sunfleursky @satellitesunset @takemyhandlrh @bleachswing come to mind rn! and many many other wonderful people including you, gonna stop here before i start listing all my mutuals gshdhd

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

it’s always funny for me to look back on my first kiss cause it was with my girl best friend when i was 16, and i didn’t start questioning my sexuality until i was in college. it’s the kind of thing where i was just happy it happened with someone i trusted and felt good and safe with. little did i know lmao

89. Name a person you hate?

no one gets that information for free gshdhdh

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

way too many!! i live in canada, i’m basically in sweaters and hoodies at all times for half of the year

100. How are you feeling?

maybe a little lost rn? i have a lot of really great things going on my life that will come to an end soon and it’s the whole, “what i am gonna do now” that’s looming over my head constantly. sometimes it scares me and other times it’s exciting, so lots of mixed feelings!

111. Do you have trust issues?

yea, it takes me a lot to fully trust someone, i protect my heart a lot and don’t give too much of myself away at first. it’s something i’m working on cause i do really love connecting with people and sometimes it feels like i’m doing myself a disservice by being this way

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

YEAH AND I LOVE HORSES

send me an ask?

#asks #aria

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susiecarter · 2 years

Note

thank you so much for your wonderful reply to my ask about the wips!❤️ please believe me when i say i’m patiently looking forward to ALL of them! (especially the gq/croc eggbaby series omfggg!!! plus the superbat sequels and top gun big bang aaaaa!)

now i can’t lie, i am constantly eyeing ‘bvs was Bruce Wayne’s kinky coma dream’ because that line alone makes me madly curious! so if i had to pick one idea that i’d LOVE to know more about, it’s definitely that one! thanks a lot again for indulging me!!! ❤️

:D And you are too good to me, anon, I can ONLY HOPE they're each worth the wait in the end! <333 (The eggbaby series is totally growing a plot on me, which I'm praying does not careen out of control. :'D And the Superbat sequels will probably take me the longest, just FYI, but I hope the guarantee of the Top Gun Big Bang makes up for that! :D)

... Honestly, I sometimes forget that not everyone in the entire world has been witness to the great struggle that is BvS Was Bruce Wayne's Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream. :'D Basically, it's pretty much what it says on the tin: fresh out of the theater after seeing BvS for the first time, I found myself pretty firmly convinced that the theatrical cut of that movie makes a hell of a lot more sense if it's Bruce having a strangely prescient, kinky dream than anything else.

Consider the following:

The original theatrical cut of BvS had noticeably less of Clark's POV than Bruce's; the Ultimate Edition has several additional scenes of his investigation of Batman + Lois putting the pieces together and realizing he'd been set up to fail at the Capitol. Without knowing that, though, and having only seen the theatrical cut, I felt like Clark's side of the narrative was weirdly insubstantial, and he seemed a little extra distant, uninvolved, arbitrarily deciding to fly around all stonefaced and threaten Batman ... not unlike the way Bruce might plausibly see him/imagine him to be, in other words.

(Except, that is, when Clark's talking to his mother, and suddenly seems genuinely troubled, more real, warmer; as if, even doing his best to strip Superman of any humanity, Bruce can't manage to imagine a son talking to his mother without some whiff of love and meaning and comfort involved. ;-;)

I have no reason that I know of not to like Jesse Eisenberg, and he's a good enough actor that I'm confident he was doing exactly what he was directed to do, as well as it was possible to do it ... but if BvS is Bruce's dream, it makes fifteen times as much sense to me that Lex Luthor is so blatantly Joker-inflected! Like, of course he is; when Bruce's brain has to generate A Villain, naturally it goes straight for "clearly unhinged, laughs too much, desperately obsessed on a personal level", you know?

(Also, Bruce's kinky brain being in the driver's seat makes Lex delighting in having Clark on his knees on the roof actually secretly a matter of Bruce assuming everyone must want Clark on his knees and dreaming accordingly, which doesn't hurt anything. :'D)

Even in a dream, I don't think Bruce could ever go as far as giving himself the chance to save his own mother; that is both too self-indulgent and too implausible, and he'd reject it as unreal in a heartbeat. The best his subconscious can do is put somebody else's mother Martha in danger, and let him rush in and save her instead. ;-;

The blatant plot U-turn of "oh wait Superman was never the enemy! HANG ON, HERE'S A CONVENIENTLY WORSE ENEMY, let's team up with Superman to beat him!" also makes more sense to me if Bruce, like, needed on a subconscious level to beat Superman up, to prove to himself that he could, but never actually wanted to kill him. Therefore, as soon as he'd pulverized Clark to his own internal satisfaction and indulged the desperate urge to drag Clark around by the throat and put his boot on Clark's chest and (nearly) ~impale Clark his subconscious was soothed, and free to say "okay, now that we've worked through that, we can be friends with Superman, no problem :) let's save the day together!"

HOWEVER, Bruce is still Bruce! There are no true happy endings, in BvS!Bruce's head. The best his brain can do is let Superman die a hero, so Bruce a) was right to have changed his mind about him, b) never has to interact with him again or actually deal with/do anything about any of the shit he was working through via a half-hour-long kinky fight scene where he got to watch Superman gasp for breath in the rain on his knees, and c) gets to dedicate himself to doing right by Clark's memory (and he might, might, even mentally allow himself some hope of success, with Diana there to help).

Obviously this still leaves plenty of stuff to finagle! Why is Bruce's dream so long, so involved, and so weirdly accurate on certain points? I decided the obvious answer to this was my favorite answer to everything: the ship.

So BvS Was Bruce Wayne's Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream became an AU premise that approximated a time-travel fix-it, in which Bruce Wayne was badly injured during Black Zero (along with plenty of other people), and the ship detected that and connected itself to him (along with plenty of other people) to keep him suspended in an unconscious state while it repaired him. Bruce's kinky brain was driving, cast Clark as the villain until it didn't anymore, flavored everything with Bruce's impressions and expectations ... but the ship used its own data to supplement and stabilize the coma dream until he was physically ready to wake up again.

Which is to say: the ship knows Clark's name and Clark's mother's name, even though Bruce couldn't. It knows about kryptonite, even though Bruce wouldn't, not right at the end of MoS. And it also knows about its genesis chamber, its ability to create things like Doomsday if required to, and, of course, Apokolips—which means the Knightmare ALSO suddenly makes sense, not as Bruce being precognitive? being sent messages from an alternate dimension? who tf knows! but as the ship, aware of the actual Space Threat out there, trying to insert that Space Threat appropriately into the narrative ... only for Bruce's ridiculous stubborn subconscious to shove Clark right back into the middle of the Knightmare, still the bad guy. :'D

ANYWAY, yeah, so then Bruce was going to wake up from his Vaguely Kinky Coma Dream, having experienced BvS and his whole arc of coming to the understanding that Superman's not the villain inside of his own head, and knowing Superman is Clark Kent on top of it, and knowing the actual Lex Luthor is out there, possibly an issue, possibly intending to steal Zod's body and make Doomsday. And he himself would also have JUST EXPERIENCED Clark's death and Clark's funeral, and would be wanting, more than anything, to try to make sure Clark doesn't die this time. And he'd already be three-quarters in love with Clark, while Clark has absolutely no idea who the hell he is or why he seems to know random things about Clark/Kryptonians/the ship or why he seems so weirdly preoccupied with and sad about and protective of Clark–

I have had several thousand words of this thing drafted for literally years now. However, when I first started working on it, I didn't know shit :'D and all I had to go off of with Diana was BvS + some early WW trailers where her movieverse powerset wasn't totally clear. So I wrote some stuff that turned out to make no sense, and then stalled out trying to decide how I wanted to fix it, and then JL came along and gave me a new angle on where the plot should maybe go, and and and ...

... yeah. I've reworked bits and pieces of the outline several times, I finally have a pretty good idea how I want the full story to turn out, but I still haven't actually nailed all the pieces down in order, redrafted the early beginning sections, or, you know, written the rest of the darn thing. :'D

Anyway! That got super long, I'm so sorry, I don't blame you if you noped out of that about halfway through :D but yeah, for all the time that's passed, I'm still really stuck on the idea and still really enamored of everything I worked out about what to do with it and how I wanted it to go, so. I am definitely hoping to one day finish what is literally the first fic I ever started writing in this fandom. /o\ :D

#asks #asks:anonymous #susie is ten pounds of words in a five pound sack #as per usual /o\#susie has a very big very scary list #and this darn thing has been the first item on it since literally 2016

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pupkashi · 1 year

Note

CONGRATS TO ONE OF THE BEST AUTHORS HERE, MY DEAREST FRIEND JESS!!!! U DESERVE THIS & SO MUCH MORE, MY LOVE!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

for the event: can i pls ask u to ship me with a jjk character! tyyy! <33

okay, so, abt me: uhhh, i'm an intj with zodiac leo sun, gemini moon & scorpio rising. i'm an ambivert who prefers a happy kind of chaos or no chaos at all. and my music tastes are rly rly varied, like one day, i can be listening to cruel summer or bubblegum bitch and the next, i might be listening to lover or a thousand years. also, i love love love reading books and watching shows where there are themes of long lasting love which overcomes every obstacle thrown it's way. [but the romance shouldn't be the main focus] [rn i'm watching the untamed]

tysm jess!! ilysm!! keep being the cool person u always are! 🥰🥰

hi hi kit my beloved !!!! thank you so much <33333 !!! it means a lot coming from u :( ilysm

join the sleepover !

ok ok ,,… I’m leaning towards either yuji or nanami !!!

with yuji i think you guys would have SO much fun together causing chaos and leaving a wake of sunshine and happiness wherever y’all go <3 he is very extroverted so he’ll love hanging out with others and going out but he knows as soon as your social battery is getting low and will get you two home before you can feel drained , doesn’t mind catering to your needs when you’re feeling a little more introverted ,, thinking late nights watching the shows you love and the two of you dissecting everything together as you chow down on some popcorn ,,, i also headcanon he has a super wide taste in music and will always be able to jam out to whatever music you’re feeling for the day !!!

for nanami it’s a more relaxed relationship but you definitely bring out a more playful side of him ,, he’s pulling pranks on gojo with you and he’s giggling alongside you :3 for nanami it’s much more you brining put his extroverted side and the two of you leaving the function after an hour or two because you’d rather go home and cook dinner and be in bed early with enough time to get a good cuddle in before both of falling asleep ,, you two definitely read together !!! will listen to you talk about what you’re reading for hours on end and won’t get tired of hearing you (he predicts the ending ages before you do)

#pupkashi's sleepover event

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suiciderape · 1 year

Text

u dont even like him hes being nasty! well thats my daughter and i love her! so lets get started on why shes the best daughter in the world no! ok so lets get started on why shes the best cunt in the world shes her best friends pussy destective she gets raped by her best friends bfs friends for no fucking reason! shes like hella much insane on suicide rape its hella much murdery and awkward to have the russian mafia in ur house bc they are cool as shit! whats her name? veronica why? she likes me and she doesnt know why? whats wrong with her? she likes my bf! whats that about? shes into my friend? who? her bfs daughter is she blonde? yes! ok so whats up with veronica? shes into my friend hes hella coolA but hes my best friend too! um whose he? shes my daughter? veronicaas daughter? um who is this? paranoid whose that? me yoon daamn! who is this? desarae renee hollins ohA whats going on? the whole world is confusing and i need help writing eboy manga rome my manga about kpop idols thats it? yes! :) and aniyah and the world are trying to put me into mental wards um kamakazi style i want to meet no limit soliders yoon he said hes my daddy? and i heard it in jock hell nation oouut um im scared bc i can write and i want to meet him he might sue me for this shit its all true and i am attractive so pls help me meet him pls im a huge fan of yoon keeho plus i dont want to go to the mental ward i like writing and im im the romeo! romeo! romeo! universe its hella jock hell natiom tight pls help a bitch ouut aleiah and desarae oout ok so suicide rape is when um me a little girl is intelligent and kind ewA but everyon ew! wants to kill her and shes asian but looks black bc her family is filipino and egyptian but they adopted her soo her father keeho lets her live ew! with them and shes stuck between high school and 2011s jock hell nation oouuut shes gonna keep writing dude shes a writer and shes been trying nvm! ok were gonna help u! thank u :) ok! who are they? those ppl shes writinf as a 28 yr old woman who was bullied in 2011 on tumblr as totaltrasg for no reason and romeomtd9 is stuck btwn chak lord universe and romeo romeo wherefore art thou romeo jock hell nation tight! universe so pls help us understand why shes stuck here and cant ew! nvm! dont talk about anything yet! nvm get her out of here get s life! whose veronica? she wants t know eho nevet ever nevrt never never tell her anything whh? no@ no! shes jock hell nation tight like in the russian mafia tight dudee dont kill me ! pls she right its weird im poe rich still! and keeho yoon is her daddy thats it! oh nvm! get awawy from her thank u! no getting away from her never! ewww shes gay hahah fuck tard what language is this english latin bitch ass nigga its weird dude heeeell me! help me is he gonna kill me? nvm! ok? no ohmgd! what a waste of time! hahahaha what the fuck bitch? suck a fuck bitch that is it i dont wanna die alone without keeho hes my daddy he told me fr hell nah i did kill jesse vidal jr. tho in tha streets well do it@ nah ah go to bed ok end it end it end it russian mafia sucks ass!! byee

#russian mafia never never #it rocks

0 notes

lingeringscars · 2 years

Note

?? give me

send ❔ and i’ll list a couple muses that i’d like to throw at yours! / always accepting

maya & mariana/stef/layla/spencer. gay is all i know.

mason & shane. i do think they'd be neat. also maybe finch but I would have to think about that.

link/amelia & one chicago. crossover of my dreams.

amber & everyone is unhelpful but hello??? callie. mariana. vanessa. idk everyone.

alberta & gigi/sonya/mal/june. some guardians and sonya.

callie & harper/thea/christian. :')

daisy & logan. i cannot remember if we talked about them but i want it so bad. the parallels. the not being able to control powers and it overwhelming them. daisy just deserves to help so many people with learning to control their powers.

angeline & harper. thank u. also luna?? and lydia. i think they could all help her in different ways. sydney is currently bribing people to tutor her, so maybe spencer too. shauna!!!!!!!!!!!!! needing to adapt to society.

deborah/tasha & jacinda. moms doing their best for their kids and also mechanics. jacinda is also a cook.

mermia & june. we haven't really talked about them. i also think lydia here too. thank you.

mikhail/sasha & valerie. i'm thinking about sibling duos and val being protected from the supernatural and just. lots of thoughts.

tasha & prue. they deserve to be in love that is ALL. i have been saying you have been saying we agree. i think even dax has been saying. we're RIGHT. i also think any of my ouat muses could be fun to play with. valerie. taking care of someone who is closeish to your age after parents deaths. val & hayden have a v ozeraesque relationship. it'd be a lot.

octavia & finch/stiles/ruby. i'm right. also octavia & eden/june/mal but like. t/100. at least until i can figure out how to v/a eden (unless i u know. have. in our messages at some point.)

simon & sonya/lydia. i'm literally so curious about this. spirit users with someone who was manipulated by spirit. lydia who was held captive... sonya who turned ... what we talked about w/ lydia & bellamy. i am LITERALLY so curious.

claire & eden. my little geniuses working together. jake. tell me they would not be besties i dare you. reina. the things you do for knowledge. lydia. knowledge is power but also lydia as a mean girl turned someone who helps. lydia and miranda both having similar powers and it giving credence to things that are happening.

eve & lydia. i think. they should date? i just care a lot about the transformations is all. also see above about lydia and miranda. mariana. i'm not sure but i do think similar energy. spencer. spencer said eve is my favorite barista. marian & jacinda can also work with her.

kara & spencer/serena. they should hook up at some point.

malia & finch/ruby/logan. struggles with powers. struggles with society. struggles fitting in. rachel/shauna/fatin. having horrible things happen to you and needing to readjust to society once you return. christian. murdering parents who try to kill you, too.

allison & christian. hello we could do something so fucking hot here with allison coming back and christian's parents... june. being manipulated by the people close to you about the deaths of the people close to you. inej. knife wife and bow gf. thea. not having any hobbies. moving around and not having friends. pleasing parents. hehe so much there. faran. intensity about your own thing.

alex & june. i am sooo right about them. i can't explain this outside of like becoming weapons. fighting from the inside. learning about corruption. using your wealth and power. losing your families because you were betrayed by someone you trusted.

liars & glass house. i just know that they would all hang out thanks. specific: hanna & stiles like we have been saying. aria & peyton/jess. emily & gigi. they can work together at the brew. alison & ryan. ryan giving her a chance when she returns. mona & layla. something about layla & carrie and layla giving mona a chance in season 3 because she was sick and needed help and they aren't so different. caleb & tyler. they would be so fascinating.

echo & alina. not having a home. being manipulated by someone in power. not having an identity to hold onto that can really be yours.

hayley & jacinda. and vanessa. yaaa. whew okay for jacinda like she gives up her daughter because she believes it is the best thing for her, and I think it would be such an interesting dynamic.

jo k. & jacinda. mom friends. i also think emma s. i think they could really help each other. sylvie. more friends.

isabella & layla/bellamy/spencer/rachel. this is about parents. this is about mental illness. this is about not being trusted.

josie & harper. that arc when josie leaves the school and goes to a regular hs. i think they could get into loads of trouble. i think it would be loads of fun.

lizzie & lydia. also aurora and lydia. i think these could be a dream come true for me.

nicki & elsa. maybe their medical student runs overlap idk. they have such different personalities i think it would be very interesting to see. theo. i see no reason why they wouldn't overlap sometimes because hospital/first responder stuff.

laurel & lydia. i don't know i'm just right. but god valerie. younger siblings who have died and come back. protectors. caretakers. maybe ironically val decides to go to law school once she and hayden move.

sam & fei. they/them icons. doing what you can to protect your family. loving your family intensely despite their flaws. supernatural worlds.

scott & hope m/kaitlyn/finch/glass house. in the spirit of supernatural creatures coming together and forming a pack. in the spirit of trying to save people and failing. in the different perspectives and mindsets.

