#thanks to all of you who have stuck around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 2 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | twisted into the miller brothers web, you find yourself deeply entangled in a complicated situation between the two and hell bent on self-preservation, you discover that running isn't always the best choice.

author's note | i was going to get this out before the end of the year if it was the last thing i did. i have never been so fully engulfed in a fic like this. it's just a little mini series, but i could talk about this shit for hours. thank you to everyone who's listened to my incoherent rambling and especially @gracieheartspedro who nailed down this ending when i was struggling so hard to decide. if you enjoy this silly story as much as me, ily.

content warning | 18+ smut, this is heavily joel miller x reader leaning, cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, death, joel's territorial <3, lots of unprotected sex going on 'round here, oral (f receiving), pain kink go hard, blood kink and consumption, biting kink, literal love as consumption, restraints, description of wounds from said bites, scarring, omitting a few tags for spoilers but please remember you are responsible for the work you consume, if you are ever feeling uncomfortable, do not continue reading. this is dark fic. that's the only warning i'm giving.

word count —13k, BITTER (part one)

“Killin’ is a viable option.”

Tommy groans, hand rubbing over his face as he leans against the kitchen counter, “They aren’t backwoods folk, Joel. You know that, we gotta be smart.”

“All they gotta do is get the law involved,” Joel points out, “fancy lawyers—“

“We’re selling to half that department,” Tommy argues, a long moment of silence before he adds, “and if you’d stop interrupting I’d tell you I already spoke to ‘em. Said I’d run it by you first before we set anything in stone.”

The big brother seal of approval.

You watch along curiously, stuck in the chair that Joel had a hand gripped around, sandwiched between them both as they volleyed arguments back and forth like they were fighting gladiators shoved in the colosseum—may the best man win.

“I still think we should just kill ‘em,” Joel chirps with finality, glancing briefly over your dumbstruck look, frozen somewhere between fear and shock, their voices fading in and out like muffled conversation, “make sure no one’ll come askin’ questions. Easy. You ain’t never had an issue with it before.”

The letter was still clutched in Tommy’s hand, a list of vague threats and accusations—the weird occurrences around the Miller property, the strange behavior of Tommy’s older brother, the smell. There wasn’t hard evidence, but they weren’t wrong either. A few minutes grazing the property and a look in the barn would confirm anyone’s suspicions—which, speaking of…

“Are you going to kill me now?”

It was a brave thing to interject with, given Joel’s current hostility around the situation with their nosey neighbors and you, like a pest making a mess of his home. But, instead it was him. His mind—a foreign feeling that he didn’t like or intent to allow to wreak havoc much longer.

He’d kill you if he had to, if that was what it took.

Unsurprisingly, they both ignore you.

“Let me talk to ‘em tomorrow, Joel,” Tommy barters, “see if I can smooth things over.”

“Ya ain’t smoothin’ shit over, we know how this goes—you lose your temper and then we have a mess. Just take care of the fucking problem like I suggested.”

You knew the house, it was the only one within walking distance. Far off, covered by a line of trees and eclectic decor—you never thought much of it, under the impression that everyone in this town was as demented as the Miller brothers, most of the suspicions confirmed as the brothers continued to argue.

It was an open secret—deranged and fucked-up, but there was full, completely loyalty.

If you had gone digging enough, you would have found out yourself. But, Joel wanted you to know. It takes a killer to know a killer—the wood of the chair cracks behind you as his grip tightens.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you,” Tommy comforts suddenly, a quick glance over of your injuries, “not intentionally, at least—”

“She fell,” Joel explains, a half-truth, “made a damn mess and wasted the scraps for the pigs—”

“Joel,” Tommy warns, returning his gaze to you, “You’ve been good to us, better than most. We can trust each other, alright? Ain’t no reason to think otherwise.”

He was sickeningly sweet, laying it on so thick you see right through the facade. He was upset, rightfully so, but you weren’t sure how much of it was directed at Joel and how much of it was directed at you.

“When did I surpass being a meal?” You turn your attention toward Tommy, flicking your eyes up briefly at Joel, “Was it before or after you fucked me?”

You expect it to be newfound information to Joel, but he doesn’t react in the slightest. He almost smirks, actually. A sudden, miniscule response that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t so on edge.

“Now, darlin’—”

“Cut the shit, Tommy,” You retort, “When did it happen?”

“Still a chance, if you’re feelin’ persistent,” Joel taunts.

Tommy shoots Joel a dangerous glare before his face softens.

“The thought never occurred to me,” Tommy replies though you find it hard to believe him, “M’not sayin’ we’ve been this kind to everyone, but with you—s’different. Right, Joel?”

“Well, she does like the taste,” He grins viciously, a showing of teeth that sends your body into a full chill, “ate it right up, loved it.”

Your eyes shoot daggers in his direction and he shrugs, his tongue shoved into his cheek as he moves to stand, turning in a circle on his heels as he leans against the nearest surface.

“I mean it, you’re safe with us,” Tommy assures, “out there—we can’t protect you. And if you think we’re the monsters, you’re in for a rude awakenin’, baby.”

“Don’t,” You chuffle, a short laugh through your nose, “I’ll—I’ll stay, but this,” You wave your finger between him and you, before it circles the group, a discoordinated trio, “I don’t trust either of you and don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything, actually.”

Your anger was justified and Tommy didn’t try to argue, only sinking back in his chair with an ‘I told you so’ look on Joel’s face. Luckily, they leave you to gather yourself, ignoring the subtle sting from the wounds on your legs and your spiraling thoughts—you could wait until nightfall.

That was it—wait long enough until it was dark and they were both asleep and make a run for the only sane people in the nearest vicinity. They could help you and help take the two brothers down in the process, it was a fair victory for the opposing party and your only saving grace.

–

They retire to their rooms eventually, the insistent chirp of crickets keeping you awake, standing on sore legs as you move around the dark room and pulling on a warm pair of clothes to trek against the nighttime winds.

You were careful, prying open doors with a quiet effort and allowing the softest steps against the old floorboard as you reached the door, immediately met with the deadbolt lock and an even heftier lock to keep you trapped–or to Tommy, safe. The house was silent aside from the sounds of nature, the occasional howling wind blowing through but you looked around, searching for another path—you had already made it this far, you weren’t going to go scrambling back.

If anything, the backdoor would have the same locks and your eyes scan the windows, closed shut but not inescapable. If either of them decided to wake, they would surely know.

There was no time to deliberate or weigh the consequences, hurrying toward the living room window that led toward the yard, pulling it up with forceful but cautious precision, ripping at the screen.

It isn’t an easy feat, not nearly the path you would have chose, but you fell to the ground with a deft slump, careful of your fresh bandages and gravel under your hands as you land, wincing as you stand but peering inside of the house cautiously, determining if you needed to make a run for it.

Silence meets you. Dead silence.

The eerie feeling in the distance creeps in, eyeing the house over your shoulder that is still lowly lit but quite the walk, you turn on your heels and make the long walk there, wondering if darting off down the road would be simpler, continuing until you came upon another sign of civilization or normality, anything to save you.

As you grow closer, the muffled melodic tunes coming from the house start to drown out your stream of thoughts, the bass booming from the driveway as you grow closer. You careful approach the steps to their door, pressing a finger into the doorbell as it chimes throughout the house—the music lowers in an instant, quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop, the door ripping open with a forceful gust of air, meet with the fierce scowl of an older gentleman.

It was hard to describe him, but there was so much going on—a peek at the inner house decor that screamed for a touch of neutralness, a mix of beaded necklaces hanging around his neck over a stretched out tank, barefoot as he approached you on the mat at his door.

It only dawns on you now that you hadn’t prepared anything—you were drawing a complete blank.

“You better start talking,” He speaks, a grittiness to his voice that stills you at your core, “botherin’ us in the middle of the night—”

“You’re right,” You blurt out, shaking your head slightly as you realize how abrasive it was, taking a breath before you speak slower, “about Joel and Tommy, you’re right. They’re bad people.”

His expression turns steely, jaw tightening as he straightens his back in an intimidating manner. You couldn’t mistake the whiff of alcohol on his breath, his drifting eyes down the length of your body, slowly realizing that this might have been a mistake.

Self-preservation had always come first, even if you didn’t think the Miller’s were the worst possible people you could have come across, they were unfortunate targets in the moment.

“They—they are killing,” You point vaguely in the direction of the house, “it’s—the smell, it’s the bodies. They’re murders, you have to help me,” It comes out in a panic and you stutter as the confession rolls off your tongue, his expression only growing dark as time passes.

Fuck, he didn’t believe you. Of course—who would?

Hey, you’ve got a couple cannibals for neighbors—let’s deal with them.

It was never that easy.

“You don’t think I know?” He responds, stepping into your space to send you stumbling backwards, but his arms lock around your biceps and keep you upright, but not for the reason he should, feeling the sting of pain as he squeezes down hard.

You gasp at the suddenness of it, “N—no, no! You have to believe me!”

“I’ve seen you helpin’ them,” He nods vaguely, “Think I’m gonna believe this shit? Where are they, huh?” The spit from his vicious reaction and volume sprays against your face as he shoves you to the ground, your arms skidding against the cement as you scramble backwards, trying to flee his quickly approaching figure, “They use you as bait?”

He’s over you before you have a chance to roll out of the way, your forearm presses up against his neck as he leers, glancing around for any sign of the brothers—silently praying that he was right in the moment, but you knew there was no one to help. Just you. Just him.

He forces you onto your stomach as your face was smashed into the rock path along the driveway, “Well, good—they can watch,” It makes your blood run cold, sensing the exact implication of his words as you calmly and slyly wrap your fingers around a palm sized rock, curling it in your fist as he leans back on his legs, twisting in his grip and bashing the rock blindly at his face, a grunt releasing from him as you make contact with his skull, falling to the ground with a dead weight as you scramble away breathless.

You stare at the sight, a man near death on his lawn before the whistle fades in—low and melodic as it approaches with the sound of heavy boots and speaking before you can react.

“Well, look at that,” Joel looks on in admiration, a small suspicion of amusement in his tone as he steps onto the lawn and peers over you, hand extended out blindly for help as he cautiously steps around the pooling blood of the now dead man, “little messier than I like, but you got the job done.”

If looks could kill—you’re seething, staring up at Joel with narrowed eyes as you take his hand and stand.

“I’ll give you some credit,” Joel continues, “You’re resourceful but predictable—suppose you can’t trust anyone in this town anymore, can you?”

He’s cocky about it, which pisses you off more. Undoubtedly, he was probably watching you the entire time, waiting in the shadows, undetectable. He’s mastered his craft, he killed people for a living. It wasn’t a mystery how he knew or expected your retaliation. But, his reaction is jarring.

“C’mon, up,” He yanks at your hand and helps you upright, instinctually brushing the clumps of grass and dirt out of your hair with a pinched expression as your eyes slowly drag toward the motion, unmoving out of…not fear. It was something indescribable, flinching at the heat of his hands as his eyes gradually rose toward the upstairs window.

“You know what happens next, right?” Joel asks, kicking at the dead body to roll him on his back, staring down at the lifeless corpse.

You didn’t need the whole speech—murder me now, please. Spare me the misery.

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighs, almost like he’s carrying on a conversation with himself—and with your silence, he was. But, he senses your fear, “well—you can’t just murder one and not the other, you little killer. You’re gonna take care of the other one, too.”

“Joel—I—” The adrenaline rush was waning, the bile in your stomach swimming and swirling.

His face hardens in an instant, forcing his hand over your mouth with a stern shake of his head as your eyes grow wide, “Ain’t time for excuses. You made this mess—you’re gonna finish it.”

You blink slowly, searching for any sign of a bluff. It never comes, in fact, his grip only grows tighter until you answer, shakily nodding your head.

“Go on,” He urges, “I’m right behind you.”

He’d have a front row seat this time instead of waiting in the wings.

Joel wanted a full taste.

–

The wife is tucked into bed when you finally find her, barricaded in her sheets and sleeping soundly despite the loud, blaring music when you first approach the house—you figured it was a regular occurrence, but you don’t linger on the thought long.

You hold onto the thought of the husband and his unwillingness to hear you out, how they seemed to already have you figured out, wrapped up in the Miller’s web and just another willing accomplice, repeating the same careful steps from earlier that had clearly failed you as Joel breathed over your shoulder.

It needed to be quick—not entirely painless, but clean.

The vase to the left of her head seemed like an emergency option, the woman splayed out on her back as you searched around, knowing that you didn’t have long with Joel’s looming presence. You chew at your bottom lip as you reach carefully for the pillow beside her head and slowly press it over her face, a few seconds of calm before you find yourself in a predicament.

Climbing over her lap, you mount and press the weight of your palms into the pillow, face scrunched in concentration as the woman flails and shakes against the movement, grunting meekly as your hand slips against the scratch of her nails, glaring at Joel for a silent plea of help, realizing that she was putting up far more of a fight then either of you expected.

He waits until the last possible second, an unreadable expression on his face before he’s flipping the switchblade out of his pocket and piercing it through her clavicle, the blood squirting on your chest and face, rearing back instinctually as you gasp, her body falling lifeless in an instant.

“I can appreciate the effort,” Joel comments, wiping the blade off on the sleeve of your shirt before he pockets it again, “how’d that feel?”

You don’t realize your heart is racing until he asks the question—it was a similar feeling to a drug-induced high, slightly floaty and off-balance, your mind hazy as you blink, the stench of iron filling your senses and that strange look on Joel’s face returns.

You understand it then—lust, another subtle hint as he licks at his bottom lip out of reflex.

Joel would lick you clean if you let him.

You clear your throat and speak quietly, “What—what do we do?”

“Well, we gotta transfer ‘em to the house,” Joel explains, “So, you’ll stay here and wait—not run, that clear?”

You nod mindlessly, towering over your second dead body of the night.

You were far too deep now.

You don’t move—not really. You sink to the sheets beside the woman’s body but you listen dutifully, ears perking up at the roar of an approaching truck and door slamming followed by footsteps before Joel reappears again, seemingly breathing out a sigh of subtle relief as he spots you.

He’d never admit it, but you can see it.

It take a while, but eventually you carry both bodies into the bed of the truck and cover them with tarp, questioning Joel on what happens with the house, the evidence, everything that could essentially criminalize both of you—

“That’s above my paygrade, honey,” You’re not amiss to the change in his voice, his expression more relaxed as he shifts the truck into gear, “the sheriff handles all that for us.”

“And…the sheriff…he—”

Joel chuckles, “It’s everyone. Not just a group of us. We aren’t just sellin’ to townsfolk, either. It’s overseas, across the country. Shit is high risk, high reward. Why do you think I followed you tonight?”

So, he did follow you—he’d known the entire time.

“I saw the idea pop into your head earlier while Tommy and I were arguin’. Like I said, predictable. I’m not sayin’ you didn’t have a fair reaction, I get it. But, we can keep you safe.”

You cross your arms over your chest silently, skin and face caked with blood.

“But will you?” You retort, “Can I really trust you both?”

As the truck pulls in near the barn, the ignition falls silent.

“I want to,” Joel admits, “natural ability like that shouldn’t be wasted.”

A natural-born killer, he means.

“You feelin’ guilty right now?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised.

You shake your head quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Joel works silently to unload the bodies and load them in the barn as you sit quietly in the passenger seat, staring at the barn door as he drags tarp covered corpses inside with a brute strength unlike his brother, somehow spotless throughout the entire ordeal.

“I’ll move the truck in the morning,” Joel tells you as he pulls your door open, a hand waiting in assistance as you climb out on unsteady feet, the ache of your wounds coming back in waves as reality sets in.

“It is morning,” You retort, earning a huff of annoyance from Joel.

“You know what the fuck I meant,” He responds, his thumb flicking at a flake of dried blood on your collarbone as you stand in front of him, “Tommy’ll get pissy if you wash the blood off in the main bathroom—I’ll let you use mine.”

Your face contorts in a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Or I can hose you down out here, your choice.”

–

The house is as quiet as you left it, guided silently with the touch of Joel’s hand between your shoulder blades as you traversed the dark house—and you aren’t sure what you were expecting as you enter Joel’s bedroom, but it wasn’t this.

It was lived-in, personal; full of books and random trinkets, pictures lining the top of his dresser and walls—his family, you can only assume. A few pictures of kids that you surmise are Joel and Tommy, you avoid Joel’s gaze as you look around aimlessly, clearing your throat as you approach the bathroom, hearing the light flick on beside your head.

It was clean, at least. A dark colored shower curtain hiding the tub away from view and his bathroom amenities only slightly astray, probably from previous use that night.

You turn to him with a quizzical expression, his expression matching.

“What? Somethin’ wrong?” He asks.

“It’s just—it’s…clean. It doesn’t—it doesn’t fit you, I guess.”

“I’m just a dirty old man to you, ain’t I?”

It’s a joke, but his delivery falls flat.

“I’m confused, I guess.” You tell him honestly, “Look at me—” A vague gesture at your own disheveled state, dirt and blood smeared on your face as he tilts his head against the doorframe.

“I am,” The deep timber to his voice strikes you at your core, a casual but unsuspecting answer, “I cleaned up for the night, wasn’t plannin’ on getting dirty again.”

“But, you’re always dirty.”

His job required that—but Joel was meticulous about his routine after he was done for the day. Dinner, a thorough shower, sometimes another if he was feeling particularly bothered, and the quiet of the calm house to lull him to sleep.

Unfortunately, that routine has been disrupted since you arrived.

Like an infestation, you’d taken over.

Joel ignores you with a half-assed shrug and flicks a dried speck of blood from your nose.

“Go on,” He demands, “I’ll grab you some clothes and fresh bandages.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and nod as you gently swat his hand away, avoiding his gaze as you press the door closed enough that it doesn’t lock, but allows you the privacy to undress.

