#she lets him try on her coat he lets her play his guitar

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

13 was here

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3

Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6

Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9

Chapter 10. - Chapter 11. - Chapter 12

Chapter 13. - Chapter 14. - Chapter 15

Chapter 16. - Chapter 17.

Word Count: 1521

Chapter 17:

The lyrics left Agatha's lips smoothly, her good voice once again echoing across the room.

I have learned the lesson

Of all that's foul and fair

Our love was forged in Fire

Water, Earth, and Air

The spell is cast how long it lasts

I can not divine...

While other times you would let her voice enchant and put you in some sort of trance, this time you fought it.

Your fingers moved across the strings on their own, though more than once you dared to glance at them to ensure you were focusing on the right notes.

Who knew what would happen if you played a note wrong.

As the song continued and Agatha sang louder, you all joined her; once again backing her up like the first time you summoned the Road.

Yet despite the singing, everyone was on edge. Not only were they trying to see if they could spot this curse but also because of the raging fire that seemed to have started out of nowhere.

It spread almost all around and it was threatening to break your concentration, only for Agatha to snap and remind everyone to keep playing; the fire a clear sign that the curse was being harmed.

Close to the end, as Alice was getting carried away by the music; she dared to look up.

"The curse. I see it. I can see it." She exclaimed, and then something clicked in her mind. "I can kill it."

Your head snapped her way. "Then do it!" You barked at her, trying to be heard above the sound of music as the song was slowly coming to an end.

Wherever it may bend

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

I'll see you at the end

The last few lyrics came louder and louder, passion and need guiding the invincible magic emitted from all of you.

The loudest of all was Alice, now more determined than ever to defeat this curse for good; take revenge for her mother and every woman in her family that suffered because of it.

By the last lyric, Alice had spread her hands as flames seemed to erupt on and even behind her; giving quite a spectacle to all of you.

Once done, everyone exchanged looks; wondering if this was it or there was something more.

You did not feel the dark energy of the curse in the room, and something was telling you that you had been successful with this trial as well.

Your confirmation came as the metronome stopped ticking and he piano lid opened on its own, showing everyone a ladder and your way out.

"We did it!" Alice exclaimed, feeling lighter and stronger now that she had defeated the curse.

A smile formed on your lips and you looked at Agatha, who tried to hide her smile; though the relief was evident in her blue ones.

You had done it, you had finished one more trial and you were one step closer in reaching the end.

However, the good mood did not remain for something unexpected happened.

In the very next seconds, Teen collapsed on the ground; shocking everyone as you all rushed to check on him, worrying for the worst.

"Teen!" Alice exclaimed. "What happened?"

Agatha did not hide her worry this time. "What's wrong with him?"

Jen dared to move his coat to the side and her eyes doubled at the sight of a glass piece sticking into his flesh, blood slowlu coming out of it.

"He's bleeding."

You stared at the wound, feeling like an idiot for not spotting it right away. You should have, and yet you didn't, leaving the kid to loyaly play the guitar with you while fighting his injury.

"We've got to get him out of here." You ordered, and everyone nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Working together, you all helpd carry the unconscious and injured boy out; before laying him on a big flat stone that had been conveniently appeared for you.

You were back in the woods, your clothes changed to normal but that was the least of your worries.

Your priority was to save Teen, though almost no one knew what to do. Jen made the mistake of pulling the glass piece out, only for the wound to get worse.

"There's so much blood." Agatha exclaimed, passing her hands through her thick hair while trying not to panic

Jen tried to put pressure on the wound, do her best to help stop the bleeding. "I got it." She snapped back.

It was not enough for Agatha. "What else can we do? What else can we do?"

Lilia looked at the boy and then at her. "He's young. He's strong..."

"Don't!" Agatha exclaimed, pointing a finger at the older woman. However, her expression did not remain cold for long as worry took over. "Don't." Her voice cracked.

You had never seen her that way, so vulnerable and open... it brought pain to your heart but also made you wonder what was the true connection between her and the boy.

To react such way... you felt there was more behind it, or you fear she was reacting due to her past trauma with her son; Nicholas.

The wound kept bleeding, and not even Jen could help, not without her magic. Fearing for the worst, Agatha turned to you.

"Please" she begged, using a tone you swore you would never hear before. "Please, save him" she continued, fully aware you could do something; he coven's last chance in saving him.

"Agatha -" You tried to stop her, for she seemed to have forgotten how you did not directly interfere with such things.

She did not let you continue as she moved to grab both your hands into hers. She looked deep into your eyes, doing her best to remain in control.

"I trust you. You can do this. Please... save him..." she begged once again, making it impossible for you to argue.

A lump formed at the back of your throat, and in the end, you nodded. "Okay," you sighed, and she let you go before taking a few steps back.

You turned to the other witches and walked closer to the flat stone, eyeing the bleeding wound and the unconscious boy. His skin was paler than before, and you swore he did not have much time to live unless you did something.

Ignoring the stares of the other women, you losesned your tie. In the process, your three phased moon necklace was drawn from its hidden place beneath your swirt; earning a silent gasp from Lilia, who noticed it first.

Next, your sleeves were pulled up all the way to your elbow; making visible a faint birth mark on the inside of your wrist; the same symbol of your necklace, forever imprinted on your skin.

You took a few deep breaths as you concentrated, feeling the faint moonlight coming from above. It passed through thick dark branches, forming beams of white light that fell on the small clearing and on you.

Your eyes closed, and you turned your palms to be parallel to the ground and to one another. Your fingers curled faintly as suddenly white magic started to form and gather at the space between your palms.

Jen and Alice gasped faintly when your white magic started to extend, creating thin branches of magical energy that passed next to them; illuminating faintly the dark atmosphere around you all.

Alice even dared to extend a finger, impulsively thinking of touching it, only for Jen to slap her wrist and pull it down; giving her a look.

Your eyes were half open, preventing the others from noticing your white irises as your magic rushed through your veins and your body. Slowly, you brought your hands towards the wound before flipping the palms so both were facing the injury.

You gently touched the wound, feeling the warm sensation of blood tickling your skin but you focused as your magic started to enter the boy's body; cleansing and cleaning his wounds.

Some white branches of it spread around the boy's body, giving him an ethereal look. One single strand reached his face before gently entering his nose.

The very next second, Teen took a deep breath; his chest rising and falling with it. Yet his head fell back in exhaustion and trauma, but he was alive.

You withdrew your bloody hands, allowing everyone to see that the wound was gone; a faint scar was the only reminder that it was once there.

"He should be fine. Just let him rest for a while" you explained as you looked at them, your eyes back to normal as your magic had disappeared; leaving the plain old you standing there.

"Thank you," Agatha muttered in a faint whisper, barely audible to the others.

You offered her a gentle small smile, all you could master at the moment. Seeing hope back in her blue eyes was the reward you did not need but also the reassurance that you had done right; acting and saving the kid.

Chapter 18

[luvyeni]

SEX FASHION AND GUITARS — chapter 6. fitting day 📍!

𐙚 pairings. rockstar!jaemin x stylist!reader

synopsis. l/n y/n fashion major and photographer on the side who says what she wants, na jaemin music major and lead guitar player for underground band DREAM. After yn forgets her to change her account and says something that catches the eye of jaemin she tries to ignore him — expect thanks to chenle she now works for them.

word count. 1438 words

SMUT WARNING !!!

"ouch , that shit hurts." the boy complained for the thirtieth time , you were starting to think he was doing it on purpose. "yah! it's not even that bad , you're just being a pussy." you took down the measurements , closing the book. "done , now get out my studio." he scoffed. "so mean." he muttered. "let's go , i wanna go home and drink."

"can i come with you." you rolled your eyes. "all of you are just the same." you deadpanned, putting your coat on. "who else are you talking about , jaemin?" he questioned , you grabbed all your belongings , pushing him out the door of the place. "doesn't matter , no you can't come." you said. "awe why?!" he whined. "it's just drinks." he said. "you say that now , and then drink will somehow lead to you in my bed." he dramatically gasped , it made you smile. "do you think of me as some common whore?"

"yes , yes i do." you walked to the bus stop. "let me take you home." he said. "you won't quit will you?" he smiled shrugging. "fine you can only drive me home." he pouted , you would never believe this was the same guy that was notorious for being hard ass vocalist , who would hook up with a cactus if he could. "2 drinks?"

"one drink." you caved, what harm could one drink do? "one drink , okay , let's go!" he dragged you to his car. "jesus this car has seen it all." you teased , getting into the car. "hey , you were about to get on the bus , who are you to judge?" you nodded. "touche."

you guys made it safely back to your shared apartment with sieun , throwing your keys into the bowl near the door , taking off your shoes , making your way into the kitchen. "you have a roommate." you hummed , reaching up , grabbing to glasses and a bottle of soju. "she's out for the night , so you won't see her." you sat the glasses down , pouring the liquid in them. "here."

turns out haechan was good at conversation , because one shot , turned into 2 empty bottles of soju , and you both sitting on your couch , his arm wrapped around your should as you conversed about random things , a movie playing in the background. "what happened to one drink only?" you slapped his chest, making him groan. "you hold a nice conversation."

"and im incredible sexy?" he wiggled his eyesbrows. "you're lucky im tipsy , or i would've definitely gotten the ick and kicked you out for saying that." you got up to grab another bottle , he followed close behind you. "it's okay to admit it." he said. "that im sexy." you reached down to grab the bottle , not unaware to his burning stares at the ass. "i think you're sexy."

"you want another drink?" you said , trying to ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach. "nah , im good." you nodded , pouring yourself one. "you want to finish the movie?" you tried to walk back into the living room — only to be stopped by the man. "you know you don't give a fuck about that movie." he backed you against the counter , you sat the drink down as his hand traveled to your waist , caressing it. "you're sly." you tried to maintain composure , but that slowly slipped away as he hand came to the back of neck , pulling your bodies close , you could feel his hard on your stomach , he smirked. "yeah , i know." his lips were almost on yours ,you could feel his ghosting yours , when you stopped him. "what's wrong?"

"im not looking for something serious." he nodded. "good neither am i , just trying to fuck a pretty girl." you rolled your eyes. "you are not a dirty talker." he shrugged. "you say that now , wait until we get into bed." he finally closed the gap , holding the back of your neck as he tongued down in your kitchen , your hands coming up to his , tugging on it.

you manuvered your body , pushing him towards your bedroom , both of your clothes slowly coming off before you made it to your door — you opened your door , letting him in , closing the door , locking it just in case seiun came in and completely ignored the trail of clothes leading to your bedroom. haechan sat on your bed , in his underwear , beckoning you over , with his fingers.

"so eager." you smirked , slowly sinking to your knees , his cock hard and twitching against the confinements. "hurry." his arms keeping him up , as you pulled down his underwear his cock slapping against his stomach , tip red and dripping with pre-cum. "jesus , how long have you been hard." you grabbed the base , he hissed. "fuck." he cursed as he felt your glossed lips kiss the tip of his cock. "shit , such a tease."

you smirked , bringing your lips around his tip , sucking on it. "oh fuck , take it all the way." he let out a loud moan as you took him all the way. "shit." you bobbed your head up and down , your tongue working around the base as you stroked what you couldn't fit. "oh shit , your-you're so fucking good at this." he groaned. "fuck im gonna fucking cum." his hands balled the sheets , his hips bucking up — cock twitching as he came , shooting his seed into the back of your throat.

he sighed as you pulled him off , with a pop— your lips red and swollen. "fuck , you're so good." he grabbed your face , kissing you. "get up here." he climbed up on the bed , his cock still stan tall as you discarded your panties , straddling his waist. "come on sit on my cock." you grabb the base , holding your body above him , sinking down on his cock. "oh fuck!" he loudly groaned. "so-so noisy."

you rocked your hips back and forth , his hips occasionally bucking up , struggling to stay still as your pussy squeezed him so tightly. "shit." he groaned. "your pussy is amazing." he groaned , his head back against your headboard. "so fucking wet." his hands came up to your boobs , pulling your bra down , your tits spilling out , bouncing at your motions. "yeah , keep bouncing on my dick." he teased your nipples. "fuck , hyuck im about to cum."

both of you moving your hips , eagerly chasing your orgasms. "fuck , me too." he groaned. "fuck , i want you cum first." he rubbed your clit. "cum all over my cock, make a mess." your sore legs tensed up, twitching as you came. "oh fuck!" you sighed , he groaned thrusting up. "fuck im gonna cum."

you climbed off of him , grabbed the base of his cock , stroking his cock , until his cum covered your hand , squeezing lightly as his thighs shook from over sensitivity. "sh-shit that's enough." he stuttered , you let his cock fall against his stomach. "shit you're crazy." you smiled , licking the cum off your fingers. "shit you're nasty."

he flipped your body over , pulling you into a deep kiss. "fuck." you pulled away. "if you get hard again you'll have to go jerk off , im tired." he laughed. "trust me ,im gonna go home a jerk off anyway." he got up , putting his under off , you grabb a tissue off your nightstand. "you okay ,cause im gonna go." he said. "wow you are gonna stay , even to cuddle." you said sarcastically. "don't want you to fall in love." he teased back. "please , more like you falling in love with me."

"im gonna shower ,let yourself out." you got out of bed. "if you ever wanna do this again, you have my number." he said. "we both know you'll call me first." you spoke one last time before making your way into the bathroom.

after showering, you went into the kitchen go get some real food. "oh hey." you said to sieun who was sitting at the table , eating. "thought you worked late." you sat down. "i was going to , until i see who was on closing shift and faked that my roommate was in the hospital." she slid over the extra container of food. "thanks."

"chenle is gonna kill you , jisung too." she spoke up. "what are you talking about?" you shoveled food into your mouth. "haechan was still putting on his shirt as i was walking into the apartment , i hope it wasn't on the couch." her face grimaced in disgust. "nope , you're good , and chenle doesn't have to know , plus it was just a a hook up , im not looking to bare his children." you explained. "it better be , i can not bare to see you all pregnant and married to lee haechan." you rolled your eyes. "that's scary."