#terrifyingstories #let the record show that i wanted more

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kenta-rin · 2 years

Text

Ch 5-6

[I DID NOT WRITE THIS, just uploading for posterity]

Tips For Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 5

Notes:

hey it's me again. couple of notes here: first of all please drive safe and distracted driving is bad dont eat and drive. second of all theres a line here thats like, "jesses a disgusting american who loves fast food" and i just wanted to say, i love americans some of my best friends are american, and i love fast food some of my best friends are fast food, the only person im calling disgusting here is jesse mccree. i will never shame u for being american or eating fast food, i will only shame mccree. for existing. ok, next up last time we talked there was one fanart for this fic drawn by the wonderful nance well now there's... 6. unbelievable. i am so incredibly grateful & overwhelemd & humbled by the fact that MULTIPLE human beings on earth read my fic and were like, hey, that's good, i'm gonna draw that. thank you all so much... and thank you to everyone who's left kudos! and left comments! you're all so good, kind, wonderful, i dont deserve u... links to art in end notes

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

For the first time in almost a week, it’s not a voice calling his name that wakes Jesse.

He jolts up from his pillow, hand instinctively closing around the handle of the gun that’s still holstered at his hip. He’d fallen asleep without taking off his gear and he already regrets it. He feels grimy.

He hears the noise that woke him again: a knock on the door. The room is dark, but that doesn’t mean much; the love hotel (Jesse wants to cringe just thinking those words) has electronic blinds that are tightly shuttered. He glances at the clock.

It’s just after nine PM, and someone is knocking on the door of the hotel room no one is supposed to know he’s in.

“It’s me,” a voice calls through the door.

Jesse raises his eyebrows in disbelief. On the one hand, the way the voice is muffled makes its owner ambiguous. On the other hand, there’s only one person Jesse can think of who’d think he’d open the door to that kind of message.

He opens the door. It’s Genji. Of course it’s Genji. Jesse lets him in.

“Do you think it’s smart to come here? You don’t think your dad’s gonna be suspicious?”

Genji shrugs. “My father never knows where I am.” He has a bag slung over one of his shoulders. He dumps it on the bed as Jesse locks the door. “I brought you a phone so you can call your gang.”

Jesse practically snatches it out of Genji’s hands. “Give me a minute,” Jesse tells him, and then he retreats to a corner of the room and starts dialling. Genji settles himself down on top of the bed, crossing his legs and rifling through whatever else he brought. He looks like he’s settling in for a long stay. Jesse resolves to ignore him, for now.

The call to New Mexico rings for a distressing amount of time. He hopes they’re not blocking him because it’s an unknown number. It’s more likely that no one feels like picking up the phone, but Jesse’s trying to give his fellow Deadlock Gang members the benefit of the doubt in believing they won’t leave him to die in a foreign country out of sheer laziness.

Finally, someone answers. “Oh, thank God,” Jesse breathes. “It’s McCree.”

“McCree?” The voice asks, incredulous. “You’re still alive? Shit, boy, you must be tougher than we all thought!”

Jesse grits his teeth, trying not to read too much into that. “Yeah. Look, I need -”

“Hang on a sec, lemme get you on speaker. Boys, McCree’s still alive!”

When the call goes to speaker Jesse has to hold the phone away from his ear. The cacophony on the other side is ungodly. He can make out a few distinct shouts of “Atta boy!” and other sundry encouragements, but mostly it seems to just be wordless yelling.

“I won’t be alive for long if you don’t get me a goddamn shuttle back to America!” He shouts back down the line. He’s not even sure anyone hears him.

The noise dies down after a minute.

“He won’t be alive for long if we don’t rescue him,” someone says, to a chorus of hoots and hollers. Jesse clenches his fist around his phone because first of all, he’d just said that and they would have heard it if they’d been listening, and second of all, he wouldn’t need rescuing at all if they hadn’t sent him on a suicide mission.

“When can you get a plane out here?” Jesse asks, knowing he’s in no position to argue semantics.

“We’ve been making calls,” someone answers, and Jesse’s almost relieved to know that at least one person is taking this seriously. “The Hanamura airport’s pretty much impossible to get into without Shimada’s permission. You need to get outta that city, Jesse.”

Jesse leans his forehead against the wall nearest him. That is so, so much easier said than done. He glances over at Genji, who’s flopped back onto the bed and is playing with his own phone.

“If I gotta, I gotta,” he sighs.

“If you get to a big city like Osaka or Tokyo you can catch the next flight to the States, then we can arrange pick-up from there.”

Jesse’s starting to wonder what the point of having a gang is. They’ve basically told him to take care of himself throughout this whole crisis. He breathes a deep sigh.

“Got it,” he says. His annoyance shines through the short syllables, but he doesn’t give anyone a chance to reply. “I’ll contact you soon.” He ends the call.

When he turns back to face the room again, Genji bounces up from his reclining position. “God, that took forever,” he says cheerfully. Genji seems to find an inordinate amount of joy in Jesse’s life-threatening peril.

“I need to get to a city with an airport your dad doesn’t control. As soon as possible.” Jesse rubs at his eyes, feeling tired and cranky. When he looks at Genji again, Jesse sees a smile on his face that he doesn’t particularly like.

“So, what you are saying is,” Genji begins, his grin taking up half his face, “We need to go on a roadtrip.”

“No,” Jesse answers quickly, feeling dread filling him up. “No, God, I just meant - I need a way to get there, I didn’t mean that we should go together -” Genji continues to grin at Jesse relentlessly. “Oh God, please, my life is in danger, you should be taking this seriously!”

“I am taking this seriously,” Genji says, and he schools his face into a mockery of sternness for about five seconds before he’s smiling again. “You cannot drive yourself because you do not know the way. I can drive!”

“If you can drive then why’s Yuri always carting you around?”

“Because I like Yuri, and Yuri likes to be useful. I can totally drive. I’m good at it. I have a car!”

Jesse considers this. The son of the man who’s trying to kill him (and the brother of the man who betrayed him, but he’s trying not to think about that) is offering him a ride out of the city so that he can flee the country. Genji has a car, which is what Jesse really needs right now. He’s probablynot a great driver, because he’s eighteen, and Jesse’s skeptical about him “knowing the way,” because the Shimada family would probably fly in a plane to the grocery store (if they ever went to the grocery store, which they wouldn’t, because they could just send other people to the grocery store for them).

There’s always GPS, though. And cars mostly drive themselves, these days. Put ‘em on the road and watch ‘em hover placidly to their destination. As long as no one tries to blow ‘em up.

For a moment Jesse wonders if having Genji in the car with him would deter Shimada from blowing it up. He honestly can’t decide.

“How long will it take?” He finally asks.

Genji beams, knowing that Jesse has resigned himself to the roadtrip. “Probably only two or three hours. We will have to go slow. Be stealthy.”

Jesse thinks of that circuitous route Genji took him on through the gardens to get to the beach party. He can already feel a headache coming on.

“Genji, if I die because of you I’m gonna be pissed,” Jesse tells him, rubbing his forehead wearily.

Genji makes a face at him. “If you are going to be like that maybe I will just leave you here.”

Jesse exhales loudly through his nose. “Fine. I’ll behave. Where’s your goddamn car?”

“In the parking lot,” Genji tells him.

“Of this hotel?” Jesse asks, his eyebrows raising (and his blood pressure too, probably).

“Yes, but don’t worry,” Genji answers, apparently anticipating Jesse’s loss of temper, “it has an undercover mode.”

“An undercover mode,” Jesse repeats flatly.

“Yes. Normally it has these green flame decals,” Genji explains.

“Jesus Christ.”

“No, they are really cool!” The slang is a little stiff in Genji’s mouth. Jesse feels like he should be pausing for a laugh track. “But when I need to hide from my dad I can make the flames black so they cannot be seen.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Genji says, gathering his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “We should leave here anyway. It is better to travel at night when you’re on the run.”

Jesse can’t argue with that, and he’s eager to get the hell out of this town anyway, so he grabs the suitcase he never bothered unpacking and follows Genji out of the hotel room. He wishes he’d been able to shower before committing to a couple of hours in a car, but he can shower all he wants once he’s safe in New Mexico. Relatively safe. Also, he probably can’t shower all he wants, because the gang pays their water bills sporadically and there’s no guarantee he’ll come home at a time when they haven’t been cut off.

Genji’s car looks just as generic as the next one parked in the lot, plain black with tinted windows.

“You know, people can still track the license plates and the registration number,” Jesse points out, but his heart’s not really in it.

Genji actually laughs in reply. “My father runs a criminal empire. The license plate is holographic and changes at random. There is no registration number.”

Jesse sighs and allows Genji to win this one, at least. He climbs into the car without further complaint. Genji settles himself behind the wheel, but he doesn’t start driving.

He’s not smiling, for once. There’s something hesitant, almost worried in his expression. Jesse tries not to presume the worst, but it’s a challenge.

“So,” Genji begins, fingers fidgeting.

“What,” Jesse prompts, not even a question; it’s nothing more than an exhausted gust of breath.

“Hanzo did not show up at the hotel room?” Genji asks, trying his best to seem casual.

“No.” Jesse has had more bad feelings in the past few days than he wants to count, but this is one of the worst. “Why would he?” His voice is almost as tight as the fingers clenched on his thighs.

“Well.” Genji seems to be very interested in the bright neon of the love hotel sign judging by the way he’s staring out the window and refusing to look at Jesse. “After Yuri and I brought you here, we went back home. And of course everyone was looking for you. They had no idea where you could have gone. My father locked himself in his office and said no one should talk to him unless they had found you.”

Genji’s started speaking faster and faster with each sentence. “Nobody was paying any attention to me, so I thought I had gotten away with it. But then Hanzo cornered me on my way to my room. And he said he knew what I’d done. And I thought he was going to kill me or something,” Genji laughs nervously, “but instead he just asked where you were? And I was not going to tell him. But he said that he could not leave things the way they were. He said that… You... “ Genji blushes. Jesse’s fingers are like claws digging into his thighs.

“I have never heard my brother speak the way he spoke about you,” Genji says. “I have never seen a look on his face like the one I saw.”

Jesse closes his eyes. “You told him where I was.”

There’s a very long, telling moment of silence.

“But he did not come to the hotel room after all,” Genji concludes. Jesse’s not sure if Genji means that to be tragic or reassuring.

Hanzo probably didn’t come to the hotel room because he went straight to his daddy with that information. They’re probably gathering a small army to come and shoot Jesse at this very moment.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Jesse says, peering out the window and expecting men with guns to appear at any moment.

“Right.” Genji stills sounds nervous. He jams his finger against the ignition and the car purrs to life. Then he very, very slowly reverses the car.

“What are you doing,” Jesse asks flatly. He wonders if Genji missed the memo on the whole urgency thing.

“I do not want to hit any cars,” Genji explains. He’s sitting very stiffly in his seat, neck craning over his shoulder, taking it one inch at a time. Genji’s only eighteen. He’s probably had his license for a few months at most.

Jesse resigns himself to being shot to death in a love hotel parking lot.

Then Genji finally shifts the car from reverse to drive, and he slams the accelerator.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Jesse yells, scrabbling for a place to hold on to. He’s really fucking glad he’d decided to wear his seatbelt.

“I thought you wanted to go fast!” Genji yells back, but he sounds just as frantic and alarmed as Jesse.

He swings the car into traffic and the automatic sensors adjust the speed, a chiding Japanese voice saying something that Jesse’s pretty sure means ‘stop endangering people’s lives.’ Genji snaps something back, but the car doesn’t answer.

Genji starts messing with the GPS. “Where’s the nearest airport?” Jesse asks.

“Oh,” Genji says distractedly, fiddling with something. “It’s not too far, but I was thinking… First, we should go through a drive through.” He’s grinning again.

Jesse wants to smack him for not taking this seriously (again), but he actually hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He’s starving.

“Let’s get out of Hanamura first,” he compromises. “Then we can go wherever you want.”

Genji mulls that over for a moment, then starts tapping at the GPS screen. Jesse wants to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but he’s pretty sure that would actually make things worse. The car is a much better driver than Genji is.

“Okay,” Genji says finally, leaning back in his seat. After a moment he startles and puts his hand on the steering wheel, like he’d forgotten he was driving it all. It’s pretty much just for show, and the car’s only going in a straight line so far, but once they need to turn Genji’s input will be required.

Jesse is honestly dreading that time.

“What should we talk about?” Genji asks brightly, eyes darting here and there at the scenery they drive by. Jesse wonders if Genji actually has a driver’s license. Maybe his father had one forged for him.

“We shouldn’t talk about anything,” Jesse says, leaning his head against the window. He’s ready and willing to pass this drive asleep. Then again, if he leaves Genji unsupervised he’ll probably never wake up.

“No, no,” Genji shakes his head emphatically. “We have to bond. That’s what road trips are for.”

Jesse is too afraid to ask about which movie, exactly, Genji learned his road trip knowledge from. What if it’s the 2002 classic starring Britney Spears, Crossroads? Not that Jesse’s ever seen the movie, of course. Only he can’t stop picturing these horrifying mental images of him and Genji doing karaoke to Joan Jett in denim short-shorts.

“Usually road trips are longer than two hours,” Jesse informs Genji grumpily.

“That can be arranged,” Genji says with a smirk that fills Jesse with regret.

“No! Genji, no, I’m serious, I could die. Your dad wants to kill me. Please help me get out of the country.”

Genji pouts a little. “I’m not going to let my father kill you. Have a little faith in me.”

Jesse stares at the eighteen year old World’s Worst Driver in the seat next to him. He’s torn between being touched that Genji’s offering to protect him and exasperated that he thinks he can.

They lapse into silence for the half hour it takes to leave Hanamura, which they do without incident, though somehow that doesn’t do much to relieve Jesse’s paranoia. Genji only breaks the silence when he points through the windshield at a big lit-up sign down the road.

“Fast food?” He asks, sounding way too hopeful.

Jesse’s tempted to put up a fuss on principle, but first of all he’s really hungry and second of all he’s a disgusting American who loves fast food.

“What do they have?” he asks.

“McDonald’s has the same menu all over the world, does it not?”

“Oh, you’re not going to take me somewhere uniquely Japanese? What kind of enriching cultural experience is this?”

“I enriched your culture yesterday, with ramen,” Genji scolds. “Besides, I can’t eat with chopsticks while I’m driving.”