It feels good to clean the blood and grime away, scrubbing at your body until it burns, bathing in the distinct smell of Joel’s body wash, a faint hint of it always wafting off of him despite his usually dirtied state.

You can hear him moving quietly beyond the curtain, his shadow passing a few times as you’re expecting him to fold against the urge to peek his head beyond the curtain—something, anything.

You hated the forced gentlemanly facade.

Once you’re out of the shower and dressed in clothes Joel had picked out, a matching set and a fresh pair of underwear that had you glancing sideways at him as his fingers peeked around the bathroom door with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages in his hands.

He kneels quietly with a concentrated expression, mirroring his actions from before. Wincing through the sting of pain as he cleans and dresses your wounds, catching his glances as the noises slip beyond your lips—an inconspicuous check-in, wordless.

You can’t help but fuck with him now, defenses down.

His eyes follow the way your hand smooths over the waistband of your shorts, your thumb slipping beyond the thick band as you lean against the mirror, watching as he taped down the gauze, “Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t it?”

“What’re ya gettin’ at?”

“The whole—bet you can’t guess what color underwear I’m wearing joke,” You play quietly with the waistband, fingers twirling in the drawstrings below your navel as your thighs spread against his guidance, his hand sliding down to your ankle to raise your leg higher in an effort to secure the bandage, “I see you wanted them to match,” You jest at him lightly, noticing the way his eyes immediately lock onto the apex of your thighs.

He brushes it off, a roll of his eyes as he finishes up his job, carefully piling up the trash on the floor as you slowly slide off the bathroom counter, leaving his head level with your waist.

Had you asked yourself if you wanted to be this close to him twelve hours ago, the answer would have been different, but the downright pathetic look on his face as his eyes drag up your body and eventually land on your face are a powerful spell.

Slowly, your hands drift into his hair—surprisingly soft as the curls sway with your movement, gripping the hair tight and pushing his head back in the process, a low rumble in his throat at the action.

“Do you like that?” You inquire, his eyes darkening at the question as he sets his sight on something he wants—a primal gaze, almost like a warning.

“You tryin’ to make my brother jealous?” He asks, “Think I should tell him about your plan to rat us out—how it didn’t work and now you’re tryin’ this—”

“I can’t leave now,” You admit, still not fully settled with the idea but deep down you knew, “I—I do feel safe, you know. With you—”

You exhale shakily as his lips press against the sliver of skin beneath your shirt, just below your navel as his eyes fall shut, his tongue following the path as he presses surprisingly gentle kisses into the skin before his fingers are curling over the band of your shorts.

“Don’t trust me, though—do you?” Joel asks snarkily, eyes peeking open slightly as your lips part in a soft gasp as he pulls the clothing down your hips, peeling the underwear down with it.

One hand drags up your calf, calloused hands against soft skin as he pulls one knee over his shoulder and shoves your shirt upwards, giving him an obscured view of your cunt, lips spreading open with the movement and glistening with slick despite how much you tried to loathe him—there was a racing in your heart that differed from Tommy, like you know you shouldn’t be doing this but your body was demanding otherwise.

You shake your head lazily as it drops back, slumping against the medicine cabinet as he drags a finger through your folds, toying with your clit in small movements, silent as he drinks in every small sound you make, your opposite hand digging into the counter of the sink as his fingers dig into your thigh, opening your eyes as he presses his lips to your cunt, right against the mound and into the short, coarse patch of hair before he’s spreading his tongue out flat against you and licking a slow, tortuous line up the seam.

“Trust–trust is earned,” You reply breathily, “It, fuck—it takes time.”

Joel hums a response of approval as his nose nudges against your clit, tongue dipping inside of your hole as he stared up at you, even at this angle you could see the smug smirk on his face as he drank you in—Joel was still a frightful man, enough unknown that you found yourself wondering if the choices you were making were correct, if somehow this would cost you your life in the end.

But, then he’s pulling away, dragging his finger up the seam of your pussy as he stands, unbuckling his belt quietly as you strip your shirt away, not needing to be told or guided, his tanned skin flushed a subtle red as he unbuttons and parts his flannel, adjusting his jeans and underwear down just far enough under his balls that they sit snug against the fabric, his cock intimidatingly large against his even larger hands.

So much with Joel is unspoken, his intensity held in his gaze. Even from your first meeting, there was a look—and even now, he’s got that look. Like he’s trying to decipher you.

He flattens one hand against the bathroom counter as you spread your legs to accommodate him, his other hand grabbing at your ass to pull you near the edge before he’s running his hand down his shaft, the foreskin swallowing up the red, angered tip of his cock before he’s pulling back and rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering the wetness there and pressing inside with a pinched expression on your face, your breath catching as your hand twists into his shirt.

“That hurt?” He asks, his voice taking on a softer tone.

You nod fervently, “Yeah—yeah, it’s—you’re…pretty big,”

You weren’t trying to actively compare the brothers, but the thought passes in your mind and Joel notices the thoughtful look on your face, huffing out a laugh under his breath.

“Good,” That it hurts—he wanted you to feel it tomorrow, that it would be a constant reminder.

He’s a natural masochist, but he wasn’t about not enjoying sex. So, while he savors the soft hiss of pain at first, the dig of your nails into his chest, eventually you relax and turn to curling yourself around him, legs tight around his hips and your arms slung over his shoulders as he presses his forehead into your own and fucks you with a slow, powerful force of thrusts that make the walls shake—surely it would wake his brother, maybe that was what he wanted.

His mouth parted slightly, panting out hot against your skin as he glares at you—into you, through you, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he follows your trailing gaze, the precipice of your pleasure clawing over the edge of their metaphorical walls.

“Yeah, s’right there—isn’t it?” He taunts, a half smirk on his face as he watches you.

Always watching you.

You nod again, feeling the hand that was squeezing at your thigh digging into your skin as he used it for leverage, thrusting into you while he guided your hips toward him, using your body like he had full control over it. His other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he’s rubbing his thumb over the quickly hardening bud, a shiver running down your spine.

There was nowhere to hide with Joel, all imperfections on display as your head lulls back against the mirror, eyes opening to find him matching your expression—somewhat sated but nearing the edge of his own release, he nudges his chin up and speaks, “S’this what gets you off?”

Your brow furrows as you tilt your head, his hand trading your breast for the hand twisted into his shirt, guiding it toward your clit as he gives you a silent order, your fingers circling the sensitive nub.

“Fuckin’ both of us—s’gonna be a hell of an issue when he finds out, you know.”

“Is this what you like—huh, talking about while you fuck?” You counter, “Your brother?”

His jaw shakes slightly as he gaze dips, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, his fingers wrapped around the wrist that was working at your clit, toes curling as your knees squeezed into his hips, that heat building in your core.

“I can talk about how he eats pussy better than you,” It’s teasing, an effort to get a rise out of him, “or do you—you wanna hear how he whimpers when he fucks me because he’s so pathetic? Is th—is that what you want?” His hips stuttered with your words, “He’s so much sweeter, you know? S’all soft and kind—”

Nothing like Joel.

His hand seems to loosen at the mention, but you shake your head.

“Oh, don’t ease up now, honey—I never said I liked it.”

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it, shoving your opposite hand over his mouth as you both spill over the edge, the ache of loss finding you as he pulls out, thick ropes of come panting your stomach as you clench around the emptiness, his teeth digging into the palm of your hand as he groans with his release.

“I’ll handle Tommy,” Joel promises as you both dress, cleaning yourself up as he buttons his shirt, “It’ll be easier coming from me.”

“You don’t have to lie, he should know—”

“I’m not,” He responds quickly, looking up at you through his downturned gaze, “like you said—trust is earned. You’ll earn it.”

How was a mystery—but what other choice did you have?

You learn very quickly that Joel was intentional in you earning his trust—not so much Tommy. He wasn’t surprised by your attempt to escape, but the marring of their neighbors—yours too, now—he was slightly disappointed. Hoping that he could spare you the gruesome side of things, that keeping you within the house and under his watch would help save your innocence about the entire ordeal.

But, he quickly finds out that isn’t the case.

And you find out how steady their diet of human meat was, a fridge stocked full of various cuts and textures, unsuspecting to the eye but you knew—and truthfully, the sickness dissipates after a month of eating that way. Tommy will occasionally skip a day or two, sometimes even a week.

Whereas Joel, he’s fully accepted his ways.

“How does it work?” You ask curiously, night has crept in and left both you and Joel, who you’ve gradually drifted toward lately, aware of Tommy’s lingering touches and fighting that feeling of betrayal on both ends—Tommy never seemed to mind you favoring Joel, even indirectly. However, Joel was territorial, overwhelmingly so. You wished you disliked it, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“How’s what work?” He asks, legs spread wide on the couch as take a seat beside him, legs curled under your body and the fire crackling beside you, his hair wet from a recent shower and his shirt sticking to his skin, “Tommy’s job?”

You nod quietly, chewing on a piece of dried meat, akin to jerky.

You’ve willingly succumbed to the lifestyle over the past few weeks, partly to blame on Joel, but mostly out of your own morbid curiosity, finding that it wasn’t all that bad as the nauseous and general sickness fell dormant.

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Joel answers bluntly, but honest, “He’s got some kinda system going, I do my job—cuttin’ things up, mindin’ my business. I just know it makes us damn good money.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell outside of their house, but they kept things well within the interior—they owned nice things, you assumed they were out of debt and had money saved back, but they lived beneath their means as much as possible.

Joel liked a quiet life, you could tell.

“I could help out more, you know.”

Outside of your general duties and decent pay—it felt lacking, like you could be doing more.

Neither of the brothers kept you chained or trapped, that much was obvious. And you didn’t feel the lingering threat of something to come, the need to run—the feeling of security was something you had searched out for a while and oddly, they provided that.

In some sick, fucked up way, you felt protected.

“Stock is runnin’ low,” Joel debates, his thumb circling the beer bottle between his legs, while his other trails along his bottom lip in thought, “I got an idea, dunno if Tommy’s gonna like it.”

“Who cares what he thinks?” You reply, “He cowers like a puppy when it comes to you.”

It was essentially a lure and catch situation—Joel never strayed too far, always on the outskirts while you found the next willing victim, it was always you approaching them, never the opposite. You were in full control and under very specific orders.

Never people in town, always the stragglers. The more meek and unsuspecting the better, but it varied—after a couple months, Joel doesn’t even bother to stick around, sitting in his truck while you finish up the job.

And you’ve learned over time just how different Tommy and Joel are—Tommy prefers seclusion in the extremist of ways, more subdued with his affection when Joel was around and didn’t argue with him in your presence, almost like he was attempting to shield you.

Joel is out late in the barn when Tommy crowds you in the kitchen, a curious and longing stare out the window at the closed barn door, his tell-tale throat clearing as his hands wrap around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as you sip gingerly at the glass of water in your hands.

“M’glad you feel safe here,” Tommy murmurs into your skin, a soft peppering of kisses along your spine as he moves the material of your shirt out of the way, his fingers slipping beyond the thick waistband of your pants, shoving them down wordlessly, “ready for bed?”

“Not yet,” You admit, letting the silence linger before you speak again, “Can I ask you something—and I’m just curious, I swear.”

Tommy makes a noise of approval.

“What happened to my car?” A laugh bubbles up at the thought and Tommy laughs too.

“I mighta sold it for scraps when you agreed to stayin’ with us long term. I was meaning to tell you, but you never asked…so I figured…”

Who cares, right? Truly, it was a piece of shit anyways.

You laugh softly at his advances as they grow more needy, your arm curling behind you to flex your fingers in his outgrown hair, “I want you to fuck me here,” You admit, his eyes peeking open as he leans over your shoulder to look at you, a salacious smile on your face as you lean back, rubbing your ass against his cock, growing hard underneath the confines of his sweats, before you turn to face him, “like this—right here.”

Fortunately, it takes very little convincing. He’s impatient in his movements, only getting both of your pants down before he’s pushing the head of his cock inside of you, a welcomed but comfortable stretch before his cock is fully seated inside of you, walls squeezing down tight as he buries his face into your clothed chest, your hands cradling his head as he rocks into you at a gentle pace.

“God, I’m never gonna get tired’f this,” Tommy groans weakly, a hand gripping tight at your hip as he quickens his thrusts, one hand falling back on the counter to support the forceful angle of his movements, laughing breathlessly at his comment, his head rises to look at you with complete and full admiration, “I’m serious, baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that quickly divulges into an open-mouthed exploration as you trade sounds, feeling Tommy teeter closer to the edge of his own orgasm as his fingers drift against your clit, always assuring that you were taken care of first—it doesn’t take long, hands gripping the curtain above the sink as your whine loudly against his ministrations.

Tommy is too distracted to hear the quiet creak of the door, but you’re not. The lights are off, only granting you a silhouette of Joel, but you know—he’s smirking to himself, closing the door behind him quietly as he freezes for a moment, seemingly locking eyes with your sated expression, your orgasm hitting you just as he passes down the hall, his face coming into view for a brief moment.

It was pathetic, how quickly your mind drifted to him even while his brother was buried inside of you, your grip on the curtain tightens, pulling the rod from the wall and sending it clanging down against the sink as it startles you back to reality, feeling Tommy’s hips stutter before he’s pulling out and you sink to the ground instinctively, lips wrapping around his cock as he releases the warmth of his cum against your tongue, a heady but tolerable taste that slides down your throat with ease.

Joel is already gone by the time you rise to your feet, redressing quietly as Tommy examines the broken curtain with a subdued chuckle, tossing the few pieces of sheetrock in the trash.

“Sorry,” You wince, looking at him apologetically.

Tommy grins, his thumb rubbing down the center of your chin in a comforting way as he shrugs, waving it off, “Easy fix.”

The difference between the two is simple to spot after a while—Joel’s leniency with things comes to a head as Tommy’s rigidness battles for dominance. He doesn’t make it a habit to put his foot down often, but he was already increasingly hesitant as you started luring people back to the farm—while thankful, it was dangerous. You were good at it, without fail, but something was bound to implode.

–

“She’s earned it, you know,” Joel fights for you, the usual recluse encourages a night-out—a real one, no work, just pure enjoyment, “Ain’t much trouble to get into there.”

The bar, he means. With how often you frequented it now, it was like a second home.

You were coming up on your sixth month mark of living with the Millers, finding the stragglers came in like a cycle, every few weeks, and the town was due for more.

Tommy squints cautiously, turning in the desk chair as the heel of his boot scuffs against the flooring, “An hour—only an hour, don’t need you stickin’ out like a sore thumb.”

Joel, he means. He rolls his eyes in response, dressed more casual than you’ve ever seen him. It was a simple pair of jeans and a dark-colored shirt, but it made him seem normal.

It was unsettling.

“Don’t worry,” Joel smirks, “No one’ll touch her.”

Except him, you think.

Tommy wasn’t oblivious to your odd affection toward Joel, but he wasn’t privy to every detail. He didn’t know how often you snuck into Joel’s bed at night, sometimes after being on his own before that, the devouring looks and purposeful touches that always happened behind his back.

Joel knows you find comfort in Tommy, but there was something missing.

Something lacking.

Tommy eventually relents and you arrive at the bar a half hour later, Joel in tow.

And it is mostly uneventful, drinking amongst the other patrons with the loud rumble of music drowning out far away voices—Joel was stoic, like a bodyguard over your shoulder as he seemed to people watch, like he often did.

“You’re doing it again,” You tell him, peering up at him from your seat as he glances down, his glass pressing to his lips, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the occasional townsperson, seemingly shocked to see him.

“No I’m not,” He argues, tapping his finger against your lips before he’s guiding the glass to your lips, a wordless order to silence yourself, “Drink, enjoy it—or all that beggin’ was for nothin’.”

Eventually, Joel lets you wander.

Even if it was to dance lazily a few feet away, practically begging him to join you with your hand outstretched, a constant scowl on his face as he refused. But, eventually someone takes that offer for him, obstructing his view with a grin—an older gentleman with wiry hair and rotted teeth.

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable movement before you’re making an excuse to flee toward Joel who snickers at your discomfort, a hand wrapping at your waist to pull you between his legs as the man, persistent as you suspected, approaches beside you.

“Tommy finally let his dog out of the house?” He asks over you, staring Joel down.

Joel chuckles at that, subdued as his hand tightens against your waist, hiding your own giggle behind a sip of beer.

“C’mon, sweetheart—I’ll show you a better time than this guy. Wouldn’t know how to care for a nice piece of ass like that—him or his damn brother.”

Joel stands then, without warning as he towers over the man and you as he forces you into the seat, “Get the fuck out of here,” It was the only warning he was offering, but it strikes fear through the man without fail, sending him scurrying off for the moment.

“Tommy’s gonna kill you when he finds out about that,” You comment as Joel approaches at your back, maneuvering you out of the seat to settle between his legs again, his large palm settling against your stomach as he pulls you against him, spotting the man again from across the room, staring you both down with hardened eyes.

“What he doesn't know won’t hurt him,” Joel argues, the surprising press of his lips against your neck as you jump at the touch, calmed by his reassuring words, “Gonna scare him off, alright?”

“How—” You’re cut off on a gasp as his hand travels up your shirt, squeezing at your breast as his teeth dig into your skin, mouth hung open as you stumble back against him, eyes fluttering closed at the stinging pinch of Joel’s teeth, hard enough that you fear it breaking through the skin

Surely, it does.

As Joel raises his head and catches sight of the man’s widened eyes, he scurries off. He’s not amiss to your reaction to the bite, fingers clawing into his skin, moaning at the action. Really, he should’ve expected it.

“Turn around,” He orders, spinning you on your feet before you can react on your own, catching sight of your dilated pupils as you stare at him wondrously, a smile growing on your face as his impatience grows.

He ignores your wandering hands that crawl up his arms, gripping onto his large biceps before he’s hauling you out of the bar without a word, arm twisted behind your back as you tumble on your feet toward his truck parked in the far back of the parking lot, far away from the roar of music.