"girl not just scary , that's horrifying."

previous - masterlist - next

TAGLIST (CLOSED). @nominsgirl @haechansbbg @axo-l0tl @darlingz99 @hollxe1 @lostinneocity @lovebuglissas @stars4yulia @syzavxy @kgyam4 @trashx678 @jarrofkookie @fae-renjun @thisisnotjancita@irinayobitch@cloudmrk @chenlesfeetpic

©️LUVYENI

[ilovegeorgie]

who knows how long i’ve loved you?

george harrison x reader

genre: confort / fluff

warnings: self harm !

summary: george becomes concerned for a friend who has been struggling.

a/n: please be aware that this fic mentions self harm, i personally have been struggling with this for a while and know how bad it can get. if you are going through this, you are not alone, there’s a lot of people that care about you, my dms are open if you need to talk to someone :)

the soft hum of the guitar strings echoed through the quiet room, george’s fingers moved his guitar. it was a quiet evening, george has been playing for a while, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was missing.

lately, he has been worried about one of his closest friends who was slipping further away from him, but he couldnt figure out why. He had known her for years, long before all of this "beatlemania" stuff was even a thing. they shared everything with eachother, but recently she has become distant, her pressence less vibrant and her laughter was quieter. george had come to realize that there was something different about her when she stopped acompanying the band to rehersals, she loved going and messing around with john and ringo.

it was late when george decided to visit her, he was seriously worried about her and despite the late hour, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that something was wrong. he grabbed his coat and stormed out of, heading to her flat, hoping that just seeing her would help put his mind at ease.

when he knocked on her door, there was no answer. he knocked again, a little harder this time, hoping that she was home. a few moments later the door opened slightly, and he finally saw the eyes he was long awaiting to see.

"george..?" her voice was soft, and there was a hint of surprise in her eyes, but there was something that george couldn’t place.

"darling" he said full of concern. "i was worried about you, can i please come in?"

she hesitated, looking down at the floor for a moment, then turning to see into the flat before nodding and stepping aside. "sure, come in" she said.

george stepped into her small apartment, the lights were dim, casting long shadows across the room. she had always kept her place neat and tidy, but it this time it seemed quieter, emptier. the silence between the two of them was thick, but george couldn’t just stand there, he knew something was wrong, and he needed to know what.

she sat down on the couch, loking down to the floor avoinding his gaze. her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and george noticed her trembling. "darling.." he began, his voice low but full of concern. "ive been woried about you lately, i dont want to offend you or anything, but you’ve been acting... different lately. you know that you can talk to me about anything right?"

she stayed silent staring at the floor, biting her lip until she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"look george, i’ve.. i’ve been going through some stuff" she admitted, her words trembling "i know that you and the boys have been recording lately and.. well, i just dont want to bother you with my stuff"

george sat down next to her, he wanted to say something to make her feel better, but didnt know what. he then gently placed his hand over hers. "darling, you will never be a bother to me" he said softly. "whatever it is, i’m here for you"

they locked eyes for a second before she quickly looked away again. "it’s just... its all too much right now, everything feels so heavy" she said, her voice cracking. george felt how his heart broke in that instant.

he placed his hand on her arm, trying to confort her. it was then when her sleeve shifted slightly, revealing a few marks along her wrist. george froze as his heart his clenched even more in his chest. her arm trembled slightly under his touch, as if she feared he might pull away, or worse, pity her, but he didn’t. instead, he tightened his grip on her arm, not wanting to let go.

“my darling, you don’t have to go through this alone, please. whatever’s going on… i’m here. you can trust me with everything, i’ll always be here for you” he said as her eyes filled with tears "i didn’t want you to see them… i didn’t want anyone to know"

george gently turned her arm over, his fingers tracing the scars. "you don’t have to hide them from me" he said quietly, his thumb brushing over her wrist "you don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. whatever it is… i want to help you"

she took a shaky breath "its just that.. sometimes.. i have all of this thoughts and it just becomes too much and... by doing this... it’s.. its the only way I know to make it stop. to feel something other than all of that".

"you’re not alone in this, okay? i promise that we’ll figure it out together. i’ll always be here with you no matter what”

she turned her head away shaking, george could tell she was trying to hold herself together and without thinking, he reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. "i’m sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest "i just don’t know how to stop it"

"oh darling.." george whispered, his hand stroking her hair gently. as the night stretched on, her tears began to subside as she remained curled into georges embrace, her head resting on his shoulder. he gently shifted so they were lying on the couch, still wrapped in each other’s arms.

"i’ll stay with you. i’m not going anywhere." george whispered softly, his breath warm against her hair. she them turned her head slightly, just enough to look up at him. "why?" she asked softly. "why would you stay with me?"

"because I care about you" he said quietly. "i always have, and i know that i always will. you dont know how important you are to me"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC calls them their husband/wife/spouse

My silly little sequel is here:

M6 planning their wedding with MC

You know, because there was that trend for a bit and they're all down bad for MC/you

Julian

It took you a while to work up to doing it

Not because you were nervous about him having a bad reaction, everybody who has met him knows how much he loves you

No it's because you know his reaction will be so dramatic and you need time to mentally prepare

You know he loves when you take the lead on things, so you let it slip at the Rowdy Raven while you're ordering drinks at the bar

"Yes I'd like that please, and my husband will have a salty bitters. Put it on my tab."

His shrieking puts Malak to shame

"Husband? I'm your HUSBAND?? Did you mean it??? YES!!!"

He's expressing himself in every way at once: laughing, shouting, dancing, "singing", punching the air, spinning you around

All the regular patrons are wondering what secret concoction he ordered, he walked in the door ten minutes ago and he's already on the tables

When did he find the guitar

Give the guitar back to the nice musician, Julian

You're able to herd him back to your regular table and calm him down a bit but you've never seen him giggle constantly like this

After you've had your drinks and left the tavern the walk back home takes twice as long as usual because he needs to tell everyone that he's properly taken now

*bumps into neighborhood acquaintance* "Hey, how are you, I'm their husband!"

Rumors of the beloved Dr Devorak's clandestine wedding are circulating now and he is living for it

He did sit you down and talk about getting married in the future after this

If it's something you were interested in, there are only two reasons he hasn't proposed already:

One, he keeps overthinking and self sabotaging

Two, he's waffling between letting you sweep him off his feet with a proposal or him proposing and getting to make it as grand as he wants to

Asra

Let's be honest here, if any mortal person ever embodied unconditional love, it's him

They gave up half their heart just to have you back in the land of the living, no strings attached, and if you ended up choosing someone else over them, they would support you as long as you were happy

If you're with him though that means you chose him, and he is so so happy

They also love mischief of any kind

You didn't hesitate to try it out once it occurred to you

He walked in from his busy day out as you were closing up the shop, taking off his coat and scarf

"How's your day been, MC?"

"Better now that my spouse is home!"

They stumbled on their way to the tea pot and you could see the blush spreading across the back of their neck

"O-oh, you don't say?"

The dimples are out in full force when he returns with your tea

"Tell me then, MC, how exactly does this spouse of yours make your day better?"

They are going to act on every response they tease out of you

"Is it the way he brings you things to make you smile?" *lays out trinkets he picked up for you while he was out*

"How about the way your spouse kisses you good evening?" *slides an arm around you with a flirtatious smirk*

He's playing it off so smoothly but the blush takes several hours to fade

It'll stay on their mind for a while though, until they circle back and ask you if marriage is something you'd want in the future

If the answer is yes he's getting things in place so he can propose as soon as you're ready to be asked

Nadia

She already introduced you to her family as the person she wanted to marry someday, it's in her plans

She's letting you set the pace for that though, and she's not in a big rush as long as you two belong to each other

Which is why it falls off your lips so casually while you're having afternoon tea on the veranda before she has to host a reception that evening

"I don't know Nadia, if what you say about my reputation is true then those nobles should know better than to give my wife a difficult time tonight."

At least you think you sound pretty casual, you had to rehearse that sentence a few times in your head and your palms are sweating under the tablecloth

She freezes and her eyebrows shoot straight up

"Oh my, MC, how bold of you."

Then she's blushing and laughing and pulling you closer

"Pray tell, when did you begin thinking of me as your wife?"

She's flirting with you but she's also trying to figure out if this is a sign that you're ready to get married yet without putting you under too much pressure

If the answer is no, you're not ready yet, she'll tell you to take all the time you need

But she'll also ask you to call her your wife just one more time, to help her wait

If the answer is yes, you feel ready to marry her, she is gearing up to announce your engagement that evening and reaching for the ring she's been carrying around just in case

This Countess knows a good thing when she has it and she's not wasting any time to make you hers in every way possible

Muriel

Have mercy on his poor heart, he's still getting used to being in love in general

Once you've been in an established relationship for a while though, you start to notice what a wonderful partner he is

He's always happy to help with any heavy lifting or out of reach objects, he makes breakfast for the two of you most mornings, and his favorite moments are when you're curled up next to him

Once your brain assigns the words "husband material" to him you can't unsee it

So when he sees you getting ready to scale the shelves for a bigger wooden bowl and he lifts it down for you, you just can't help yourself

You kiss him on the cheek and thank him kindly

"You're such a wonderful husband, Muriel."

He walks right outside and faceplants into the nearest patch of moss he can find to cool off the blush

The chickens are a little startled

Inanna is laughing at both of you in wolf

You'll have to go after him to make sure he didn't short circuit and apologize for catching him off guard like that

He will want you to explain what you meant right away

If your answer is just that you noticed what a good partner he is and that it just slipped out he'll be bright red and very happy to know that he's successfully treating you well

If you end up admitting that getting married has crossed your mind a few times and you could see that happening with him he's going to need a minute (read: 24 hours minimum)

He's going to ask Asra about it

Somehow he's surprised when Asra's response is an offer to officiate the wedding

Muriel will come back after a bit and quietly let you know that yeah, he's thinking about it too, and it doesn't sound like the worst idea

Portia

In her mind you two are basically married, I mean, you have her back, she has yours, you saved the world together and confessed your undying love to each other, there's not much more to do

You even travel the world and negotiate alliances with other nations together

So you don't think it'll be a big deal if you try it out

You love her "out and about" pirate-esque outfit, and she loves it too

But ever since she wore it to that banquet with Aunt Tasya and Vesuvia's ex-council, the belittling comments she got about it come back to bother her every now and then

You notice she's fidgeting a little before you head out the door for an evening on the town and decide to hype her up

"Damn, you look good! Give me a spin! Look at her Pepi, is my wife the best-looking woman in Vesuvia or what?"

Neither of you expected for it to affect her as much as it did

Her eyes and mouth are wide open in shock, because to be honest?

Getting married hadn't even crossed her mind

But it was starting to sound really appealing, really fast because it meant you got to call her your wife every day

She's giggling and squealing and confused at her own new obsession but very very happy

She won't bring it up right away because you two are about to have the best date EVER and she's about to burst with pride

But she'll bring it up eventually

If your response is that you just felt like calling her that, she's happy. She will request it be a new nickname for her though

If you say that it had crossed your mind a few times, she'll be nervous and excited and very open to heading in that direction

Lucio

He's been married before, it was meh

(A/N: forgive me please, Nadia is not meh, Nadia is a goddess amongst us mere mortals, Lucio recalls their marriage as being meh because there wasn't any love between them)

ANYWAYS (pls don't kill me for real, Nadia fans are top tier and I am but a poor panicking pansexual)

He prefers to leave things in the past, and you're still helping him take the future into consideration, so long-term commitments like marriage aren't even on his radar

Really you just decided to call him that to mess with him a little

You chose the wrong moment for it though, you really did

You were stopping by the palace between gigs to check in on everyone and Nadia invited you to stay for luncheon

Lucio can't say no to a potentially fancy meal and you're happy to chill with a dear friend for a bit

Nadia forgot to mention that she invited Asra over as well, since they're in town and she knows they'll want to see how you're doing

Lucio is reminiscing about some fantastic party trick he pulled in the banquet hall you passed by on your way in and you decide to mess with him a bit

"Yeah, that sounds like something my husband would come up with."

Just as Asra is walking into the room

They're okay with your relationship, they really are, but it's going to take quite a while for Lucio to prove himself worthy of your full commitment

They still worry that he'll regress and it's important to them that you have a way out in case that happens

"WHAT-"

They're not angry, they're freaked, and to be fair Nadia is too

You hurriedly explain to everyone present that you were just messing with them, you didn't know Asra was there, you're sorry, etc

Lucio's not helping. He hadn't thought of marrying you before, but think of the party! Think of the bragging rights! Now everybody knows you chose him!

"Yeah, you heard MC! I'm gonna be the best husband EVER!"

The palace staff collectively refers to the fallout as The Incident

[scenezfreak]

Hi again luv I hope your doing ok I'm sorry if I'm requesting to much but I had this thing going on in my head for DAYS and I was thinking if you could write a Jeff the killer x metal reader fem that writes songs and dose concert's but what if we sprinkled a little more smut into that like she acts all mean and mostly like flirty but then one night her boyfriend (Jeff) pins her down and fucks her so hard that the bed brakes like ahhhhhyfgy.I really hope you can do it but don't exhaust yourself and remember to eat,sleep,go outside and have fun we only have 1 life so live it at your best dear <333

A/N: Aww you’re so sweet, darling 🫶🏻 Thank you! And you’re not requesting a lot at all don’t worry, I appreciate your kind words and same goes to you! Take care of yourself <3

“You can take it”

Jeff the Killer x fem!metalhead!reader

Warnings: mean but also softie Jeff, bed breaking, degradation, reader crying (from pleasure), Jeff teasing reader

NOT PROOF READ, MINORS DNI.

You were setting up for your next concert, your band was testing and tuning their instruments. You were in the back, fixing one of the strings on your guitar.

Jeff wasn’t necessarily a part of your band but he traveled with you on tours because he couldn’t stand being away from you that long, even though he’d never admit it. “Am I that beautiful you have to stare, loser?” You glanced at him then back at your guitar. “Tch. Who said that?” He replied in a salty tone. “Hmm me.” This time you didn’t look at him. He scoffed and crossed his arms. You successfully tuned your guitar and let a sigh of relief out. You checked the time, “shit, I gotta get on stage. I’ll see you later.” You flipped him off as a joke and smiled at him before walking towards the stage. That damn smile of yours was going to get him in trouble.