“You shouldn’t eat with your hands while driving, either,” Jesse points out, but they pull into the drive through and get burgers anyway.

“How far is it to the airport from here?” Jesse asks with his mouth full.

“An hour and a half,” Genji replies, one hand on the wheel and the other shoving a handful of fries into his face.

“Is that the direct route, or the ‘stealthy’ route?” Jesse asks sardonically.

“Stealthy.” Genji grins so wide Jesse can see potatoes mashed in his teeth.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, wiping his fingers on his pants.

They continue to eat in silence until Genji finishes his burger and throws his ketchup-stained wrapper at Jesse’s head, which leads to a rant peppered with some of Jesse’s most creative curses. This, in turn, leads to Genji requesting that Jesse teach him more American swear words, which passes a long time because Jesse knows a lot. When he’s done, he asks Genji to teach him some Japanese swear words, and before they know it they’re in the city.

“I know you want to leave as soon as possible,” Genji begins to say, his attention fixed on the bumper of the car in front of them. Even now, when it’s around midnight, the traffic is incredibly dense. “But it might be a better idea to check into a hotel for tonight, buy a plane ticket online, and get to the airport tomorrow.”

“How do you figure?” Jesse asks. He’s in a surprisingly good mood considering he’s been stuck in a vehicle in dirty clothes for so long, but Genji’s putting him on edge again.

“What is your plan for when you get to the airport? Run up to the desk and start demanding a ticket for the next flight to America?” Genji chews on his lip. “That might raise some suspicion. And suspicion is not what you want right now. You are supposed to be lying low.”

Jesse rubs at his beard thoughtfully. “Alright. I guess you’re right about that,” he concedes. He’s not sure he’s gonna be able to sleep tonight, too worried about Shimada somehow tracking him down.

But in all honesty, for all the grief Jesse’s given him Genji’s gotten him out of Hanamura and fairly well-hidden here in this city. He probably shouldn’t have doubted Genji as much as he did in the first place, considering Genji’s had years of experience hiding from his father.

“I know a hotel around here,” Genji says.

“A love hotel.” Jesse says flatly. He can tell by the way Genji’s failing to suppress a grin.

“It is even better than the last one,” Genji says with a wide smile.

Better is, of course, a subjective concept. This love hotel has a baffling mermaid theme. It’s so lit up with neon that Jesse feels like it’ll act like a beacon drawing Shimada’s eye. The brilliance of it is that it does the exact opposite. Hide in plain sight. No one would suspect a man undercover to sequester himself in the brightest building on the block. Especially if that building has a giant sexy mermaid on its roof.

Genji, thank God and all the angels and saints, books them two separate rooms. Jesse has grown very, very fond of Genji over the past few days. That does not mean he wants their road trip to become a sleepover.

Genji follows Jesse into his room anyway, and Jesse would be embarrassed at the implication if there was anyone around to witness it, but the hotel hallways are deserted. Jesse is very glad there seems to be sturdy soundproofing insulation in the walls.

Flopping onto Jesse’s bed without compunction, Genji digs into his shoulder bag and pulls out a tiny laptop.

“So, flights to America,” he says conversationally. Jesse busies himself with peeling off his outer clothing.

“What’s the earliest I can catch?” He asks.

Genji clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “I mean, taking security into account, you’ll need to get there a few hours early… There’s one for New York City at 5 AM.”

“Yanks,” Jesse admonishes idly, his spurs rattling as he pulls off his boots. Genji laughs.

“You can fly directly to Santa Fe at eleven,” Genji says. Jesse mulls it over.

“Guess that’d be for the best,” he says slowly. He wonders if he’ll drive himself insane with paranoia between now and then. After the nap he took earlier he’s going to be wide awake, thinking every sound he hears is Shimada Clan thugs out to get him.

“Alright, I have purchased your ticket. Give me the phone I gave you, I’ll download the boarding pass to it.”

Jesse thinks, for possibly the hundredth time tonight, that Genji is going to get him shot. “You bought me my ticket to Santa Fe. With your credit card. That your dad is definitely tracking.” Jesse sucks on his teeth, trying to keep his temper. “When he sees that purchase he’s gonna kill you too, not just me.”

Genji shakes his head. “No, I did not. You think I’m a fool.” He snatches Jesse’s phone out of his hands impatiently. “I bought the ticket with my personal account. My father does not know it exists. The money is… my own.”

Jesse only raises his eyebrows in response. He wonders if Genji steals his father’s product and deals to his friends on the side.

“Don’t mock me for this,” Genji says, his eyes lowered shyly, and Jesse wonders what could possibly embarrass Genji Shimada, frequenter of love hotels. “I have a part-time job.”

The answer is so normal Jesse almost laughs, but he stops himself before he injures Genji’s pride. Where Jesse grew up, eighteen year olds whodidn’t have part-time jobs were the ones who got mocked. Got called lazy. Got called deadbeats. Got called “Jesse McCree, when are you ever going to get your life together and stop running around with that gang? You’re making your mother sick with worry!”

Genji continues, hurrying to explain himself, “I was spending a lot of time at the arcade, and one day I saw they had a help wanted sign, so I talked to the owner about it. I knew my father would never approve…” Genji gets a little bit of a glint in his eye. “Maybe that’s why I applied in the first place.”

This time, Jesse can’t stop himself from laughing. “My God, what a rebel,” he says. “Standing up to your mean ol’ dad by becoming a respectable citizen.”

Genji starts to laugh too. “I told you not to mock me,” he chides, faking a pout.

In a moment of brotherly affection, Jesse jumps onto the gross love hotel bed and squishes Genji. “I’ll mock you all I want,” he says, and tickles Genji’s ribs ruthlessly.

Genji starts crying almost immediately. “Stop! Stop!” He’s gasping out laughter, but he manages to tell Jesse: “You smell really bad! You’re so sweaty!”

Jesse rolls off the bed, offended. “I wouldn’t be so sweaty if you hadn’t almost killed me via automobile incident so many times.”

“I am a very good driver!” Genji protests, voice muffled because he’s busy wiping tears off his face. “You need to shower.”

“Well if you’d get out of my room, maybe I could,” Jesse points out, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment Genji glares at him from the bed, then he sighs and gets to his feet. “Fine,” he says. “I guess I will see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Jesse calls, just as Genji gets to the door. Jesse shuffles a little in place. “Thank you, Genji. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Genji looks thoughtful for a moment, then he grins. “It was fun,” he says, and then he leaves.

Jesse wanders into the shower grumbling to himself about how helping him evade certain death shouldn’t be fun.

He spends a half-hour under the spray of hot water, and he would spend more, just to pass the time until his flight, except that he’s used to taking five minute showers and he actually finds it boring to be confined in that little space with nothing to distract him but his own thoughts. He tries singing a little, but the acoustics make him sound really loud, and he gets paranoid about people walking by in the hallway somehow being able to hear him even through the soundproofing.

Jesse’d dragged his whole suitcase into the bathroom earlier instead of digging out his shaving kit, so he takes his time brushing his teeth, towelling off, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, and generally dicking around.

When he finally unlocks the bathroom door and gets back in his room he’s managed to kill… about an hour. He still has about seven hours until he needs to get to the airport. He wonders if the hotel TV will let him watch anything other than porn.

It’s because he’s staring at the blank TV screen that he sees the silent figure move in behind him, raising a hand.

Jesse drops to a crouch, narrowly avoiding the arm that’s reaching out to incapacitate him, and twists his body to tackle his assailant to the ground. Jesse’s still wearing nothing but his boxers, doesn’t have a gun on him, doesn’t have a gun anywhere within his reach, which is fucking stupid. He should never have let his guard down.

The attacker slips out of Jesse’s clumsy grip like an eel, landing in a graceful crouch, while Jesse’s momentum leaves him much less gracefully on his hands and knees.

In the light spilling from the bathroom Jesse can make out his attacker’s face.

It’s Hanzo.

Jesse’s heart stops for a moment. Then, when Hanzo starts moving, it kicks into overdrive, adrenaline flooding Jesse’s system. He springs to his feet, determined not to let Hanzo get the jump on him.

Hanzo has trained in various martial arts and with various weapons his whole life. Jesse’s the quickest draw he knows and a damn good shot, but his only hand-to-hand training is in bar fights.

He has two advantages, as far as he can see: the first is that Hanzo’s not using a weapon, and the second is that he seems to be aiming to incapacitate Jesse, not to kill him. If Jesse had a moment to ponder the situation he’d definitely wonder about that, but as it is - Hanzo strikes like a snake and all Jesse can do is recoil, trying to avoid being hit.

The room isn’t big enough for Jesse to keep fighting like that, but at the same time, that might be an advantage for him. The love hotel isn’t a dojo; there’s furniture, there’s close walls. Back Hanzo into a corner and maybe Jesse can use his superior weight and height to pin him down, but…

He can’t concentrate on strategy when Hanzo’s flying at him with all the fury and grace of an enraged cat. For lack of better options, Jesse puts his dukes up.

The fight is - messy. Jesse jabs a punch at Hanzo just as a warning, trying to make Hanzo keep his distance, but Hanzo latches onto his arms and pulls Jesse in. They end up grappling each other around the shoulders, legs spread wide for balance.

Hanzo kicks one of Jesse’s legs out from under him, but the momentum of their fall leaves Jesse on top, using his weight to keep Hanzo’s arms down. They’re both already panting.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jesse gasps out, searching Hanzo’s face. He can’t see anything in his expression but anger.

Hanzo slides a leg between Jesse’s and flips them in a move that almost seems effortless. All of the air in Jesse’s lungs hisses out of him as his back slams into the floor. He stares up at Hanzo, mouth hanging open.

“My father told me to kill you,” Hanzo growls. He lets go of Jesse’s wrists to slip his hands around his throat, but Jesse gets an elbow in his stomach before he can apply enough pressure. It takes three successive punches before Hanzo finally groans and rolls off him, giving Jesse room to back up, crawl to his feet again.

“You think if you kill me, your dad’s gonna magically start loving you?” Jesse spits, and - he probably shouldn’t have. Hanzo leaps at him, snarling. It’s a sloppy move, and Jesse sidesteps, using the force of the motion to push Hanzo up against the wall. “He’s never going to love you,” Jesse hisses into Hanzo’s ear, bending one arm against his back painfully.

“You do not know that!” Hanzo roars, thrashing. But Jesse’s bigger than Hanzo, even if he’s not necessarily stronger, and physics are on his side here. Hanzo tries his trick again, looking to loop his ankle around Jesse’s leg, but Jesse’s caught on to that play, has built up a counter.

Hanzo goes abruptly limp, but Jesse doesn’t fall for it. He increases the pressure rather than giving into his instinct to relax his grip. They stand there, nothing between them but their harsh breathing.

It reminds Jesse, in a sudden, aching moment of clarity, of the two of them wrestling in the water at the artificial beach.

He resists the urge to lean his head forward onto Hanzo’s shoulder, wary of being headbutted, but he does allow himself to say, “God, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s a sappy goddamn fool.

“I guess there are a lot of things you do not want to do with me,” Hanzo growls.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jesse asks him, but instead of answering Hanzo starts struggling again.

He jerks so violently in Jesse’s grip that he wrenches one of Jesse’s arms. Jesse draws back without thinking about it, trying to distance himself from the source of the pain. Hanzo reverses their positions for a second time, pinning Jesse’s hands to the wall on either side of his head.

Jesse expects this to be the moment where Hanzo finally closes his hands around Jesse’s windpipe and fulfills his duty to his father.

Instead, Hanzo stares at Jesse, and his expression is less violent hate and more… lost.

“I hate you,” he whispers. There’s not enough conviction behind it for Jesse to believe him.

“You’re not the one who should be angry here. You made me believe you… wanted me,” Jesse snaps back. “Just to get me to sign a contract. Your daddy asked you to be his little whore and you did it!”

Hanzo releases one of Jesse’s wrists to slap him across the face.

Somewhere beyond the shock of the sting Jesse realizes that he could use his free hand to knock Hanzo down, to incapacitate him, to buy himself time to go get Genji for backup, or to flee the hotel altogether.

He doesn’t. He’s still agonizingly, magnetically drawn to Hanzo. Even now, when he should hate him for betraying him, he can’t look away.

“How dare you,” Hanzo says, low and dangerous, the hand that slapped Jesse splaying across his collarbone and pushing him back against the wall. “I did nothing for my father. You came into my home… You spent three days doing nothing but flirting with me… You sent me,” Hanzo’s cheeks flush red, and he grits his teeth angrily against it, “a picture of your penis. And then… you left.”

“Your father threatened to kill me,” Jesse points out, anger surging in him. He’s not sure how Hanzo thinks he’s going to paint Jesse as the bad guy, here. Jesse’s done falling for Hanzo’s tricks.

“My father is Genji’s father too, but I have seen that you do not hate him,” Hanzo spits.

“When Genji heard your dad wanted me dead, he didn’t try to convince me to stay by fucking me,” Jesse throws back with equal venom.

“You think I had some kind of evil plot! You think I was laying a trap, that all along I was doing what my father wanted me to!” Hanzo’s shouting now, right up in Jesse’s face. “I did not know, Jesse! I had no idea that you would be so offended by my father’s crimes! I thought you had done your research!”

For a moment, Jesse is cowed. Naïve. People keep telling him that.

Hanzo’s eyes drop, for just a split second, to Jesse’s lips. “When I came to your room,” his voice is so much quieter, slower. “I thought that you and I would…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. Jesse’s the one who sent the texts.

“So your excuse is that you didn’t mean to hurt me, you’re just a bad person,” Jesse growls.

Hanzo lifts his chin defiantly, meets Jesse’s gaze sharply. “You did not think so before.”

“Human trafficking is wrong,” Jesse says flatly, amazed that he needs to point this out.

“I have no control over that,” Hanzo answers defensively.

“You will, someday. You gonna do something about it?”

There’s a brief pause.

“I don’t know.” Hanzo looks lost when he says it, his gaze lowered, fixated on his hand against Jesse’s bare chest.

He looks young, suddenly. He’s twenty-one. He’s the son of a crime lord. He doesn’t leave the compound that often. ”He’s never going to love you.”

”You don’t know that."

Jesse starts to feel it: that ache again. The one that’s becoming familiar. And its ol’ pal. Virgin.

“Hanzo,” Jesse says, all of the anger drained out of him. Hanzo’s father sent him here to kill Jesse, and he hasn’t. He never even tried, not really. He could have killed Jesse when he was singing in the shower, or when he was carefully manicuring his beard, or when Hanzo snuck up behind him. He hadn’t even had a weapon.

“When you texted me,” Jesse begins to ask, hesitant. He’s not sure he wants to know the truth, not sure if he can trust the answer Hanzo gives him. “Were you lying?”

He can tell by the colour rising in Hanzo’s face that he understands exactly what Jesse’s asking. “No.” His voice is soft.

Jesse raises a hand, threading the ends of Hanzo’s hair through his fingers gently. “Your father told you to get to know me,” he says, because he knows that for sure.

“My father told me to give you a tour of the gardens the first day you were here,” Hanzo replies.

“That’s it?” Jesse asks. “What did you tell him? Does he know about the beach? About the messages?” His voice remains soft, but he needs to know.

“I told him about the beach, because he wanted to know why I came home so late. I told him I was getting to know you for the sake of our alliance.” Hanzo tilts his head to one side, eyes dropping down to Jesse’s lips again. “I was lying, then. Not to you, to him.”

Jesse lets out a short breath, trying to keep his head. He’s been in this exact same position with Hanzo before, admiring the sweep of his eyelashes.

“I didn’t tell him about the messages,” Hanzo whispers. Their little secret.

“How did he know, then? About us?”

Hanzo’s eyes drop to the floor. His face twists into something ugly, a scowl. “He suspects that I’m fucking every man who stays on the compound.”

Jesse’s heart stings, sudden and painful. “You’re not,” he says, and it’s a statement, but there’s a question in there, too. A request for confirmation.

“You were the first one I wanted to,” Hanzo breathes.

A virgin.

Jesse kisses him, finally. After days that have felt like weeks, stretched thin and taut with longing, Jesse dips his head and presses his lips against Hanzo’s.

Jesse goes gentle, slow, as he runs his tongue across the seam of Hanzo’s lips, but Hanzo makes a noise in his throat, opens his mouth, presses forward. Brings the hand that was pressed to Jesse’s chest up to cradle Jesse’s jaw, urging him closer.