“Did I do something—oh,” You squeak, jumping back at the creak of the drivers’ side door as he sandwiches you between the seat and him, “wrong—Joel, did I—”

You’re stuttering but he isn’t answering and you begin to crawl to your side of the seat before he’s stopping you in your tracks, feet pressing against the step bar of the truck while the upper half of your body curls against the seat—and Joel, with his large and threatening presence, towers.

He works at the belt in your jeans, turning your head over your shoulder as he rips the leather from the loops of your pants, “Put your hands on the steering wheel,” He orders and you follow suit, watching as he quietly tightened the belt around your hands and through the steering wheel, rendering you immobile from the waist up.

“Wait—right here? But, there’s people—”

Never stopped you before,” He comments and your face heats at the mention, having never brought up the instance with you and Tommy until now, “I’m not a fan of waiting and I’m not against takin’ you in front of my brother—rather not, but…”

“You like having me to yourself,” You finish for him, a hum of acknowledgement following.

Joel yanks at your jeans until they fall to your ankles, pulling them off alongside your shoes and underwear as he tosses them over your head and into the passenger seat, sinking to his knees without a word as he parts your legs, licking into your with warning as you gasp, your hands yanking against the leather belt.

He squeezes your ass in his hands, spreading you open as he dips his tongue inside of you, forcing you up on your toes as you curse into the seat of his truck, forehead pressing into the fabric as your hands are stretched over your head.

He’s got an idea…a lingering suspicion as he trails his lips along the inside of your legs, never quite kissing or lingering, just a slow drag before he’s digging his teeth into your skin, a sharp pain that makes your pussy clench, his eyes locked on the action as he bites down.

Instinctively, you yank against the binds, the urgency growing as he bites down more, picking various places along your legs until he decides to bite into the fleshy cheek of your ass, purposefully breaking the skin—the tiniest drop of blood pooling at the surface before he licks it away.

He repeats the process, trading between bites and licking at your cunt until your orgasm catches you by surprise, panting against the seat as you catch your breath with his satisfied presence looming behind.

Quietly, he rustles with his belt and slides into you without a word until he’s got his hand tucked up under your chin, wrapped around your throat as he presses you against the seat with his chest, turning your head to the side to catch your already fucked-out expression, more turned on from the biting than the fact that his dick was finally inside of you.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Joel remarks, watching the smile spread across your face, “You like it when I bite you? The pain?”

You shake your head with a soft hum, “S’nice, but I like you marking your territory.” You watch his face morph into something indecipherable as you laugh, “Got you really riled up in there, didn’t it?”

“Gotta let them know to lead you back to me if you go runnin’ off again,” Joel taunts, grunting against the shell of your ear as your walls squeeze down when the head of his cock nudges at a particular spot inside of you that steals your breath away, “Yeah—that? That right there?”

You nod weakly, wishing you could touch him—claw at his skin, grab on and take hold, but you were left helpless. Though, somehow it was more comforting this way. Joel was increasingly careful of the authority you tried to hold over him, never allowing you to have the upper hand—and you didn’t mind it.

Again, it was the stark difference between he and Tommy, who’d be willing to bend to your will if you asked, eager to please you, but with Joel, it was kismet. He always knew what you were thinking before you even spoke about it.

And as the ache in your wrist grows into full discomfort he releases them without a word of acknowledgement, lips parted with bated breath as you turn until your back is pressing into the seat, legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists you up with his brute strength, releasing a loud moan of expressive pleasure as you surge forward, pressing your lips against his before he can object, licking into his mouth with profound eagerness as his nails dig into the skin at your hips, his balls tightening with an impending release as he returns the wet, sloppy exchange of lips.

It stalls him for a moment, the sensual pace of your lips pulling his focus up, your tongue twirling around his own before they trail to his lips, your lips dragging down his chin, along his jaw, before you’re biting against where his jugular would be hiding under his skin, not nearly hard enough to cause any damage but enough to have his eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering.

“Don’t—don’t pull out,” You tell him through a murmur, running your tongue along the mark in a soothing gesture, catching his gaze as he looks at you, “What? Are you scared, Joel?”

Not scared—Joel wasn’t sure he could emulate that emotion anymore, but it was far too personal for his liking, even with the few partners he’s had in his life he’s never crested beyond that, purposeful in his abhorrence distaste of kids or the possibility of, but you have him completely under your spell and he shakes his head.

“S’just you—wouldn’t want it to be anyone but you.” You assure him, his expression softening as your thumb trails along his bottom lip, eyes locked on his own as his thrusts stuttering through his own orgasm, face pinching at his brow, your breathy moans guiding him through as he pumps your pussy full, feel the warmth seep down as he eventually pulls out, his cum sliding down the inside of your thighs.

“Get in the car,” Joel instructs as he tries to catch his breath.

His silence on the ride home is deafening.

–

Joel is more stoic and pensive over the following weeks—spring is always harder on the business, or so he says, and selling overseas picks up quicker, it wasn’t something they could explain but it was a constant trend; high demand, high reward. It was quite stressful, really.

So stressful that eventually things are beginning to run thin and you become the source of stress relief for both of them—in different ways, but nonetheless.

Tommy would rather cuddle up with you on the couch while you lull him to sleep with your magic fingers, dragging through his hair—it was gentle caresses and quiet conversation that he found comfort in, but Joel was always unpredictable.

Sometimes it was just sharing a meal—his weird obsession with feeding you; providing, in a way? You couldn’t make sense of it, but it never made you feel uncomfortable.

“Have you ever gotten a bad batch?”

“We’re careful,” Joel reminds you, “It’s why we test all of ‘em before we go through the process.”

“Is that why you sent me?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

You stare at him blankly, waiting.

“Yeah—we had to make sure you’re clean.”

“But now?” You push, your tongue pressing against the underside of the fork as he brings it to your lips.

“I trust you,” Joel admits, “You’ve kept up your end of the deal.”

It was conversations like this that led to Joel’s affinity toward you, a drunken night several weeks later leading you both outside after Tommy had already fallen asleep, walking backwards as your fists curled into Joel’s shirt as his hand cupped your head, licking into your mouth as he unintentionally led you toward the barn door, both of you separating as your back hit the creaking wood.

You pull apart, peering curiously over your shoulder and attempting to look through the cracks, awaiting Joel’s reprimand that never comes.

“You wanna see inside?” He asks curiously.

“You’re fucking with me—”

“It’s a yes or no, darlin’.”

“Yes—yesyes, I do.” You spit out quickly, curiosity getting the best of you as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and snakes it into the lock, unlocking and prying the door open, met with full and complete darkness as he leads you inside, his chest close at your back.

He reaches blindly for the lights out of memory and you’re engulfed in the blaring lights of a spotless room—almost like a medical office with the array of equipment lining the walls and the long embedded tables, something reminiscent of what you would see at a mortuary for draining bodies and embalming, probably to help with the mess.

You sniff slightly, curious about the lack of smell as the door closes.

“That’s partly the animals, but we dispose of some of the shit the pigs can’t eat out behind the barn.”

“Like what?” You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide.

“Clothes, shoes—s’why we have the barrels burning every couple weeks when the stench gets too bad.” He spots your itch to explore, that glistening curiosity in your eyes as you relax at his answer, “Go on, look ‘round.”

You’re not ignorant to the absence of bodies—it was confusing to see a place so clean come from a man who always left work looking like he had brought half of it home with him.

There’s an array of knives and confusing cutting devices that you trail your fingers along, a bonesaw lying against the table lining the shelves, a stack of papers with faces and names, various info that you took a glancing look at, attempting to avoid the idea of putting names to faces and treating the people as anything other than product—it was how Joel lived, as disconnected and separate from the ideas possible.

“Usually it’s messier in here,” Joel admits, your lips parting in a surprised gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “—we can fix that, though.”

“Joel Miller,” You respond in a scandalized tone, “what exactly are you implying?”

“I’ve got a room upstairs,” Your eyes flick up, spotting the loft overhead—that would explain the long nights when you wouldn’t see him at all, his comfort with being more openly affectionate outside of sex has grown slowly, turning your head to face his over your shoulder as his gaze trails up in another silent question, “unless you’ve got another idea—m’just dyin’ to get inside of you, honey.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip in faux thought, already knowing your answer as you were brimming with excitement, resisting the urge to drag him after you.

“Yeah?” You tease, his lips pressing against your soft, kissing you soundly.

“Yeah,” He responds against your mouth, a rare moment of calm, a sweet exchange before he’s chasing after you with a swift slap to your ass.

–

It was essentially an extension of his bedroom, cozy and homey, you find yourself stretching out on the rug rather than the couch, watching as he carefully kneeled to the floor, cursing his achy knees as you giggle, spreading your legs open to invite him in.

“The things you do for me,” You joke, slowly unbutton his flannel as he yanks you towards him, knees falling against his hips as his palms grip either side of your, his thumbs rubbing against the soft skin underneath your shirt, “careful—I might think you love me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Joel replies easily, stripping your shirt over your head as your breasts bounce free, removing your jeans with the same impatience before he’s immediately latching his lips onto your breasts and lazily trading off, biting teasingly into the skin as he looks up to gauge your reaction.

If Tommy notices Joel’s evidence that he leaves, he never says anything. Perhaps it was unspoken, maybe they’ve talked it out—it was information you weren’t privy to, but you didn’t question it. He could smell his brother all over you and he was dying to rid you of it, baring his teeth as he bit into the flesh of your breast, a satisfied hum coming from you in response.

“Do you want that?” Joel asks again, “To be loved—ain’t somethin’ you’ve felt much, is it?”

Quietly, you shake your head.

“Well, you’ve got my brother by the balls,” He chuckles knowingly, “I’m sure he’d marry you if you asked—I ain’t good with words, but I can show you—”

Curious, you watch as he stands, grabbing a sharpened knife off the end table before he’s returning to you, “Somethin’ my parents passed down to me—never used, just like lookin’ at it.”

“We’re not about to Romeo and Juliet ourselves, are we?” You joke lightly, half-serious.

Joel grins wide at that, a full belly laugh following as he slices his palm with a squint of pain before he’s allowing the blood to pool in his hand as beckons you forward with a finger. You rise on your palms and stare curiously before he’s directing his hand to your mouth, lips parting wordlessly as the deep crimson hits your tongue, eyes falling shut as you sucked at the wound.

You were so accustomed to the rich, irony taste that it isn’t even a surprise, moaning as the blood slides down your throat and his fingers curl, squeezing more blood out for you to consume before he’s sliding his hand over your mouth and down your chin, stopping against your chest as he smears it with blood, one-handed as he shrugs his flannel off and rips his shirt over his head, tearing the fabric apart in strips like butter, not a sign of struggle.

He ties the fabric around his wound before he’s wordlessly handing you the knife.

“My hand?” You ask curiously.

“S’up to you,” He admits—the wordless blood trade vowing his affection toward you.

It was something far deeper than love, you think. Devotion. Loyalty.

“Wherever?” Your eyebrow raises as Joel seems to clock the moment the idea comes into your head, trailing the blade along the inside of your thigh, up your stomach, along your breasts.

Eventually the tip of the blade finds a spot against your inner thigh, Joel’s hand careful adjusting your placing as he speaks, “Careful, there’s an artery there,” Further down, you brave the initial sting and slice through the skin, watching as the blood rose to the surface and Joel quickly descends, knife clattering to the floor as he sucks the flesh between his lips, his tongue lapping against your skin.

It’s euphoric, the feeling. So intense you could descend into madness as Joel eagerly lapped up the blood, even as he pulled away going back for a second time, a third, rising with blood stained lips and the crimson liquid pooling on his tongue as he pulls you toward him, mixing the taste of his blood with your own as he kisses you, a messy exchange of fluids as you claw at his skin, rising to your knees to match him.

Silently, you work at his jeans, unbuttoning and pulling them down his lips alongside his underwear—Joel works them the rest of the way before you’re pulling the hand supporting him over you out from under him, straddling him into the rug as your cunt sat directly over his cock, feeling him grow harder underneath you, a sight to behold with blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.

“I want more,” You tell him honestly, his cock twitching at the words, reaching for the knife laying beside his head, “Can I have more?”

Joel nods wordlessly, slightly breathless.

It was a trading battle of surface wounds, just enough to spill blood but nothing deep enough to cause any damage—surely looking insane as you straddled him with a smile, blood-stained lips yearning for more. Joel has a drunken haze to his expression, committing the sight to memory as he squeezes at your hips, rutting his cock between your soaked folds.

“Enough,” He says softly, barely above a mumble as he tosses the knife aside, rolling you underneath him before he’s sliding home inside of you, a hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped at your knee, pulling it high over his hip, near his chest as he thrusts into you, a controlled but needy pace that was followed by low, pitiful groans of pleasure.

You’d broken this man.

His head was buried in your neck, your hand trailing down his back as you squeeze into the flesh of his ass, the fingers off your opposite hand carding through his hair, pulling gently at his curls.

“Got so much of me inside you now,” He breathes into your skin, “fuck—I’d eat your right up, baby.”

Despite his obvious lifestyle, your laugh is careless and light.

“Greedy,” You note, “I’ve already given you a taste and you’re asking for more?”

He doesn’t respond, not really. His hips are sharp, forceful as his cock spears itself inside of you, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of you, eyes fluttering shut as it overwhelms you.

“Take a bite,” You encourage him, “f’that’s what you want.”

A real one.

Enough to scar, to leave a permanent mark and reminder of him.

One, two—you didn’t care.

His teeth drag over your breasts, tongue trailing around your hardened nipple before he’s biting into the skin at the top of you breasts, a gasp ripping from your throat as your walls flutter around him, tightening at the pain that slowly transfers to pleasure, glancing down at the small gash and trail of teeth marks in your skin.

He’s admiring, finger running over the wound before he’s rising on his knees, continuing the thrusts of his hips but slowing as he reaches for your hand, pulling you upright again.

“You–do you want me to?” You ask cautiously, feeling the blood from your wound trail down your chest, “Are you sure?”

“Ain’t never been sure ‘bout nothin’,” Joel admits, “but—this…yeah, I want it.”

It shouldn’t make you hesitate, but it doesn’t. He isn’t emotional or forceful—it was like a plea, disguised behind his facade of stoicness. He needed this devotion just as bad as you. He needed someone to put his own trust into.

When your teeth dig into his side, he hisses, his right hand cradling your head as the other curls tightly into a fist, your face pinching up as you bite beyond the first layer of flesh and taste the liquid against your tongue.

He pulls you away eventually, looking down at you with a newfound expression.

This was love—not the lust you were used to seeing.

The rest of the evening is quiet, his pace gentler before he brings you to a slow orgasm, coming inside of you nearly seconds after with a soft moan, persistent that the wounds needed to be cleaned immediately after a few moments of rest.

He tapes it away with a gentle care after cleaning and applying an ointment to fight away any possible infection, snorting at how fatherly it all seemed, even helping you situation your top back on.

“At least we spared the rug,” You break the silence, “guess you aren’t as messy as I thought.”

“Oh, I can be,” He assures you, noticing the scabbed up bit of your lip that had become victim when he’d bit into your, biting down to silence yourself. Just a small movement and the wound reopens, completely unintentional but he sucks the blood away from your bottom lip in a soothing gesture before he kisses you soundly.

You only hoped the bliss would last.

–

Eventually, the implosion comes. But, instead of gradual—it was all at once.

Tommy’s birthday was supposed to be a quiet affair, something at home, between the three of you, not having time to celebrate during the week on his actual birthday like you had planned—but eventually Tommy finds himself antsy and Joel senses your annoyance as he keeps finding excuses to slip away or cancel. He encourages Tommy to go off on his own, leaving you both sprawled out on his bed after a rousing round of sex that leaves you both sweaty and breathless, resting your arm against his chest as you stare at him, “What’s up with him lately?”

“He’s good at acting, isn’t he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a reason he keeps to the books, you know—why I do my job alone.”

Your eyebrow raises in a silent effort to urge him to continue.

“When I’m angry, you’ll know—” That much was obvious, having been on the receiving end plenty, but Tommy—it was unnatural to see anything but his kind, bright smile.

“He’s my brother—but there’s plenty of shit you haven’t seen yet. And I think it’s unfair that he’s actin’ like things are normal, like he can keep that act up, but something’s gotta give—”

“So what, is he like…a psychopath or something?”

Joel’s silence is telling, jumping up from your spot as you settle on your knees.

“He’s a fucking psychopath?”

“No—no,” Joel excuses, your face contorting into a mix of confusion and amusement.

“You took a long time to answer that.”

“He has episodes—periods of time where he ain’t himself. I can’t explain it and my parents refused to take him to the doctor—you know, backwoods folk and all. If we had a problem we toughed it out.”

“So, he’s got anger issues?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pursed into a tight line.

“He’s killed a couple people—by accident. Least, that’s what he calls it. Tried killing me a few times, too. I’ve always been good at talking him off that ledge, thankfully. M’not trying to turn you against him but I’ve grown up around him, I know how to handle it.”

It was a lot of information to consume at once, still naked in Joel’s sheets as you adjust to sit more comfortably, a small peek at the scar near his ribcage as the sheets shift down.

“He’s lucky we do what we do—he’d probably be in jail otherwise, I’m just telling you because—“

“If it came down to me and him, you’d choose him.”

Joel pauses, his face softened as his lips downturn.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, “Let’s just hope it never comes to that.”

Truthfully, Joel wasn’t sure anymore.

After years with Tommy, he’d grown tired. It was exhausting, fighting between the battling personalities that lived within his brother.

“C’mere,” He beckons, your nose scrunching up as you grin, fitting your face between his waiting hands as he pulls you back over him, kissing you slowly.

A gentle calm before the storm.