-

You had finished and walked backstage after saying your goodbyes to the crowd. You grabbed a rag and wiped off your sweat, your band members told you how great you did and you returned the thanks and complimented them too. Turning back around you nearly jump out of your skin. “AH FUCK- Jeff you whore!” You sigh, not expecting to see Jeff there. “I need to put a damn bell on you. When did you even get there?” You asked, taking a sip of water. “Did your loud music playing ruin your ears or smth? Not like I was trying to be quiet.” He rolled his eyes. You stick your tongue out at him playfully, but you didn’t expect him to kiss you and take your tongue into his mouth.

You gasped into the kiss and he pushed you against the table behind you. Your hands flew up to clutch his hoodie. His hands rested on your waist. He pulled back, your salive coated his lips. Good thing you already looked a mess before he kissed you because one of your band mates came around the corner and asked if you saw his drumsticks anywhere. You shook your head, unable to say anything. After he sighed and left you looked back at Jeff, “if you’re going to fuck me then get on with it, baby” the last word was filled with your teasing tone.

-

…You don’t remember what exactly happened, you only remember Jeff dragging you to the car and driving home then immediately dragging you to the bedroom. Now..you were stuck in doggy style with him pounding you from behind and his hand tangled in your hit while his other one slapped your ass. “Wanna act like such a brat, yeah?” He thrusted in deep. “Then I’ll fuckin’ treat ya like one.” He leaned forward, his pace was brutal. You let out a whine at his next words. “Only good girls get to cum, brat.” Your hole clenched around his hard cock. “Ooh~? You like that?” His tone returned to teasing.

He slapped your ass again, causing you to yelp. The hand that’s tangled in your hair pushes your head down so that your face is pressed against the mattress. Your back was impossibly arched and you gripped the sheets. “This’ll teach you to watch your tone around me, whore.” His voice only making your cunt throb more. You could hear the faint cracking of wood but paid no mind as you were too busy getting your pussy abused by your boyfriend. The sound of wet slapping, Jeff’s huffs and almost inaudible growls, your loud moans, and the headboard hitting the wall filled the room.

He almost didn’t catch it if not for his quick reaction skills, you whined and looked up when you felt the grip in your hair disappear and Jeff stop fucking you. You soon came to realize that Jeff caught the headboard in time right before it hit you. He shoved it off to the side and laughed before leaning down, “fuckin’ you so good the damn bed is falling apart.” He pushed for a second, “did anything hit you?” You shook your head, face heating up realizing the situation and him asking if you were okay. You shoved your own face back into the mattress and shook your hips back and forth to hint for him to continue.

He laughed and his hand found it’s way back into your hair again, this time pulling you back and turning your head so you’re facing him. “Such a damn whore, y’know that?” He didn’t give you time to answer before pounding into you again. You moaned into the kiss and tightened around him, causing him to groan. “Gonna cum” he whispered, he licked away tears that were spilling from your eyes at how good he was fucking you. He held back, moving his free hand in between your thighs to attack your clit, determined to get you to cum before he did. He didn’t think you could get any tighter, you threw your head back with a loud whimper of his name as you came.

He continued to rub your clit throughout your high then he leaned back up, placing both hands on your hips and resuming his pace. His cock twitched inside of you before he pulled out and rubbed his cock against your ass. You felt strings of his hot cum land on your back. He scooped it up on his fingers before leaning forward. “Open wide, darling.” You obeyed and he shoved his cum coated fingers into your mouth which you happily cleaned. He cleaned the rest up with a wipe from the bedside table. He moved you onto your back and got up and walked out of the room.

You sat up and rubbed your back, it was already sore. You glanced at the headboard on the floor and huffed out a laugh, he walked back in. “The fuck are you smiling about?” He handed you a water bottle and sat down next to you, his eyes grazing over your form to see if you were hurt anywhere. “Just thinking about how good you fucked me.” You hum and sip the water. You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Right before you pulled away he grabbed you by the throat, “keep actin’ like a brat and I won’t fuck you so good next time.” Her tried to seem serious but ended up smirking and he leaned forward to capture your lips in another kiss.

[electric-demons-in-love]

Random Vox, Valentino and Velvette headcanons (part 3):

-Velvette really likes Avril Levine and early-2000s pop punk music in general. She’ll often be blasting it out loud in her fashion studio. In terms of more modern artists I feel like she’d enjoy Scene Queen.

-As much as he loves taking Val on extravagant dates to expensive restaurants, Vox’s favourite dates involve seeing a movie then getting food at a 50s-style diner afterward.

-Vox tries to be romantic and cute by sharing a milkshake with him but Val, being his gross self, always sticks his tongue in it to lewdly lick up the cream.

-Valentino enjoys watching talent competitions on TV (like the hell equivalent of Dancing On Ice, the X factor, etc), though mostly because he’s a judgmental bitch and likes to rip into the competitors. Vox actually got him to be a guest judge on a show once and every week he made someone cry (Vox didn’t care because the ratings skyrocketed whenever Val got involved).

-Val doesn’t like horror movies. He doesn’t mind gore but suspense and spooky stories get under his skin. He will watch them though if Vox agrees to let Val cuddle up to him. In comparison Velvette is a horror freak and cheers whenever someone dies gruesomely.

-Honestly before episode four I thought that Velvette’s Love Potion was a perfume. Obviously it isn’t, but I imagine Velvette and Valentino do have their own perfume line.

-Vox has his own energy drink brand called Vroom.

-Whenever Val gets flustered he pulls his hat down over his face. It happens very rarely but when it does Vox will mercilessly tease him about it.

-Vox can’t walk in heels, no matter how much Val and Velvette try to coach him. He will literally trip all over the place. To make up for it Velvette made him a special pair of platform boots.

-Velvette has a private folder on her phone full of unflattering photos of Vox and Val. She often threatens to make them public to blackmail the pair into getting what she wants.

-Vox can play electric guitar. It helps him relieve stress.

-When Val is pissed at Velvette he’ll do extremely petty things such as steal her makeup or doodle over her fashion sketches.

-Val once tried to be romantic by flying Vox over pentagram city using his wings. It was going great until Vox got violently air sick and puked all over Val’s clothes.

-Valentino has a massive collection of vintage porn magazines. They’re displayed on a bookcase in his penthouse and carefully organised. He’s very proud of his collection and will brag about it to anyone who will listen.

-They somehow got their hands on an Asmodeus Crystal and use it for earth trips, complete with human disguises. They don’t go often and when they do it’s only for a short amount of time to not arouse suspicion, so the trips are very special.

-The first time Vox saw Valentino’s human disguise he almost came on the spot.

-One trip involved them visiting Sea World. Vox had the time of his life looking at all the marine animals, Val and Vel had never seen him so genuinely happy as he was that day.

-Every time they go to earth they bring home a souvenir related to what they did. Vox’s favourite is a stuffed shark from the Sea World trip that he keeps in his bedroom, Valentino’s favourite is a tacky necklace Vox won him in an arcade (he often wears it hidden under his coat) and Velvette’s favourite is a collection of photo booth Polaroids they took together.

Part 1 Part 2

[reveurdoll]

Write bentley x percy (if u write for pjo)

👿👿👿👿👿😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

thank u anon for requesting <3 (i know exactly who this is😭)

sorry it's so short!!

SO PRETTY |

percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: y/n and percy spend a quiet day together, enjoying one another's presence

warnings: so!much!fluff!, child of aphrodite!reader, their lives arent in danger for a change, they have cellphones, established relationship.

YOU HUM to yourself quietly as you spritz your perfume onto your neck. smiling at yourself in the mirror, you turn to your sibling, drew.

"well? how do i look?"

she looks you over, before replying, "eh.."

you aren't sure what you'd expected from her, you're well aware of drew's tendency to be a little, well, bitchy.

you stick your tongue out at her and leave your cabin. you start walking, greeting various friends and campmates on your way.

your smile grows as you approach percy's cabin. when you reach his door you walk in, not bothering to knock as he knows you're coming, having texted you asking if you wanted to come over.

you giggle as you realize that percy is yet to notice your arrival. he's sitting in his spinny chair, facing away from the door but you can see that he has his airpods in and is pretending to play the guitar. cute.

you're about to tap him on the shoulder when he suddenly spins round to continue with his theatrical air-guitar playing.

he jumps and lets out a yelp, making you giggle at him.

he pauses his music and takes his airpods out, "you scared the shit out of me, holy hera,"

sitting down on his bed, you put your hands up, "my bad, my bad, i'm sorry."

you don't bother to make your apology convincing, your smile still present on your face.

he squints his eyes at you in faux suspicion, "something tells me your apology isn't very sincere," he scoots closer to you, still sitting in his chair, trying to hold back his grin.

"that might be because it's not."

he gasps, faining hurt.

"you're lucky you're cute, l/n" he says, pointing his finger in your face.

you laugh, "are you flirting with me, jackson?"

"perhaps."

"well, consider me flattered."

a light blush coats his cheeks, which you find terribly endearing. he leans forward and kisses your nose.

you look at him, a small grin on your face. "you're pretty," you say to him, voice just above a whisper.

he smiles softly at you, "well, aren't you a charmer?"

you roll your eyes playfully, before moving to lay comfortably on his bed.

you lift your arm, "c'mere."

he stands from his chair, before throwing himself onto his bed.

you shuffle, so that you're both facing eachother and a smile washes over his features. how is it possible for someone to be so pretty?

your faces are about an inch apart. you glance down from his eyes to his lips before leaning in and kissing him.

the kiss is soft, sweet.

you pull away and he looks at you, in awe.

"how the fuck did u get so lucky?" he asks, making you chuckle softly.

he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, and you lean into his touch.

"you're so pretty, angel."

you feel your heart melt at his words and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

the two of you lie there, silently, just enjoying eachothers company.

you place soft, chaste kisses on his neck as the two of you drift off.

[hellowoolf]

on strawberries and masonry: chapter iii

series summary: you atone for your sins, now, in a jackson garden, learning to care for soft things and yourself. joel miller is a lethal sort of similar, and misery loves company

OR

you live in jackson and meet joel and you’re both damaged little babies and fall in love (but i’m drawing this shit out🫶🫶)

warnings: angst, age gap (reader late 20s/early 30s, joel 50s), blood & gore, scars (NOT self inflicted), knives, guns, SMUT!!, unprotected p in v, fingering (if i left out any, let me know!)

word count: 9k

authors note: the fucking. at long last. thank god. (this is my first time writing smut omg goodbye)

series masterlist | masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

joel speaks to you like copper oxidizing in the sun. it’s slow at first, a shiny amber thing you covet, bestowed every once in a while on patrol or in the dining hall. but when the green catches hold, the gloss of it gone but easier, softer, it’s only a week or two from start to finish. he remains taut with you, strung into a tight wire you weary your hands trying to soften. even still, his prevailing silence makes him a vault, and at every moment you deem appropriate, you store your secrets there.

you tell him about the strawberries first. of the redness of that first one, and the way you’d wept with tommy and noah over the soil. of your hoarding of them, too. you recall to him your brisk walks in the biting air with ellie, smuggling handfuls stained red in the warmth of your coats, to deposit the bunches of them in your kitchen. 

he doesn’t ask you again, after his vulnerability on your porch that night, about ellie, but regardless you tally your moments with her to recite for him. you watch him grip to them like a wounded animal in the snow, though still he is joel, and so mostly he is quiet as you recount your greenhouse conversations. you’re certain, now, that he isn’t her father, but she mirrors him to a degree of uncanniness, what with her constant bristling. this you do not say to joel, but mostly because you suspect he already knows.

you pull from joel what he lets you. you learn he lived in austin, before. you learn he worked in a boston qz most recently, up until the trek with ellie to wyoming (the motives of this are strictly off-limits, and though you enjoy pushing him, you allow this omission to stand). you learn he loves music, and played the guitar a lifetime ago. and you gather scraps of him in the moments between the stories, too; he is performative, despite himself, and runs inhumanly hot, and reaches still for his southern manners like he’ll someday be rewarded for them. most of all, though, you learn he is not very good at covering the craters of himself. the small set of moments from his life before jackson he allows you to see are censured, punctured through by his own tongue, you deduce to muzzle the voices of the characters of his past he won’t let you meet. but his recollections remain wounded by his carving of them, and so the ghosts of his memories, unnamed as they are, are clear to you. there is one in boston, and another set along the path to jackson. most incurably, there is one in austin, but unlike the rest, joel carries this specter with him. 

the dining hall is always bloated with townspeople when you return from your rounds. the warmth of them overcomes the cold of the outside (it has persisted into late january this year) and as you find a table with joel at your side, the buzzing heat tickles at you from under your coat. you sit down at an empty table with joel on your left.

“but i do think they’re being weird. quiet, i guess, and tommy isn’t ever quiet.” you turn to joel, whose mouth is full already, and he leans back in his chair. tommy pulled away from you, and joel, too, over the last two weeks or so. maria has kept her distance—you have learned to expect this—but tommy is so insistently social, and so his waning outings in town seem odd to you.

“i dunno. tommy’s tommy, ain’t he?”

“yes, tommy’s tommy. but tommy hasn’t been tommy. you see what i’m saying?”

joel shrugs, stabbing again at his plate. “i guess,” but his thought isn’t finished, so you don’t respond quite yet. the brown of his eyes flickers when he’s let the tail of his sentence go, and you’ve learned to make space for them. “i…i don’t think maria’s too comfortable with my bein here.” he won’t look at you, but still it’s as vulnerable as joel ever is with you; he thinks tommy is distant because of him. you’re thrown to that night with maria in your kitchen, asking (demanding, really) that you patrol with joel, to the unyielding truth that your forced proximity to him begins and ends with your proclivity for violence. you aren’t quick to guilt, but it lays its clammy hand on your shoulder while you watch him eat. you’re reminded of how hot the room is, and begin to pull your arms from your jacket, turning your head slightly to lay it across your chair.