Hanzo is needy, demanding. Jesse can feel himself starting to sweat.

Hanzo licks his way into Jesse’s mouth, sends shivers through Jesse’s core, presses him back against the wall with his insistence. Jesse’s legs fall open all on their own and Hanzo fits himself neatly in between. There’s nothing shy in the way he presses their hips together, and Jesse can feel Hanzo’s dick through his pants.

Jesse drops his head back, gasping for air. Hanzo nuzzles at his exposed jaw, his neck.

“I want to see,” Hanzo murmurs against Jesse’s skin. His fingers are hovering at the hem of Jesse’s boxers.

Jesse’s stomach drops. “You already saw,” he teases, trying to pretend Hanzo isn’t fucking destroying him.

Hanzo presses his face a little more firmly into Jesse’s neck, tilts his head a little so his lips brush against Jesse’s ear when he says, “I want to touch.”

Jesse moans helplessly. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says. Hanzo’s fingers are still flirting around his waistline, but Jesse pushes them away gently.

Hanzo looks up at him, wide-eyed and stung. Jess realizes there’s a parallel here, between this moment and a very unpleasant one they’d had before.

“Hush, darlin’,” Jesse whispers, though Hanzo hasn’t said a thing. “It ain’t fair - me in my undies, and you all dressed up…” He trails off, plucking at the collar of Hanzo’s yukata - less formal than the ones he wore on the compound, and cut shorter down his thighs, with pants underneath. All black. Assassin’s clothes.

Jesse smiles idiotically against the crown of Hanzo’s head. Hanzo’s daddy thinks he’s killing Jesse right now. God, but he is, in the best possible way.

Hanzo makes quick work of his clothes, dropping his shirt, unbuttoning his pants.

“Where’s the fire?” Jesse teases, eyes taking in every inch of skin that gets bared.

Hanzo makes an exasperated face at him, but instead of answering he pushes Jesse firmly back against the wall and kisses him again, and again, and again.

Jesse considers himself thoroughly chastised.

His hands drift to Hanzo’s hips, then slide back. This time he’s the one whose fingers are dipping just past the elastic of Hanzo’s underwear. Hanzo breaks off from his aggressive kissing; Jesse can feel a shiver run through him.

The first person to touch him there. Jesse feels unaccountably emotional for a moment. He distracts himself by slipping his hands down, grabbing two handfuls of Hanzo’s bare ass. Hanzo lets out a little startled noise, ducking his head to hide the way he turns red.

“Aw, come on,” Jesse mutters, his voice hoarse. “Look at me, darlin’.”

Hanzo does; he raises his chin in that defiant way Jesse’s come to know so well, and it feels like his heart is swelling in his chest.

“Gorgeous,” Jesse whispers, one hand abandoning its post to tuck a stray piece of hair back behind Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo makes a quiet noise of protest, but the way he looks up at Jesse, lit only by the stream of light that’s falling in from the bathroom, hair messy from their fight, eyelashes long, cheekbones high and sloping, bare skin all the way down his torso -

It’s undeniable. Hanzo is so fucking gorgeous. Jesse kisses him again, because he can, and the fact that he can makes his heart surge in his chest, so he does it twice.

And then Jesse turns his head a little, rubbing his nose against Hanzo’s temple, and tells him, soft and sweet, “Baby, I’m gonna make you come.”

Hanzo breathes in sharply; his hand, resting on Jesse’s shoulder, tightens its grip.

Jesse allows the hand tucked in the back of Hanzo’s boxer to wander to the front, dragging teasingly across Hanzo’s skin. Hanzo squirms, and Jesse wonders if Hanzo’s ticklish, smiles at the thought. He pulls his head back, wanting to see Hanzo’s face as he finally closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick.

Hanzo gasps like the breath’s been punched out of him. Jesse can’t help the smirk that tilts the corners of his lips up. He takes a moment to pull Hanzo’s boxers down, and they both look down at Hanzo’s dick. Jesse wraps his hand around it again, makes a show of pumping up and down while they both watch.

“Feel good?” Jesse drawls, into the intense silence of the room.

Hanzo looks up at him. His eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, his mouth wet and open like he’s shocked at how it feels. Jesse’d thought he’d been keeping his cool up til then, but with Hanzo staring at him like that - his dick twitches in his boxers and he closes his eyes, swallowing a deep, almost pained noise.

“Look at me,” Hanzo pants at him, echoing his words from earlier. A hapless smile spreads across Jesse’s face as he obeys, utterly fucking besotted.

And then Hanzo really takes initiative: he slides his hands down Jesse’s waist, pushes his boxers down his thighs. He looks, and Jesse momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be giving a handjob. That sharp gaze is fixed on him, and it’s not the first time Hanzo’s seen his dick, but even that is making it harder to breathe.

Just having Hanzo’s eyes on him makes Jesse’s dick pulse. Jesse moans a little, half from embarrassment and half from being so fucking turned on.

He lets Hanzo study his dick for a few minutes before he starts making impatient little noises. Hanzo raises an eyebrow at him, drawing out another sappy grin. It dies an abrupt death when Hanzo puts his hand on Jesse’s dick.

His grip is tentative, feeling the shape of it, thumb gliding delicately over the head, smearing the precome gathered there. It feels so fucking good Jesse wants to cry.

“God,” he whispers, and he’d be happy to let Hanzo touch him soft and gentle like that all day, only he wants to come, and he wants to come with Hanzo. He wants them to come together.

He loops the hand that’s not still weakly grasping Hanzo’s dick around Hanzo’s back and pulls him forward a few steps. He presses their erections together, opening his hand to encompass both of them.

Hanzo makes a muted noise at the sensation, his unoccupied hand tightening once again on Jesse’s shoulder. His other hand moves over to Jesse’s hip, giving Jesse more room to spread his fingers. Jesse latches his mouth onto Hanzo’s throat, kisses softly, sucks at the skin.

He starts to stroke the two of them, his owns eyes fluttering shut at how good it feels. He wishes he could watch Hanzo’s face while he does this, but the noises are already too much. Hanzo’s breath is stuttering, both of his hands clenching convulsively on Jesse’s skin. Jesse lifts his mouth to breathe against Hanzo’s ear.

“You sound so good,” he whispers. Hanzo lets out a groan. Jesse’s not sure if it’s from the barely-there stimulation against his ear, or because Jesse’s picking up the pace with his hand, adjusting his grip to be a little firmer, a little tighter.

“I -” Hanzo gasps, trying to speak, but he can’t seem to catch his breath. Jesse releases his grip on the both of them, and Hanzo’s eyes fall open, looking for an answer.

Jesse closes his hand again around just Hanzo. He drags his thumb torturously across the sensitive area under the head. Hanzo’s mouth drops open. Jesse moves his hand up and down, slow and tight.

Hanzo’s hips buck. Jesse’s about to open his mouth, tease him a little more, but - Hanzo’s already coming, hot and wet on Jesse’s stomach.

Jesse’s dick pulses in sympathy, heat burning through him at the sight of it; Hanzo’s grimacing like he’s in pain, teeth grit and utterly silent. Jesse keeps stroking him through, keeps stroking him until Hanzo groans, pushes his hands away, drops forward bonelessly onto Jesse’s shoulder.

“You okay, darlin’?” Jesse asks, low and teasing. Hanzo makes a weak noise against Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse kisses his temple.

With Hanzo still leaning against him like that, Jesse grasps his own dick, starts to touch himself.

“Hanzo,” he murmurs. Hanzo turns his head on Jesse’s shoulder, an acknowledgement. “When I was texting you,” he begins, voice slow and thick as molasses, “Where were you?”

Hanzo buries his face back into Jesse’s neck. “Osaka,” he whispers.

“With your dad?”

“Yes.”

“You touched yourself?” Jesse prompts, hand already speeding up, stomach already tense with excitement.

“Yes,” Hanzo breathes, and Jesse’s getting ready to ask another question, to play twenty questions, but Hanzo continues, “I read your messages under the table at the restaurant we were eating lunch at. When you sent the picture I went to the washroom.”

Jesse closes his eyes, his hand fast and tight, his tongue wetting his dry lips, his stomach clenching.

“I locked the door,” Hanzo tells him, step-by-step, “I touched myself. I thought of this. I looked at the picture and I wanted to touch you.”

Jesse groans as he comes, loud and long. He grips himself tight, riding the waves of his orgasm, and Hanzo kisses his neck.

He feels exhausted afterwards, like he hasn’t slept in years.

He manhandles Hanzo over to the bed, pushes him in under the covers.

For a moment there’s a look of doubt on Hanzo’s face, like he knows he’s supposed to be saying that he shouldn’t stay - but he doesn’t say it. Jesses climbs in after him, spoons up behind him. He thinks that he should have set an alarm. He has a plane to catch.

He can’t think about that. Not with Hanzo’s breath already deepening, warm in his arms. Not with sleep blacking out his peripheral vision, filling his sight with nothing but Hanzo, his inky black hair spreading across the sheets, achingly beautiful.

Notes:

warmsierramist@twitter (takes place in the Darkest Timeline where hanzos dad has seen mccree's dick pic... bone-chilling... i love it, i love it, i love this art) almadraws@twitter (godddd.... sometimes the only way to cope with an awful, heartbreaking scene in a fic is to lovingly draw it out in beautiful detail i guess lmfao THIS IS PAINFUL TO LOOK AT and i love it.) almadraws@twitter (MULTIPLE!!! CAN U BELIEVE.... genjis shirt is so good, and, this picture is good, i LOVE genji saying lmao out loud, fucking same) rokudo@twitter (this piece of art, is beautiful, and i love it, but i keep picturing hanzo saying "oh jesse, if only somebody loved you" which actually, would be better dialogue than whatever i wrote in my fic, didnt frozen win an oscar, ive never even seen that movie) badookie@tumblr (beach party mccree and hanzo....... im so emotional about the painstaking accuracy of their outfits tbh and ALSO it wasnt like expressly written but actually yes you were supposed to be visualizing genji wearing a naruto forehead protector in the beach party scene, so if you weren't please go back and re-read, thanks. I LOVE THIS ARt....)

Tips for Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 6: these violent delights have violent ends Summary:

first 2200-ish words are porn sorry :^) then there's some plot.

Notes:

thank you for reading

the best way to contact me is twitter.com/broyaji. if you'd prefer to contact me anonymously my personal blog is banken-man.tumblr.com

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jesse wakes all wrapped up around Hanzo.

Despite getting off enthusiastically the night before, his dick is hard and throbbing against Hanzo’s hip. Hanzo’s still asleep, as far as Jesse can tell.

He strokes one hand down Hanzo’s bare arm, nuzzles his face a little deeper against Hanzo’s warm shoulder.

“Your beard feels unpleasant,” Hanzo says. Jesse can’t help the way he smiles at that.

With one hand on Hanzo’s shoulder Jesse rolls Hanzo onto his back, straddles his hips. Looks down at him. He’s caught up all over again in admiring all of Hanzo’s sharp, angular features. He lifts a hand to trace over the line of Hanzo’s cheekbone, then the thick cut of his eyebrow. Hanzo’s face reddens under the attention.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Jesse purrs, voice deepened by the clinging grasp of sleep and his accent syrup-thick. Hanzo seems to become aware of Jesse’s hardness in that moment. He pushes his hips up experimentally, just a hint of pressure.

It makes Jesse gasp, his own hips arching into the friction. He brings his mouth down to Hanzo’s ear, kissing the shell of it, his breaths coming heavy.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Hanzo asks, soft and shy. Jesse can feel the way the words make his face heat where his nose makes contact with Hanzo’s skin. The way Hanzo’s voice drops, gets quieter like his mouth doesn’t fit quite right around the expletive makes his heart clench. He wants to ask, Who taught you a word like that?

It was probably Genji.

“Baby, I’m gonna make love to you,” Jesse promises, breathy and fucking romantic. He continues kissing behind Hanzo’s ear, moves his lips down to his jaw, his neck. His hand is on Hanzo’s thigh, conveniently bared by the cut of Hanzo’s boxers. The sensations make Hanzo gasp, his eyes already losing focus. He’s so good; he’s so fucking good, and Jesse could never deserve this.

“Please do not say that,” Hanzo murmurs, trying to kill the mood even as his legs are falling open under Jesse’s caresses.

“Which part?” Jesse asks, teasing. “You don’t like me calling you baby?” He runs his fingers lightly over Hanzo’s chest. “Or you don’t like making love?” He kisses Hanzo’s collarbones through a grin.

“Both,” Hanzo replies, his tone flat, at first, and then breaking when Jesse bites gently at his skin.

“Okay,” Jesse allows, easy. He leans back, gazing down at Hanzo from above. “I’m gonna make you feel good, though,” he says, like it’s a warning. Then, as he strokes a thumb over one of Hanzo’s nipples he whispers, “Darlin’.” His other hand finally stops teasing, closes around Hanzo’s dick, strokes once, twice, and he whispers, “Honey.” He leans down and presses his lips against Hanzo’s, and against his lips he whispers, “Sweetheart.”

Hanzo is so immediately responsive to the stimulation Jesse gives him. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, he shifts his hips, he arches his back.

Jesse hates to leave him, but he rolls out of bed anyway.

“Where are you going?” Hanzo asks, eyes snapping open as he sits bolt upright.

“Don’t you worry,” Jesse mutters. He’s on his knees digging through his suitcase. It takes him a long, frustrating minute to find his bottle of lube. He stumbles back over to the bed, rifles through the drawer of the side table. It’s a love hotel: there are condoms of every size provided. For a whimsical - perhaps foolish - moment, he toys with grabbing the largest.

He picks out the appropriate size, instead. Safe sex is no joke.

When he fits himself back into the vee of Hanzo’s legs, he finds that he’s ruined the mood a little with his practicality. He smiles ruefully, ducks his head a little. Resumes his lazy kisses. Hanzo remains recalcitrant against him for almost a minute, but all Jesse has to do is slide his hand back up Hanzo’s thigh before his legs are yielding open again. He’s so easy it sends shocks of pleasure down Jesse’s spine.

Maybe after last night he’s not exactly a virgin anymore. But when Jesse closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick again and hears that wounded little gasp, feels the tension in his spine, Jesse’s brain starts chanting it all over again. A virgin, and now, something new: Mine.

Jesse probably couldn’t stop kissing Hanzo if he tried. He has an agenda, knows at some point he’ll have to draw back, take stock of the situation, move on, but right now he’s in this haze of contentment, chest full of this glowing heat that occasionally sparks when Hanzo does something clever with his tongue - God, he’s a quick learner - or rubs his thigh - probably by accident - against Jesse’s groin.

He lifts his head, tries to steady his breathing. It sounds easy in theory, but when he pulls away Hanzo makes a soft, disappointed noise and opens his eyes little, gazing blearily up at Jesse through his eyelashes. Jesse groans, but he forces himself to sit back.

“I’d love to lie in bed with you all day,” he murmurs, opening the foil condom packet. Hanzo gaze sharpens as he watches, and he shifts against the sheets. Jesse thinks he must be nervous. He rolls the condom onto Hanzo’s dick wondering if sex has ever made him feel so ridiculously tender before. “But I gotta leave, so we better get this show on the road.”

And the thing about that is - it must have been the wrong thing to say, because Hanzo goes absolutely still under him. It’s possible that he even stops breathing.

“You’re going?” Hanzo asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

Jesse hadn’t been thinking much about it, but the sadness of it hits him right then. “I gotta,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind Hanzo’s ear. With a bitter smile, he reminds Hanzo, “Your daddy’s still out to kill me.”

Hanzo frowns this awful, fierce, thoughtful frown that turns his eyebrows into angry slants. Then he surges up out of the bed, catches his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, and pulls him down for one of the most intense kisses Jesse’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

It goes on, and then it goes on a little longer, and then Jesse realizes they’re in danger of falling into that same hazy trance as before, so he pulls back again and flicks open the cap of the lube. Hanzo’s attention zeroes in on it immediately.

“I thought that you would be the one to -” He can’t quite seem to finish the thought, cheeks reddening a little.

Jesse can’t quite figure out what the best answer would be. We don’t have enough time is too callous, would kill the mood all over. I wanted your first time to be as pleasant as possible would probably scare Hanzo off fingering, which definitely isn’t what he wants.