–

The arguing is what wakes you first, not the roar of the truck, voices trailing toward the barn.

The bed is empty too, not a single remnant of Joel in sight.

But, you hear him. Loud, angry.

By the time you’re outside the barn is already closed, illuminated by the light inside as you pry the heavy door open, several underdressed with only a shirt to cover the underwear clinging tight to your skin, bare feet digging into the dirt as your feet scuff against the cement and the door falls shut behind you.

“She doesn’t need to know, Joel!” Tommy’s voice cracks, a slight slur to his speech.

He’s drunk, clearly.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy—one night and you pull this shit? It’s exactly why dad had a tight leash on your ass for so many years—”

“Need to know what?” You ask suddenly, breaking through the tension as your head peeks around the corner, both of their heads whipping toward you, Joel moving subtly to block the body that you spot on the table, eyes widening.

It had always been something you and Joel had managed together—Tommy had never shown an interest, didn’t seem to care, but this…

“I’m just tryin’ to carry my weight ‘round here—is that why you like him more?” Tommy asks suddenly, his eyes glazed over and dark as you step forward.

“I invite you into our home—give you a place to stay. I—I stuck up for you when he wanted to throw you out and you chose him? My own fuckin’ brother?”

“He’s drunk,” Joel states blankly, almost dismissive of his rant.

“No—no, let’s show it off, Joel.”

Tommy comes at you with a knife, slicing it down the middle of your shirt as you struggle against him, ripping the fabric away and showing off the healing scar on your chest.

“What happened to no attachments, Joel? No baggage?”

As Joel moves toward Tommy to remove the knife, he lunges at Joel and pushes him out of the way, leaving you with a clear view of the woman laying on the table, an eerie resemblance to yourself as your eyes widen, stepping toward the table as you glance over the body—unmoving, still. She was already too far gone, with no signs of what Tommy had actually done to her.

Your head snaps up at the brawling brothers, screaming for the attention to break through their rage, Joel burying his knee into Tommy’s back to subdue him.

“Why her?” You ask him—Tommy, looking directly at him as you point to the lifeless body.

“Get the fuck off me—” He argues through gritted teeth, attempting to shake his brother off him.

“Why—her?” You stress again, walking forward to crouch in front of him, uncaring of how your body was bared to him in your vulnerability.

“Thought I could give Joel his own version of you to play with—but she wasn’t cooperating. That what you wanna hear? I had you first—motherfucker won’t let me have a single thing to myself.”

“Let him up,” You instruct Joel, backing away slightly.

As Tommy stands, you approach him, his face tight and unrecognizable.

He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a stench of something else that made the bile in your stomach rise, “I never chose, you both had me. You would continue to have me, but this—Tommy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ lecture me, not you,” He bites.

You stare at him with a growing sadness, “You’re drunk—really, really drunk. You’re gonna sleep this off and you’ll regret everything you’re saying right now, I know it. I know you.”

Something seems to snap in Tommy—attempting to rip away from Joel as you scramble toward the floor.

Tommy gets a solid right hook in, something that, if any normal person would have delivered would have left Joel unphased, but Tommy had his advantages, similar in size and stature to Joel, it was barely a fight as Joel dropped to the ground, hitting hard enough that both of you freeze, a slow ring of blood pooling from his head as your chest clinches in a mix of anger and resentment, but your body flinging into flight mode, fleeing while Tommy has distracted by the possibility that he killed his own brother.

Unfamiliar with the place you scramble to hide, unsure if running off would help after your last try, squeezing into a closet buried in the back corner behind a pile of yard tools and mowers, watching as Tommy dropped to the ground.

You could hear him mumbling to himself—a mix of self-assuring words and back and forth conversation, as if someone was responding to every word he offered.

“He’s dead—yeah I killed him,” He mumbles, “if I—if I chop him up, chop her up. Fuck,” His head whips over his shoulder, realizing you were gone, “gotta find her—but Joel, deal with him first.”

Your eyes widen at the firsthand witnessing of exactly what Joel had admitted to you—like some kind of bad omen of what was to come, you sunk down into the darkness and hide yourself away, watching as Tommy roamed around for tools, not a moment of hesitation as he intended to follow through on his plans with Joel’s lifeless body awaiting it’s demise.

It feels wrong, tossing a bone saw aside carelessly as he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, flailing tools around wildly, a knife clattering so far away that it lands near your feet, small enough to wrap your fist around as you grab it quietly, awaiting Tommy’s approach to Joel.

Sometimes takes over, not entirely yourself as you crawl from the spot you were hidden in and lunge at Tommy, planting the knife between his shoulder blades as pressed the blade against his own brother’s neck, his blood curdling scream ripping through the barn as he dropped to his knees.

“You bitch,” He groans, shouting out in pain as you remove the knife and sink into his spine, a few seconds of struggle before he slumps to the ground, his eyes dragging toward your shaking frame, bloodied hands rubbing your hair away from your face as you stare down at Tommy’s face, his lips parting as he gasped for air but instead find blood dripping from his mouth.

You drop to your knees, the air stolen from your own lungs but for different reasons.

Both of them dead, within a matter of minutes and it was all your fault.

“Fuck, fuck–” You cry, slamming your fist into cement, but quickly startled by the rousing beside Tommy, almost blaming it on a break in your psyche before Joel is mumbling your name, pressing his fingers into his temple as blood coats his fingers, a sizeable gash on the side of his head as he sits, slowly picking apart the sight before him.

“Oh, honey—what did you do?” Joel asks, glancing down at Tommy’s lifeless body and up at you—surprisingly, there wasn’t an ounce of anger.

“He thought—he thought you were dead, he had a knife at your throat,” You rambled in a panic, “He kept saying he was going to chop you up—chop me up. I don’t know, I fucking panicked.”

Joel remains wordless, staring into the deep abyss of blood pooling on the floor.

“I’m so—I’m sorry. I’m,” The emotion is like a tidal wave, “Joel—I panicked. I swear—”

Joel grimaces against the sharp sting of pain as he reaches for your face, his blood covered hand pressing against your face, fingertips wrapping around the back of your head as he forces you to lock eyes with him.

“Look at me,” He demands, waiting until your eyes lock on him, “This is the part where you promise—and I mean promise, that you won’t fuckin’ run off.”

“No—never. Never, not,” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to blink away the thick tears, “Never again, Joel. I promise.”

“We handle this together,” He explains, “I’ll protect you but you have to say it.”

“Anything,” You nod, leaning forward on your hands to move closer to him.

“Say you’re loyal to me—that you’ll listen and do whatever I ask, without question.”

“I am—I am. Joel, I’m loyal to you. I love—I love you. I need you to know that.”

Joel sighs, head bowing.

“I would have chosen you over him. I couldn’t admit that to myself earlier, but I’m telling you now. Tommy’s always been a manipulator, I tried warnin’ you. Months ago.”

You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.

“I won’t run. I promise, Joel.” You assure him, because with Joel you felt that protection.

A silence falls before you speak again.

“What happens now?”

“You follow my lead, that’s all I need.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fanfic #joel x reader x tommy #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #my writing

224 notes · View notes

oneforthemunny · 2 days ago

Text

new year's day |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: new years eve with eddie at his boss, rick's house. based off this blurb.

contains: complete fluff. hints at smut but nothing graphic. language, drinking, mafia themes. really just sweet and fluffy.

“I feel underdressed,” You muttered, free hand smoothing down the silk material of your cocktail dress, eyeing the woman who passed you in something adjacent to a ball gown. “I think I’m underdressed, Ed. Am I underdressed? You said this would be fine-”

“-Relax, baby,” Eddie’s hand found the small of your back, rubbing the exposed skin above your back gently, leaving you shivering. “You look great. Perfect.”

Your eyes rolled in annoyance, clutching the wrapped hostess gift with your clutch in your other hand. “Yeah, but am I underdressed?” You nodded towards a woman standing by the entrance, dripped in diamonds and feathers all over her dress. “I mean, look,” You whispered, eyeing pointedly towards the woman.

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes, offering you his arm as you started up the grand staircase outside. “Baby, I promise, you’re not underdressed. Some of the women just like to go big.” Eddie muttered, brows lifting at the feathered collar that stuck around the woman’s neck, nearly going into flames when someone lit a cigarette beside her.

“Not all of them are like that, though. Just the ones who like to show out.” Eddie nodded towards the man who greeted them, accepting the two champagne flutes.

“Alright.” You sighed, posture straightening as you followed Eddie through the open doors. “‘M just nervous.”

“Don’t be. Why’re you nervous?” Eddie nearly cooed, head ducking close to yours, giving you a small grin that made your heart flutter to life.

“I don’t know. This is- This is like your boss. The big boss, or whatever- I’m just nervous.” You babbled, hand tight around the gift, nerves fluttering with every step you took into the extravagant house.

You thought Eddie’s house was large and impressive, this one made his look like a shoe box. Fountains and sculptures everywhere, candle operas by the dozen creating a warm, elegant ambiance. A string quartet set up in the middle of the spacious living room, playing softly but still it echoed off the marble flooring.

“Eddie!” You jumped at the bark of a laugh that came from behind you. “Look who finally made it. And on time? For once,” The man teased, clapping Eddie firmly on the shoulder with his free hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie snorted lightly. “How ya doin’, Rick?” You stilled at the name, frozen as you looked at the man. He didn’t look exactly like what you thought he would. Far less intimidating, happier than you expected.

“Great, just great.” Rick grinned, waving a waiter over. “C’mere, gimme a cigar for me and my boy, Eddie.” Rick plucked too large cigars off the silver serving tray, snatching the lighter. “Got these imported from Cuba last week with the, uh,” His eyes met yours, blinking. You thought you might pass out, a prickly icy tingle of fear spilling down your neck and spine.

“Well, hello there,” Rick grinned, lowering the cigar. “Where are my manners? You must be the Mrs. that Eddie is always talkin’ about.”

“Not yet,” You squeaked, forcing a giggle, fumbling with the gift and your clutch to free up your hand as you stuttered around your name. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“And you as well, my dear. I’ve heard only the best thing about you.” Rick smiled, shaking your hand gently.

You grinned shyly, eyes cutting to Eddie gently. “Thank you,” You muttered, an iron grip on your gift. “Oh! Um, this is for you. Well, you and your wife. A thank you for inviting us.”

“Look at that, huh,” Rick grinned, taking the wrapped package from your hands. “Thank you. You are too kind, sweetheart. We’re happy to have you- both of you.”

You beamed, sliding closer to Eddie, taking your champagne flute from his hand. Rick lit his cigar, passing the lighter to Eddie so he could do the same. “I’ve got to go talk to Randal for a second, but hey, you two enjoy yourselves, alright? We’ve got hors d'oeuvres being passed around right now. You know where the bar is, don’t you, Ed?”

“You wanna stay in here?” Eddie muttered, inhaling his cigar, turning the other way to blow the smoke. “Or are you hungry? I’ll see if I can find the waiters.”

“I’m good.” You nodded tightly, shoulders stiff, clutching your champagne glass as you looked around the room that was slowly filling up.

Eddie looked at you for a moment, snorting lightly. You looked painfully uncomfortable. Nervous and a little intimidated by the uncertainty of it all. “C’mon,” Eddie’s hand found your back again, stepping through the crowds of people towards a hallway. “I’ll show you around. See if I can find some food. ‘M starving, baby.”

“You want another?” Eddie muttered, his voice carrying a gravelly rasp that it only did when he’d been drinking. It made you squirm, pressing yourself closer into his side on the sofa.

“Maybe in a second.” You hummed, hand sliding over the silk material of his dress shirt, teasingly over his tummy, hand dipping just low enough that you could feel his abs clench at the teasing.

After too many champagnes and filling up on shrimp cocktail, you found yourself back in the living room with the others, pressed into a small ottoman, perched on Eddie’s knee as he smoked a cigarette. He looked irresistible, you decided, looking at him through drunken, hazy vision, bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

“What’re you doin’, baby?” Eddie grinned, lopsided and soft, looking at your through dark lashes.

“Nothin’,” You sighed sweetly, eyes batting at him. “Just looking at you. You look really pretty.”

“Pretty?” Eddie grinned, a wide smile that had your heart skipping. “You’re the pretty one, baby. Prettiest fuckin’ thing here, you know that?”

You beamed, champagne soaked giggles trilling past your lips, folding yourself forward so you could kiss him, taste the nicotine on his tongue.

Eddie pulled back too soon, leaving you huffing softly with protest. Eddie’s head craned around, looking at the others, too drunk and enthralled with their own conversations and activities to notice.

“C’mon,” Eddie muttered, patting your thigh gently. “Let’s go outside.”

“Outside?” You giggled, brows lifting in surprise. “It’s freezing.”

“I’ll keep you warm.” Eddie winked, grabbing your hand sweetly in his. “Seriously, wanna show you somethin’.”

You followed him, of course, blindly and wholeheartedly through the clouds of smoke and loud conversation, past the others smoking on the balcony, and down the stairs towards the garden.

“Where are we- Ed!- Where are you taking me?” You squealed, nearly tripping as you shuffled down the cobblestone next to him, skin covered in chills from the frigid night air.

“Just come with me.” Eddie jerked his head towards the small garden area, barren of any leaves or flowers. His hand dropped from yours, just for a moment, tugging his tux jacket off, stopping to drape it around your shoulders, hands running down your arms to lock in the warmth.

“Thank you,” You muttered, chin ducking with a swelling blush of adoration.

“Don’t want you to freeze, baby.” Eddie grinned, his arm looping around your waist, pulling you close to him. He stuck his arm out, looking at his watch under the cloudy moonlight. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes to what?” You lifted a brow. “To New Years? You brought me out here for that?”

Eddie smiled tightly, giving you a tiny shrug, hand squeezing your hip. “You’ll see.”

You scoffed lightly, still pressed into his side. “What? You couldn’t kiss me inside with the others? Are you thinking you’re going to get something more than a kiss?”

“Ooh, that sounds pretty nice, sweetheart. You offerin’?” Eddie snickered lightly. “Wasn’t why I brought you out here, but I certainly won’t stop you.”

“Why’d you bring me out here then?” Your brow furrowed, looking up at him.

“Just wait. You’ll see.” Eddie hummed, his hand rubbing down your hip, dipping towards your ass, grabbing your left cheek playfully, grinning when you squealed.

His nose moved to brush over your cheek, you could smell the whiskey on his breath still. Full lips moved to kiss your cheek, so softly you could barely feel it, other than the pricks of electricity that always came with his touch. You melted into his warmth, eyes fluttering shut, body leaning closer and closer into his chest as his lips made their way down your cheek, nipping at your jaw.

Hands clutching his jacket around you, you turned towards him, tipping your head back to catch his mouth, barely feeling his lips brush yours before you both were startled- a chorus of cheers from the house were brief before the crescendo of cracking pops of fireworks cut them off.

Eddie’s hand pressed to your back, protectively, before he looked up, the gold sparkles of the first firework catching in his eyes before the others followed. An extravagant firework show that lit up the entire sky, seemingly all around you.

Eddie grinned, looking down at you. “See? Wanted you to see this.” His voice carried over the cracks of the fireworks. “Much better view out here.”

You turned to look back at the sky, the red and gold mixing together, before more were set off. “So,” Your lips rolled into a playful purse, brow lifting when you turned back to face Eddie. “You’re not going to kiss me? No New Year's kiss?”

Eddie snorted lightly, cold hand cupping your jaw, rings icy from the night air when they touched your skin. His lips brushed over yours, breath ghosting over your face nearly teasing, before he pressed you into him, mouth sliding over yours, hand tipping your head back towards him. His tongue slipped past your teeth, hand sliding to the back of your head to pull you closer and closer into the positively sloppy kiss.

Your hands slid from the jacket, uncaring at how it moved so the cold air cut into your skin, so you could hold him, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer and closer. Eddie took a few stumbling steps back, a clumsy waltz until you found a marble fountain, pressing you against the cool stone, his hand moving towards your hips, your ass, back up to paw at your chest. A symphony of fireworks, your soundtrack to your own steamy makeout.

Eddie’s hand moved, bunching the material of your dress sloppily until he found the end, hand dipping under and towards your core. “Ed,” You squeaked, legs clamping together when his fingers brushed your core, sliding over your clothed clit. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Eddie grumbled, nose still pressed to your cheek, lips sliding over the corner of your mouth in a wet smooch. “No one’s out here.”

“You don’t know that.” You hissed, looking around, using the flash of lights from the fireworks to see. “Plus, this is your- Eddie- This is your boss’ party.”

“He won’t care.” Eddie muttered, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. “This house has definitely seen worse than two people hookin’ up.”

You shuddered at the thought, too scared to ask what he meant exactly but you had your suspicions. “Eddie,” You huffed, firmer this time, moving your hands from his collar, back to fix the jacket into place. “We can’t. Not here.”

Eddie grunted in annoyance, pulling back with a grimace that had you fighting back a giggle- nearly pouty in his expression. “C’mon, we can be qu-”

“-No,” You shook your head. “It’s your boss’ house and it’s freezing.” You clutched the jacket around you for emphasis. “Just wait until we get home. I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.” The purr in your voice had Eddie perking, eyes darkening with a dangerously, excited glint.

“You promise, huh? Shit, sweetheart, let’s just go now.” Eddie grinned, hand snaking around your waist, pulling you close to him so you were pressed together.

You rolled your eyes, lashes batting up at him sweetly. “You can’t just leave. Go say goodbye to everyone and we can go.”

Eddie groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re killin’ me, baby, you know that?” He muttered, hand still on your hip, pressing you into his side.

You both started back as the last firework erupted with a loud crack in the air, the smoke beginning to settle around you two. “Make it worth the wait, hm?” Eddie muttered as you approached the steps, taking his hand so he could steady you as you walked up them. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got in mind.”