“maybe not, but she’s never been too excited about me, either. maria’s protective, very protective. but tommy’s different, too, he–” you don’t know if it’s the looking or his finger that comes first, but in any case you’re jolted somewhat ungracefully into silence. joel’s face has contorted into something unrecognizable as he looks down at your arm, bare in a tank top for the first time in months, and you watch as his pointer finger follows his eyeline down the scar on your left bicep. oh fuck. the callous of his touch just barely dances along the top of it, padding his fingertip along the skin in what feels like disbelief and disappointment and something else entirely. the mark closed up years ago, but the feeling of joel’s hand along your skin nearly burns the thing off. your sanity and your wanting of him are so flammable, and the spark of his touch sets the whole of you in smoke. after a few seconds of it, of the looking and the touching and the silence, joel remembers himself and stiffens again in his chair.

“i’m sorry, darlin, i-” he stops himself. “i'm sorry.”

and him calling you darlin is entirely unfair. you flush, across your chest and down your spine and down through your sex. there is something truly wrong with you. “no, no. it’s okay. i didn’t realize you hadn’t seen it.”

though he’s retracted his hand, joel’s stare remains clutched across your bicep. his fists curl in on themselves in his lap, and he stays there, firm and looking at you and cupping on nothing in his palms. you fill the silence.

“it was a long time ago. i don’t think about it much anymore.” this is only halfway dishonest.

“i shouldnta touched it.” he almost sounds bashful, boyish. he finally looks away from the scar and back at his food. “shouldn’t be starin either.” the depth of his voice tears through you despite the softness of it now, a whisper nearly unintelligible under the sounds of the dining hall. it strikes you that he thinks you a victim, and the thought nearly makes you sick. by maria’s fear of him, you’re certain joel has as blood-stained a past as you do, and late at night you tell yourself he would understand. still, you haven’t had the heart to tell him. what would you even say?

joel shakes his head slightly side to side like he’s reprimanding a child, though the child is him, now, and you could laugh at how awful and sweet and misinformed it is. you’d like to forgive him again, but you think he’ll excuse himself if you say any more about it, so you let the whole thing dissolve away.

“you like strawberries, sting?”

joel groans. yes, along with the lusting and your little fruits, the nickname is a luxury you cannot deny yourself.

“‘n so i played, but never out at bars or anything. tommy sure as hell wanted me to,” he said, securing his horse back in the barn.

“so who’d you play like?” you called from your stall in the stables. 

“nobody,” he grunted back.

“you play like sting?”

noah found an old record of his on a run once, and you sat by jesse’s record player for hours at a time listening to it. in truth, it was some of the only music you really knew by heart. as you asked it, the both of you stepped out from your corners of the barn, and he stood with his hip cocked. you grinned at him, but he looked incredulously back at you.

“like sting? are you serious?”

you crossed your arms over your chest. “i’m asking a question. can’t i ask a question?”

“jesus. sting played the bass,” he said, exasperated, as he turned from you to walk out. you thought of his thorniness and guitar playing and the colors of his voice. sting. you decided you’d call him that as you followed out after him.

“i think so. i think i used to.” he seems far more relaxed in his chair now, and it makes you sink further into yours.

“i just have too many now. i’ve been thinking of giving some away,” you say, looking at him. “would you take some?” and it’s true; they’ve been overflowing into your sink and onto your windowsill. your little plant has been bountiful, and you had insisted her harvests were yours, but watching them mold on your counter has not proven as indulgent as you had thought. another, quieter and much more dangerous piece of yourself, tells you that really, you just want to give something to joel, to give anything to joel, but you cite instead the rotting by your fridge and allow yourself to ignore that little voice.

joel eyes you. “you really askin? or you bein courteous?”

“am i ever courteous?” you laugh. he smiles a little and laughs, too.

“no, no. i guess not.”

you’re giddy with the shake of his chest and his grin. he doesn’t laugh all that often, you suppose because it exhausts him so, but when joel laughs it’s an anatomical revelation. the whole of him wrestles with it. you’re wet, again, (it’s nearly constant for how often you’re together), and you eat what’s left of your lunch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

your favorite of the group before jackson was danny. you’d met eliza first, in the salt lake qz, but danny was your age, and beautiful in a delicate sort of way that struck you as unnatural. you remember the stories your father told you from the bible, of the angels with eyes and wings and bloodlust, and danny was of that sort. it surrendered you to him, you think, and so you let him fuck you when the moon wasn’t out. he never made you come, really, but it wasn’t about the coming then. you were teenagers and guilty, so heavy and ashamed and good at the killing, and so the rub of a tree at your back as you let him put his cock in you was an escape from your being and the blood on your hands. 

in his back pocket danny kept a polaroid, folded up and frayed around the edges, of him as a child, much of the same abnormality and prettiness, and ellie reminds you of that photo. for a thing you’re certain has seen death on and about her, ellie remains strange and stunning. she sits to your left with her legs out in front of her, sorting through your stock of seeds. you spin your knife along your knuckles as you sort through a pole bean plant to harvest the ripened pods, the orange light of sunset filtering through the leaves and quilting shapes along your skin. 

“okay, mainly you’re almost outta radishes. everything else you gotta pretty nice setup on,” she says, setting the box down next to her. ellie had broken her outstanding silence with you, and you determine quickly that she isn’t disillusioned with who you have been. she’d told you once that you hold your knife like you’re worried someone will take it from you. she’d laughed and laughed, conjured scenarios of your vegetables rising against you, and you laughed with her. still, she sees your practice with it, the disjoint of your grip against the unmoving of your plants, and inherits the knowing of the damage you’ve done.

“alright. i’ll see if anyone going through the set of cabins down south can find anything,” you say back, sifting still through the bean leaves. 

“and what do you say now?” ellie’s voice lilts with her smile, all childlike wickedness, and you turn to her, grinning back.

“thank you, ellie.”

with a grunt and a stumble she stands back up and gives you a half bow, echoing self contentedly, “thank you, ellie.” you snort.

as she leaves, you watch tommy approach through the greenhouse walls. you think he’s frightened of her, hides himself in his coat as though she may reach out and tear him apart, but still he tips his chin to her as he makes his way towards you and crosses her path. you can’t help but smile, tracking the peeking green of a few pole beans she’d stolen bounce from her pocket as she walks away. you walk out the doors to lean on the outside greenhouse wall.

“i see you’ve risen from your crypt,” you say as he arrives fully in front of you. 

tommy grins tight lipped, his arms cradled to his ribs as he keeps his hands in the pockets of his jeans. there’s an anxiety to him, to the way he rocks back and forth before you. “yeah, yeah. i already heard it from damn near everyone i’ve seen today.” 

“i’ve been more social than you these past two weeks. you know how fucked up that is, tommy?” you’re trying your hardest to show him you’re joking, coax him into honesty. he’s come to confess something to you, you think.

“oh give me a break,” he replies.

you raise your eyebrows slightly and holds your arms out in front of you; you have the floor. a beat.

“well i came to tell you the news.” you hum. “maria and i are, well i guess maria is, shit,” he says, but he’s smiling now, coy and wistful, scratching the back of his head as he asks, “how did people used to do this?” you say nothing, still. “maria and i are having a baby.”

and something between your lungs shifts out of place. they are going to have a child. a child. your first thought is that they will be good parents, tommy and maria; their flesh and blood is warm with sun and work and something lovely, and it will make for something worth growing, you’re certain. they will be of jackson, like your plants and the snow, and maybe the whole of humanity is forgiven for children like this, born into safety and wood cabins.

your second thought is so horrifically selfish you can hardly stomach it, let alone recite it. you swallow it back down.

“tommy, that’s amazing,” and you hug him there, a copy of your embrace standing in the reflection of the greenhouse walls. “how are you feeling about it?”

he pulls back grinning. yes, he will be a good father. “well shit, scared out of my mind, you know,” he chuckles, “but real excited. maria, too.”

you give him a smile that you mean. “well, you guys let me know if i can do anything,” you say, and gesture towards the garden, “if there are any herbs or things that could help maria with any of it you just let me know.”

tommy nods and puts his hands in his pockets, nodding. “i thank ya for it.”

for a moment, the two of you stand there in the waning sunlight, watching what you’ve become. tommy, you think, is precisely what he was meant to be. he has always been far too content with existence, molded over as it might now be, to deny fatherhood. you wonder what he sees in you. 

“well, give maria my congratulations. lord knows she’s doing the heavy lifting,” you chuckle as you move to go back into the greenhouse, “and come knocking if i can help.”

you make it to the door before tommy calls your name and you turn around.

“how’re you doin on patrol with joel?” he asks you from his spot, letting the words cross the now sizable distance between you. you’re thankful for how far he is, hoping whatever grin is laying itself across your face is too subtle for him to make out.

“we’re doing okay, i think. he’s a little tense…and can be fucking terrifying.” and now you really smile. “but i can handle him.”

tommy barks out a laugh and begins to walk backwards towards the town square, calling out with a palm cupped to the side of his mouth, “you’re good for him!”

and you let yourself be jovial, laughing as you kneel to your beets, but really you might never forgive him for saying something like that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

joel still hasn’t come to visit your garden, though you’re grateful for this now. the warmth of the greenhouse has become your respite from the constant wanting, and you think if he materialized in the doorway you’d melt there in the soil. pacing through your kitchen, you eye the little basket of strawberries on your counter. you’ve named them joel’s already, but each time you’ve made to bring them to him your resolve disintegrates down your thighs.

but oh, they are so perfect now, reddened into a vivid blush, and if you don’t hand them off today you’ll have to throw them out. you grab the basket and slip out the door, doing your best to avoid spitting up your heartbeat on the walk to joel’s porch.

it’s nearly dusk, and when he opens the door he has a glass with about a finger of whiskey in his right hand. it sloshes as he looks you over, eyes measured a little with surprise and something else, but you stay tied to the wrap of his fingers around the glass and lock your knees to keep from dropping to them. 

“hey, sting,” you grin (or grimace, more like).

“uh,” he leans a shoulder on the doorway and the movement brings his chest closer to you outside of the threshold. you smell the whiskey and the pine of him as he continues, “hey.”

his voice is deeper, now, hoarse with the weight of the day, and you conclude that you are, in fact, doomed for madness, if he keeps looking at you like that. you bring the basket of strawberries up to your chest and gesture them to him. “i just wanted to drop these off. they’ll go bad in a few days.”

joel peers down into the basket and grins a little, turning to put the tumbler on a table behind him before stepping more fully out of the house. you think he expects you to take a step back to make room for him, but you allow his chest to crowd yours, tilting your head further back. “well shit,” he laughs, “these are real.”

“yeah, well, now they’re real and they’re yours.”

joel lets his eyes circle once more over your face before extending his hands to take the basket. the warmth of his fingers as they brush yours along the weaving makes you clench and expand in the span of a moment. “thank you, really,” he says softly, sincerely, and the basket is so much smaller, now, held to his front. 

you shove your hands into your back pockets. “eat them soon, though, please.” 

joel turns around again to put the basket inside just beside the whiskey glass, and says to you behind him, “can always make jam or somethin if i can’t go through em all.”

your stomach twists up and it pushes what can only be described as a giggle (an awful thing) from you. “jam? you know how to make jam?”

he shifts back around and cocks his hip, sticking a knee out. “the fuck you mean by that tone?”

you laugh harder, earnestly, nearly folding over with it as he grips the door, ready to close it. “jam?” 

“yes, jam. it ain’t that hard.”

you keep laughing just for the sake of it now, but as joel begins to swing the door shut with a quiet jesus you hold your hands out. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, you just don’t look the type is all.”

with a tilt of his head he asks, “oh yeah? so what type am i?”

this quiets you. please, do not give yourself away, do not bleed your hand, do not. you narrow your eyes at him, dramatizing your assessment, pleading with yourself to construct an answer suitable for near sunset, but you take too long, boots nearly reaching his. he grunts, bringing his thumb and pointer finger up to hold your chin and twist you away from him. you feel the calluses on the pads of his fingers for the moment that he grasps your head between them, and your pussy drools a little. still, you begin to make your way down his porch; this is far from the most aggressive way joel has decided the conversation has ended, and so despite his push of your chin from his palm you make it to the final step pleased, the warmth of his skin still licking where he touched you. 

“goodnight.”

you stop, take a deep breath in, the silence behind you petting down your spine. he hasn’t closed the door. he’s waiting for you to say it back. and you die a little death there, with one foot on the road. “goodnight, sting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the air is noticeably warmer this morning as you drag it into your mouth, padding along the beginnings of spring towards the stables. joel has prepared his horse already when you walk in, giving you a mornin, and he’s leaned up statuesque on her side with an elbow. the sling of his gun’s strap hugs his chest through his flannel, and the barrel peeks up over his shoulder, but only just. you salute to him as you saddle your horse.

“morning yourself.” you feel him stretch behind you as he mounts his horse (you are always so painfully aware of his body) and smirk, “rough night? did the jam give you trouble?”

“christ, i didn’t make any, darlin i’m just tired.” 

you mount your horse. darlin. jesus.

“well you rest up, cowboy, i’ll cover you.”

joel grunts and says nothing as you trot out the gates together. he doesn’t think you capable of protecting him; in all, it is your best kept secret.

as the both of you wind through your northern route, you notice again the opening forest floor, weeds and flower beds resurfacing again beneath the trees. elderberries start to bloom out here this time of year, and in years past noah has uprooted the bushes for you to replant and harvest. the flowers are edible, too, and beautiful, and you wonder if joel will let you stop a moment to look for them. you wait until the trees grow thick and quiet around you before asking.

“joel,” he makes a noise in response, “could we stop here for a little? there are berries that grow around here and i want to see if i can find any to take back to the greenhouse.”

joel looks at you from his horse, affectless. “you serious?”

“yes.”

he lets out a sigh that morphs into a yawn midway through and shakes his head around a little, dusting something from his mind. “alright, alright. fine. but stay close, please,” and he trails off as he says it but you catch the end all the same.

you smile up at him, feet already on the ground and setting your rifle at your horses hooves to pull your knife out. as you weave through the shadows of the brush you call back to joel, “maybe you can make some marmalade out of these, too,” and you’re buzzing with the scoff that passes even through the feet between you, but he’s grinning, small and against his best efforts, and you spot that, too.