I really like taking it up the ass would just make him sound slutty. Which he is, but. Well.

Jesse elects not to answer, instead shifting back onto his knees and spreading his legs. It’s probably a good thing Hanzo can’t see what he’s doing from this angle, because he’s definitely rushing it and that’s not the ideal way to teach by example.

It feels good anyway, and Jesse’s mouth drops open as he works his fingers in. Hanzo’s eyes smoulder darkly as they dart from the slackness of his jaw to the movement of his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Hanzo asks, voice rough. He’s started stroking himself a little.

Jesse clenches his jaw against a whine, has to close his eyes. “God, no,” he breathes. Having Hanzo watch him makes the stretch so much better, makes the elusivity of that angle irrelevant, because he feels like he could come just from this, just from having those eyes fixed on him.

He’s getting a little carried away. He eases his fingers out, opens his eyes, blinks a few times. “It hurts when you’re not used to it,” he amends. “If you don’t know what you’re doing. You have to be careful.” Hanzo’s a virgin. Jesse shouldn’t lead him astray.

Hanzo’s half lidded eyes tell him he’s not really listening anyway, isn’t viewing this as a learning opportunity. His hand has unconsciously started moving a little faster on his dick. Jesse feels very pleased with himself.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, solicitous. He remembers that he promised he wouldn’t call Hanzo baby. Hanzo doesn’t seem like he’s even noticed. He’s nodding, planting his feet against the sheets. The pace of his breathing has picked up. Jesse can see it in the rise and fall of his chest.

Once again, that feeling that he could never deserve this, that overwhelming tenderness. Jesse closes his eyes against it. He settles himself carefully over Hanzo’s hips. He positions Hanzo’s dick. When he finally eases the head of it in, his eyes snap open.

The look on Hanzo’s face is - lost. Astonished. Anguished. When Jesse eases himself further down, Hanzo throws his head to his side, eyes shut tight. Jesse’s insides are clenching around Hanzo, and he knows it’s probably bordering on overwhelming, but he can’t stop himself. It’s been so long since he’s been properly fucked. And God, he’s going to - he’s not going to waste this opportunity.

He sinks himself down fully and lets out this full-throated moan at the exact same time as Hanzo keens like he’s in pain. And then, when Jesse’s not expecting it - Hanzo’s been so placid, so docile, lying there and being so good - Hanzo suddenly fucks his hip up wild and desperate. He impales Jesse so deep that Jesse curls forward gasping for air, shocks of pleasure shooting through him like electricity.

“Christ, Hanzo,” he pants, and Hanzo looks at him, wide-eyed, just as stunned, and then he does it again.

Over and over, Hanzo bucks, using his feet on the bed for leverage, hands twisting in the sheets, and what can Jesse do but ride him, take it, yell every time the angle hits that spot, that spot he can’t reach with his fingers, God, this is everything he’d hoped it would be, virgin, virgin, virgin,but in all things Hanzo is proud, shockingly strong, indomitable.

Jesse’s starting to wonder if that tender feeling that keeps filling him up is some kind of close relative to love, which he’s sure would horrify him if he could fucking think, but he can’t, so instead he bends his body into some awkward, unsatisfying angle because God help him, he just wants to kiss Hanzo.

It doesn’t last, though, not this time, because Jesse misses the way he felt so full before, so he sits himself back up, and when Hanzo slots back into place, warm, full, deep, fitting perfectly into him, Jesse throws back his head in pleasure.

“Jesse,” Hanzo groans.

It hits Jesse like a lightning bolt, it makes him clench and shudder and convulse on Hanzo’s dick, it makes precum spill out of him. He never knew hearing his own name could elicit pleasure like that, but it does, and he wants to hear it again, wants to hear Hanzo desperate, blatant in his wanting, wants to know that it’s because of him.

“Jesse,” Hanzo starts to chant, just his name over and over. His hips are starting to stutter and Jesse knows he must be close, and he doesn’t want this to end but it has to, and when it does it’s gonna be fucking glorious.

So he takes himself in hand and jerks off quickly, only has to stroke himself a few times, the feeling of it a counterpoint to Hanzo’s jack rabbiting hips, the flex and grind of them as he keeps trying to push himself deeper, and Jesse can’t stand how good it feels.

He comes, body rigid, crying out ridiculously loudly, and thank God they’re in a love hotel, actually, with its soundproof walls, because Jesse’s coming like he’s in a porno, throwing his head back and bouncing his hips and shouting Hanzo’s name.

Jesse looks down and sees Hanzo’s eyes fixed on him, a look of awe on his face. There’s a muscle in his jaw twitching and his fists are knotting the sheets and that’s when Jesse realizes Hanzo’s coming too, his hips pressed flush to Jesse’s ass and making tiny movements, not much more than muscle spasms. He’s buried deep, so deep, and it makes Jesse start groaning all over again.

In the aftermath he finds himself wondering: is it sad that it was Hanzo’s first time, and this is still the best sex he’s ever had?

Hanzo’s a quick learner, though. The concession must be made.

Jesse pulls himself off of Hanzo in one move and flops backwards onto the bed. He thinks he would be happy to never move again.

Apparently Hanzo doesn’t feel the same way. He sits up, back alarmingly straight considering the rigorous exercise they’ve just been through. He pulls off the condom and then, to Jesse’s horror, he gets out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jesse asks. He wishes he sounded less forlorn. He’s never considered himself the clingy type, but he’s barely even been allowed three minutes of afterglow.

“I am going to shower,” Hanzo says. He shuts the bathroom door behind him. Jesse feels - stunned. First of all, Hanzo’s not the one who’s asshole is still wet with lube. Very rude. Very bad sex etiquette.

Maybe Jesse’s fucked up somehow. That would be pretty par for the course. He’s just not sure… He’d thought he’d done pretty well. He’d been pretty satisfied with his performance.

He’s lying there agonizing about it when there’s a knock on the door. Jesse glances at the clock on the bedside table. It’s half past eight. He’s also not wearing any pants, or underwear, and, actually, now that he’s taking stock of the situation his ass is still gross and sticky. He closes his eyes and breathes a deep, anguished sigh.

“Room service!” Calls the person at the door. There are several problems with that. One of them is that Jesse hasn’t ordered any room service. One of them is that the person behind the door has somehow intuited that he speaks English. Yet another is that he’s fairly sure that love hotels don’t have room service.

Jesse gingerly gets out of bed and pulls on the boxers he’d discarded earlier. On the bright side of things, he’s not walking with a limp.

He puts on the most deprecating look he can muster as he pulls the door open. Genji’s modelling some truly radical bedhead and still wearing the clothes he wore in the car yesterday.

“Just wake up?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m eighteen,” Genji explains, waving an arm. “I never wake up before noon unless my life depends on it.” That comment would probably be a little funnier if it hadn’t been for the fact that Genji’s father would kill them both if he found them.

Genji cocks his head to one side suddenly. “There’s someone in your shower,” he says, uncertain. As if he’s not sure Jesse’s aware.

Jesse shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Your brother followed us here.” It seems weird that Genji has no idea. Last night feels like it was years ago. He can’t believe he was grappling with Hanzo in this hotel room less than twelve hours ago.

Genji’s eyes fall, unfortunately, onto the mussed bed sheets. He makes a weird face like he can’t decide what kind of expression he wants to use. Jesse can feel his face going red. There’s no way he’s going to be able to deny what happened here.

“Okay,” Genji says. He carefully averts his eyes, staring blankly at the door Jesse is still holding open. “Well. We should. Get ready. And head out to the airport. I was thinking around nine. See you then.”

And Genji leaves. Jesse feels even worse than he did before. He’s somehow fucked up and made Hanzo mad (is he mad? Or is it some other emotion? Jesse can’t tell) and now he’s alienated Genji too. At least he can be certain what he did wrong in Genji’s books.

It had sort of seemed yesterday like Genji wanted Jesse and Hanzo to… Get along? Make up? He’d given Hanzo the address of the last hotel, after all.

Then again, getting along didn’t necessarily mean fucking each others’ brains out. Which Jesse can’t even be happy about, because Hanzo’s still locked in the bathroom, and God, how long has he been in there, anyway? Jesse’s ass is starting to dry and the lube is getting uncomfortable and with each second that passes he’s starting to feel closer to a temper tantrum.

When Hanzo finally emerges from behind the closed door, a cloud of steam wafting all around him, he's dressed again - in the same clothes as last night, but you couldn't tell that by looking at him. His hair is drawn back into a sleek ponytail. He looks put-together and sharp-angled; his jaw is tightly clenched.

In short, he's the very picture of restraint. No evidence of what they'd done earlier remains. No sign shows that he's the same man Jesse had under him on the mattress, the one Jesse kissed and kissed and felt tenderly for.

Jesse can't stand to look at him. He pushes past into the bathroom.

His normal five minute shower routine gets stretched into ten as he tries to clean up the mess Hanzo made. He grimaces at himself in the mirror afterwards, brushes his teeth fiercely. He dresses in plain clothes that won't attract attention at the airport, won't get him stopped by security. A white button-up shirt, blue jeans. Yes, he wears cowboy boots with them, but they don't have spurs.

He’ll look like any other American tourist, probably. He shoves all of his belongings back into his suitcase and exits the bathroom.

Hanzo has made the bed. He's probably ashamed, Jesse thinks. He doesn't want anyway to know what happened here. Not even the maids at a love hotel.

Jesse’s chest clenches. This is all he amounts to: another shameful secret for the Shimada clan to hide.

God. He's not gonna let that happen.

“What, are you mad at me?” Jesse snaps, because Hanzo’s standing there by the bed not looking at him.

Hanzo actually winces, as if the words have hurt him. But he doesn't make any reply.

Jesse’s fists clench. He crosses the room in a couple of strides, buries a few fingers in the front of Hanzo’s shirt so he’s forced to look Jesse in the face.

“What do you want from me?” He asks. He’d thought he was angry. The way his voice comes out is just sad.

Hanzo, despite the proximity of their faces, drops his eyes to Jesse’s chin to avoid making eye contact. He's quiet for so long Jesse thinks he's trying to get away with not answering.

Then he says, “It was supposed to change things,” and his voice is so soft. Fragile. This is a confession Jesse has forced out of Hanzo with a fist gripping his shirt.

“What do you mean?” Jesse asks. His voice has gone rough. Hanzo’s eyelashes are drooping. Shame, like always. Frustration. Tears are shining in Hanzo’s eyes. Hadn't Jesse predicted, days and days ago, that Hanzo would be the type to cry out of frustration?

“When I had sex with you,” Hanzo looks up into Jesse’s eyes, suddenly fierce and sharp and edged with anger. “It was supposed to change things. You wanted me to. You wanted me to give you my virginity, so I did. But it didn't change anything.”

Jesse - doesn't know what to say. He doesn't understand. “What was it supposed to change?”

Hanzo pulls out of Jesse’s grip so he can turn away. Jesse can see that he's the one with clenched fists this time.

“You're leaving,” Hanzo says.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees readily. It had never been up for debate. “As long as your daddy’s around to try and kill me, I can't stay.”

“You're leaving me,” Hanzo clarifies. He half turns his head, glares at Jesse out of the corner of his eye.

Jesse doesn't have any quick draw answer to that. He can't say that he'll come back, he can't say that they'll see each other again someday. Even if they were true he couldn't say them, because they don't fix anything.

They don't fix this, they don't fix anything. This is big and broken. This thing between Hanzo and Jesse - or maybe he's being too self-involved. Maybe it’s Hanzo himself. All that misery and loneliness and self-loathing. Jesse’s leaving it all behind.

“I wish I wasn't,” he says. That doesn't fix anything either.

Still, the corner of Hanzo’s mouth pulls up a little bit. It's not really a smile.

There's a knock on the door. Jesse opens it. Genji takes a good, hard look at Hanzo - who looks spotless, not a hair out of place, dressed to kill in his black clothes - and says nothing. The three of them leave the love hotel in total silence.

In the parking lot, Shimada is waiting for them, with twenty armed guards.

He smiles.

Genji looks at Hanzo. Jesse thinks, What was he doing in the bathroom all that time?

When they were in bed together, there was a moment. Jesse’d said, I’d love to lie in bed with you all day, but I’ve gotta leave. Hanzo had gone still. Stopped moving. And after that, he’d changed. He’d gotten more aggressive. He’d been - distracting.

Jesse is a fucking fool, and he’s been reminded of it constantly the last few days. He keeps falling for these little tricks. It’s gonna be the death of him. Shimada’s standing there with a gun - well, Shimada doesn't have a gun. But his henchmen does.

Ha ha. Jesse’s starting to get a little loopy. Caught up on the details.

Hanzo shifts slightly where he's standing, a few steps ahead of Jesse. He's put himself in the line of fire. On purpose.

Jesse’s eyes catch on Hanzo’s ponytail.

He wants to laugh. A fool.

Hanzo spent that time in the bathroom blow drying his hair.

Now he's putting himself at risk of being shot by his own father to save Jesse’s ungrateful, undeserving ass.

That tender feeling? Fuck it, it’s love. One week is enough. One week is enough to know that Jesse McCree would blow up a country to get back to Hanzo, because it doesn't fix anything but it matters anyway, because it has the chance to make Hanzo smile.

That's so goddamn sappy. That's the most romantic thing Jesse’s ever thought in his life. Shit, it’s love, isn't it?

He pushes Hanzo out of the line of fire and puts his hands up.

Shimada beams, evidently pleased with his obedience. He makes a gesture at Hanzo.

Hanzo’s fists clench again, and by now Jesse knows that means he’s feeling defiant.

“Just do it,” Jesse mutters to him. Hanzo glares.

Genji picks up the slack, folding Jesse’s arms behind his back and making it look really realistic. Which is to say - “Ow, Genji, that hurts.”

“Shut up, prisoner,” Genji breathes, and then marches Jesse over to his father.

“What pleasant surprise,” Shimada says. He doesn’t sound very pleased at all.

The knowledge that he needs to act fast presses persistently and uselessly at the back of Jesse’s mind. He doesn’t have a gun on him. Of course he doesn’t. He’d been on his way to the airport. As far as he can tell, Hanzo isn’t armed either. Jesse’d gotten pretty closely acquainted with that outfit last night, and there were definitely no swords or guns hidden under the fabric.

Genji… Genji’s wearing jeans with little patches sewed on. Jesse recognizes Hello Kitty on the back pocket. There’s also a blonde-haired, blue-eyed anime kid who looks familiar. Little headband across his forehead. Jesse can’t remember what he’s called.

Anyway. Jesse can tell Genji would be worse than useless in a fight. He’d be distracting.

Jesse stands before Shimada, mind racing. He’s slightly bent over from the way Genji’s holding on to him. The grunt beside Shimada begins to raise his gun, aiming for Jesse’s head.

Genji relaxes his grip on Jesse’s arm. Jesse honestly can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not. It doesn’t matter; it’s enough. He breaks his arms free and grabs the gun. One hard tug and the gun comes into Jesse’s possession. One pivot and the gun is pressed tight against Shimada’s temple.

Shimada’s bodyguards all freeze, weapons half-raised.

“If you move, I’ll shoot,” Jesse says. His voice is completely level. This is not his first hostage situation. Beneath the hand gripping Shimada’s shoulder tightly, he can feel the way Shimada’s breaths are short and shallow. The man isn’t immune to fear after all.

Genji’s car is still in the parking lot. Jesse makes eye contact with Genji for a second, twitches his head toward it. Genji hesitates. Jesse has no idea what goes through his mind in that moment. He’s staring at the gun pressed to his father’s head.

Before Jesse can really start to worry about it, Genji climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

Jesse’s eyes meet Hanzo’s. “Get in the car,” he orders, adjusting his grip on the gun. Hanzo’s eyes, like Genji’s, seem drawn to the point where the muzzle meets Shimada’s greying hair. Hanzo climbs into the passenger seat.

“Time for a family road trip,” Jesse mutters to Shimada. He forces him to turn so that Jesse can keep the bodyguards in his sight while they walk backwards toward the car.

For a moment after the door shuts the four of them sit in silence. It’s like they’re all waiting for a cue. Jesse’s mind is racing. He doesn’t know when the thugs outside are going to start shooting, but he feels like, inevitably, they will.