“Hm, it’s gonna be pretty good.” You purred, matching his playful tone. “Better than that New Year’s kiss.”

“Yeah? Well, then let’s fuckin’ say bye to these people and get the fuck outta here.” Eddie laughed, squeezing your hand gently with affection as he pulled you back into the still packed house.

188 notes · View notes

strrykais · 2 days ago

Text

control alt love

40. always having a freak off

previous | masterlist | the end :) extra

authors note: i wanna take the moment and thank everyone who stuck around, joined later and who is reading long after. i enjoyed seeing your reactions, your comments and all your love for my first skz smau! i hope to continue to see y'all around. thank you seungmin for being my muse (even if you are a guy). thank you CAL, for letting me have my way with you !! this has been kai finishing out with Control Alt + Love ! :)

tags: @onlyhyunjin @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @thatshroomiegirl @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee @flaminghotyourmom @velvetmoonlght @mihoonz @jazziwritesthings @thisrandombitch @vixensss @galbiirocher @skzstannie @babrieeee @ladybeautiful18 @hyeon-yi @lknosemole @night-storm7 @spearbinnie0327 @goldenmellow @jisungs-iced-americano @charlieg1rl @seungminsteddybear @sskzlover @abbiestearsricochet @isaenme @dreamerwasfound @ihrtlix

188 notes · View notes

finalresidentevilfantasy · 2 days ago

Text

Leon who really didn’t want to participate in this secret Santa bullshit. What was the point? What if you got someone you didn’t even know or worse hated?

Leon who panics a little as he sees your name pop up on his screen. So he had to get you a gift. What to get you? He couldn’t half arse it.

Leon who’s been in love with the happy, go lucky receptionist for years. Never been sure how to tell her so settled for being good friends instead. Been there after every asshole that’s broken her heart.

Leon who watches as you decorate the office, tongue stuck out a little as you hang the mistletoe above the door.

Leon who spends weeks looking for the perfect gift. Alcohol? Too cliche. Perfume? Would he look weird if he knew what you wore everyday. Chocolate? Again cliche. A jumper? Nah. Nothing seemed right.

Leon who saw that one thing, that perfect gift. He practically skipped home to wrap it. He knew you’d love it!

Leon who bites his bottom lip nervously as the gifts are handed around the office. What if he was wrong? What if you hated it.

Leon who watched as every staff member opened their gift, scarves, jumpers, hats, chocolates, alcohol, all hiding behind paper. Only a few so far looked mildly disappointed.

Leon who opened his own gift, a bottle of vodka with a meal voucher for two. “That was me.” Amber spoke proudly as she batted her eyes at Leon, Leon gave her a forced, civil smile.

Leon who felt a little bad, Amber was nice enough, just not his type and a little pushy in her advances at times. He was hoping she’d perhaps gotten the hint after last time.

Leon who watches carefully as you undid the wrapping for yours. Curious eyes as you concluded it wasn’t clothing, nor alcohol or food. You pulled the small gift from the paper, although small it had meaning.

Leon who watched as your eyes met his instantly. Of course you knew it was from him. “This is beautiful.” You spoke as you held it up. “Thats kind of lame.” Amber scoffed and you shook your head with a smile. “No it’s perfect.”

Leon who was on his third glass of scotch when you found him. “Thank you Leon, it’s perfect.” You said as you hugged him, your scent wrapping around his senses as he cuddled you back. “How’d you know it was me?” “I just did.”

Leon who feels like he should tell her, surely right now would be a good time to say it. “Listen,” Leon started and your beautiful eyes met his own. “I feel like I should get something off my chest but I’d appreciate it if you never mention it again if you don’t like what I have to say.”

Leon whose nerves ease at your comforting smile, your hand on his bicep as you lightly squeeze in encouragement. “Look, I’ve liked you for an insanely long time and I wondered if maybe you’d want to go out to dinner? Just the two of us.”

Leon who might have made his lip bleed from nerves until your lovely voice filled his ears. “I’d love that.” You reached up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas Leon.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x female!reader #leon x reader

129 notes · View notes

thehaladrielfancollective · 3 days ago

Text

Gifts of the Valar 2024 - Masterpost

Hello!

First, we would like to thank everyone who participated in our event - we are so grateful, and so excited, to see all the new and wonderful things you created!

Second, the spirit of generosity, kindness, and positivity within our ship and our fandom as a whole that we have seen from this event is genuinely inspiring, and we hope that it will carry us well through the New Year and on to Season 3!

Now, here is the masterpost of all the wonderful gifts exchanged this year! We've included links to everything where it has been hosted (Ao3, Tumblr). We've broken it up into two main categories - canonverse and au - and organized them alphabetically, included the rating, and a brief summary/description (a line or two) about the gift itself.

Please read, enjoy, and share the love - if you find a new favorite, tell us that too!

canonverse

All Darkness Must Flee (Ao3) by @myfavouritelunatic for sleepstxtic Rating: Explicit Summary: What if Galadriel chose not to tell the Elves the truth about Sauron's identity?

Be Free of It (Ao3) by @frotu for padfootprongslet Rating: General Audiences Summary: Post-Canon, 4th Age Valinor AU. Galadriel & Sauron reunite many years after the War of the Ring.

To Burn in Cosmic Love (Ao3) by @honeyfarts666 for Frotu Rating: Teen Summary: Galadriel pines for something she cannot name... until she can.

Deceiver (Ao3) by @rebelrebelwrites for eastwynds Rating: Teen Summary: The Orcs of the Misty Mountains mistake Celebrían for her mother. Or, why Galadriel finally closes the door.

Devotion (Ao3) by @she-gave-me-three for Oroniel Rating: Teen Summary: 2nd Age AU feat. mind palace shenanigans! Galadriel accidentally reaches out to him in her sleep.

Every Heart is a Road (Ao3) by @oroniel for @smexy-balrogs Rating: Teen Summary: S2 AU. After Sauron reveals his identity, Galadriel is troubled by visions of him and struggles to regain control of the world that's collapsed around her

a greater purpose (Ao3) by Anonymous for honeyfarts666 Rating: Teen Summary: S2 AU feat. Pregnant!Galadriel decides to tell Sauron the truth, and hope that is enough to sway his course.

The Lifting of the Veil by @the1northlanderprincess for Scriberated Rating: Teen Summary: S2 Canon-divergence. Galadriel and Sauron are forced to face their feelings during the confrontation.

o'er the wasteland, a radiant relief by eastwynds for jhalya Rating: Mature Summary: 3rd Age AU. It’s Galadriel who finds the One Ring at the bottom of the river.

shades of gray by Anonymous for Mirroringdust Rating: Teen Summary: 2nd Age AU. Sauron POV; missing scene + 2x8 re-write.

Starstruck (Ao3) by @multifandumbmeg for Haladriel Rating: General Audiences Summary: Halbrand and Galadriel bonded over their love of the stars. Two souls connected by fate, ever twined despite their tumultuous path. In other words, Haladriel star-gazing oneshot.

stuck somewhere with you (Ao3) by @padfootprongslet for preludetoventure Rating: General Audiences Summary: Galadriel thinks, Halbrand pleads.

A Vision of What Could Have Been (Tumblr - Fanart) by @storiesofventure for thrillofhope Rating: General Audiences Summary: Mind-palace visions of what could have been.

What Is Left, What is Found, What is Loved by @klynnvakarian for Multifandumbmeg Rating: Teen Summary: S1 AU. Sauron confronts Galadriel, leaving her in the Glanduin, and a low man on its shores named Halbrand, with little memory of what he has been through.

White Leaves of Westerness by @haladriel for myfavouritelunatic Rating: Explicit Summary: S1 AU, time-travel fix it. Galadriel and Sauron share a cell in Númenor.

alternate universe

Bloodbound (ao3) by @scriberated for klynnvakarian Rating: Mature Summary: Monster x Monster Hunter AU. Hunter Halbrand asks Galadriel for help in dealing with his own monster.

THE DOUBTING ONE BY HEART (Ao3) by @dinosaurswant2rule for rebelrebelwrites Rating: Teen Summary: Renaissance/Medieval AU. A prisoner of her uncle Fëanor's court, a widowed Galadriel finds comfort where she can.

A gift of freedom by @jhalya for @watercolourdreamer Rating: Explicit Summary: Galadriel did not come to the city of Eregion to be hit on by a construction worker. And yet, here she is.

...keep my stone-cold heart in motion by @mirroringdust for @ichabodcranemills Rating: Teen Summary: Academic Rivals AU: teachers edition and inspired by the labyrinth quote "Fear me, love me, let me rule you - and I will be your slave."

salvation and undoing (Ao3) by @thrillofhope for gil-galadhwen Rating: Teen Summary: Arthurian legend AU, with Sorcerer!Sauron & Queen!Galadriel.

The Scale of Silver & Blood (Ao3) by @gil-galadhwen for tmwillson3 Rating: Mature Summary: The dragonkin have been an enemy of the elves for a century, yet they have managed to keep out of each other’s way, until now. When it is discovered one of the dragonkin has infiltrated Eregion to make a ring of elvish silver and dragon’s blood, King Gil-galad sends his Commander of the First Army; Galadriel, to get it back.

Shaken, Not Stirred (Ao3) by Anonymous Rating: Teen Summary: Coffeeshop AU feat. awkward Barista!Galadriel & Customer!Halbrand.

Stronger Together (Ao3) by @tmwillson3 for the1northlanderprincess Rating: General Audiences Summary: 5 Times Galadriel walked past Halbrand's house, his home not her planned destination…and 1 time it is. To save him and their friendship.

True Love's Kiss (Tumblr - Fanart) by @klynnvakarian for dinosaurswant2rule Rating: General Audiences Summary: A combination of the prompts 'True Love's Kiss' & Historical AU.

Yavanna's Garden (Fanart, tumblr) + Bonus Ficlet on (Ao3) by @anardilyas for she-gave-me-three Rating: General Audiences Summary: Halbrand desperately needs some pocket money, and with Aulë refusing to let him in the workshop again, he is forced to worn at Yavanna’s flower shop, where he meets a golden-haired elf-maiden.

#haladriel #saurondriel #fanart #fanfic #rings of power #trop #rop #rings of power fanart #rings of power fanfiction #haladriel fanfiction #haladriel fanart #galadriel x halbrand #galadriel x sauron #sauron x galadriel #rop fandom event #lord of the rings

90 notes · View notes

gyaruhana · 5 hours ago

Note

Hi Xae, have a good new year, I wanted to ask you if you could write about Kang Dae-ho (player 388) from Squid Game 2, where the reader joins Gihun's team and even though it's only been a few hours, she and Dae-ho already have chemistry and Dae-ho tells Gihun's friend how pretty the reader is, making him a little angry and calling him a fool in love, ty ❤!

-🦊

Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 - Fool in love

Synopsis: You and Dae-ho get along within the first second you meet - maybe it's meant to be?

A/N: Finally dropping this !! Dae-ho is so cutie and I love him sm

Warning: none !!

A game where death is lurking right around the corner is enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine. Especially yours. You only came here because you needed the money but you weren't confident that you'd be willing to die for it. The idea that you might die soon made you utterly afraid. You had a family that you'd most definitely like to go home to but most of the other players seemed far too keen to stay in this hell and it meant you were stuck there with them too.

On a more fortunate note, there seemed to be a previous winner amidst the hundreds of other players and you'd be damned if you didn't rely on someone who knew what he was doing. If he really was a winner, then he could predict the games. Maybe then you'd actually have a chance of getting out alive and with a lot of money.

“Hi. You're the guy from earlier who said that he played this before, right?” You ask as you stand in front of player 456. You thought maybe being his ally would make you feel better but, with the way he looked up at you, he was actually kind of scary. It's like his face had been frozen into a hard glare. Though, to be fair, he was apparently the sole survivor of the game he played so he must have suffered plenty of losses. You suppose you'd look that unhappy too if you lost people you cared about.

He gives you a nod as the other people sitting around look at you too. They looked a lot less terrifying than him which made you feel a bit better. “I was wondering if maybe I could stick with you guys? I don't really want to be on my own and, since you've played these games before, you can help, right?” you ask with a hopeful look. You were really hoping that they'd be welcoming to you.

“Mm? Who are you?” Someone suddenly speaks and, when you look towards the voice, you see a boy with food stuffed in his mouth peeking out from around the corner. His eyes briefly widen when he sees you properly before he quickly puts his food down and jumps off the bed. “Of course, you can stick with us,” he says rather eagerly as the three men behind him give him a strange look.

“Ah, really? Thank you,” you say with a nervous grin as he practically pushes you to sit down. You honestly didn't expect to be welcomed with such open arms. Actually, maybe that wasn't really a team decision but you didn't complain because now you had a team who could protect you and that you could hopefully trust.

“So, who are you?” He asks as he grabs his food from the bed before he sits down beside you with his legs crossed. He looked genuinely interested to know everything about you and it made your heartbeat a little faster. He was cute. That was for sure. So to have his eyes on you was certainly making you slightly nervous. You cleared your throat before introducing yourself as you tried to maintain eye contact with him.

He repeats your name as if testing out how it sounds when said from his own mouth. After a slight pause, he gives a slight nod of approval before speaking up again. “I'm Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho,” he says with a smile. In all honesty, he had never seen someone as pretty as you. You really captivated his attention. He felt like he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Kang Dae-ho,” you repeat quietly as you engrave the name into your mind. “That's a nice name,” you say with a small smile and he smiles too. “It's supposed to mean big tiger. Kang means big and Dae-ho means tiger,” he explains before taking a bite of his food.

“Big tiger? You don't look very big,” you say with a small smile, teasing him slightly. He swallowed down his food before responding to your comment. “Wha-? I'm big! I was a marine,” he says with a proud smirk. You look at him and down and raise an eyebrow to send a clear message that you didn't believe him one bit.

“No, I'm serious!” He says before pulling his sleeve up to reveal his tattoo. “See?” He says as he makes sure you get a good look at it. “C'mon, anyone could get that tattooed on their arm,” you say and he immediately shakes his head in denial.

“You still don't believe me? Maybe I need to show you my strength then,” he says with a small smile before throwing some gentle punches at you. You laugh at his actions as you two play fight - something that captures the attention of the other three that were sitting around. They look at you two before exchanging a glance between each other then looking away and trying to act as if you and Dae-ho aren't clearly forming some sort of chemistry right now.

The next few hours you had spent exclusively with Dae-ho talking about every little thing. You opened up to him about why you were in these games and what you had gone through and he listened so intently, it made your heart race. You swear your brain would short circuit when he looked at you with that look. When his head was tilted and his eyes said all the words he wanted to say with his mouth.

You couldn't believe you were crushing on a guy you just met. Sure, he was a good listener, funny, strong, nice, and everything else that makes someone perfect but you couldn't just fall in love with him. Hell, you're both in a game of death! One of you could die tomorrow so you really shouldn't be letting your heart race at 100 miles per hour just because he's cute.

Before the both of you knew it, there was already five minutes until lights out and you'd all have to go to sleep to have energy for tomorrow’s game. You looked over at Dae-ho before speaking up. “Dae-ho, I'll be back. I'm just going to use the restroom,” you say with a small smile. When he nods his head, you wave before walking off quickly towards the door. He watched as you knocked on it before having it opened by a guard and then promptly disappearing round the corner.

He let out a sigh before turning around and walking over to Jung-bae. You were so pretty. He honestly couldn't believe you were real. Maybe his brain had made you up as a coping mechanism? You were just so perfect in his eyes. Everything he could possibly want. God, he'd love to take you to dinner sometime when both of you get out of this place so he can give you the love and attention you deserve. He just wished that he could cover your face in kisses for hours on end and hold your hand while taking a walk together. He didn't care if it was cliche. It didn't matter because it was for you.

He finally made it to Jung-Bae and took a seat next to him quietly. He shifted slightly to rest his chin on his hand and waited for Jung-Bae to ask what was on his mind. It was quiet for a few moments as Jung-bae chose to pretend like Dae-ho definitely didn’t have anything to say about you so Dae-ho made the quick decision to let out another sigh- this time much louder to catch Jung-bae’s attention and force him to ask what's on his mind.

Jung-bae turns to look at him with slight annoyance. “What? Don't just sit there and sigh. What is it?” Jung-bae asks as Dae-ho turns to look at him with a shy smile. “She’s so pretty,” he says with his face flushed slightly red, embarrassed that he was fawning over you like this. “Huh?” Jung-bae responds, confused about what he was talking about.

“Her. She’s so pretty. She has the most amazing laugh and the cutest smile and-” Dae-ho begins to speak before receiving a smack over the back of his head making him shut up. The smile on his face drops as he looks at Jung-bae like a confused puppy.

“You're such a fool. You just met her a few hours ago,” he says as he shakes his head in disapproval. Dae-ho laughs nervously as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess.. but still. She's so perfect,” he says in poor defense.

He hears the door open and his head snaps towards it immediately. He was hoping it was you because he already missed talking to you, even if it's only been a few minutes since you left for the bathrooms. When he sees you, he quickly smiles and, if he was a dog, anyone would see his tail wagging back and forth. Jung-bae let out a sigh and shook his head like some father who was disappointed in his son.

“You're planning to ask her out, aren't you?” He says only to get an immediate response.

“absolutely,”

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #dae ho x reader #player 388

123 notes · View notes

lechrts · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii, can you do a angsty franco drabble if you haven't already ❤️

Worldwide. ✷ Franco Colapinto

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: When you and him say your final goodbyes.

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer/s: angst,,,,, i fear…… I….

Vera’s Voice! i think this came out alright… kinda boof ngl…. i’m So iffy when writing angst because i cant. HOPE I DID U JUSTICE THO!!! thank u for requesting ^_^

The airport was a blur of noise and movement, the hum of conversations blending with the echoes of overhead announcements.

But in that moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The world was moving around you, but you were frozen in place, standing in front of Franco with a heart that felt like it was being torn in two.