“you ever gonna let that go?”

and you don’t answer, ducking into an embankment of bush and leaves. 

it’s been years since you’ve foraged like this. you used to pick mushrooms and berries from the ground with danny at night when you ran with the raiders, eat them together and take your chances. this feels different, though, charged with a tenderness and gentle knowing that’s new to you now. the world out here looks so much like your garden, feels so much like yours, and it strikes you that the mountains answer to you in your own small way. you could find a spot, up and away from the snow, and decide what grows there, play god with the grasses and the weeds. so though you find no elderberries in this brush, you are quiet with that little victory as you pace back to where you left joel.

as you approach, joel’s voice calls through the trees. a deep and pained “fuck!” and the rustling of clothes grows louder as you pad forward. there’s a shrill grunting, too, not joel’s, not joel’s. you take stock of your heartbeat and your fingers and the blade in your coat. there is someone else here. you move silently on the dirt, hiding your body in the bark and greenery, and then you spot him, kneeling with his hands behind his head, his gun kicked a few feet away, and a scrawny figure holds a glock to the skin of his forehead. suddenly you’re 19 again, and unafraid. joel spots you from your place halfway behind a tree and his eyes widen a fraction. don’t come out, he’s pleading with you, but you will not listen. your father’s knife, tucked into your jacket, coughs to life.

you trample the ground below you as you stumble out, hands in the air. you whine, “please, please, don’t hurt him,” and the man whirls around to you. he looks gaunt, his cheeks pressed into his face, but his beard, which hangs wiry by his chin, is streaked with something bloody and dead. he bares his teeth and laughs with delirium.

“so there is another one,” he says as he approaches, gun pointed now at your nose. you let him think you a coward and flinch as he presses it to your face. “you’re prettier ‘an your partner, ain’t ya?”

you keep your eyes wide, say nothing. not yet, not yet, he isn’t close enough. joel barks from behind him, lowly and wild, “don’t you fucking dare,” but the man has already brought his other hand to drag around your face, through the hollow of your collarbone, down your sternum. you let your lip tremble and joel flinches ahead of you.

the man calls behind him to joel, saying “if i hear you move a goddamn inch i’ll shoot ‘er.” joel’s face is pulled up into fury and brutality and helplessness, nostrils flaring and chest heaving, but he stills.

“please, please, i’ll do anything, let us go,” and as you say it, already his right hand is tilting, the barrel of the gun slowly drifting from your cheek. just a little more.

his breath is soiled with rot as it fans over your face and he’s so close to you now, whispering, “anything?” 

the gun is pointed just to the right of your ear. 

now.

you twist your arm between your shoulder and his wrist to grab his hand, pointing the gun to the treeline as you duck under it to spin behind him, your free hand reaching into your coat and stabbing through the artery that runs through his neck. blood pours from around the handle as the man falls to his knees, and you grip him by the filth of his hair to pull your knife back out. you let out a breath, standing over what is now a corpse. it’s been years, but you are always yourself, aren’t you?

you falter only when you turn around and joel is there. he’s sat fully on his haunches, arms hanging loosely by his sides as he looks up at you. and the look on his face is…you don’t entirely know. his eyebrows kiss, knit together on his forehead, and his eyes look through you, like you’re an apparition before him, but still his mouth hangs open slightly. you think if you stay here, standing above him, the whole mangled history will come clawing from your mouth, so instead you move to sit beside him, the both of you now facing the body you left behind. 

the silence survives, for a few seconds. joel’s shoulders slump as he adjusts himself to sit with his legs out, and he pulls in a deep breath. 

“you done that a lot?”

you take a moment before replying, “yeah.” you think of how the truth seems to demand to be known regardless, regardless of your stifling of it and your wanting of joel and whatever innocence you’ve never had but cling to when with him. you think of this, and begin speaking.

“i was 18 when they found me in the salt lake qz. there was a group of them, 9 at the time, and this woman, eliza, she promised they’d take care of me. feed me more than the qz had. and i wasn’t starving or anything, really, or in any kind of trouble. i could take care of myself, you know. maybe i should’ve had a stronger moral compass. i was just…” you take a breath, “i was so alone, then. my father died on outbreak day, and mom was never really in the picture. some of them were my age, some were older. i don’t know. i’d learned how to use the knife like…” you look again at the corpse, “like that by then. i’d killed by then. it didn’t feel like i was losing anything, being a raider.”

joel is still beside you, looking down at his hands, but you know he is listening.

“and so we used to trap people like that. men, mostly. they’d throw me out in groups of them, let them get close and then…” you wave your hand around, a stand-in for the killing. “i ran with them for a few years. they kept their promises.” your scar throbs beneath your sleeve and you take another breath. “and then another group got the jump on us. we’d been looking through a warehouse and they’d been hiding there, i guess. they killed a few, nearly killed me, i think. they sliced through the artery down my left arm,” and you trace the line of the scar as you say it, “but matteo killed the rest before they slit my throat. he tried to stitch me up a little with what was left of our twine. still, they left me there. i didn’t really blame them. still don’t.

tommy found me there. he patrolled with noah, back then, and they came passing through after everyone else had left or died. at first they said i could only stay until the wound was healed, but in the end nobody had the heart to turn me out.” finally, you look at him, and he shifts his head up to look back at you. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.” and you are.

joel’s eyes flit over your face, scowling still but soft, too, and brings a hand up, slowly. he cups his palm around your cheek to turn your head, thumb soft along your face, and wipes the blood splatter along your neck and jaw with his other hand. when he shifts your face back to his, he lets his thumb trace the line of your nose, around the curve of your chin, once, featherlight, under your bottom lip. your mouth opens up a little, watching him watch you. he nods, then, decisive, and pulls himself off the ground, helping you up after him. 

you ride back to jackson in silence, leaving the dead man in the open. you let joel turn over what he saw, what he heard, in the quiet of your horse’s footsteps. he leaves you in the barn when you’ve dismounted, tells you to stay put, and reports the man to tommy. you stay, leaned up against the barn wall, waiting for him, something inside you scratching along the lining of your body, wondering what he’s thinking and knowing you have no right to it. when joel comes back, you notice the streak of blood on his thigh where he’d wiped his fingers after holding your face. you consider each other a moment from across the stables, and something passes between you. you saved his life today, and he’s grateful for it in a way he’s struggling with, and you can both agree you needn’t mention it again, at least until tomorrow. these thoughts he lets you read, before dropping them.

“you like whiskey?” he asks. and god what you wouldn’t do for a drink, so you nod. he jerks his head behind him and grunts, “c’mon.”

you let him lead you to his house, and for the first time you come inside.

joel has lived in jackson for years less than you, but still he’s filled it more than you have yours. there are books, on little tables and in the shelves, and half-done whittlings, and pencils. you flush with the scent of him, so strong in the curtains and the couch.

joel pours you a healthy shot into a tumbler, and then one for himself, and he lets you roam as you sip on it, following at your back without a word. you approach each of his shelfs, run your fingers along them, linger on the pieces of him he’s littered around. you finger through a pile of guitar picks and set your glass down there.

“what did you think of me when you first met me?” and you don’t entirely know why you ask it, at first. it comes, maybe, out of a selfish need to be reassured, or an even more dire want to hear his voice.

“what did i think of you?” he asks, and you can feel him approaching your back slowly. you hum, and joel reaches around you to set his glass down next to yours. he’s so close now and you squeeze your thighs together. “why d’you wanna know?”

and really you do your best at keeping yourself even. certainly, you tell yourself, he doesn’t mean to have this effect on you. certainly, he’s only trying to be kind after you sliced someone open for him. “i guess…” you think a moment, and then, “you asked me last night what kind of person you were. i want to know what you thought of me.”

he sighs a little, inches closer still. and his voice is so deep when he says at your back, “can i touch you here?” and you see in your periphery his pointer finger at your shoulder, hooking lightly over your hair. you barely muffle the shake in your chest and nod, and he pulls your hair over your other shoulder to bare your neck.

joel runs his nose along the line of your shoulder and lets out a breath there, pained and dismantled. into the seam of your neck, he whispers, “as soon as i saw you darlin i thought,” and he pauses to bring the backs of his knuckles, desperately light, down your spine, and you clench around nothing. “i thought you looked so goddamn soft. the fuckin garden and the strawberries, jesus, the strawberries.”

the paw of his hand, now at the base of your backbone, stretches itself along one of your hips. he says, now, “what about here? can i touch you here?” you nod again. joel’s fingertips press into you over your jeans there, but still he keeps his palm raised with a tremble that feels like restraint. “i thought i’d scare you.”

you let out a breath, slow, and muffled by your own attempt at control, and press your thighs together. the growing wetness at the nexus of your legs sears you, all lightning and heartbeat, and you will yourself to stay standing against the insistent pull of your arousal. joel tips his nose above the lobe of your ear to speak into it, lowly and gruffly and nearly apologetic (but not quite), “i’m too goddamn selfish.” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and breathes deeply again. “and violent.” this time, his words really do sound like repentance, and you stay silent to make space for the full of his confession. but his lips hover over the crest of your shoulder again, barely grazing, branding you all the same. “but you’re…” his jaw unhinges slightly, but he collects himself, “you’re vicious, baby.”

you whimper, then, and the sound of it makes him press his entire hand into your hip, suddenly frantic and squeezing at you.

“you hurt people, haven’t you darlin?”

you have to gasp for air, your pussy leaking into your underwear, because he’s seeing you, horrific and violent, and choosing to seek you out anyway. you nod cautiously, and his hands feel like they’re everywhere. and then gruffly, into your ear:

“you gonna hurt me?”

and you figure now, at least, you must be honest with him. “probably.” you barely recognize your own voice, the color of it darker with want than you’ve ever heard before.

joel pulls himself flush with your back, letting you feel the hardness of him, and allows himself a single push of his cock on your ass, muffling something animal in the back of this throat. he bands his free arm around your front to splay his palm on your sternum, pressing unforgivingly, and you feel the wild screaming of your heartbeat echoed back at you through his skin. he’s shaking, whispering, “don’t let me do this.”

you lay your head back into his shoulder to bring your mouth further up to him, arching yourself into his hold, making a home for yourself there. and pleading is a crime you refuse to commit in the presence of others, but you cannot help your own desperation now. “please.”

he spins you around then, and the lip of the shelf behind you presses determinedly into the skin below the hem of your shirt, but he’s kissing you (like he hates you, almost, or maybe himself) and so you take in the pain like it’s easy and you love it. his hands cup your head on either side, cradling the base where it meets your neck and threading his fingers through your hair as he nips at your bottom lip, laving over it with his tongue. he moans into your mouth as you kiss him back, lord forgive you for what that makes you feel, and you hitch a leg up to his hip to press your cunt into him. even through your jeans and his, he is an inhuman kind of large, and you wrap a handful of his shirt between your fingers to anchor you to sanity as you grind your hips at him. i need you i need you i need you, and you don’t say it, won’t say it, but you think it all the same. 

his hands move from around your head to grab at both ass cheeks, dragging your center across the front of his pants and you groan at each other from the feeling. whatever it is that sews you together is being reaped. you let yourself be dramatic; you’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“joel, please,” you whisper into his mouth, which continues to eat at you.

“please what?” he pants back through your lips. “say it. what are you askin for?” despite this torture, his hands start to grope down your sides and pull at the buttons of your jeans. you move to press yourself into his grip but he insists, pushing you back into the wall. “tell me,” he growls, and it’s shadowy and lustful and deep, but as desperate as you feel, and it emboldens you.

“fuck me now, joel, please, please,” and you continue to beg, though your words turn incoherent, as he brings you up the stairs, holding your pussy still against his cock as it hardens behind his zipper. your pleading tightens joel's fingers on your waist, your thighs, the crook of your knee.

joel splays you on his bed, the tendrils of his hair haloed out around him as you run your fingers through and hold, and joel sucks and bites down your neck as he smooths his hands under your shirt to feel your skin. you whine out as he grabs at you, tight and wanting, and he pulls away so the both of you can pull your clothes off. you’re frantic as you sweep away your shirt and then your jeans, left bare besides your underwear on his bed, and you’d be embarrassed at your frenzy if joel wasn’t equally so pulling at his pants and shirt, but as it is you let yourself marvel at him. the broadness of his shoulders and biceps as he opens himself to you, the softness of his tummy, and oh, god, his cock tents in his boxers and you feel the already overwhelming wetness in your panties spread itself further. as soon as he’s on the brink of nakedness he’s on you again, caging your head between his palms on the mattress and pressing the hard line of his cock into your aching sex. his eyes bite at you with as much physicality as his teeth and tongue. something rumbles and unlocks in joel’s chest watching the rise and fall of your breasts as you heave, still grinding on you like he has no choice.

“goddamn it darlin,” he grits out, letting his eyes close a moment to feel the drag of your pussy against him. “you think about this?” your jaw falls open as you let a sigh out, one that means yes, and he moans deeply as he wraps his palms around each breast and squeezes. “you think about it as much as i do?” you nod again; you are past embarrassment, even humiliation, you are unreachable. it is only joel and his depth and you under him. “you touch yourself thinking of me?” and now you moan with the full of your chest, letting it loose in the sliver of air between you, and he returns it. “show me,” he pleads.

you let yourself a moment to pull the air, now heated with your body and his, into your lungs before you drag your fingers down your front and into your panties. he watches the movement of it, and his mouth stays open around a silent groan watching your fingers circle and push under the fabric, hearing you. you’re fucking dripping, and the squelches of your digits as you fuck yourself on them makes him groan and thrust his hips a little into nothing. you whimper his name and he falters a little. 

as a tightness grows in your belly, approaching without mercy with the scent of him at your lips, he finally brings his own hand down into your panties. he cups his palm over your moving hand and you begin to pull it out, but he catches your wrist. 