“It sure would solve a lot of my problems if I blew your brains out,” he tells Shimada conversationally.

In the front seat, Hanzo and Genji both go tense.

He doesn’t understand it. Despite everything, they’re both terrified of their father dying.

“Drive, Genji. I got a plane to catch.” Jesse keeps the gun pressed to Shimada’s head, ready for the first sign that things are going south.

The car lurches into motion. Apparently, stress isn’t good for Genji’s already erratic, dangerous driving.

“Christ, Genji, I’m holding a loaded gun back here,” Jesse gripes. Genji replies with a wordless noise of distress. Right, Jesse probably should have handled that one a bit better.

The car proceeds more or less smoothly out of the parking lot from there, merges into traffic on the street. Jesse tries to carefully divide his attention between keeping the gun trained on Shimada and watching out the back window for signs that the armed guards are following. There’s no doubt in Jesse’s mind that they’ll follow; they’re too loyal, too well-trained to give up on their leader. The question is still how Jesse’s going to get out of this alive.

It occurs to him as the vehicle slows for gridlock traffic. “Hanzo,” he calls. Hanzo turns to face him, brow pinched with anxiety. “Come back here,” he orders.

Once again, Jesse is met with that tense moment of hesitation where he doesn’t know if his order will be followed. The thing about Genji or Hanzo disobeying him is that he won’t shoot them if they do. Shimada rebelling against him is no problem. In fact, it might actually be a relief.

But if Genji stops driving the car, or Hanzo refuses to crawl into the back with him… Then he’s stuck. No back-up plan. Probably doomed to die in Hanamura, the way the Deadlock Gang expects him to.

Hanzo undoes his seatbelt and gingerly moves between the two front seats.

Shimada strikes like a snake, hands grappling at Jesse’s wrist for the gun.

The car erupts into incoherent yelling. Traffic has started moving again, so Genji has to keep his eyes on the road. There’s a loaded, cocked gun being wrestled over in the back seat. Shimada has a grip on Jesse like a pitbull and won’t let go. Hanzo crouches there, frozen with indecision until a stray limb catches him in the face, and he reels back for a moment before launching forward to join the fray properly.

It ends when Jesse gets an elbow in Shimada’s stomach, bending him over double in the seat. Hanzo has the gun. Jesse’s panting. One of them is bleeding, but it’s not clear who.

Hanzo makes eye contact with Jesse over his father’s head. Jesse doesn’t look at the gun. He refuses to look at the gun. If Hanzo’s about to shoot him, he doesn’t want to know.

They stop at a traffic light. Jesse pushes the door beside him open. He seizes Shimada, who’s still clutching at his stomach and wheezing, gets a hand around his collar, and throws him out the door of the car. The man stumbles a few times, completely taken by surprise, and then he trips and falls.

In a few minutes, his henchmen will find him there. They’ll get him back into one of their cars and continue to chase Jesse to the airport. The chances of Jesse making it out of here are still close to zero.

Hanzo practically crawls into Jesse’s lap, staring at his father on the side of the road with his mouth half-open. He turns his head, meets Jesse’s eyes again.

Something like understanding passes between them - it’s only like understanding, because it leaves Jesse totally confused about what’s been understood. It doesn’t matter much, really, because the next thing he knows, Hanzo’s leaning forward a little, pressing their lips together.

Earlier that morning, Jesse’d thought he’d never been kissed so intensely by anyone as he’d been kissed by Hanzo. Now he’s thinking he’s never been kissed so softly.

Maybe that tender feeling is mutual.

Hanzo jumps out of the car. He grabs his father by the arm and drags him off the road, into an alley and out of sight. As he disappears, Jesse sees him pull a phone out of his father’s pocket.

Jesse suddenly realizes what he was supposed to understand from that look. Hanzo’s buying him time.

He pulls the car door closed. Genji starts driving again. There’s a weight in Jesse’s lap. When he inspects it, he finds the gun. Just in case.

Jesse touches his lips like he's trying to feel the impression Hanzo left there. He’ll probably do it again, a week from now, thousands of miles away. He'll probably keep doing it. For months, maybe. Keep trying to remember what it felt like.

He’s going to live through this. He’s going to survive Hanamura. Genji weaves through traffic with the help of his GPS, but he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Jesse keeps looking out the back window, but he doesn’t see anything suspicious at all. No cars following them. No gunfire. Nothing.

That doesn’t mean he can relax. Even when they pull onto the winding drive that leads to the airport, he doesn’t relax. He sits forward in his seat, puts his hand on Genji’s headrest.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s not nearly adequate. Genji’s knuckles are white with the way his hands are clenched upon the steering wheel.

Jesse sighs softly as he pulls away. They stop in the drop-off lane. Before he can shuffle out of the car, leaving the gun behind on the seat, Genji grabs his shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you, Jesse McCree,” Genji says, managing a smile. It’s not the same carefree smile Jesse’d seen at that beach rave party - God, that feels like years ago. But it’s a smile Jesse is glad to return.

“If I’m ever back in Hanamura, I’ll look you up,” he says. Genji laughs.

Jesse gets out of the car. At least half of him expects someone to shoot him dead right there. Nothing happens at all. Genji drives away under the stern instruction of a traffic attendant. Jesse enters the airport and wanders his way toward the departures area.

He approaches the security lineup with no luggage, just the phone Genji gave him in his hand. It has his boarding pass and fake passport information loaded onto it. One of the sleeves of his shirt is stained red with blood. A quick catalogue of his body tells him he's not bleeding, so it must be from somebody else. He has no idea who.

The security officer at the checkpoint takes one look at him and summons someone else - someone who speaks English, he discovers.

Jesse speaks slowly and tries to stomp out his accent to better be understood as he explains: “I took one of them shuttle buses to get here, and I fell asleep on the way.” So far, so good. Nothing too suspicious. Innocuous.

“When the bus stopped I slammed my face into the window and gave myself a nosebleed. I had to use my sleeve to stop the bleeding,” he holds up his arm demonstratively. The security guard grimaces.

“I was so distracted that by the time I realized I didn't have my luggage, the bus was already gone. I can't afford to pay the exchange fee for my ticket, so I need to get on my flight now. Guess I’ll probably never see my suitcase again.”

If I was her, I wouldn't let me through, Jesse thinks glumly to himself.

But he must look as pathetic and hangdog as he feels. The security officer grimaces again - sympathetically, this time - and waves him through.

“You have to do something about that shirt,” she warns him. “They won't let you on the plane if you're covered in blood.”

That seems like a sound general rule. Jesse thanks the officer profusely as he passes to the other side - to safety. Maybe. They won't let Shimada through with weapons, right?

The paranoia doesn't leave him. It probably won't for a long time. Jesse buys a ridiculously expensive shirt with some kind of cute anime character on it from a kiosk aimed at tourists. Genji would get a kick out of it. They should have exchanged numbers. Jesse could have sent him a picture.

In the airport bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror in that special airport bathroom lighting that makes everything look grey, washed out and tired, Jesse gets hit by a crushing wave of sadness. He's trying not to think about - anything. About the words - it was supposed to change things. About other words. Virgin. Mine.

Neither of those words are true now.

Jesse puts the t-shirt on. He throws his old shirt on the garbage. He thumbs the phone on and checks the contacts list. There’s only one name in the address book: Genji.

Jesse takes a picture of himself and that silly anime shirt in the bathroom mirror and sends it.

Forty-five minutes later, he boards his flight. Thirty minutes after that, the plane takes off.

Jesse closes his eyes. One week in Hanamura. He's still alive, but irrevocably changed.

Notes:

thesis: the way the fluorescent lights take everything from you - standing alone in the airport bathroom, nothing left but this lousy t-shirt; to be reshaped by love is a form of violence.

1 note · View note

indouloureux · 2 years

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘

summary: your best-friend’s pretty. really fucking pretty. especially when he’s got his eyeliner smudged all over his eyes from crying too much, or when he’s got scratch marks over his inked skin, or when his begging moans make him hotter than hellfire

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, sub!eddie kinda, mommy kink, overstimulation, protected sex, oral (m receiving), degradation kink(slut, whore), dirty talk, dacryphilia, biting, ball sucking (hehe), praise kink, maybe mean!dom reader, rough sex, aftercare??? multiple orgasms lol MINORS GO AWAY (not proofread. rushed)

a/n: idk man, this took a long time to write for some reason but i hope you guys like this because it took a long time okay! and ball sucking. tumblr got me horny for eddie munson's ballsack so i put it in here. enjoy. also thank u for 4k mwah mwah i love u all!

— proofread by my mi amor jess <3 (@cordiformity)

MASTERLIST

The sound of the car turning on makes the both of you raise your hands in a farewell, Wayne Munson’s silhouette inside the tinted window waves back at you and Eddie, pulling out of the driveway, wheels scraping on the gravel road outside of your home.

“Bye, Uncle Wayne!” you yell, hands cupping your mouth for a better volume. Eddie waves still, arm stretched out in the hot air, rings clinking and glinting in the hot sun as he hovers you. “I’ll miss you! You’re the better Munson!”

“Asshole,” Eddie jabs your ribs. You poke your tongue at him, turning around to go back inside your home, a hand hovering behind you as he leads you through the door before he follows and shuts it behind him. “You invite me over and you’re saying I’m the worse Munson?”

“I’m basing off the truth, dungeon master,” you bump your hips with his, leading him to the stairs. His dirty sneakers thump on the creaking stairwell, hand dragging up the rail as you look back at him. “Who’s got the working car? Who’s got better morale?”

You sigh in contentment, feeling the cold air blow the sweat off your bodies in a strong surge. Eddie wipes the sticking hair off his forehead, eyes lazily watching you sit in front of him on the broken chair, legs spread.

“Alright, Eds.” You offer your hand, rings shown that matched his – the same skull on your ring finger, a snake coiled around the middle, and a daintier one connected to your bracelet through a chain. He vaguely remembers being with you when you bought it, having to be too distracted with something else he also can’t remember. “Whip it out and let’s suck.”

Almost fooled by your racy insinuation, Eddie lifts his ass up and searches for the ziplock in his pocket, tongue massaging his upper teeth as he pulls the plastic out and shows you what you’re asking for. “You’re still paying for that.”

You scoff, snatching it from him before you pull out a crumpled twenty from your pocket. “You know I always do.”

“You always do?” he sits up, forearms behind him. Eddie’s curls loose the sticky perspiration, now flowing behind him when he shakes his head at you. You slap the bill on his palm. “(y/n), you owe me like, fifty bucks. Minus ten because you beat that sicko from the band auditions.”

“It was supposed to be a gift,” you whine, throwing your head back. “I thought we were friends, Eddie?”

“We are,” he kicks his shoes off, and he half thinks he might have already lost them in the pile of clothes. “But I need money, too. No money, and we spend the rest of our life being driven back and forth by my uncle. And you know he hates it when we smoke.”

“Which is why I keep on telling you to convince him to smoke weed,” you open your drawer. “That way you can at least emancipate the stress you give him,” you jest, searching beneath used notebooks until you spot a crutch. “I- fuck I kind of forgot how to roll a joint. Can you do it?”

Eddie sniffs, side of his finger rubbing his nostrils. “You’re gonna do it now? That’s like, a half ounce. You finish it way faster than I do,” he sits up. “Just smoke a cig with me instead.”

Your hands drop to your sides, giving him a dismayed look before you’re opening the drawer once more and tossing the ziplock and clutch back inside, making sure it’s hidden beneath a notebook.

“I’d rather not,” you slump your head on the table. “I wanna get high. That’s why I invited you here in the first place.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s the third time you’ve hurt me, (y/n).”

He sits up, the veins on his forearm catching your attention. Tendrils bulging against the tattoo on his skin, blood pumping in the same beat your heart does as you stare at them with a watering mouth before they drive down to his clenching hands that reach for the boombox, toying with the antennas before Eddie looks at you.

“You still got the tapes? Or you sold them just to pay me?” he snickers, kicking your foot. You sneer at him, kicking him much harder that simulates a groan from him. “Please tell me you have at least Judas Priest in there. I’ve had enough listening to a-ha. I have the lyrics stuck in my head that I forgot the chords to Master Of Muppets.” You glare at him. “You know? Take on meeee…?”

“Yeah. I know what that song is,” While eyes impishly glare at him, you reach for the bag beneath your desk, black almost gray from the specks of dust surrounding it. Eddie watches your hand dig into the filthy bag, looking as if you’re carding through a literal trash can before you pull out three mixtapes that he gave you a couple months ago, Kate Bush and Foreigner falling to the ground as you pull them up.

“Blizzard of Ozz,” you smack the cassette in Eddie’s open palm, a stinging clap echoing around the corners of your small bedroom. “For the one and only Osbourne wannabe.”

“Kate Bush, huh?” Eddie opens the cassette player, shoving the tape carelessly inside. “Red tell ya to listen to it?” he asks, slamming the cassette holder shut and turns the volume louder, like you hadn’t received complaints from the loud ‘satanic’ music; you don’t care, anyway, it’s music nonetheless. Your friend spins in a riveting twirl, hair spinning cavalierly into the air-conditioned wind, before he stops to face you with a thespian look, mouthing the lyrics.

You yell over the music. “Max says she could change the world!”

Eddie snorts. “People look at me and say ‘is the end near, when is the final day?’” He takes a brush from your cup holder, holding it like a microphone. You guffaw at him, watching as a hand comes down to his chest before he runs around your room, stepping on the discarded clothes and crumpled papers on the ground. “What’s the future of mankind? How do I know, I got left behind.”

“Hey!” you shout at him through the zeitgestical piece of joint electrical guitars and drums, his feet taking him to your mattress sunken, exhorting him to jump up and down like a giddy child. “Get down!”

“Come on, bats,” his hand’s still up as an offer. “Ozzy wannabe wants to make the most metal concert ever inside your garbage bedroom.” Eddie air guitars like a loser, fingers mimicking the same chords of the song and imitating riffs as if he was in a metal concert. “Don’t just sit in the crowd. Be a part of the show.”

“Do you often say that to five drunks?” you quip. “I’d rather stay here than break my neck, Eddie.”

“Fine,” he jumps off, landing right on his feet where you see his left one bending the slightest at the hard impact. His inept body refuses him to sit still, and is now telling him to touch the items on your desk as you sit and watch him poke and prod like he’s shopping. “Let’s do something else that doesn’t make you so boring.”

“I’m not boring!” you exclaim, gawping at him. “I’m fun! Sorry for making sure you don’t die in my bedroom. Because if you did, I’d leave you here to rot with the rest of my clothes. Then I’ll steal your car and drive away to California.”

“You just worry too much,” Eddie pulls on your hand, indolently limp in his touch. “Sing with me, bats. Ozzy Osbourne awaits.” when you shake your head, he sighs disappointedly; almost in a way that’s so dramatic that you think he’s not actually sad about your refusal. “Alright. Then, let’s do something that you think is fun other than using me for getting high.”

You pout at him, now clasping at his forearm for forgiveness. “Aw. Eds, I don’t use you. You’re my best friend.”

Best friend.

Two words that compress his chest so tight he feels the pain ricocheting in his inked limbs. Eddie plasters this pain he doesn’t know why he feels when you call him your best friend by a short laugh, biting his bottom lip. “Yeah yeah. Think of something before I go find somewhere else fun.”

“Don’t you just wanna lay down beside me while we listen to Ozzy Osbourne? You used to do that!”

“Bats,” he bends, face leveled with yours as his lips disappear into his mouth, forming a straight line. “I’m extremely bored without my van. I need to do something before I lose my mind entirely. I mean, you wouldn’t like seeing me—” his fingers join together, both hands placing them on either side of his head before he mimics the sound of an explosion, fingers splaying apart. “—all bloody and open headed, right? I could just drop my blood down to your carpet. Or, well, what used to be a carpet.”

You kick a few items away to show your dark cerulean carpet. Eddie’s upper lip curls up in slight disgust. “The color’s always…like that.” you wave it off. “I clean it like, once a year? I dunno. I’ll clean up my shit after you leave.”

“You should,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Now find something interesting to do.”

“Fine,” you grunt. “I have something in mind. But if you don’t want to do it, then it’s your loss.”