“You didn’t have to walk me in,” You said softly, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered at the end.

“I wanted to,” Franco replied, his voice low and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. He shifted your duffel bag from one shoulder to the other, his hands restless, unsure of what to do with them.

It was as though every movement was an attempt to keep himself grounded, to stop from falling apart.

You had known this day would come.

You had known that the distance, the different directions your lives were headed in, would pull you apart eventually.

But even so, the reality of it—the fact that this was really happening—still felt like a punch to the gut.

You both walked in silence, past the shops and through the busy crowds, heading toward the international line for the security checkpoint.

There was so much to say, but the words got stuck in your throat. Every time you opened your mouth, it felt like you were going to break.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Franco finally said, his voice soft, like he was trying to keep the sorrow hidden.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had tried so hard to prepare for this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sting of hearing him say it.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” You managed to whisper, your heart aching as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He looked at you, his gaze full of unspoken emotion, and it nearly broke you.

Franco was always the one with the answers, the one who knew how to navigate the chaos of the world.

But right now, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the same uncertainty you felt swirling in your chest.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” He said, his voice rough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the words he spoke pulling at something deep inside you. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered. “We’re just… we’re just in different places. Our lives are going in different directions, and we can’t keep pretending they’re not.”

The truth hung in the air, heavy and painful, like a weight that neither of you could escape.

Franco stopped walking, his eyes searching yours for something, anything that could change the situation. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard. So hard to let go of you.”

Your throat closed up, and you forced yourself to swallow past the lump. “I know,” You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard for me too.”

But you knew deep down that this was the right choice, even though every part of you wanted to deny it.

The love between you was undeniable, it had always been there, but it wasn’t enough anymore. The timing was wrong.

The distance—both physical and emotional—was too much to overcome.

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” He said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment.

“But I will.” You said quickly, stepping closer to him. You reached out, brushing your fingers over his arm. “This was never about you holding me back. You’ve always supported me, even when it was hard.”

“But it’s not fair,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve someone who can be there for you all the time, not just when I have a few days off. You deserve someone who doesn’t disappear for months at a time.”

The lump in your throat grew, threatening to swallow you whole. “And you deserve someone who won’t make you feel guilty for chasing your dreams, Franco. You’re doing something amazing with your life.”

He reached for your hand then, his fingers brushing against yours, as if he was trying to hold on to you, to something that felt real before it slipped through his fingers.

He stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a goodbye full of false promises.

It was soft, slow, and devastating.

It was filled with every ounce of love you still had for each other, with all the things you wished you could have said but didn’t have the words for.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breathing uneven. “You’ll always mean everything to me,” He whispered.

You nodded, your hands clinging to his jacket as if letting go would make it all too real. “And you to me.”

He stepped back then, his hands slipping out of yours, and the absence of his touch felt like a piece of you had been torn away.

“So, this is it?” You ask. Tears welling in your eyes as he handed over your bag.

“This is it.” His voice confirmed although it sounded like he didn’t want to say it. His eyes were glued to you before he glanced up and gazed at the security line awaiting you.

“You should go.” He finally said. The tears in his eyes now falling.

“Yeah.” You nod, your lips trembling.

“I love you,” He whispered, the words so quiet, so raw, they felt like they were tearing him apart.

“I love you too,” You said, tears finally slipping from your eyes. It was a confession you’d known for so long, a truth you had carried with you through everything.

And with those words, he nodded and briefly smiled to himself before he looked at you again and watched you walk off.

Your figure grew smaller with every step.

He stayed rooted to his spot, your hands gripping your bag, as if that could somehow hold you together.

When you reached the line, you glanced back one last time. His eyes met yours across the distance, and even from afar, you could see the tears glistening in them.

And then he turned.

You knew this was the right decision, the logical choice.

But logic didn’t make it hurt any less.

Loving him had been the greatest thing you’d ever known.

Letting him go was the hardest.

And as you walked toward your gate, alone, the only thing you could do was hope that someday, somehow, your paths would cross again.

But that was sadly, not aligned for the foreseeable future.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and just lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-vfx

62 notes · View notes

wroetominter · 22 hours ago

Text

Close - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and a really shit bet makes them get even closer.

Pairing: George Clarke X FemReader

Warnings: none

———

The YouTube friend groups were always a bit odd weren’t they. A few people who just got along well would end up filming together consistently to the point where it was almost weird to see them filming alone. I had ended up in a weird mix of people. I occasionally filmed with larger group settings for challenge videos, or adventures but mainly stuck with my core group. This consisted of ArthurTV, Arthur Hill, ChrisMD, George Clarke, and Italian Bach.

We had found each other through mutual friends on TikTok, finding we made similar content so it just sort of worked out. I didn’t fully anticipate becoming such good friends with them, though.

I had moved into the same apartment complex as Chris, Arthur Hill, and George a few months back, and since then it had become quite the regular occurrence for us all to hang out together and watch movies, play games, or even just have dinner together.

I found myself most friendly with George. We sort of just understood each other. We had similar personalities and humor, so we got along the best in the group. He would come around to my flat more often than anything, mainly to escape the chaos that was sometimes their flat.

Today for instance, I was in my kitchen, making myself some breakfast when there was a knock at my door.

Walking towards the noise, I was met by George standing there with a mug in his hand and his laptop tucked under his arm.

“D’ya mind if I edit here? Chris is recording a voice over and I can’t even hear myself think.” George asked, looking incredibly annoyed at the shorter boy.

“Don’t mind at all, make yourself at home. Do you want some toast?” I asked him, figuring it was rude to eat in front of my new guest.

“Nah I’m alright thanks. Just ate.” We sat together at my kitchen island in a comfortable silence, both focused on our own things.

Nearly an hour later, I felt my back aching from the way I was sitting.

“I’m moving to the couch, my back is killing me. Care to join?” I asked him.

He simply nodded and I already made my way to my sofa, stretching my arms above my head and maneuvering around until I could feel some of my muscles relaxing.

I felt George’s hands on my shoulders, thumbs working their way into a few knots at the base of my neck. I welcomed the kind gesture, humming at the way it was unwinding my knots.

“You’re a lifesaver George. What would I do without you?” I asked.

“Be really tense probably.” I laughed at his joke.

—

A few days later, sprawled out on the couch in the boys flat we all were watching one of the lord of the rings movies. By watching, I did mean I was trying really desperately not to fall asleep.

“I just don’t understand the appeal of this movie series” I commented aloud, being met with nothing but “shhh!” From Arthur and Chris who were sat on the opposite side of the couch from me.

George patted my legs that were laid across his lap, grabbing my attention.

“I don’t get it either. Falling asleep to be honest.” He mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. I decided to take him up on that offer, and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, scooting to the side on the couch and patting the space beside me. George gladly occupied the space and I threw the blanket over us, snuggling in to get some sleep.

“Fucking wankers, honestly both of them. Can’t even stay up for one of the greatest movies of all time.” I was woken up by Arthur shouting at George and I.

“If by greatest you mean greatest lullaby, then yes Arthur it’s a smash.” I grumbled, trying to get myself to fall back asleep. George’s chest moved beneath my head as he laughed at my joke. A pillow was then thrown at us. We just moved it and continued our slumber.

—

Going out for the evening usually meant George and I babysitting the boys. I wasn’t too heavy of a drinker, usually enjoying only one or two drinks, and we were all aware that George was just an incredibly tolerant individual when it came to his drinks.

The other boys? Not so much.

We had been to two pubs thus far on our journey through London, and both of the Arthur’s were already pissed from about 3 drinks each.

“How many drinks do you reckon they’ll be able to get down them?” George asked me, lazily throwing his arm over my shoulders.

I instinctively snuggled into him, noting the soft smell of his cologne.

“I bet 4 more each and they’re gone.” I said. George stuck his hand out to me.

“I’ll take that bet. I think they’ll only need three more.”

“What are we betting?” I asked him.

“Ah I don’t know, we’ll think of something later. Maybe loser has to make dinner or something.” He suggested.

I watched as the boys necked drink after drink, and unfortunately for myself, Arthur Hill threw up in a bush on our way home after having only three additional drinks. ArthurTV did me justice however and kept himself together decently, although he was stumbling like crazy around the streets.

“Are you sure you’ll make it alright?” I asked ArthurTV for a third time as he booked himself an Uber back to his flat.

“M’fine. Bach is going to make sure I get home safely.” I gave him a quick hug goodbye and followed Arthur and George into our building.

Arthur was slumped over George’s shoulder, stumbling like crazy.

“How are you this drunk?” George asked him.

“Had a few secret shots. Shhhh don’t tell Y/n!” He said, completely oblivious to the fact that I was in fact, in the hallway with them.

“I’m going to put him to bed. Do you want to watch anything together or are you off to bed?” George asked me. I peered at the time, it was only 11:30pm, and I had had some caffeine. I was good to stay awake quite some time longer.

“We can continue watching that cooking show if you like?” He nodded.

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll see you there in a few.”

I made my way to my flat, leaving the door unlocked for when George made it over.

I changed into some pajama pants and a loose tshirt, getting my makeup off and face washed for a cozy night on the sofa.

I made some popcorn, putting it into a bowl when George entered the flat.

“Did you want to watch in here or in the bedroom?” He asked. I pondered this for a minute. The tv in my room was better, and I would probably be much comfier in bed.

“Let’s do bed, then if I crash we don’t have to move.” I brought the popcorn with, grabbing some extra throw pillows and making us a good spot to rest our backs.

George lifted his arm, letting me cuddle into him as he flicked the remote to the cooking show we had been watching together.

About half way into the episode, George paused the show, moving the now empty bowl to the side.

I looked up to him inquisitively, only to find him already looking at me.

“Do I have popcorn on my face?” I asked, feeling a little silly if I did.

“I didn’t get to cash in on my bet win earlier.” He responded.

I tilted my head “go on then, what do you want?”

He paused for a minute, then reached his hand out, caressing the side of my face. He leaned forward, closing the small gap between us and kissing me.

It’s not that I hadn’t ever thought about George this way, I mean, being best friends with someone this attractive you’re bound to have some thoughts here and there. I just didn’t know he felt them too.

We pulled back for air, and I saw a cheesy smile creeping across George’s lips.

“What?” I laughed with him, smiling back at him.

“Didn’t expect you to kiss me back to be honest. I’m just really relieved you did.”

“Of course I’d kiss you back. I’d be stupid not to wouldn’t I?”

“I think I’d be the stupid one if I waited any longer to make a move on you.” I laughed and snugged closer to him, pressing a few more kisses to his lips.

“I think you made the right choice.”

#wroetominterimagines #george clarke #george clarkeey #george clarkey #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #arthur hill #chrismd #imagine

54 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 1 day ago

Note

It feels so exhausting to be on this app sometimes because some queer people genuinely are incapable of looking at anything with even an ounce of nuance and take everything that doesn’t personally align with their experience or their knowledge and immediately assume it’s in bad faith and therefore deserving of ridiculous amounts of ridicule. You can come on here and go “hey as an *insert identity here* person this has been my experience” and someone else will go “well I’m *insert different identity here* and this hasn’t been MY experience therefore you’re lying and I get to be mean to you”. It just feels like a lot of queer people online cannot fathom that the universe doesn’t revolve around their specific queer experience and that people are inherently diverse and different! This also leads me to the ignorance portion of this. It seems all too often that queer people with a level of ignorance to something (which we all have no one’s all knowing or perfect!) will see an identity or term they’ve never heard before and will go “hm… well *i* was told that a lesbian is exclusively a woman who exclusively likes women so therefore you identifying as a male lesbian or other complex lesbian identity HAS to be in bad faith and I get to tell you that you’re undeniably wrong” instead of simply asking what this identity means to this person or where they can learn more. it’s like no one cares to listen to anyone anymore and everyone is so stuck in their own ideas of what queer identities are supposed to be that they’ve created their own rules for us and it’s exhausting. I’m sorry if this is long winded or hard to understand I’m very tired.

it's genuinely extremely exhausting, i agree with you 100%

it's why i've had to tell people that they're not the protagonist of whatever communities and situations they're in. i can't describe it in any other fashion than so many people believe they're the protagonist, or the owner, or the CEO of the spaces they want to occupy. holier than thou sort of nonsense. people who engage in this behavior really are treating those around them like NPCs who have no thoughts or feelings. it's one thing to suggest something, and another to tell. people are genuinely opposed to seeing others' ways of thinking because they're convinced this is their world and we're just living in it.

honestly, it reminds me of the 2000's when a lot of goths were obsessed with calling newbie and mall goths "posers". it feels the exact same way. people online are treating queerness as an exclusive club where you have to hit all the checkmarks or you're a poser. people are missing the point that it's open to all experiences. people are focusing on a definition a given term has and making it as exclusive as possible to weed out the posers. i swear, maybe if we change our verbiage to something more petty, people will finally understand just how petty this behavior really is.

anyways, i hope this behavior clears up soon because it's exhausting and pointless. if people want to create exclusive clubs, they can easily do that... with their own terms. i don't know why people choose to occupy spaces that don't suit their needs like this. create your own spaces that don't involve fighting with the vast majority of its occupants. thanks for stopping by, take care

#asks #answers #community meta #community

62 notes · View notes

lunaetis · 12 hours ago

Text

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2025 !!

there were so many things that happened this year. so many changes throughout the entire year that were both good and bad. 2024 was honestly quite a rough year for me, physically and mentally. but for everyone who had stuck around with me throughout it all, thank you so much for being a part of my 2024 going onto 2025. i cannot tell you enough how much coming online and to this blog wouldn't be as wonderful an experience without all of you. my friends, my mutuals, and everyone i had met and had the pleasure to talk to and write with, or even those who i never get a chance to interact with yet, i genuinely am grateful for your presence.

whether we have followed each other for years, or have just become mutual recently, bless you for deeming me deserving of a space on your dash by clicking that follow button and thank you so much for making mine an absolutely amazing one. i'm very sorry if i had done something to upset any of you during the past year. i'll do my best to be better. i want to reach out more. i want to talk to more people, interact with more people, write with as many of you as i possibly could. i really appreciate all your patience and understanding despite my sporadic activity.

a special thank you for those who let me bother your muses with the space raccoon, and to those who let me throw yinyue at them despite knowing nothing about wuwa. with rin being the newest addition to my fixation, i do hope i'd get a chance to explore her and more dynamics with our muses in the upcoming year !

with that said, i wish you all a great year ahead ! please stay safe, stay healthy, be happy, and remain the most beautiful and amazing individuals that you all are ! thank you for sticking with this awkward pupper who endlessly yap about her muses and biting. goodbye to 2024 and here's to a better year for all of us in 2025 ! pupper loves you all dearly ! HAPPY NEW YEAR !! 2025 HERE WE COME !!

#.ooc #[ a little less than 4 hours until new year #so let me be sappy & drop this on the dash #THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE & FOR TOLERATING ALL THE MENACING TROUBLES FROM THE SPACE RACCOON #AND MY OTHER MUSES AS WELL #PUPPER LOVES LOVES LOVES YOU ALL DEARLY !!#LET'S DO OUR BEST NEXT YEAR AS WELL !! ]

48 notes · View notes

try-set-me-on-fire · 2 days ago

Text

Tagged by @iinryer @butchdiaz and @eddiebabygirldiaz to do a 2024 year end fic round up! 125,710 words over 26 fics… damn… at least one fic a month and now I desperately want to try and finish something in the next few days so I dont break that streak for December… we’ll see… okay here we go! Thank you to everyone who’s read anything of mine, I had a lot of fun writing and I hope you had fun reading!

January

I got love to give, and give and give 1,638 words, rated T, melancholy and fluff, Hen and Buck bestieism

“What’s up with you, Buckaroo?” She laughs, poking his silly cheek.

“I love you,” he says, so sweet, looking even happier just to say it. “So much, Hen. Do- did you know it?”

“Yes,” she says, laugh still in her voice but chest a little tighter. “I know it, Buck.”

He drops his cheek to her shoulder, and then turns his head quick to kiss the spot. “Good. You’re the best. You should know it, a- a hundred- a thousand percent.”

—

Hen thinks about Buck at a party

the more we move ahead the more we’re stuck in rewind 4,278 words, rated T, the Buckley’s bad parenting

Bobby frowns at his phone, then leans over to show the screen to Buck. “May keeps sending me these memes,” he says the word wrong, and it makes Buck’s eyes sting for some reason. “And I just don’t understand what on earth this is supposed to mean.”

Buck coughs, mostly to cover up for the way his eyes are watery, and blinks at the screen. He doesn’t know how to say thank you, for any of it, but maybe he can at least figure this out.

—

After the factory fire, Buck’s parents show up at the station. It goes poorly. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: backhand slap.

only the best will do 801 words, rated G, silly wedding fluff

Buck gets a little intense about wedding planning. Chimney hides in the kitchen. Eddie is a man in love.

February

and I know I should go but I’ll probably stay 2,535 words, rated T, buddie hurt comfort

It’s unpleasant, enough that Buck screws his eyes shut and breathes and tries to pretend he’s someplace else. Chris is at the Wilson’s tonight, it’s their turn in the rotating childcare-for-date-night agreement that Hen seemed to have been eagerly waiting to sign them up for. It had been the third thing she said when they got together, right after congratulations and I’m so happy for you. Anyway, they’re going to go sit down at the Thai food place they usually only have the time and energy to order from home. It’ll be nice. Three months in and Buck still gets all giddy when Eddie holds his hand out in public. Or anywhere, really. He could slide their fingers together at the bottom of this stupid pit and Buck would feel all fluttery and starry eyed.