“no. keep going,” he groans. and you realize now he’s feeling how you touch yourself, barely resting his hand over your fingers as you pet inside, and you nearly come at the sight and thought and feeling of it. 

as you near your high again, he tightens his grip on your wrist and pulls your hand from your cunt with a growl. you whine at the loss, but he pushes two fingers inside you and suddenly you’re yelping like an animal, thrashing as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. he whispers, mostly to himself, “oh jesus christ you are so fucking tight,” and you keen. joel circles the spongy spot deep inside you and you clench around his fingers, pushing your clit further into his hold, and you’re so close, so close, so close. you tell him so, and he smiles a little, lustful and wicked but nearly in disbelief, too, and he says back to you, “it feel good, honey?” and you could almost laugh at him for questioning something so glaringly obvious, but any thought is cut off by a white and swirling pleasure that coils and then unties itself, and you come with a high pitched moan while he groans above you. that’s it, baby, oh my god. he whispers this to you as you come, but it sounds underwater and you can barely process it even as you come down from your high and joel pulls his fingers away. 

when your vision clears, you look above you to joel with his fingers in his mouth, eyes closed and stroking himself over his boxers, and now you really think you’re hinging on death.

“fuck me now, joel, please, jesus,” you say, though it’s breathy and broken with the intensity of your orgasm, which throbs still through your clit and around your walls. 

joel pushes you further up his bed and lets his head dip again into your neck as he pulls his boxers and your panties off, biting with a diminishing mercy and chastising, “greedy.” you nod because you are.

when finally, finally, his bare cock is running through the wetness of your cunt, barely catching on the opening, and you’re two heaving bodies with the feeling of it, the both of you pause for the first time since joel’s entryway. you press a little foot into the back of his bare thigh, and you watch each other there, nearly in and of one another. 

you whisper, “you gonna be okay, sting?”

joel breathes out onto your face and you feel his cock jump and pulse along your dripping seam. he looks pained, but you grin because you know better, can feel better by the rawness of him on you. 

“yeah,” he replies. “are you?” and he looks down to where you nearly connect, gyrating his hips again and prolonging the feeling of his head at your entrance. you have just enough sense to notice his cock is as massive as you’d felt it to be, red and weeping along your pussy, and you’ll take him in your mouth sometime but not now, he has to fuck you now or you’ll blind yourself with your own wanting heat.

you murmur back a yes (it’s the best you can do), and he fists his hands in the sheets by your hands as he pushes himself in. 

you imagined joel would fuck you roughly, unforgivingly; in this, you were right. but he is not rushed. joel drags his cock deep through your walls, letting the head bump your cervix before pulling nearly all the way out, and then reburying himself inside, but it is meticulous, intentional. you press back up, as best you can, to rub your clit in the dark curls at his base, and in return he curves his hips deeper into you; the friction there makes your walls pulse, and you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it pistons in and out. 

only when you’ve recovered from the initial stretch of him can you hear the noises the both of you are making. it is unholy, unceremonious, and loud. you’re moaning in his ear as he fucks you, and he groans into your mouth, the side of your head, your neck, every patch of skin on the expanse of you that he can reach. 

so fuckin wet f’me, huh?

fuck, baby, this pussy is so fucking good.

yeah, yeah—oh fuck—clench me like that, fuck.

you know you won’t last long, and from the stumble of his hips each time you whimper at him you know he won’t either. with each thrust his balls slap and stick to your skin, the bed frame bumping on the wall. 

joel sits up straighter, eyes trained on your stretch around him and the wetness that pours out there. he looks wild, awed at how you suck him in, and you’re mewling just as wildly because he’s so fucking deep and you think you can see the bump of his head below your navel when he thrusts inside. you curl your hand over his bicep and press your nails in, moaning out, “joel, joel, oh my god, you’re so deep i can see it.” 

joel follows your eyeline and moans out something broken and incoherent, pressing a palm down where he knots up from your skin to feel himself moving in your walls, and you scream. the sensation makes you clamp down harder on him and joel grips the other hand on your hip.

“stop, oh my god, stop,” he grunts, cock still hard and unyielding and beating inside you.

“i won’t last, joel, please,” you whine back, and joel lets his eyes slip closed for a moment before nodding. he mutters out a fuck and presses your knees up to your chest, slinging each calf over his shoulders as he fucks you harder, deeper, and your eyes roll back in your head.

“jesus christ, darlin, you’ll kill me.” another moan. “come on my cock, baby, c’mon, let me feel it” and it’s a demand and a prayer at once, and who are you to refuse? you feel your cunt soaking him, the squelch of your bodies together intensifying, and the filth of it unravels you a second time. you come like a punishment, hard and drawn out and expansive in your body, and joel is moaning out at the feeling, “so good, so fucking good.” 

you drag your nails down his back, hoping the marks are harsh enough to stay, and joel’s head tips back with his mouth pulled open. his cock swells and twitches inside you, and as his fingers turn white with his grip on your legs he pulls out, pushing your thighs together and fucking the skin there until the white ropes of his come paint your chest and stomach.

you both pant as joel slumps slightly over you, keeping an elbow at the side of your head to keep his weight off you but allowing your legs to fall to the bed again. despite the fucking, this is by far the most intimate; your breaths meeting between your faces, his nose pressed against yours. you look for something to say, but come up short. joel spares you by pushing himself off the bed and retreating to the bathroom.

you are both quiet as he wipes you with a cloth, though he remains gentle, diligent. when you’re clean, he throws it somewhere off the bed and sits on the edge, back to you and head in his hands. you shift to let your legs hang off his quilt, but don’t turn to him.

“joel,” you say, lowly. it’s only his name, but you know you’re asking something of him now, something you’re not sure either of you are strong enough to give. still, you wait for his response, keeping your gaze on his floorboards.

“what are we gonna do?” and it’s so soft, it reminds you of the day you met months ago. he is timid again, and it frightens you. the weight of your friendship, which you feel finally has bloomed into something worth nurturing, presses along your airways. you’ve wanted him for so long, and now you’ve had him, and you want him again. and so you’ve had your cake, and you move now to take a bite.

“we…” you let out a breath, as steady as the moment allows, “we’re friends.”

joel runs his fingers through his curls once before looking at you, and you gaze back. his eyes squint as he assesses your naked body on the edge of his mattress. “you gonna want me to fuck you again, darlin?”

you think he’s trying to panic you, euthanize whatever amalgam you’re constructing on his bedroom floor before it overcomes the both of you, but you do not shrink from him. “probably.”

he nods.

“are you?”

joel sighs. “probably.” 

and so you redress yourself and return home, legs trembling and aching unbearably between them, and wonder for how long you and joel can deny absolutes in favor of the gray area you’re carving out together. probably probably probably, the both of you are clinging to probably. but you have no qualms with using nails and teeth to find purchase, and so despite all better judgment, you mostly feel sated, at last.  what price could you possibly pay for this anyway? your heart? your soul? you forwent your ticket to absolution years ago, and you suppose the last half holy thing you can do is want, so why deny yourself this carnality? this is your last testament to living, to fuck joel and be his friend and deny the inevitable complication. you have taken and taken and taken and the blood remains on your hands, so what’s one last smeared fingerprint on the walls of your existence? when death comes for you, she’ll have such an awfully easy time, for you’ll have left a walkway in red behind you. what’s one last sign post? i am here. and it will be painted in your wanting and platonic insistence and the piece of joel you took within yourself tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @koshkaj-blog @shotgun-shelby @limerence4u (if anyone wants to be added let me know!!)

[moonshine999]

The Greens during Autumn

Alicent:

Putting on a coat and going on a long walk to be amongst the chatter and happiness of the town 

Being tired and taking the longest hot shower 

Recording every special moment with an outdated phone (Daeron insists she buy a new one while Aemond argues it looks “vintage”) 

Having every family dinner be accompanied by a cliche autumn scented candle 

Knitting light blue  matching scarves for herself ,Helaena and Jaehaera 

Owning too many cardigans and sweaters

Making hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows ofc) 

Getting dried leaves stuck in her hair (and not noticing them until the twins start laughing and simultaneously each pick a leaf out ) 

Aegon:

Autumn means begging his wife for more cuddles because he’s cold (he refuses to sleep with a shirt on.) 

Taking the kids to a pumpkin patch and getting unnecessarily competitive with Jaehaerys on who can carve a scarier face (he gives in and lets him win at the end) 

Watching horror movies after putting the kids to bed 

Going apple picking with his mom 

Jumping in a pile of leaves just for the heck of it 

Wrapping one of his scarves around sunfyre before taking him on a walk or a hike with him

Visiting different wineries 

Serenading his wife , guitar in hand , while on the family road trip 

Helaena:

Baking anything and everything from cinnamon rolls to apple pies to chocolate chip cookies 

Readjusting the entire house before Halloween (I can imagine it will look so fucking adorable and cozy. Plus the kids help make the decorations) 

Owning too many pairs of warm knit socks with bug themed patterns 

Arranging for picnic dates in their backyard 

Playing piano when she feels it’s quiet enough (dreamfyre is curled up on top of the piano, either observing or falling asleep to the music)

Drinking too much coffee (mother of three, wife of thousands, girl has her work cut out for her)

Embroidering flowers and the butterflies that fly around her garden 

Nearly always wrapped in something or the other (a giant blanket, a scarf, her mother’s old cardigan, her husband’s arms, the list goes on)

Aemond:

Reading thrillers during cold evenings

Thrifting everything 

Playing chess, going on morning runs and solving complicated puzzles with Criston

Having an entire 5 hour playlist for this season and this season alone

Writing down special moments sitting beneath falling leaves

Declaring that there is no such thing as too much caramel because he refuses to accept he has a problem 

Trying the crochet patterns Helaena taught him 

Long coats, sweater vests, crew necks and flannels (in short, autumn fashion GOD)

[somethingvicked]

True love of mine part 6

An Eddie Munson story

Stranger Things AU (no Upside-Down)

warnings: female reader, angst, flexible timeline.

The songs used in this chapter belongs to the bands that has written and released them! I take no credit for it, I'm just borrowing them.

Chapter 5

Now

Eddie

The next day Eddie called his team into the meeting room at the studio, waiting for them all to sit down.

“I’ve written a new song. It will be a single, not for an album. And I want us to film a video for it too – ready to release in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” his team all but cried but he just nodded.

“The video in itself will be simple, nothing extravagant like fire effects or expensive props or anything like that. Just me playing a guitar and singing, the rest of the band around me.”

“Well… I suppose that’s possible then,” Greg said. “I just didn’t know we had plans on releasing new music at this time – the next album isn’t planned for another six months.”

“That’s why it won’t be included on an album,” Eddie said. “It will a release on its own. One single, one song, one time only.”

Because this wasn’t for his fans, or for his producers to make money of. This was for Y/N.

Y/N

It had been more than three weeks since you wrote Eddie your letter and by now you had started to give up the hope that there would be a reply in some way. It had been slim to begin with but hope was a persistent thing in the human nature.

But deep down you know it was stupid. To hold on to a love from fifteen years ago.

If the gossip magazines were to be believed Eddie hadn’t had a steady girlfriend in years but why would he? He was a rockstar, he could probably pick and choose between barely legal hotties every night if he wanted to.

Don’t think about that.

That’s why you had the shock of your life when switching between the channels lead you to MTV and a photo of Eddie filled the screen.

"Eddie 'The Master' Munson has released a new single," the TV reporter said, smiling, "and it has already made minds spin, trying to figure out who the girl he's singing about could be? Let's listen to it and see what you think! You can text the number below if you have any suggestions!”

The video was in muted colors, Eddie sitting on a stage on a stool, guitar in hand. A band of musicians surrounded him, but they were all in the background, Eddie was the focus. Then the song started, him standing up, strumming on the guitar as the song’s tempo increased and he started to sing into the microphone.

If you're traveling down to the Hawk's country fair

The winds hit heavy on the borderline

Remember me to one who lives there

She's the one true love of mine

You gasped. Hawk's country fair...?

He had to mean Hawkins, right?! And the country fair… was that a reference to the fair you two had gone to, when he won you the cat ring?!

If you're going down to snowflakes storm

Rivers freeze and summer ends

Please see if she has a coat so warm

To keep her from the howlin' winds

Tears blurred in your eyes when you remembered how you were always so cold during the winters because you were too vain to wear the winter coats your mom bought for you, thinking they made you look fat. No one ever said teenagers were smart.

And how Eddie used to take off his denim vest and place it over you, never once complaining about being cold himself.

Will you see for me if her hair hangs long?

Rolls and flows all down her breast

Will you see for me if her hair's hanging long?

That's the way I remember her best

Eddie had loved your hair. You’d kept it long ever since you were little, knowing that your hair was one of your best features; thick and shiny.

Eddie loved to play with it, braid little elf's braids into it or buy viking jewelry to put into the braids.

The only time he complained about it was when you were naked. “It hangs past your breasts and shield you from me completely,” he had pouted, making you giggle.

After Eddie had left you had cut your hair off and kept it short for almost fifteen years. It was just last year you had finally had let it grow out out longer than a short bob.

I'm  wonderin' if she remembers me at all

Many times I've often prayed

In the darkness of my night

In the brightness of my day

Now tears were streaming down your eyes. So this was his way in replying. You hadn't put a return address on the letter, not even thinking there was a chance he'd want to reply to you, even if you had hoped that somehow he would reach out to you.

And he did. This way.

If you're travelin' down to the Hawk's country fair

The winds hit heavy on the borderline

Remember me to one who lives there

She's the one true love of mine

She's the one true love of mine

She's the one true love of mine

She's the one true love of mine

She's the one true love of mine

Then

Hawkins, 1981.

Y/N

You honestly didn’t know what to do. It had been almost a month since the fair and you and Eddie had kissed. You had thought that finally you would take the step to become more than friends.

But the Monday after when Eddie picked you up from school he had acted like nothing had happened.

You had wanted to ask him why but deep down you were too scared about the answer. That it hadn’t meant anything to him, that you had overstepped a boundary.

That hurt.

When it had been a week of Eddie acting like the fair had never even happened you had started to distance yourself. You couldn’t take it.

You loved Eddie Munson but if he still saw you as just a friend… well, of course he couldn’t help how he felt, but neither could you. And you could only control your own actions and you decided that for now it hurt too much to be even close to Eddie.