In the last seven years of your friendship, not once have you imagined sitting on Eddie Munson’s lap.

Sure. Maybe you’ve hugged. But it’s just a hug. All friends do that. Friends snuggle when they’re stoned, they kiss each other’s cheeks as a rushed farewell. Maybe talking about masturbation was another thing but it was normal. You’ve seen each other half-naked — he helped you pick your bra before a date, and you got him a decent pair of underwear before girls would blow him. It’s a normal best friend thing.

Sitting on each other’s lap? It’s become romanticized in cheesy rom coms. And you see its point. With the minimal space between your bodies, crotches almost on top of each other, and the air so thick with unearthed tension that you’re wary and nervous at every move you do.

The liquid kohl paints his pale skin, a flawed darkness that mends conveniently into his eccentric vogue that he possesses valiantly with pride. Eddie’s eyes bore into you, scanning each pore, or the light hair above your top lip. Mostly into your eyes that don’t directly look into his — the way your pupils dilate and shrink every so often; and sometimes he’d cheekily glance down your lips, where the tip of your tongue would poke out, which gallops his blood all over his body into an intense heat. And fuck, how long is this going to take?

His hands grasp your waist tightly, keeping you in place. Your thigh on his, drawing around his vast eyes that perceive. Ozzy Osbourne sings from the mixtape Eddie changed—your mixtape that he made for you, a mechanized voice bringing you into the stage instead of the crowd — makes you feel like you’re in a show playing house with your best friend. It makes Eddie squirm gently in his seat, almost letting you muck up what you’ve done.

“Sit still,” your hand grips his cheeks, harshly forcing him into looking at you and keeping his face pliant beneath your touch, making his lips pucker a little. “You’re gonna make me mess up.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “It kinda tickles.”

“The brush?”

“Yeah,” his nails scratch your back slightly. “It’s like a feather touching my eyes or something. How long is this going to take?”

Eddie sees your eyebrows furrow in slight frustration at his impatience, your hand shaking in the slightest. “Almost done, Munson.” you mutter, lips parting the slightest that shows just a sliver of your pearls.

The situation is familiar, albeit it’s not him that you’re sitting on. Eddie’s mind varies through a manifold of haunting memories, until it settles on the one that bestows him a roll of undefined covetousness. It makes him grip your waist tighter as the memory of you sitting on another boy’s lap fills his mind, in this exact activity. Eddie feels this confusing jealousy run through him when he remembers you kissing that boy with his eyeliner all smudged up.

You sense his sudden rigidness, the hitching on his breath. “What’s wrong?” you murmur, brush stopping on the outer corner of his eye.

“Nothing,” he widens his eyes a bit. “Just…remembered something.”

“What is it?”

He watches you move again, feeling the cold brush on the crinkles beside his eyes, curving upward. “When- when you and Harrison Mcline were in the back of the classroom making out,” he laughs gently. “You were putting eyeliner on him too for the school play. He looked a lot like David Bowie with it, though. But I bet I look way cooler than him.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Harrison Mcline is a douchebag,” you claim, nail digging deep into his cheek he thinks he’ll see a crescent indent on his flesh. Eddie looks into your eyes, full of annoyance at the sudden memory, before it shifts into embarrassment. “He’s an arrogant dickhead who trusts his pulling out ‘skills’ and kept insisting he was allergic to condoms just so he could fuck me raw. And also, you do look better.”

Heat waves through his cheeks and ears as Eddie laughs out of sympathy, but mostly to make fun of your unfortunate encounter. “Told you you shouldn't have gone for him. You’re planning on fucking Mcline? Cheer squad says he’s got a dick the size of an eraser.”

“Well, it’s not like I have any options, do we?” you snicker, brushing his eyelashes with the side of your finger before you’re back to painting the inner corner of his eye, tainting his opal skin black. “What goody-two-shoes of a man would want to fuck a girl who’s part of the ‘satanic panic’?” you wave your hand to gesture to yourself. “And I did not know that.”

“Jason Carver’s been eyein’ you lately,” he teases, eyebrows wiggling the slightest. “As well as Steve Harrington when we’d rent a shitty movie. Even Gareth!”

“Jason Carver is with Chrissy Cunningham, and he keeps on insisting that this whole metal thing is just a phase. Steve Harrington only eyes me because I’m with you. And I’m older than Gareth! It’s disgusting, he’s like my little brother.” you tilt your head at him, Eddie wincing at your thoughts about your friend. “This pious town doesn’t fuck with, and I quote, cult members. I can't even find a decent one out there.”

In a drunken momentum, his eyes trace the v-shaped column of your neck that connects to your collarbone, prominent as his irises desecrate the components of every imperfection on your skin, minus the tattoos — the unorthodox stygian tattoos so unsaint, skulls and horns sinking deep into your flesh you might as well be the Devil’s little wayward angel. The hand behind you traces the waistline of your jeans, feeling your skin that’s exposed when your shirt has risen up from your back being slouched to hover over his head.

Eddie kicks a shirt out of his way — a cut tank top with the painted devil from the Hellfire Shirt to appear more punk (one he remembers you wore when you snuck into the community pool, jumping into the chlorine water with nothing but that shirt and a pair of denim shorts, gave him a goddamn boner when your bare tits poked out). “There’s some decent guys out there.”

He wants to say ‘me’, however not in an amorous way. Simply the mind that hasn't seen any cunt for the past month, and he’s desperate to the point he’d literally fuck his best friend. But maybe hidden beneath that word could mean something deeper, something he’s chosen to deny and decides to forget about. Eddie knows it’s wrong; to imagine you, his dear friend for ozzy knows how long, all bent and spread for him to fuck because he’s horny. But who wouldn't?

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “You almost fucked that mom from the community pool back summer. And that junkie who blew you when she came to your show and thought a blowjob was enough of a payment for weed.” He feels the rough pad of your thumb rub a spot beside his eye, stinging slightly.

“She gives really good head,” he nods slightly. “ ‘m just saying, sweetheart. You just need to look hard.”

“Oh yeah?” you take your eyeliner away from his eyes, snapping the cap back in place before your hands rest on his shoulders. “Like you? Because I think that your little friend—”

Your finger drags down his chest, movement sedated and teasing, nail scraping on the printed typography before they press deep into the thick flesh of his torso, trailing down like you’re exploring uncharted territories. They come across his thighs, hard and thick, short nails scratching the denim before you tease and sink deeper, feeling up the sudden rock in his pants that presses right onto your crotch.

Eddie blames you for the hard on in, had you not been subtly grinding on it for the past minute or so when you were applying eyeliner, acting nonchalantly when he felt so constrained in his tight jeans. His bottom lip feels so raw from all the biting he’s done just to not moan out loud. And it feels sick — perverted — to have a boner when your best friend sits on your lap.

“—kind of agrees with me,” you trace his bulge, unevenly round and thick, your hand wanting to squeeze but you spare him the insanity. “He’s been poking out ever since I sat on your lap. I think he wants you to say that you need some help.”

“And I think I’m the only one who can know what my dick says,” he sneers, his hand coming out from behind you to grasp your forearm and run his thumb on the inked bats on your skin. “And he says he’s perfectly fine staying inside until he gets home and feels the love of my hand.”

You tut, pouting as you brush the hair out of his face and tuck it behind his ears, bangs unruly on his forehead that it almost pokes his pretty eyes. “Shame,” you pop the eyeliner back on your cup, chastely placing your hands on his shoulders instead. “Would have been happy to help.”

His saliva sticks to the walls of his throat, blocking the next words from coming out because holy fucking shit, you’re flirting with him. Or he thinks you’re flirting with him. Because friends don’t flirt, right? Best friends, as you so proudly say to others. Best friends don’t flirt, or offer to get rid of someone’s fucking boner; he shouldn’t feel this proverbial hunger towards you, like the words that had rolled off your tongue was a drop of water that rolls down his throat, still leaving him thirsty.

“Tsk,” he chuckles dryly, palms running up and down your bare thighs. You expected him to say something else, but it seemed like he’s at a loss for words whenever you graze his bulge when you adjust your seat to remove the numbness of your calf. You feel like the senile chair would snap it legs and drop you into this void of just him and you, left alone to be stubborn and in denial.

“I could, though,” you murmur, fingers grazing his slightly coarse hair. “I can h-help you. With your problem. I don’t mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie sighs heavily, his hot breath fanning your face. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to just because I got a boner while you’re on top of me.”

“It’s not that,” you grip his shoulders tightly, trying to stop yourself from grinding again. Because god, fuck, if you had a dick of your own, you’d be as hard as him. “It’s just a friendly offer. Both of us hadn’t had fuck since last month and, well, we’re here now, are we? Might as well just…get on with it.”

It’s atrociously fun, your offer. Because even though you’d agree to forget about it in the end, both of you would certainly not forget about it. Eddie knows nothing would be the same if he agreed, if he acted like he’s wanted to fuck you for ages. You’d know with the way he’d act, with the way he speaks, that he’s always yearned for it, and he’s afraid it would cause a strain to your friendship. But fuck—you’re offering it yourself; and he’d cut his own dick off if he ever denied the chance.

Giving in into having sex with you just because he hasn’t had a decent fuck in a while? Was it selfish, maybe, even if he knows it’s going to change everything. But hey, the chance is right in front of him.

Eddie’s silence deludes you into thinking that he might have been disgusted by your offer. You don’t see the way his pupils widen and shrink ever so often, and it makes you remove your hands from his shoulders and sigh. “You know what? Forget about it. I don’t even know why I said that,”

“Hey,” he reaches out to clasp your wrist when you stand up to leave. Your right leg’s on the ground, the other still bent beside his thigh. Eddie looks up at you with unsure eyes, thumb running along your pulse point. “I was…going to say why not.”

Your lips part. “Really?”

“Yeah,” his eyebrows furrow and his nose wrinkles as he says it, urging you to sit back on his lap by the gentle pull on your hand. “I mean, you know, it’s just a one time thing, right? We can- we can act like it never happened after. Unless, you don’t want to.”

You don’t know if he’s saying all of that to spare your feelings, or if he wants the same thing you do—being fuck buddies, and whatnot, until you’d both come to terms that you actually like each other. But maybe that’s just your fantasy that he felt the same way you did, and that Eddie’s only saying yes because he’s just as deprived as you are.

“We don’t have to think about that now,” you sit gently on his thighs. The hand that he doesn’t hold tugs on the thread hanging on the bottom of your shirt, fingers twirling and pulling slightly. “We can just have sex. Then, let’s think about it after. That way we can see if- we can continue it or…not.”

Eddie’s looking directly into your eyes, right where you can see the specks of concupiscent dust glaze his brown eyes. And somehow, your faces are so close yet so far, with the way you feel the very tips of his eyelashes graze your cheeks ever so softly when he blinks.

“Great idea,” he says. And his hand hovers like he debates on cupping your face or holding your waist again.

“You can hold me,” you take his hands, placing them on your waist. “I’m not gonna bite,”

“Oh, I know you won’t,” he chuckles, sighing deeply when you bite your lip. “‘Y too soft to bite.”

You pull away, though still your faces are still close. Eddie’s bemused by the incredulity on your face, the way your parted lips etch into a feigned offended smile. “I’m too soft to bite?” you repeat, nails scraping on his exposed arms before you suddenly tangle your hand in his hair and pull harshly; lo and behold, he whimpers. “Aw, look at that. He made a sound.”

“That’s because it hurt,” he snaps, chest heaving against yours. “How would you react when I pull on your hair?”

“The same thing,” your other hand pushes his hair behind his ear, pouting at him. “I would have moaned like you did,”

Eddie’s nostrils flare, eyes darkening. “Fuck you.”

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, you tug on his hair again and fuck, he whimpers. “No, I fuck you.” Your nails scrape his scalp, Eddie digging his own at your skin. “What, you think just because I offered I’d let you use me? That’s not how it works, sweetie.”

You pull back, your hand still in his hair before you lean in to kiss him hard on his chapped lips.

It’s sultry, in that exchange of hot breaths between open mouths and teeth clashing. Eddie grunts against you when you coincide with your hip rolling each time your lips close around his. Judas Priest replaces Ozzy Osbourne’s yelling rasps, Love Bites deep thrumming like the chime of a bell cascades the ambience of the moment. You’re bold when your tongue slips past his lips to tackle his, sinking deeper that your nose bends on his cheek.

It’s new and it’s scary to kiss your best friend with the crisp trepidation of the future of your friendship. Because yeah, a simple kiss can change everything. It’s not chaste, it’s not for comfort, it’s not by accident; you’d both agreed to it, and it's unbeknownst to the both of you what the kiss truly meant to either of you. It’s driving you insane.

Your mind buzzes in delirium as you feel his shirt, wrinkles and damp from the sweat. He’s humming and he’s grunting with the wet clicks of your rapacious lips. And Eddie’s had enough, his hands coming down to grip the back of your thighs tightly, standing up from the chair and wrapping your legs around his waist. You fall heavily with him, your back landing on your crumpled sheets, his crotch immediately grinding against yours like a payback.

You moan, tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck. “Fuck,”

“What’s that, bats?” he taunts. “You fuck me? Say it again, sweetheart,” he rolls his hips deeper, bulge pressing right on you. “Say it. That you’ll fuck me. If you can, I’ll let you. If you don’t,” Eddie bites gently at your bottom lip, letting it go and watches as it pops right back. “Guess I'll have to be in control.”

Unpleased by his teasing, you push on his shoulders. Eddie falls back, body pinned to the mattress when you straddle his stomach, your hands gripping his wrists. “I fuck you,” you repeat, jaw clenching. “I’m in charge, you hear me?”

You don’t wait for his answer, because your hands are bringing themselves down to tug on his collar, pulling them apart until the weak shirt rips in half. Eddie’s eyes widen at the rip, lifting his head to press his chin on his neck as he looks at your damage. He laughs. “You’re lucky that wasn’t my favorite shirt,”

“I can get you a new one,” you say quickly, placing your palms beneath his chest to admire the tattoos on his fair skin. You lean back down to kiss him on his lips, gently this time, before you drag your lips down to his red cheeks, to his jawline where the faintest of a stubble begins to grow. Eddie exhales, the faint touch of your finger enough to send heat all over his chest. The Demon stares directly at you when you scrape your nails on the black art, punishing and guiding. “This still creeps me out, by the way,”

Eddie looks at the tattoo, frowning. “It’s still cool,”

His eyeliner smudges a little, making his eyes almost caliginous in his own wanton abyss. You press your lips right on the tattoo, coming down to teasingly nip at his nipple before your hands cup his pecs. And you grind on him again, your ass on his crotch and your covered cunt on the flat of his stomach as you let your hand drive up to splay across his chest.

“Christ, (y/n),” he groans impatiently. “Stop fucking dry humping me.”

“Yeah, well, what is it, Eddie?” you cock your head at him. “Who are you telling that to, hm? Christ or me?”

He sits up, hips jutting to yours that elicits a hushed moan from you. Eddie’s hands prop him up from behind, leaning up to kiss you feverishly again. “You,” he answers, shaking his head at you. “But I think (y/n)’s too formal. ‘Bats’ is too sentimental. I like to…spice things up. There’s a reason why I never call you by your name during DnD, sweets,” he lets one hand go, taking your cheek into his palm. “Whatcha say? Let’s try something new other than bats. Like…like mommy.”

Your rutting slows down a bit, uneven by surprise. You turn your head to him, and he almost comes undone with the way your eyes almost blacken by the dilation of your pupils—the way little glints of arousal light your eyes. Eddie bites his lip when the hand beneath his collarbone nears his neck until you're digging your fingers on either side of his neck.

“Mommy, huh?” you deride. “I like the sound of that,” you bounce lightly, and you smile when he moans lowly. “You gonna let mommy do whatever she wants? Because I think it was fucking filthy of you to get a boner when I was on your lap,” Eddie lays back down, his hands gripping your ass. “And mommy wants to punish you for a bit, is that alright?”

He nods. “Y-yes.”

You crawl down slowly. “Yes what?”

Eddie whines softly, his palm resting on the thin layer of sweat forming on his forehead. “Yes mommy.” he grunts. “Still gonna call you bats, though. Feels uncanny,”

“Commit to it,” you unbuckle his jeans, handcuffs clicking as you do so. “Don’t be shy and naughty, Eddie. You wanted it.”