—

Buck and Eddie are both hurt on the job and a choice has to be made. Written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo square “Take Me Instead”

won’t you close your weary eyes 3,714 words, rated T, Buck and Bobby hurt comfort, parental feelings

Bobby doesn’t actually hear the warning shout. Or- it’s possible that he did, in the moment, but he has no memory of the sound. Just Buck, 20 or so feet away, turning towards him mid conversation with a look of horror on his face, mouth open around an unheard word, arm moving slow motion up in what he's sure is a frantic wave. He does hear the sound of impact, an almost comical series of hollow metallic bonks. They'll all laugh about this later, he thinks on the way down. Bunch of pipes dropping on the fire Captain's head. Pretty sure he saw that on looney toons.

—

Bobby gets a concussion and Buck stays with him. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: concussion.

March

the going water and the gone 31,547 words, rated T, cruise ship spec, Eddie missing presumed dead, angst with a happy ending

It doesn’t take long for Buck to be cleared to leave. He’s given antibiotics for the water he swallowed, a handful of bandages to cover shallow wounds, and instructions to take it easy. Horror clenches in his stomach. Eddie is gone and he gets off with Advil and a nap.

—

Eddie is missing presumed dead after the cruise ship sinks, Buck tries to keep his promises

I’d shine up the old brown shoes, I’d put on a brand-new shirt 3,565 words, rated T, friends with benefits buck/natalia, Eddie and Buck feelings realization through giving Chris dating advice

“No, I need, like-“ Eddie sighs so hard it almost sounds like static. “I need… guy help. Will you just come over?”

“Are you-” Buck turns away from Natalia and kind of hunches over the phone, making his voice quieter. “Are you having a penis problem?”

“What?” Buck’s never heard Eddie that high pitched. Loud, too, enough that Buck yanks the phone away from his ear and Natalia snorts with barely contained laughter behind him. When he brings the phone back in, Eddie is making a lot of blustery sounds, which Buck waits out until he finds words again. “Wh- No! No, I don’t have- I’m not having a ‘penis problem,’ Buck!”

Buck shrugs at the air in front of him. “Okay, Eddie, you’re the one who’s hiding in a bathroom and said you needed my ‘guy help,’ what was th-”

“Oh my god, Buck, I need relationship advice, okay!”

—

Chris is going on his first date. Eddie calls Buck for backup.

what useless tools ourselves 4,905 words, rated G, Buck in the hours after Eddie’s s5 breakdown

After Eddie chokes out what he can of a tragedy nearly a decade in the making, and after they go together to make sure Christopher is okay — the kid's eyes are wide where they meet Buck's over his father's shoulder, Eddie still trembling as he holds him — they sit back down at the kitchen table and Buck cleans Eddie's knuckles.

—

Buck, between the breakdown and dawn. Written for the BTHB prompt bloody knuckles.

April

when we’re barely awake in the heat of the day’s weight 1,037 words, rated M, buck/tommy early relationship tenderness

“You okay?” The man asks, voice rough with sleep though not too loud even with his mouth maybe three inches from Buck’s ear. He’s so soft. All his hard edges and he’s just so soft.

“Yeah,” Buck half-whispers, relaxing into him. “Sorry. It’s just, uh- been awhile since I woke up someplace new.” He hadn’t been paying much attention to ceiling texture when they’d stumbled to bed last night, either. It matches what little glimpses he had been paying attention to in Tommy’s charmingly vintage apartment. Brick exterior. Funny orange tiles in the kitchen. “Think it might have been since, uh…” Shit. He’d been to Natalia’s once for just a few minutes because she had an ornery roommate, and Taylor always came to his. Ali found him the loft specifically to have a nice place to wake up in after fucking. “Uh, Abby, maybe.”

—

Buck wakes up at Tommy’s place and they have a conversation about taking up space

you’ve got too much to wear on your sleeve 4,136 words, rated G, buck/tommy hurt comfort

“Uh, sorry.” He stares down at Eddie’s shoes. “I just think I’m- I’m kind of scared.” He eventually understood, intellectually, why Ali left him. It was a lot. She didn’t really get the scope of what she was signing up for. His leg had turned something fun and casual into something suddenly dead fucking serious. So, yeah, he understood, but he’s not sure until this moment that he really, actually understood. Tommy’s down that hall somewhere, and he got hurt at his job which is dangerous, and Buck is wondering how awful it would be to flee back through all the hallways and out of Pasadena to parts of the city he knows better, and go and find a nice safe girl with a nice safe job so his chest won’t ever feel like this. Or, only feel like this sometimes, with Eddie or Hen and Chimney and Bobby, or Maddie, people who he’s already seen bleed so he knows they can do it.

—

Tommy’s helicopter goes down. Buck fixes the station AC unit.

If you go down to Hammond you’ll never come back 1,339 words, rated G, early relationship buck/tommy fluff, madney wedding spec but more like madney wedding au really, prophetic daddy joke

“Oh, uh.” Eddie shrugs, stretches. “You know. Buck. It’s kind of… who he’s become, who he’s proud of being. I guess, I mean- we haven’t talked about it specifically. But yeah, I think… it’s like the turnouts, you put them on, feel good about who you are in them. And it’s the name he’s used ever since he came here, it’s- neat. Like, a clean break from when he… was young, and alone.” He shrugs again, smiles a little. “His friends call him Buck.”

Tommy’s thumb slips in the condensation on his glass. “Should I-”

“No.” Eddie’s voice is very soft. “I think… for most of his life only Maddie ever said ‘Evan’ and meant ‘I’m happy to see you.’ I think… it’s good, that he has that with you.”

Tommy just- tries to remember how to breathe normally for a second. “I am,” he says. “Happy to see him.” A funny, shaky little joy in his stomach every single time he looks up and sees Evan Buckley.

—

Eddie and Tommy talk at the wedding

May

that makes calamity of so long life 1901 words, rated T, buck/tommy fluff and angst, tragic backstories

The afternoon sun sneaking through the curtain lights him right up, glowing in his curls and against his cheek like the air itself can’t help but touch him. It makes Tommy feel kind of out of breath, kind of out of his depth. “Sometimes I think I must have made you up," he says, because the walls aren't melting but this still feels like a dream.

“I was.” Buck says it softly, and then blinks, like the words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch them. “Made up,” he says, a clarification that doesn’t make anything clearer.

—

Tommy learns about Daniel, and thinks about life and safety and caring about things

Autolysis 5,607 words, rated T, Bobby Nash goes in the blender, parental feelings, guilt grief and depression, food as a metaphor for love and what happens when you dont have enough of either

Buck dies, and he’s cold right away. They all are, this isn’t the kind of summer storm where the rain is almost warm. It’s freezing out here, even under all the layers of their gear. Bobby’s sure his own skin is corpse-cool, but he holds Buck and the harness pulls him stiff in his arms, and his body is cold, and he thinks Wait. It’s happening too fast. Wait. He’s dead, and Bobby lays him carefully on the gurney, and he rides up front with Eddie as they tear through the streets towards the hospital, frantic noise and movement reaching them from the back. He’s dead when they pull up to the doors. The human body begins to decay after four minutes, starts to consume itself, the final hunger. Bobby hears the crack of his sternum when Eddie’s palms press so far into his chest his heart starts to beat again. 43 seconds to spare.

Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: make it look like an accident

June

big heart, I wanna let it bleed 2,106 words, rated G, buck joins the team a little younger au, buck and Bobby feels

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well.

July

I know the words, I know the sounds 2,147 words, rated G, buck/tommy breakup because one of them realizes their best friend they’ve been in love with forever is suddenly an option, oops wrong best friend

“I’ll step on your toes,” Buck warns, turning fully towards him and vaguely holding up his hands for Eddie to do whatever it is that needs to happen to make the dancing start.

Eddie snorts, moves one of Buck’s hands to his shoulder and holds the other, and taps his shiny dress shoe very gently into Buck’s big toe. “Do your worst.”

—

Buck and Eddie dance at Tommy’s wedding

and the air was full 397 words, rated G, storm chasers au

There’s a crack in the sky, lightning glowing white hot across his field of vision, and it’s behind Buck but somehow his eyes are lit up with it. The thunder comes less than a second later.

buff in, fan dry, wash out 1,758 words, rated G, art student au, Buck and Shannon are friends and that makes his crush on her recently divorced husband kind of awkward

The old drawing — something abstract, all bold sweeping lines — slowly disappears as it wears away and gets covered by sludge. He always feels a little guilty, getting rid of somebody’s work like this. A little inadequate, trying to come up with something good enough to replace it.

—

Eddie stops by the printmaking studio as Buck and Shannon work

August

get out of the waves get out of the water 1,856 words, rated T, Eddie pov of going water and the gone

Eddie’s foot slides out from under him and his first thought is Oh shit, sorry. He’ll find that funny, eventually.

—

Lost at sea, Eddie dreams

Autobiography 13,152 words, rated M, Buck’s turn in the blender, unreliable narrator but its hardly his fault no one tells him anything about his own life, depression and suicidal tendencies, past assault, pet death that may or may not have happened, 😬, also a twine game

A dog runs into the street after a ball and gets hit by a car.

September

every moment points towards the aftermath 1,755 words, rated G, friends at the table crossover/au but you dont need to know the podcast to read but also you should listen to the podcast, they’re wrestlers, they live in New Jersey but it’s Weird

For awhile, in the beginning, every time Eddie meets Buck the other man has blood in his teeth.

October

should we talk about the weather 20,059 words, rated M, au where some people are drift compatible but without the giant robots, madney fluff and buddie angst and hen + chim bestieism

And then, in Los Angeles, 2018, Eddie had met Buck. Then, huddled over a man with a bomb in his leg, Eddie had needed gauze and Buck’s hand had moved. Then, in the parking lot bathed in the light of an ambulance on fire, Buck had inhaled and Eddie's lungs expanded. And, well, that was that.

cut through the knot 9,924 words, rated M, oh boy Bobby is in the blender again, the whole thing is a therapy session with Frank, long list of content warnings on this one I’ll just leave them on ao3, did you know i love that guy. i love that old man. sorry Bobby that i keep doing this to you

“I’ve been doing fine lately.”

“I’m glad. That’s not what I asked.”

Bobby frowns at Frank, who’s sitting as relaxed and neutral as he always is. “You’re a therapist. Don’t you need to know my… current mental state, something like that?”

“Sure,” Frank smiles just the tiniest bit. Bobby doesn’t know if that means he’s succeeded or failed at something. “But I asked: why are you here?”

—

Bobby goes to therapy. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: self harm

right here with you 1,112 words, rated G, the 118 basically in a cuddle pile as penance for what I put Bobby through in the last one

Bobby’s not convinced it wasn’t a stumble — he’s pretty sure he saw a kind of panicked look on Chimney’s face between the whirling limbs — but Buck lands on the couch somehow. There’s a lot of cushion space unoccupied, but he ends up half on top of Bobby, sort of sideways, sort of leaning against Bobby’s chest. He twists his head this way and that until he finds an angle that’s not too sore to look up at him. His grin is big and goofy, eyes a little vacant in the way that comes with strong painkillers, and Bobby laughs down at him.

—

The 118 recuperate after a rough day. Written for the bad things happen bingo prompt: cry into chest

November

3 new short fics in the all my life, there you go series

Family 1,211 words, 118 family feels, new buddie, Eddie and Maddie friendship

Phone calls 1,938 words, Eddie calls Buck drunk from wine night and confesses his love

Hand kisses 1,022 words, angst, Eddie’s moved to Texas and is centimeters from a big gay realization but is already trying to marry Buck anyway

Phew!!! We got through it! Hello down here! @colonoscopys @wildehacked @shitouttabuck @bigfootsmom @devirnis @chronicowboy @gayeddieagenda @homerforsure @ anyone who’s tagged me or I’ve tagged and who’s urls I’m forgetting, anyone who sees this and wants to brag, you dear reader, please share your stuff if you wanna!

#long post #sorry i didnt know where to put a readmore so youre just gonna have to scroll #my writing #tag games #gosh…. I did a lot huh…#theres some good shit in here if i do say so myself

50 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 hours ago

Text

The Gray Woman 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn’t help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Just the wine, thanks,” you tap your card on the edge of the lane counter mindlessly. The cashier rings through your single bottle and sends it down the next conveyor. You tap and the machine chirps. “Have a good day.”

You take your receipt as the woman on the other side of the counter greets her next customer. You do your best to make yourself as little as a nuisance as you can when you switch roles. It saves everyone a whole lot of trouble.

You go to grab your wine but it’s plucked up beyond your grasp. You keep your arm outstretched before you recoil it, staring at the stranger as he reads the label. You swallow and take a breath. You don’t have a window between you or a security button on a desk. It’s different when you’re out in the world. More dangerous, less orderly.

“Excuse me, may I have my wine?” You ask flatly.

The man clucks and tilts his head to look at you. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and smirks, turning to face you completely. He keeps the wine in his hand. His bristly mustache slants in amusement.

“Let’s try again. ‘Mr. Hansen, may I have my wine?’” He outlines the words with a flutter of fingers.

You squint and shake your head. “Do I know you?”

His lips part as he stammers, “uh, yeah? You—from the bank—Jesus. Doesn’t matter.”

You nod warily and reach for the bottle. You wrap your hand around the narrow neck but he refuses to let go. Instead, he steps back, drawing you with him as the next customer comes down the lane. You cling to your middle shelf purchase.

“I know you fucking remember me. You’re just trying to piss me off because Ronnie isn’t here to lay down the law. Trust me, I can do it myself, sweat pea.”

He glares down at you. He sure has a lot of anger. You’re not entirely sure what you did to him. Working with peoples’ money is not easy, for either party. It’s such a sensitive subject as it is. Still, you don’t remember doing anything so egregious as to earn the spite creasing between his brows.

“Alright,” you pull on the bottle again. “I just... I can’t remember. Honest.”

He grips the bottle even tight. His large hand easily clings to the full belly. You sigh and let go.

“Fine, it’s cheap wine anyway,” you shrug. You’re growing uneasy with this man. Not only is he aggressive but he’s much bigger than you.

You let go and spin, striding away as you shake of your disappointment and the trickle of nerves. As the automatic door slides open at your approach, you hear a pursuit. You’re not sure if it’s him but you refuse to look back. You only speed up.

“Hey, I don’t want your fucking wine,” he catches up to you as you come outside.

You don’t stop. You step off the curb and keep your head straight. You deal with the erratic passengers on the subway, you can handle some stuck-up jerk made about a bank fee.

“Would you stop? Hey, I’m trying to have a conversation here,” he huffs. You keep going. “Hey!” He grabs your arm and reels you back to face him, standing just behind a parked car. “Do I need to show my ID to have a fucking chat?”

You blink at him and scour your mind. Mustache, demanding, intolerable. You think you remember now. He’s the one who refuse to show his ID. You glance back at the grocery marquee and your lips thin. As a black card holder, you don’t expect him to be shopping at a bargain grocery.

“Can I help you?” You face him.

His cheek twitches, “relax, darling, we’re not at the fucking bank.”

You consider him, eyes darting as you search for some sense in all of this, “uh huh. So...”

“Do you just not turn it off or are you really a bitch?” He sneers.

You shrug, “guess I'm a bitch.”

You look at his hand on your arm and yank away. You once more turn to strut off and he snorts. Once more, he has your wrist but you try to ignore him. Try to snatch it free as you refuse to turn back. He’s too strong.

For as long as you’ve had the canister in your purse, you don’t relish using it. You wonder if it’s expired. You reach into your open purse, dangling by your hip and turn. Before can speak, you raise the nozzle at him and press down. The coyote spray scours his eyes and he recoils.

The bottle of wine smashes at his feet and the staggers, stomping as he wipes his eyes desperately. He whines and wheezes, coughing through the cloud of spray. You back up to keep free of it. You allow a single second to mourn the pinot then scurry away. His anguished moans fade away as you dip around another car.

You head down to the subway and wait on the ramp, looking back and forth over your shoulders. You’re certain he didn’t follow you, that he couldn’t see enough to do so, but still, you’re addled. The city isn’t the place to take chances.

All you wanted was a drink or too. You planned on nursing that bottle over a few nights. The bank’s been so hectic, just the thought of getting up to go back has been keeping you awake. Well, a few chapters of your latest read will put you to sleep.

You board and find a seat near the doors. You make yourself as small as you can as you hug your purse. You’re agitated. You can smell the spray on your fingers. What an asshole. He didn’t just waste your wine, he ruined your night.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #the gray man #the gray woman #drabble

49 notes · View notes

nekomasmngr · 2 days ago

Text

a love to keep me warm

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ kageyama tobio x fem!reader ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

✦ synopsis : you find yourself stuck in the last place you wanted to be for Christmas and think it’s better to hole yourself up in your dorm, throwing your own pity party for the holiday. turns out, kageyama tobio was the plot twist in your lonely holiday that you needed. ⋆⁺₊❅.

✦ contents : smidge of angst but happy ending, cursing (right at the beginning), little awkward tobio with a crush, maybe some very cheesy writing of loser/s falling in love — WC : 4k

✦ author notes : written for @hiraethwrote, merry merry christmas, hea!! i hope you're enjoying your holidays so far!! and im so so sorry this was a tad bit late, (although at the moment, it's still the 29th somewhere in the world <3); in collaboration with “hq x reader secret santa” hosted by the amazing, wonderful, inspiring @lale-txt; i really enjoyed participating in this and loved being around/part of a community of more x reader lovers, thank you for making this last quarter of the year feel a little less lonelier than usual, so by extension, this piece is also dedicated to anyone who found themselves feeling lonely this year, but shouldn't be. i see you and am sending all the virtual hugs, love, and care to you. i wish only for this new year will treat you better and bring people who deserve your energy to stick by your side until the next christmas. <3 p.s. this was barelllyyyy proofread so i apologize for the grammar mistakes, run on sentences, and probably cringy dialogue? i feel really rusty in writing but this definitely inspired me to keep practicing and i enjoyed spinning this tale <3

✦ christmas lights header by @nectardaddy, tysm!! u rockkk <3

“What the fuck?”