That’s how you started hang out with Jonathan Byers instead. He was one year younger than you, but he was a nice guy, a loner, with a reputation for being a loser but when you two started talking in history you found that only the loner part was true – and only because he didn’t fit in with most cliques in high school.

You told him about Eddie and Jonathan said that he was an idiot but that he was certain Eddie was in love with you, he was just uncertain on how to navigate it. You didn’t believe him but it was nice of him to say it.

Eddie stared at you two when you passed him in the corridors but you refused to meet his eyes. He had made his choice, he had no reason to be angry.

It ended with you leaving the cat ring he had won you on the porch of his trailer, not wanting any more reminders of that night.

That evening it was Halloween and you took Jonathan with you to the Hideout, knowing that Corroded Coffin would probably play but the free drinks made up for it.

Jonathan didn’t had a costume and neither did you, even if you had put on a dress, for once.

Indeed, Eddie was there and when he saw you with Jonathan you swore you could see him gulp but you looked away again, once more repeating to yourself that Eddie had made his choice. He couldn’t fault you for yours.

Then suddenly Eddie got up on the stage, all but dragging the rest of the guys with him even though they weren’t scheduled on for another hour.

“I want to sing a song tonight. A song I dedicate to the most wonderful girl in the world. A girl I lost due to my own idiocy. But I need to let her know how I feel at least.”

Then they started playing. You gasped. It wasn’t Corroded Coffin’s usual vibe, it was a power ballad by Bon Jovi.

It had been released just the week before you and Eddie had gone to the fair, and you had listened to it so many times that you had worn out the cassette tape already.

Eddie started, his voice lower and huskier than usual:

This Romeo is bleeding

But you can't see his blood

It's nothing but some feelings

That this old dog kicked up

It's been raining since you left me

Now I'm drowning in the flood

You see, I've always been a fighter

But without you, I give up

You couldn’t believe it. Did he do this just because he was jealous of you and Jonathan? No, you had known Eddie for many years; he wasn’t one to play games. But why had he acted that way with you then?

Jonathan leaned in and whispered into your ear. “Told you. He’s clearly head over heels in love with you. My guess is he just didn’t know what to do after that kiss.”

That was true. After the Ferris wheel you had seen how late it was and you had to rush back to your house before you were grounded. You and Eddie hadn’t talked about what the kiss meant.

Did he think that you… that it didn’t mean anything to you? Is that why he had been like this?

Eddie took a deep breath and then sang from the bottom of his lungs, an expression of near agony on his face.

I can't sing a love song

Like the way it's meant to be

Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore

But baby, that's just me

And I will love you, baby, always

And I'll be there forever and a day, always

I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine

'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme

And I know when I die, you'll be on my mind

And I'll love you, always

Tears now rose in your eyes. He did love you. This… it was the most sincere (and beautiful) love declaration you could ever hope for.

Now your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry One that made you have to say goodbye What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair To touch your lips, to hold you near When you say your prayers, try to understand I've made mistakes, I'm just a man

When he holds you close, when he pulls you near When he says the words you've been needing to hear I wish I was him With these words of mine To say to you 'til the end of time

That I will love you baby, always And I'll be there forever and a day, always

Eddie looked at you, standing beside Jonathan and you could have sworn that a tear ran down his cheek.

What? Did he think that you had… that you and Jonathan were a couple? Did he really think that you could get over him so quickly and just…?

If you told me to cry for you, I could

If you told me to die for you, I would

Take a look at my face

There's no price I won't pay

To say these words to you

You walked closer to the stage, you couldn’t help it. Eddie was like a magnet to you.

Jonathan just stood back by the bar, sipping his soda and smiling.

Eddie’s gaze met yours as you walked closer. It was like everyone else in the bar had disappeared and it was just the two of you.

Well, there ain't no luck

In these loaded dice

But baby, if you give me just one more try

We can pack up our old dreams

And our old lives

We'll find a place where the sun still shines

And I will love you, baby, always

And I'll be there forever and a day, always

Your lips trembled when you nodded. There was no question about it. There was no one else for you and never had been. And from what this told you – Eddie felt exactly the same.

You two just needed to learn how to communicate better.

I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme I know when I die, you'll be on my mind And I'll love you, always

Always, always

Eddie finished, took his guitar off and jumped down from the stage. You didn’t waste any time, you ran straight into his arms.

“Eddie…” you all but sobbed. “Jonathan and I are just friends – I could never want anyone else but you. I just thought… I thought the kiss didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Oh, kitten,” Eddie cooed, stroking your hair, “it meant everything, it was the best goddamn thing in my life, except for meeting you. I just… I got so nervous when you didn’t call the next day and then on Monday you didn’t say anything about it…”

“Neither did you,” you giggled, shaking your head at how silly you both had been.

“No, I suppose I didn’t,” Eddie said. “But I’m here now. And I’m telling you – I want you to be mine. I want to be your boyfriend. Do you want me, kitten? Always, like I just sang?”

You nodded. “Always, Eddie. Forever and a day.”

He took out the cat ring you had given him back earlier. “This is a promise, kitten. Until we do the real deal.”

taglist: @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @mewchiili @melodymunson @ches-86 @jenniquinn @eddiemunsonfuxks @stolen-in-moonlight @alastorssimp @pandemoniusstuff

(let me know if you want to be on the taglist!)

please, like, comment and reblog!

Your likes are wonderful but reblogs expand my reading circle.

[angeliqueiguess]

Hidden Notes (mk.l)

004. Walls

Several days had passed. Y/n sat on the edge of her worn-out couch, the same note in her hands. The words weighed heavier each time she read them:

"If you’re reading this, maybe you’ll find a piece of me."

The message slipped through her thoughts like grains of sand, elusive and unsettling. It was as if she were standing on the brink of something vast and unknowable, pulling a thread that unraveled more questions than answers. She leaned back, resting her head against the sofa, and let out a slow breath. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing. Then, another note surfaced in her memory:

"In the city where coffee is served, the words I left behind are sung once more."

Her eyes flew open. Coffee.

The reference was too specific to be a coincidence. Her gaze darted to the map pinned to her wall, a makeshift web of clues she’d created over the last few weeks. The surrounding neighborhood was dotted with coffee shops and small businesses she had explored—or thought about exploring. One name, however, stood out:

Dreamscape, a small, cozy café just a few blocks away. She had passed it a handful of times, always curious but never stepping in.

Now, it felt like she had to go.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Y/n grabbed her coat and headed out. The crisp afternoon air stung her cheeks, turning them rosy as she briskly walked toward the café. It didn’t take long to reach the familiar storefront. Warm, golden light spilled from its windows, a stark contrast to the chilly, gray streets. Through the glass, she could see the hum of life inside—people typing away on laptops, engaged in soft conversations, or simply enjoying a moment of quiet with their coffee.

She pushed the door open. A gentle chime from the bell above announced her arrival, the sound blending into the low murmur of the room. The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped her immediately, grounding her in the moment. She approached the counter, where a tall barista greeted her with an easy smile.

“Hey! What can I get for you?” he asked, his tone light and friendly. Y/n hesitated, her fingers curling slightly around the strap of her bag. This was it—the leap she had been both dreading and anticipating.

“Hi,” she began, trying to steady her voice. “I’m actually… looking for someone.”

The barista raised an eyebrow, curious but patient. She took a breath and pushed forward.

“A musician. Mark. Do you know him?”

The barista’s expression shifted. His smile faded into a thoughtful frown, his brows furrowing as if dusting off an old memory.

“Mark?” he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue cautiously. His eyes lit up a moment later. “Yeah, I remember him. He used to be a regular here. Played his music on open mic nights—kind of had this indie vibe, you know? He’d come in most weeks, always in the evenings. Sat in that corner over there,” he gestured, “with his guitar. People loved him. Then one day, he just… stopped showing up. It’s been about a year, I think.”

Y/n leaned in slightly, her pulse quickening.

“Do you know why he stopped coming?” she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

The barista shook his head, a shadow of discomfort crossing his face.

“Not really. He never mentioned leaving. One night he was here, and the next, he wasn’t. Didn’t even come back for his last paycheck. It was… strange.”

She absorbed his words, the pieces of this puzzle starting to fit together, though the bigger picture remained out of reach. Her eyes wandered, taking in the café’s eclectic décor, until they landed on something that caught her attention: a wall covered in handwritten notes, scraps of paper, and even torn napkins.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing toward it.

The barista followed her gaze and smiled, this time with a touch of nostalgia.

“Oh, that? We call it ‘Mark’s Wall.’ After he stopped coming, some of the regulars started leaving messages for him. Lyrics, notes, stuff like that. I guess people were hoping he’d come back and see it someday. Some of his own lyrics are up there, too. Folks still leave things for him now and then.”

Her heartbeat quickened as she murmured a quick thanks and made her way toward the wall. It was a chaotic collage of paper in all sizes and colors, each note telling its own story. Some were simple messages of admiration, others fragmented verses. Together, they formed a tapestry of longing and hope.

As she scanned the wall, her eyes caught on a crumpled piece of paper pinned near the top. The words were unmistakable:

"In the cracks, I find myself, A broken heart on a dusty shelf. If someone finds these words someday, Will they understand, or throw them away?"

Her breath caught. These were the same words she had found in one of the notes left in her apartment. Reaching out, she touched the edge of the paper, her fingers trembling slightly. This was it—another thread leading her closer to Mark.

The barista approached, noticing her reaction.

“That’s one of his,” he said quietly. “We’ve kept it up since he left. Just in case, you know? He had this way of… leaving a mark on people. His music felt like something you couldn’t hold but always carried with you.”

Y/n nodded, her thoughts racing.

“And he never said why he left?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Nope. He just disappeared,” the barista replied, his expression distant. “People still ask about him. Some leave notes, others just sit here, hoping he’ll walk in again. But he hasn’t.”

Y/n stepped back, her mind whirring with possibilities. The pieces were starting to form connections, but the full picture remained elusive. Why had Mark left so suddenly? And why had he hidden those notes in her apartment?

She turned back to the barista, offering a small, grateful smile.

“Thank you. This… this helps more than you know.”

As she stepped back out into the brisk air, her determination solidified. She had uncovered another piece of the puzzle, but there was more to find. Mark L. wasn’t just a missing musician—he was part of a story that had only just begun to unfold, and somehow, she was tied to it.

previous // next masterlist

taglist open: @thegracerammy @kittydollzz @nmlee

credits: @strangergraphics (dividers)

[nyx-knacks-writes]

Snow

A short TOTA ficlet set before Campbell was admitted to St. Jude's. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts.

It’d happened again. Campbell sat outside in the dark, ruminating on his newest argument with his father. Something was wrong. Something was deeply, desperately wrong. He knew it was. His dad knew it was. Everyone knew that something was wrong. It writhed and tumbled angrily in his stomach, the knowledge and feeling of wrongness, biting and scratching until Campbell wanted to throw it up, expel it from his stomach and watch it splatter against the snow, the black tar of the cursed knowledge burning and bubbling until it simply burned away, choked by its own deep-rooted venom. 

But alas. There he sat, the creature rolling over and making him dizzy and nauseous while fiery anger burned up his chest. What would it take to make his father understand? Clearly he knew that his son wasn’t normal. Clearly he knew that the mood swings, sharp as shards of glass, weren’t normal. How many times had he told Campbell to control himself? How many times had he told the poor boy to calm down, mind his volume, think rationally? How many times had he told his own son to muscle through, stop being lazy, just get up and do something? Too many times.

A warm, wet tear traced a line down Campbell’s face, followed by another. And another. And he broke, tears flowing down his cheeks in slippery rivers, frigid air and a deep loneliness joining forces to choke him even as a pained howl forced its way out among the glittering snowflakes. Campbell raked his hands through his hair, melting the delicate flakes that had woven themselves into the golden strands until his head was wet and burning cold. He opened his eyes, looked down, and saw a beast rather than a boy. After all, weren’t beasts incapable of controlling their emotions? Weren’t beasts ruled by what they felt rather than what they thought? Was that all he was? Just a slave to whatever it was that happened to be wrong in his brain? Was there any chance of getting better when nobody seemed to believe that Campbell needed help?

The sharp blades of the wind swung around him, cutting his cheeks and shredding through his clothes to get to the skinny body beneath. In his fit of upset, he hadn’t thought to bring a coat. As the last few sobs wrung themselves out of his gangly teenage body, Campbell reached up to brush the wet, sticky snow from his body, to no avail. The stuff had melted slightly, just enough to freeze to his clothes in massive clumps. Great. As though it wasn’t enough to have run out on his own into the all-consuming darkness of winter in the middle of a storm with nothing in the way of warm clothing, Campbell would be melting all over the floor of the house. His mom wouldn’t be happy. His dad would be angry. 

For a moment, he was tempted to just stay outside. Let the snow pile up, close his eyes and fade away into the dark. He’d never achieve any of his dreams anyway. Pop star prince? Nah. He couldn’t sing. Racing jockey? Scared of horses. Actor? Couldn’t remember lines. For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t even stick to a hobby! Three years now he’d been trying to learn to play the guitar, and he couldn’t even get all the way through a single song! What was he even good at? What was he even good for? He laid down on his side in the snow, letting the glittering white crystals nip and bite at his skin as he stared listlessly at the forest just a few short meters away. Where even was he, again? Oh yeah . . . he’d come to the park . . . 

He remembered this park. He remembered being just a wee lad, coming out with his mother to blow bubbles and have picnics and run around like a wild boy while she laughed on at his seemingly endless energy until he finally plopped into her lap and asked to just stay there a while. He remembered having his sixth birthday party at the playground nearby, demolishing a cake with his little primary school friends before they were all set loose on the play structure as their parents watched and laughed to see their innocent joy.

Maybe that was what he was good at. Making people smile. Maybe if he kept making people smile, then everything would be okay. It was worth a shot, right?

At last, Campbell picked himself up again, trying to brush off what little snow he could before beginning the trek back home. One foot in front of the other, leaving a path of footprints behind him in the snow. 