He lifts up, helping you tug his jeans down. Eddie could care less if you lose his jeans in the pile of clothes on the ground, because you’re beneath him. You’re not exactly kneeling—a sight he’d kill for—but seeing your face hovering over his cock hidden by his briefs was enough to make his mouth water and suppress a loud moan. Eddie breathes heavily when you press a kiss on top of his bulge, looking so cherubic and innocent it’s driving him insane.

Now you are mine, In my control. One taste of your life, and I own your soul

You sing it against him, exhaling at each worth that your hot breath makes him jolt. Eddie whines, looking down at you to see that you’re hooking your fingers on the band of his briefs, tugging them down until his feet slip past the holes and you’re throwing it aside.

Amused by the sight of your tongue licking your lips at the sight of his hard cock slapping against his happy trail, a glob of precum leaking down to land on the coarse hair above his dick. Eddie’s hand comes down to brush your hair out of your face. “‘S not fair that I’m naked and you’re still clothed.”

“Patience,” you scoff, leaning back to shed your shirt. You shiver when your bare tits feel the air conditioned air nip at your exposed nipples, but you smirk when Eddie gawps at the sight of you being bare chested and kneeling at the end of your bed right in front of his cock.

Not once did he imagine the sound of a zipper going down could excite him this much, but fuck, your removing your shorts and tossing it at him. Eddie catches it, shamelessly bunching it up in his fist and digging his nose into the crutch point, where he whiffs at the faint scent of your arousal.

“I can imagine just how wet you are,” he throws it aside. “I can fucking smell it on your shorts.”

You’re standing up, right where the exploration of his eyes land on the black lace that covers you, shows well your bumps and the askew imperfections on your thighs. Its floral folderol craves him for the exposure, and it has him tracing the other integrants of you—the matching bat tattoos on your forearm that you’ve both gotten when you turned 18, your Cockatrice dragon to his Wyvern on your other arm; your own demon on your waistline inspired by Gene Simmons, the coiling snake beneath your right breast, and a bell right between your collarbones. It makes Eddie sit up.

“That’s new,” he points to the black bell. “When’d you get that?”

“Last week,” you drag your finger across it. “Metallica’s growing on me.”

For Whom The Bell Tolls. That’s hot.

Eddie bites his lip when you sway your hips side to side as you leisurely get rid of your black lace, your head lifting to gaze coquettishly at him. “Wanna know how wet mommy got, Eddie?” you hum. He nods his head, muttering a low fuck yeah, his lips all swollen from the lip biting that he eases the pain by licking his lips.

His cock throbs at the bare sight of your cunt, not fully exposed but he sees the small triangular bush on top. Eddie stops himself from touching his length right there and then as the lace slips past your knees and soon your feet, tossing it at his face that he clumsily catches. You gasp when he sniffs every inch of it, licking the crotch with the flat of his tongue before he’s flinging it somewhere in a corner.

“Smell good, bats,” Eddie growls. “Fucking delectable.”

You come back to kneel at the end of the bed, right between his legs before you're laying on your stomach. Eddie watches with a parted mouth as you trail kisses up his thigh. And you waste no time to spit on your hand and wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping him in an adagio manner. He lets out a moanish sigh, taking two pillows to rest his head all while he watches you tease him.

“Think you deserve my mouth?” you drawl, biting gently at the fat of his thigh. “Tell me, Eddie. Do you deserve mommy’s cock? After being so naughty? I wonder what other girls would think of you having a boner when you sit on their lap. ‘S like you’re a poor little virgin.”

Your thumb traces the slit of the bulging mushroom head, and it’s taking all of his strength not to thrust up. Your touch is burning, only on his cock but felt tactile like the blaze spreads through his veins like a wildfire. Eddie whines. “Please,” he begs. “I’ve been good, mommy. Jus’ couldn’t help it. You looked hot.” you look up at him. “So fucking sexy sitting on my lap, bats.”

Giggling, you shake your head and press a short kiss on his tip. “You’re lucky flattery works with me.”

A loud moan, louder than Rob Haldford, leaves Eddie’s valiant mouth when you sink your head down his cock, your throat opening to welcome his tip that gags you, your nose grazing the bush of curls. It was a sudden suck, the way your cheeks enclose greedily around his length that makes his legs shake. His fists curl your sheets as you begin to bob your head.

You slap his hand away when it comes down to the back of your head, pulling out and squeezing his shaft. “Keep your hands to yourself, slut. And stay still. If you so much as thrust up my face without my permission, I’m leaving you here all wet with your balls blue.”

He definitely almost came. “Fuck. I’m sorry, m-mommy.”

When you take him into your mouth again with glaring eyes, Eddie thinks of the other girls—a wrong moment to do so, but he remembers how incompetend they were at making him feel so good by the simple touch on his dick. They didn’t send shivers up his spine, they didn’t bear the same dominancy you did; didn’t make him submit indigently the way you made him to. He’s never felt this good in a long time, and it’s just your fucking mouth around him.

“Your cock’s so big, Eddie,” you press your palm on the vein beneath his shaft, kitten licking his tip. “Taste so fucking good, too.” like the way I imagined, you almost say. But you don’t want him to know that; it’s embarrassing to make him think that you’d hump a pillow and imagine fucking his face.

“Feels s-sooo fucking good—shit…bats,” he pants. You close your lips around his helmet, hand on his shaft pumping him as you bob your head around his tip but never fully taking him into your mouth. The feeling was still unexplainably stupefying, your tongue pressing flat on the throbbing flesh of his tip, hands fast and gyrating around his slick shaft that he hears wet sounds against your palm and his sensitive skin.

His grunts and loud moaning sends a hot pool between your legs that it’s starting to drip down your legs to the bed, sticky and sweet and painful from the lack of touch. You take your vacant hand down between your body and the bed, fingers reaching blindly for your clit. And when you rub the swollen nub, you moan against his head that sends vibrations.

“Shit!” his ass clenches, stopping himself from bucking up. Eddie looks down to see your arm wedged uncomfortably beneath you, and he feels his orgasm build up to the edge of the wall when your eyes close as you rub your clit and suck on his cock. “Are you- touching yourself?”

You hum around him, head bobbing in rhythm to the music. You pull away from his cock, to kiss your way down to his heavy balls. Eddie mewls, whining when you rub your clit faster as you lick his balls. Everything feels overwhelmingly good when you suck on his balls, tongue lifting his heavy sack and enclosing your lips around the dark flesh. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head, throwing his head down to his pillow and covering his eyes with his forearm.

He feels the eyeliner transfer to his sweaty skin, his sweat taking the liquid kohl and dripping down his temple. But it might have been the tears that threaten to spill past his eyes that sets the makeup off down his face, because your sloppy sucking and quick pumping, it felt so good it renders him an almost sobbing mess beneath you.

“Mommy,” he heaves. “I’m close,”

“Hold it in, then,” you order. “I’m not done. You can touch my hair now, by the way.”

You capture his sack with the most pure look you could muster, as if what you're doing isn’t so fucking unholy. Like you’re at the gates of heaven proving your innocence. Your hands leave him and yourself to push on the back his thighs, letting his feet plant on the mattress, pushing them wide apart to give yourself better access. Eddie moans, almost a scream ripping out his throat and it’s when the tears slowly start, your hand coming back to pump his wet cock loudly, your muffled moaning like music that comes with the squelching of his cock.

“Such a pretty dick,” you tease. “So pretty and good. Wonder what it would feel like to have you inside me. I’m gonna fucking milk you dry until you’re crying and in pain.”

Eddie pats your head, running his fingers through the tangled mess as you look up at him, eyelashes wet and curled, mouth full of his balls that you suck greedily. His missing orgasm is painful, and he finds himself begging embarrassingly. “Bats, can I cum, please? I’ve been good. Fuck—I’ve been such a good boy for you. Please let me cum.”

Your laugh is sardonic and mean, pressing a kiss to his heavy sack before you’re licking up from his balls to his shaft and tip. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Vampishly, you sink your head down his cock again, gagging around him that a string of saliva drips down your neck and the valley of your breast. Eddie mewls, and with a couple more closed cheeks, head bobbing and sucking and licking, he’s shooting his seed at the back of your throat. His warm delicacy coating the walls of your throat.

You don’t stop until he’s milked, sinking your head deeper and deeper until his cum starts to drip out your mouth. Once you’re done, you let him go with a pop. Your finger scooping up his cum and pushing it back into your mouth.

“Mother of Ozzy,” he whispers, watching you suck on your fingers, his legs dropping down. “S-shit. Come here, bats.”

You come back to sit on his lap, his dick still hard but bends down when you grind your cunt against him. Eddie’s (and your) moans are muffled when you kiss him, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him with fervor, slowly grinding on his shaft like you did earlier. Eddie wraps his hands around your back, keeping your chest flushed against his as his tongue evades your mouth.

“You taste like my cum,” he murmurs.

“Tastes good,” you giggle. “Aw, your eyeliner. I worked hard on that.”

Eddie pouts. “You give the best fucking head, bats. Couldn’t help it.”

Tracing his jawline with your finger, you smile at his praise. “Think you can handle one more? Or you just want to lay back and watch me touch myself?”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. His answer dies in his mouth when he looks up at you—and Ozzy, you’re fucking beautiful. With your lips plump, eyes glazed in mutual titillation. Like you’re not just fucking, like you didn’t just suck him off just to replenish your venereal hunger. But he doesn’t know what it is, and so do you (though only because you try to ignore the real reason you can’t fathom).

“Me? I can handle more. Fuck me in the ass if you want, bats,” he presses a quick kiss. “You got any condoms?”

With a hand on his shoulder, Eddie keeps you in place as you lean across the bedside table and clumsily open the drawer. You pull out a pack, splayed out in the wooden cabinet from its box, holding it between your middle and index finger as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “I got twenty more.”

“Easy there, mama,” his voice is low and almost growling as he looks at your lips. The mixtape whirls as you rip the package open with your teeth. Seek and Destroy by Metallica starts playing, your fingers taking the condom from the foil and placing it on your mouth, lips around the plastic ring before you bend down to wrap the condom around his cock. “Fuck.Where’d you learn that?”

You take him fully in your mouth again, cheekily sucking before you pull out and push your hair out of your face. “Steve Harrington. Junior Year,” Eddie gawps. “Right after Nancy Wheeler dumped him.”

“Holy shit,” despite the panging jealousy, he laughs in shock. “You’re something else, baby.”

Baby.

Heat brushes your cheeks, makes you laugh shyly as you take his sensitive cock in your hand. “Lay back down.”

Eddie complies with the help of your hand pushing his back to the bed. You kneel, hand grabbing his cock and straightening it until his tip’s prodding your entrance. You keenly breathe in when you sink, his thick girth splitting your wet pussy open. He lets out a moan that’s almost painful, greedy hands coming to palm your waist to help you sink.

“Shiiiiiiit,” you gasp. “God, you feel fucking amazing, Eds. So fucking big.”

“That’s it mommy. God, so tight,” Eddie’s eyes drip heavily. “You like my dick?”

His neck stretches when you choke him, his head falling back. “Fucking love your fat cock,” you mewl, throwing your head back. Eddie removes his hands from your waist to palm at your tits, feeling his mushroom bulge in your stomach once you’ve fully sat.

Barely a minute after he’s fully in, you begin moving. The wet sound of your pussy dragging up from his length makes you even wetter, dripping down his navel, his happy trail all sticky. Your hand leaves his neck to scratch on his chest, watching as slanted, red marks paint his skin and his tattoos before you drop down.

Eddie moans, his feet planting up the bed once more to rest your curved back. “You look so pretty,” he pants. “Riding my cock. Touched myself every night to the thought of this. And I know it’s wrong, bats, but I couldn’t fucking help it. I’d—I’d bend a pillow and fuck it, thinking it was your pussy. And all along I thought you’d let me have my way with you. But I was so wrong.”

You grind and bounce at an adequate pace, your walls clenching around him, your ass slapping against the skin of his thighs everytime you come back down. Eddie relishes in the blissful haze hailed upon you, your eyebrows scrunched and raised, jaw slack as you let out mewls with the same volume as his. Almost to the point that the loud music can’t even drown out your euphoric cries.

The tears began forming from the stinging overstimulation, his cock twitching immediately and he feels so raw. His vigor shredded and he submits himself to you, laying and moaning beneath your sedulous fucking.

And he knows, even with the rubber separating his flesh to yours, that everything has changed. No one else could fuck him the way you do, the way you sucked him off, the way you ruled over him and his body. Eddie’s tears choke his moans, the ebony makeup spilling down to your white sheets, your nails scratching all over his tattoos as you bounce faster.

“Jesus. You fucking whore,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, eyes slamming shut as you bounce. You glow with the sheen layer of sweat coating your body, breathtaking in all your pulchritudinous galore. Eddie traces the stretch marks on your thigh and thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the rare sight of you all pleasured and his. “God, Eddie, you feel so amazing.”

Your head ducks, a sob coming out of you. Your heart palpitates, the shattering sensation of being fucked open by your best friend gives you blindsiding revelation that you would rather be with him than anyone else. Because the touch of his hands is nothing but comforting after your cruelty.

You bounce faster on his cock. Eddie’s tears are stained with gray rivulets, coming up to sit and push your chest against him so he can hug you. Your hand tangles itself on his unkempt hair, nails scratching his back, whereas he’s muffling his growls by biting on your shoulder. Eddie kisses his way to your neck, sucking and biting a love bite in.

“I’m close, bats,” he pants against your sweaty flesh. “I’m gonna fucking cum. I can’t hold it in.”

“Okay,” you nod, pulling away to press your forehead against his. You exchange breathy moans, your bounces now with the help of Eddie as you slowly lose your energy. “F-fuck. All this time I’ve been searching for some rando to fuck. Should’ve just gone to you.” He wedges his hand between your bodies, his fingers dancing across your clit that makes you bump your forehead harder with his. “Fuck, Eddie. Cum. I wanna feel you cum.”

Eddie keens on his orgasm, and so do you. Sobbing and mewling into each other’s mouths as your grinding slows down, feeling his warm cum fill his condom, your own climax covering the rubber. He runs his hands up and down your back, before they come up to your shoulder and cup your face, pushing your hair aside so he could kiss you.

A kiss sweeter and more innocent than the first one. Eddie takes your wet lips into his, soft with his pants and his touch. And with his lips still yours, he helps you kneel up to pull his softening cock out of your gaping cunt. You hiss lightly, a tear coating your eyelashes that he wipes away as he sits you down on his thigh.

“That’s it, mama,” his voice is raw and croaky, you rest your head on his shoulder, hands leaving you momentarily to pull his condom out. You watch as Eddie tiredly ties the condom, reaching the bin beneath your bed and throws it inside before he’s hugging you again, fingers rubbing your jaw and thigh. “You did good, bats. Tired?”

You nod your head. Eddie urges you to lay on the bed, where you lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, He wipes the eyeliner off with the side of his thumb, eyes never leaving you.

“So,” you scratch the column of your neck. “That was intense. Didn’t know the Dungeon Master had it in him to call me mommy but, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Shut up,” he pushes on your shoulder, mimicking your position. Eddie’s fingers trace the curvatures of your waist, hovering over your stretch marks. “I didn't know you had it in you. Did you suck Harrington like that too?”

You laugh, hiding your eyes. “No. No, I never blew him. He’s very eager with giving head, it's insane.” Eddie smiles. “But he’s really good at it. He’s got a bit of a breeding kink. Kept whining about condoms but.”

“At least he’s good at giving head,” his rings are cold against your skin. Scooting closer, Eddie nestles his cheek on the side of his elbow. “So I know we literally just finished having sex but…are you still up for another?”

“Jesus, give me a break. I’m not a machine y’know,” he laughs.

“That’s not what I meant,”

You bite your lip nervously, taking his hand into yours and staring at the difference of its sizes. Your fingers were more slender than his, but his hand in general was bigger. “I’m still up to play house. I really liked the whole mommy thing.”

Eddie smiles, seraphic and pretty. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you brush the curls away from his face. “Uncle Wayne wouldn’t be here for a couple hours. My parents are still out. So we can fuck for as long as we want.”

Your offer excites him. Eddie takes your cups your face and kisses you once more, deciding to worry about what would happen after all this later.

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