At this point, you couldn’t keep count of the number of times this has happened. The glowing LED screen that featured a picturesque sight of one of your so-called closest friends dressed in a flowy, white dress, running away from the incoming crash of the wave, smiling brightly off camera, right at a bunch of other no-names you’ve never met (probably her high school friends). Your eyes start to burn as you swipe through the rest of the pictures in the carousel of continuous shots of these people at the beach.

You vividly recalled how this friend of yours was so adamant on cancelling your holiday plans two weeks ago because she came down with the “flu”, despite having scheduled them 2 months before. You knew it was a weak excuse.

Who even cancels plans because of a flu 2 weeks before an event?

You scoffed bitterly as you stalk the other girls from the profile to see when exactly they took this little beach trip of theirs, trying to understand why your friend canceled on your holiday plans but said yes to other people’s plans.

But the longer you scrolled, the longer you became sick to your stomach. You were sick of this behavior. Sick of being alone. Of being lonely.

The efforts you put into saving up for your girls’ trip with her, pulling in extra late night shifts at work and on weekends. You even rescheduled your trip back home, so you were stuck over this weekend on campus thinking you were supposed to be packing for your road trip with her that very same weekend.

If your “closest” friend didn’t want to spend the holidays with you, then who actually would?

You didn’t even realize you were crying until continuous drops of tears fell on your screen, blurring not only your own sight, but distorting the smiles from another beach photo of the sunset backdrop, droplets blending in with the waves on screen as if giving you a taste of its salty waters.

“You alright?”

A deep voice startled you from your intense gaze with your phone. You quickly wiped whatever stray tears were still caught in your lashes, hoping the streaks down your face were unnoticeable under the fluorescent lights of the study hall.

It was one of the most deserted places at the moment with students having wrapped up most of their exams before the winter break started, save for a few who had one nasty paper to submit that evening or who chose to stay for the break, like you.

Packing up your things as fast as you can, you muttered a quick “just fine,” before catching the gaze of the concerned party that belonged to the most beautiful shade of dark blue eyes that almost made you stop in your stance to see what kind shade of blue they truly were.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You checked yourself in your reflection of the metal doors of the elevator of your dorm, making sure traces of your snot nose and red eyes were unnoticeable. You didn’t want to scare the convenience store people at your disheveled state, but you figured they’ve seen worse looking people than someone who just spent a couple of hours crying their eyes till their puffy and dehydrated, dull skin.

As you walked down to grab some snacks and stock up on some milk and soda, you could tell that the holiday spirit fell short this year. Sure, there were the customary string of Christmas lights and wreaths lined up on your university walls. But outside them, among the people, you can’t help but reflect on how quickly people grow up, get wrapped up in their own drama and business, and change priorities; forgetting to spend time with the people who were actually part of your year.

But what’s new? You were disappointed in your friend, but couldn’t help but blame yourself. You must have done something to her that made her cancel, or maybe you just weren’t as important to her as she was to you.

The familiar sting of tears grew in your eyes and you definitely didn’t want to cry in the middle of the nearest campus convenience store. So you just shook it off, pushed your “friend” and all of your problems with the current state of the holidays to the back of your mind, and focused on your main mission: feeding yourself.

Not bothering to grab a basket, you filled your arms with your favorite snacks, cup noodles as is customary in every college student’s grocery list. The last thing you needed was your favorite brand of milk from the store’s fridge. What you didn’t see was another hand reaching out for the same carton you wanted.

“Sorry.” you mumbled, reaching for a second box of milk right behind the first one you were supposed to get.

“Are you okay?”

You were startled at the sudden question from this stranger. Was it always normal to make conversation in a convenience store? You lifted your head to properly face your embarrassment.

At this point, you wished you just brushed off this growing awkward interaction and chopped it before it swallowed you whole, as you realized that the beautiful stranger standing in front of you was in fact, Tobio Kageyama.

The same Tobio Kageyama who's the most active volleyball varsity player in your university. The same Tobio Kageyama who’s been the youngest recruited player for the Japan national volleyball team, participating in the Olympics at 19 years old. The same Tobio Kageyama who’s the same blueberry-eyed guy that definitely saw you crying your eyes out over your phone.

“I saw you earlier at the study hall.” He almost whispered as if he was afraid to be spilling a dark secret.

You averted your gaze suddenly to check your reflection again on the metal frames of the frozen goods door you were both standing in front of, traces of red eyes gone, but the puffy skin was still there.

“Sorry, I asked…” He started slowly.

“No! It’s okay.” You quickly answered, not wanting him to actually confirm your embarrassment of being known as the kind of girl that cries at school. “To answer your question…at the time, I wasn’t.”

You sighed thinking you didn’t have the energy to make up an excuse for what he saw, “Now I’m kinda just tired.”

“Right.” He nodded and mumbled. “Me too.”

“Not from crying!” He quickly sputtered out and added, “But from training…and studying?”

You stifled a laugh at his quick save. You don’t recall him ever seeing him stay in the study hall for anything longer than 15 minutes, unless he was seated at a table with a smaller orange haired student that looked way too bright to be in the dreary hall of learning, and an even shorter yellow-haired girl, Yachi, who you recognized from some of your classes.

He cleared his throat as well as his nerves. “Winter break is coming up.”

“Got any plans?” Kageyama asked, wanting to keep talking to you.

“As of earlier, no.” You shrugged off the urge to make something up.

“Campus is the last place I want to be in right now, but I’m stuck here until maybe after Christmas.” You admitted.

Kageyama nodded at your honesty. “How bout you?” You asked in turn, continuing the conversation even if you don’t know where it’s going, but this surprising plot twist in your evening felt right. It felt good to speak to someone new.

As the student-athlete listed down his training plans (read as: holiday break plans), you caught a beautiful sparkle in his eyes that shined brighter as he talked more about his favorite sport and how it isn’t just “training” for him as a student athlete.

“But I could do something else for the break.” He mumbled as he realized how he was probably boring you with his volleyball tips, but Kageyama’s heart did a little flip as he saw how attentive your soft gaze was actually focusing on him and how good it felt to be heard.

“Well, good luck with that.” You visibly cringed at how immediately rude that came across, contradicting how warm you felt as he shared his plans. You mentally kicked yourself for your lack of tact and how horrible you were at making friends, let alone maintain your current friendships enough.

You tried to wrack your brain for a better opening to apologize, or possibly offer something else to say to the athlete as you both lined up behind the counter ready to pay for your snacks.

“Would you want to do something?”

Kageyama’s question brought you out of your marathon of overthinking as you were caught off guard with his sudden invitation.

“With me?” He added. “For Christmas!”

You blinked in confusion as he stammered out a proposal, but you were patient as he sighed and closed his eyes in embarrassment.

“Would you want to do something with me for Christmas?”

Any traces of awkwardness left as the air around the two of you suddenly felt cleaner as the cold winter wind bit your cheeks and nose, almost kissing away your puffy eyes. Your heart burned once again, but it wasn’t the painful kind of burn. It was warm and hot that spread rapidly to your numbing fingertips.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, giving him an encouraging smile.

He finally opened his eyes in surprise. That wasn’t a no! “I…can get back to you on that.” Caught off guard with your acceptance, but nonetheless, the athlete restrained himself from giving a victory fist bump at this good sign.

“Sure.” You smiled, thinking that you didn’t have anything else to lose and you definitely had nowhere to go this weekend. You were definitely intrigued and excited at where this new little adventure can take you.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Tobio.” You laughed, turning back to

Tobio’s grip on his plastic bag tightened at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. Now his stomach was really doing backflips.

“C-can I get your number?” He asked, eager to not let this opportunity slip through his hands. “So I can get back to you for our…um, thing.”

Without realizing it, you’ve both stopped in front of the entrance of your dorm as you both exchanged numbers.

“Have a good night.” You bid your goodbye as you walked inside your dorm entrance.

“You too.” Kageyama whispered, not even caring if you didn’t hear it as his eyes were stuck in a daze at your retreating figure as it disappeared behind the east wall, but not without glancing back at him with a small smile that struck right in his heart that hit him all the way back to his own dorm building, where Hinata, Yachi, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were all hunched over their board game.

He plopped his plastic bag of snacks and drinks, ignoring all of Hinata and Tsukishima’s jabs at his tardiness for his long walk back from the store with you was worth all the teasing.

“Yachi!” He startled his old manager at his sudden outburst.

“What do girls like to do on Christmas?”

Not only did the group erupt with a whole new level of freak out at the surprise of Kageyama’s sudden “thing” with someone who didn’t go to high school with them, but they also learned that it IS possible to get kicked out of the lounge area of the campus dorms for an unacceptable level of “chatter”.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

To say you were quite impressed at how festive and cozy a dorm room could look like, excitement started to spread through you as noted all the multicolored lights that hung around his room, a mini Christmas tree on the side of his study table with a few cut out snowflakes spread out on the walls, and the 2 sets of bare gingerbread material laid expectantly for you and your Christmas date for the evening.

Decorating gingerbread houses was something you never knew you’d enjoy. You’ve always wanted to do a little Christmas activity, but just never got around doing it because every time you offered, your friends either thought it was lame or too kiddie for your age, or like always, they just cancelled.

You didn’t need them anyway. Kageyama was a delightful Christmas date, very gentlemanly and very conscious. Always making sure you felt right at home in his room, it was nice to feel taken care of even if it was just for the evening.

Humming along softly to the jazzy Christmas music playing in the background, your concentration lining up your candies for your house was interrupted with a pssk!

Kageyama squeezed a bit too hard on his piping bag and missed the roof of his house, landing a splat of sweet red icing on your cheek

“I’m so sorry!” As he frantically looked through his desk for spare napkins that Yachi left inside the Christmas-Special-Gift-Basket that his friends helped assemble for him, to ensure he had everything he needed for your “thing”.

“It’s okay!” You giggled, wiping off the last of it with your finger and giving it a small lick. “Least now I know it’ll taste good.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Your eyebrows raised, mouth gaping in a small amused smile waiting for Kageyama to realize what he just said and what he’s implying.

“IT!” Kageyama’s eyes widened in shock. “I really, really meant to say IT.”

The nervous volleyball player couldn’t help but groan and lay his head on the table contemplating to just start eating his gingerbread house to remove all evidence of this embarrassment, or run to the gym to yell and shout at his idiocy, or even curse at Hinata just because it was a reflex for him at this point. He could do either of these, but he prepared himself as he turned his head towards you, expecting to see cringe all over your face.

And then suddenly, Kageyama forgot his urge to run away. Instead he wanted to stay in this very picturesque moment forever, with your bright smile that feels so at home among the warm holiday decorations that decorated his dorm, with your infectious laughter bouncing around the walls and through his heart, with your smile holding such child-like wonder and joy.

Yes, Kageyama decided he can slip up as many times as needed, if only he gets to stay around your radiant smile all the time.

“I didn’t think you’d be so forward!” You praised him.

“Just don’t bring it up again.” He grumbled, fighting the shy smile growing on his face.

“Alright, alright.” You chuckled. “If you get icing on me again, feel free to lick them off of me yourself so you can get a taste too.”

“Shut up.” He winced thinking that was too mean, but he took a peek back at you with a smile that didn’t feel like leaving your face as you turned back to placing different colored M&Ms on your icing coated gingerbread roof.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“I really like yours.” As you gestured to his simple white icing covered house with red and green candies scattered on the roof, but intriguingly had a very detailed mini-volleyball net (which isn’t holding up so well) and accurate lines for a court with a matching yellow and blue “volleyball” which is really just a yellow M&M covered in blue icing.

“The court’s definitely my favorite part.”

“Me too.” He nodded, smiling brightly at his little mini safe space of his favorite sport.

“So cute.” You whispered, catching that gleam in his eyes again that you wished you could see longer.

The festivities didn’t stop there as you found yourself next to Kageyama, sitting almost shoulder to shoulder on his dorm bed, with his laptop propped up on a few pillows playing the opening credits to the holiday classic, Home Alone. Was it too on the nose? You couldn't tell, but you definitely pondered on it more as the movie went on.

Halfway through the movie, Kageyama couldn’t resist taking a peek at you. Eyes pointed straight at the TV, but they looked almost glassy and unfocused as if your mind was elsewhere at that moment. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” You shook your head to bring yourself back to the present. “I think I’m just tired.” Feeling embarrassed that you got caught while lost in thought. You hoped Kageyama didn’t think you were bored, so you took it as a sign to start some idle conversation, starting with the one question you were currently curious about your new found friend.

“I never got to ask this earlier,” You thought over carefully on your next words.

“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays, like your friends did?”

He shrugged as he revealed bluntly, “my parents aren’t around much.” He goes on about how they’ve been on more frequent business trips abroad since his high school days, not even showing up to his matches when his team played in national tournaments.

The whole time you couldn’t believe how these supposedly important people in a person’s life could easily miss out on Kageyama’s life like that. He’s clearly very passionate about volleyball and no one can deny his talent and skill for it. Your chest tightened at the pain of imagining a younger Kageyama getting ready for his match, but with a quick scan at the crowd, he'd easily notice the absence of his parents and sister in the crowd.

“And my sister’s spending this Christmas with some friends on a girls’ trip or something.”

“Must be nice for them to not be alone on Christmas.” Your bitter tone slipped. You frowned as you munched your popcorn, trying hard not to take out your frustration on the snack bowl.

If Kageyama picked up that tone in your voice, he didn’t show it. “We’re not alone either. Not anymore.” He said, words dripping with sincerity as it hung in the air of the small dorm room.

He was right. Some could probably say it was a coincidence how you both ended up as one of the few people living on school grounds in the middle of winter break when most of the students, teachers and staff have left for their own holidays.

But some could also say, it was fate for these two souls who haven’t felt seen by their supposedly loved ones in a long time, who grew up lonelier and lonelier as the people around them moved on, grew up, or drifted away. Maybe, just maybe, it was fate leading them to each other, as some kind of plot twist they didn’t know they needed to have in their life.

⋅˚₊‧ 𖥸 ‧₊˚ ⋅

As the movie came to an end, so does your little Christmas date with Kageyama. You almost didn’t want to leave from your position after having really snuggled yourself under the soft, plush blanket that Kageyama had especially put on the side for you.

“This was really fun.” You slowly stretched your legs as you reluctantly got off of his warm bed. “I’m really glad you invited me, Tobio. Thank you.” You said.

Kageyama beamed with pride as he felt so seen in your eyes. Spending time with you, just the two of you, was probably the best present he could have ever received this Christmas. Despite knowing he embarrassed himself a few times that night, he didn’t think anything else could top the evening. Except maybe…

As you picked up your bag to turn towards his door, you felt a gentle hand land on your shoulder, gently spinning you around back to the blueberry eyed boy standing in front of you with a look that just made you want to melt on the spot.

“You don’t have to be alone on Christmas again.” Kageyama started. “We can do this again next year.”

He added, “Or doesn’t have to be next year. Can be anytime you want,” Kageyama tried to control his enthusiasm, but he couldn’t help it. Being around you felt like he could hit 10 service aces in a row, (he secretly wants to test this theory, but that’s for another time).

Maybe this was the kind of feeling that people call “walking on cloud 9” or maybe it’s what falling in love felt like. Regardless, of what it is, Kageyama knew he wanted to keep being in your life, “If that’s something you’d like?”

“Do you really mean that?”

To Kageyama, it was a no-brainer question. But, looking at the soft look in your eyes and how the multicolored sparkles of light dancing across your irises, illuminated by the holiday fairy lights that were decorating his bookshelf, a small sliver of hope flickered on your face, awaiting his answer.

He knew at that moment that the question held more weight to it for you. He knew at that moment, he didn’t want you to go through another lonely Christmas or birthday, or Valentines’ Day, or if you just wanted company. He’d be there for you if you’d call.

Kageyama nodded as he poured all the honesty he had in his heart, sealing his “yes” in a promise.

“Then, I’d like that very much.” You said.

At the corner of your eye, you noticed something dangling at the edge of Kageyama’s bookshelf, sticking out between two books that almost looked like it’d fall off after one big shove on the shelf. “Is that…”

Kageyama took a step closer to the shelf to pluck it out of its wedged place and pushed back the books so they wouldn’t fall on either of you.

As he realized that he also took a step closer to you. He raised the mystery item in between the two of you and revealed a small famous christmas ornament, laced perfectly with a red-ribbon.

“Mistletoe.” You bit your lip cheekily at him, subtly questioning his intentions for the end of your evening together.

“My friends left it here, I swear.” He protested.

“Mhm.”

“I hate those guys.” He argued.

“Mhm, sure you do.”

“I really, really hate them.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” You laughed at his poor attempts at a defense.

“I don’t hate you though.” He shyly admitted in defeat.

“You’re really cute when you get caught.” You giggled.

With confidence and gentle hands, Kageyama brought his fingers through some stray hairs that draped down the sides of your face, moving the strands aside to rest his hand on the side of your cheek.

“I know this isn’t where you wanted to be this weekend.” He started, with his eyes never leaving yours as it searched for any hint of rejection from you as he continued. “But I just really wanted to say,”

“Yeah?” Your eyes shined with encouragement that silently told him to relax as you both drew closer to each other.

“I’m glad you’re here,” He whispered as his lips brushed across from yours, “Truly.”

“Me too.” You agreed as you closed your eyes and the gap between you two, sealing your promises to each other with a sweet kiss.

Your friend cancelling on your holiday plans now seemed to be for the best. At least because of it, you finally had someone to be with that actually enjoyed your company, and that you wouldn’t mind making one or two new Christmas plans with Kageyama. Knowing you’ll both be there for each other not just for holidays but also for every other important milestone in your lives that have yet to come.

#hq x reader secret santa 24 #☕︎ nina.coffeewriting #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader

32 notes · View notes