Four months later, at the very beginning of May, he would be admitted to Saint Jude’s Mental Hospital, smiling through it all. Just keep on smiling. Keep them smiling. It was his talent, after all.

[talesofdelight]

Sugar City Rockers

VC: Bonnie MacFarlane from the Red Dead Redemption games

Background: From the same town as Cheri yet they never really interacted. Another who comes from a big family, and being one of the younger siblings, she was challenged with trying to get her parents attention. When they discovered her talent for singing and songwriting, things went a little bad. Being about 17 and thrown into a singing competition gave her attention from different labels but also incredibly overwhelmed her. After releasing a few songs in the country genre, one of them being a top hit, she ultimately quit. She met SCR when they were doing a small gig at a bar in downtown Sourbite City and cringed at how disorganized they were. She offered to help them out with the connections she had as well as give them tips on how to be better organized and as they grew in fame, she ended up sticking around (and the band didn’t want to lose her anyway). 

Special ability: “Sugar Coating” - This allows her to make her words incredibly persuasive if she chooses

VC: Marshall Lee

Background: From Confectia. He grew up in a pretty rowdy environment though, his parents pretty much gave up on raising him and his older sister, so his sister was always taking care of him, sometimes having to shoplift before she was old enough to get a part time job. When he entered high school, he was now living with his sister and her husband (no, the husband wasn’t a jerk), but during that time Devon wasn’t the best person. He would shoplift, bully those he deemed weaker than him, and kept giving his sister a hard time about their living conditions. When he moved past this era, he hated himself for how he treated others, especially his sister. He joined SCR in college when Eric reached out to him after watching him play the guitar. About a year before the main story takes place is when his sister and her husband passed away in a car accident and he took custody of his niece Lulu. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough to be her guardian, but they’re all the other has.

Special ability: “Crackle” - He can generate electricity from his hands and mouth

VC: Leon Kennedy

Background: He spent his school years not really caring about anything and went about his days doing whatever he pleased. In college he had this bright idea to start a band similar to the rock bands he loved and looked up to so much. So he made it his mission to find musicians for this hypothetical band. First he recruited his childhood friend DJ, after that Devon, and finally Natalia. He had to convince his parents over dinner to let him and the band practice in their garage.

Special ability: “Shock Toss” - Eric can create small electric orbs in the palms of his hands that he can throw

 VC: Dark Choco Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom

Background: Only child. Grew up with Eric. DJ is just a nickname. He’s not shy, he’s just antisocial but he tries to talk more with his bandmates. Does his best to be a good uncle to Lulu.

Special ability: “Crystal Ball” - If DJ concentrates hard enough, then he can see events no matter where they are, though the farther the distance the fuzzier the image. He mostly uses this ability to keep track of his band mates

VC: Gwen from Total Drama Island

Background: From the Bitterlands, but doesn’t act like it, she is a fire cracker. Another where the city lights of Flavorvale drew her attention. Went to college for music studies which is when she met the guys and ultimately joined their lil ragtag group. It was around this time that she met Lyrica online and later on they began dating. 

Special ability: “Sweet Screech” - Anyone who is unfortunate enough to hear this ability at full volume will become completely paralyzed

VC: Anais Watterson from The Amazing World of Gumball

Background: Before the incident, she was actually very happy go lucky and loved being with her parents and hanging out with her uncle Devon and his friends when they would visit. Afterwards, everything flipped. She remembers sitting in the office of child services and listening to the adults talking about what happened. Then her uncle Devon showed up and everything seemed like it might be okay again. She knows that he’s doing his best, so she also does her best to not have him worry about her.

Special ability: Hasn’t formed yet... or has it?

[minigirl87]

Moon River & Me. Llewyn Davis x F’Reader.

Summary:-

This is just a little fluffy story to celebrate my birthday. The song Moon River is special to me as it was playing on the hospital radio as I was born. It was also my mums favourite song as she saw the movie when she was young and I remember her telling me when she was a teen in hospital, the doctor sang the song for her fixing her calliper brace. And spookily, I always hear this song around my birthday.

Lewlyn turns up at your apartment at 2am. after disappearing for a month. You help take care of him. But next morning you think he's gone and get a wonderful surprise.

So this is my first Lewlyn Davis story. I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy it. Please feel free to share and comment.

Words:-993.

2am and the doorbell to your appointment rings echo its chime through the quiet chilly rooms as you rise from your warm cosy bed. Your ginger and white cat Rami is looking up grumpily as he’s disturbed from his sleep before stretching and plopping on his side, sleeping again.

 Wrapping your thick purple and blue house coat around you and putting your slippers on, yawning as you pad into the hall, putting the light on. You knew who was at the door without even thinking. Opening the door to a rather tired and dishevelled man wrapped in almost inappropriate clothes for a freezing cold January morning.

 Looking at him, the dark circles under his eyes, the greasy bobbing ebony curls, and the strong smell of cigarettes around him. Moving out of the way to let him inside. “Come in Lew, it’s 2 am, you know” you said sleepily, trying to mask some annoyance. He looked away as he sheepishly responded “I know, sorry, but I didn’t know where else to go”

Sighing “it’s fine. I’d rather you be safe here than on the streets. You must me freezing?” Lewlyn simply shrugs “a little” shaking your head“Let’s get some heat into you” walking towards her kitchen, turning  the thermostat up and lightning the gas to boil the kettle “where have you been since you disappeared a month ago? I’ve been worried about you”

 “Here and there, no where particular’ the answers vaguely. “But I’m here now” his cheeks form the slightest rose blush to them. “yeah till you disappear again to god knows where” your tone coming of harsher in your tired state.

 His stomach grumbles loudly and with a look of embarrassment as he mumbles an apology. “I assume your hunger?” the kettle whistling in the background concocting a strange symphony with Lewlyn’s stomach.

 “I’ll get you something to get eat if you go for a bath” walking past him to the bathroom, setting the shower up and getting him towels. “I’ll the change of clothes on the bed for you, okay” Lewlyn simply nods in response and as she closes the bathroom door you almost thought you heard him say “I love you” shaking your head thinking you’re hearing things to go to start cooking something light for him.

 15 minutes later, a refreshed and relaxed man’s walks into the kitchen clean and changes. Smiling at him as he sits down “Here you go, it’s not much but should fill you till the morning” putting a plate of scrambled eggs on toast and a mug of tea in front of him. Lewlyn receives the plate and cup graciously and digs in with a contented sigh. “We really need to have a serious talk tomorrow Lew” swallowing his tea before answering with a smirk “I agree” shaking your head with a laugh “I’m going back to bed now, you okay to find your way there when you finish. Nodding his head as you stand up. You just reach your bedroom door when you hear the plate and mug in the sink and Lew’s footsteps behind you.

Next morning, you wake up in bed alone, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. Getting up with a sigh, slipping into your slippers and robe, you open the your bedroom door to the soft strums of a guitar and humming only broken with Lewlyn’s voice speaking to Rami who meowed back at his questions. You knew the tune so well. With tears in your eyes, you rush to the lounge to find Lewlyn sitting crossed, legged, wearing the white t-shirt and blue boxers as the evening before, in the armchair his guitar resting his thighs.

 As you take the scene in that’s in front of you as you lean on the door frame. “you remembered the song” smiling as a tear trickled down your cheek. At the sound of your tears, your cat runs towards you, leaning into you, comforting you. “Yeah, I do” he gets up from the chair, walking towards you, enveloping you in his arms, kissing the top of your head, his scent filling your senses. then proceeding to walk you towards the chair.

As you sit in the chair, Lewlyn sits on the arm leaning down and picking his guitar up and starts to sing

“Moon river, wider than a mile

I’m crossing you in style someday

Oh, dream maker, you heartbreaker

Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way”

 His voice sounded like honey, soothing and smooth. He hummed for a little as he strummed away at the cords you sat transfixed at this wonderfully talented man in front of you. You adored this song. It meant a lot to you. After seeing the movie the previous month with Lewlyn for Christmas.

 Your trance broke as the timbre of his voice filled your ears still as sweet, but you hear something more the way he sounds. Something longing and wanting.

“Two drifters, off to see the world

There’s such a lot of world to see

We’re after the same rainbow’s end

Waitin’ ‘round the bend

My huckleberry friend

Moon river and me”

 As he finished singing, his cheeks were rosie, and his ebony curls bounced as he smiled at you. He puts his guitar down and takes your hand, and holds it. “I can’t keep this to me myself anymore, Y/N I love you. I need to be with you if you’ll have me?”

Squeezing his hand back “I love you too, I’ve wanted you for so long. But I didn’t.....” He leans in gently kissing you.

“I know” smiling. You kiss him back with a little more passion tasting him, the taste of coffee and cigarettes. He breaks away resting his forehead and nose against you. “Happy Birthday sweetheart, I love you.”

Kissing him back “I love you too. This is a birthday I’ll never forget.”

@melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @my-secret-shame @missdictatorme @jake-g-lockley @steven-grants-world @romanarose @campingwiththecharmings @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @guruan-is-not-here @ivystoryweaver @whatthefishh @missscarlettangel @missdictatorme @lonelyisamyw-0love @madlittlecriminal @saturn-rings-writes @madlittlecriminal @gigachadcowboy @mess-of-fandom @hon3yboy @ominoose @jayke0 @theaussiedragon @reallyrallyauthor @romana-after-dark @purelyoscar

Thank you, too @cafekitsune for the deviders and borders

[leasstories]

Lea’s advent calendar day 13 – Scary

@writerthreads writing prompt for Christmas (2022), prompt 12:

[meeting Santa at the mall but it goes awfully wrong]

Dad!Eddie x mom!reader

 No trigger warning.

WC: ≈0.9K

December 22nd, 1991

Eddie Munson and you have been dating since high school. You’re both still living in Hawkins. Eddie works as a bartender at the Hideout at night, so he can be the one taking care of your daughter during the day, while you are at work. As for you, you work as a secretary for Hawkins’ police station. You don’t like your job, but you need the money.

Almost three years ago, you unexpectedly got pregnant. You and Eddie were only 22 years old back then, but you still decided to keep the baby. Now you have a beautiful daughter named Galadriel. Eddie and you both share a passion for The Lord of The Rings, so you had to name your daughter after one of the characters. Now, your little Galadriel is two years old. As she is now two years old and more aware of her surroundings, Eddie and you decided to make a trip to the mall to see Santa.

When you told your daughter, she was so excited, she's been talking about it for days. It warms both yours and Eddie’s heart to see your daughter like this. You pack a diaper bag with diapers (in case of accident) as well as changing clothes, her pacifier, her Teddy, a water bottle, and a milk bottle. You also pack teething biscuits in case your daughter is hungry. While you’re packing Eddie gets the impossible mission to make her get ready.

Eddie takes cartoonish voice and makes her left shoe dance. “Please Galadriel, let me be put on. I promise to keep you warm and protect your cute little feet from being hurt outside.

Galadriel is pouting. “Don’t want.” She speaks.

Eddie is helpless, he doesn’t know how to make his (sometimes) petulant daughter to put her shoes on.

He raises the left shoe and make it dance, still using his cartoonish voice. “Please little Galadriel, let me be on your feet. If you don’t put me on, we can’t go meet Santa you know?”

Galadriel crosses her arms and stomp her foot. “NO” she says raising her voice.

At that point, you arrive into your hallway and asks. “What’s going on here.”

Eddie keeps his cartoonish voice, moving the shoe around to show that it is the shoe speaking. “Little Galadriel doesn’t want me to be at her feet.”

You crouch down in front of your daughter and take the shoe from Eddie’s hand, looking at him sympathetically.

“Hey Bunny, if you want to go meet Santa you have to put your shoes and coat on. We can’t go outside without them. You know, it’s freezing outside.” You explain patiently.

Eddie looks at you fondly. He really loves seeing him interacting with your daughter, he loves how you handle her tantrums.

Galadriel drops her hands and shrugs. “Don’t like shoes.” She speaks.

“I have an idea!” Eddie dramatically says.

Galadriel turns towards Eddie, her curious big brown eyes looking at him.

“What about you put them on, we go see Santa and then we buy new boots for you? How does that sound?” Eddie asks.

She nods her head and let you put her shoes and coat on. You go to the mall, you put some Christmas songs (even though Eddie protested) during the car ride and you giggle at your daughter trying to sing along.

After a 10 minutes’ drive, you arrive at the mall. You’re in the line to see Santa and your daughter looks so excited. She’s holding both you and Eddie’s hand.

“Ready to meet Santa?” Eddie asks when there is only one person in front of you.

“Yes! Yes! Tell him I want guitar. Like Daddy!” she says enthusiastically.

Eddie smiles at that. “And if Santa brings you a guitar, I promise to teach you.”

“Eddie she’s too young to learn how to play guitar.” You tell him.

“Don’t listen to mommy.” Eddie says while covering Galadriel’s ears.

As soon as it is Galadriel’s turn you and Eddie lead Galadriel to Santa’s chair, but as soon as she is close to him, Galadriel hides between her father’s legs and starts crying. Eddie picks her up and whispers sweet nothing into her ears.

“Hey, shh…" he says, "everything’s fine, daddy's here” Eddie keeps going, hugging her close to his chest and soothingly rubbing his daughter’s back. He brings Galadriel and a quieter place of the mall while you profusely apologize to Santa.

“What happened back there?” Eddie asks calmly, while his daughter tries to stop sobbing.

“Scary” she manages to say in between to sobs.

You decide to let Eddie handle it, you know that when your daughter’s overwhelmed, she is a daddy’s girl and only Eddie can make her calm down.

“You got scared sweetie?” he asks and your daughter nods.

Galadriel nods.

“You know, there is nothing to be afraid of besides mommy and I were here.” Eddie gently tells her.

“Daddy? Hug please.” Galadriel says.

Eddie hugs his daughter to his chest and asks her. “What about grabbing a hot chocolate, how does that sound to you Sweetie?” he asks.

She enthusiastically nod.

Your little family sits at a coffee, ordering three hot chocolates. Your daughter hands up with chocolate everywhere and Eddie and you hold hands all along while your daughter tries to tell you all she wants for Christmas. You and Eddie love those family moments, more than anything.