#you're like 'do you think that will ever happen to us

[magickizu]

Phantom Contingency Plan

Crossover dp x dc, with hinted dead on main. So I've got this little time line I have in mind for my own crossover AU and this is a snippet of it. Will post more of it; might make a master post too at some point. For now, the prompt:

After something happened and the Phantom-Squad (Danny, Ellie, Dan and Jazz) had to reveal themselves to the batfam, Bruce calls up Danny and tells him, now that he thought about it and in the least offensive way possible: how likely is it for the Phan-Squad to "go rogue". Danny is silent, a thought filled, contemplating silence. "... I'll come by the cave tomorrow eve at 8pm."

P.s.: sorry if the batfam becomes too much ooc, I grew up a marvel-child and just recently became invested into dc. pwq

"This is absolutely ridiculous, B!" Jason, in full Red Hood get up, was leaning against a support beam. He just can't sit right now. This idiot really just straight up decided to go and ask Danny for their weak points! Instead of going the normal route of collecting information, to expand the contingency plan alone- like it was supposed to be!

"As if any of them, who's very core is actively making them protect, save and help- literally!!- would just go against it and harm themselves with it." Why Hood was this adamant, about the Nightingales? Okay, yeah, maybe it does have something to do with him crushing on Danny, the moment he made the pits fall silent for the first time... But why the hell would he ever say that out loud!?

"It may be in their instinct, but you can never be sure what happens when that person breaks." Nightwing, who leaned on a nearby table. He talks calmly, but stern. His expression shows the hint of unease even he feels; the Nightingales have come to Gotham in an attempt to flee from someone. Someone who's set on hunting them down and hurting them, they're basically refugees. It doesn't seem 100% right, definitely. But the "what if"s are too big of a risk, none of them got any idea of what they're truly capable of.

"Bullshit..." Hood crosses his arms, looking away. His helmet is off, just the domino, so his muttering comes out as just that.

"Hood, please. Nightwing is right. As much as they want to help, you know it's for the best. Not even Constantine could think of something." Barbara sat next to Batman, as she turned to face the boys.

"Wait, what?? You can't be serious! Even Gandalf the Blond didn't know??" Nightwing looks at her incredulous. The redhead shook her head, but a slim smirk formed on her lips from the nickname.

"That doesn't excuse anything-" Hood got cut off by the notification that someone was coming in through the tunnel.

For the first time since the others came in, Batman moved from his seat at the batcomputer. He turned towards the tunnel entrance, where the roaring of a motorcycle can be heard. While Barbara and Nightwing seemed surprised, Hood could somehow, probably through his now healing core, sense it was Danny- which in turn just sent his head reeling a bit and his heart fluttering a little. Batman just checked the clock; the moment Danny brought his bike to a halt, next to Jason's, it was exactly 8:00pm, as promised. The ghost king really does keep his word, that's good to know.

Danny wasn't wearing any padding: no sturdy jeans, no leather jacket, just his usual get up and the black helmet with neon green accents. Crazy dangerous for a normal living person, but what could possibly happen? He's already dead, plus more sturdy anyway and untouchable when he wants to. Plus he's got the heightened reflexes, to use his abilities timely. ...which honestly just made his entrance, like- Wham!

Nightwing whistled impressed, "Damn dude, you're making little wing real competition, looking all cool and serious like that." He smiles, still impressed. Barbara just gave him a look that said, to keep his mind focused. In turn Nightwing answered with a look that asked, why it's only him and to look at Hood. Who in all fairness just was completely entranced by his crush looking extremely awesome, which made him incredibly hot. Well, at least until-

"Jay, stand back." Danny said, well... more like softly commanded, right as he took his helmet off, hanging it onto the handlebars. Said vigilanty did as he was told, without questioning. If it could harm Danny, it will harm him.

"Thank you, for not only your understanding, but your quick response, as well as trust to not misuse this. We really appreciate it." The Bat said in his low, serious tone. Danny nodded, giving him a similar facial expression.

"And thank you, for appreciating the afford." He grabbed two silver suitcases: one was flatter and the other looked more like a box. The moment he stepped closer to the table Nightwing was sitting on and where Hood was still standing, albeit a little off now, Hood became a little paler and suddenly feeling a bit weaker and uncomfortable. As if something underneath his skin began itching, somewhere inside. Danny's gaze shot towards him immediately, after setting them both down.

"You okay?" He asked, the concern visible in his eyes. The man's feet took him over towards Hood, the moment he was approximately 2 meters away, Danny shook and rubbed his arm. Probably to stop the same feeling Hood felt.

"I'm- ...yeah. I can handle, just uncomfortable." He chose to be honest, knowing, hearing and feeling the concern emanating from his core. But he nods, then stands himself next to the taller man.

Meanwhile Batman, Barbara and Nightwing stood themselves around the table in a half circle around the suitcases.

"The thicker case is filled with blood blossoms. Do not open that one, unless it's happening. These flowers have anti-spectral properties, they not only harm us, can occasionally break haunts and ghostly curses, they can and will kill ghosts and ghost-adjacent beings through exposure alone. Especially in that quantity." He begins to explain and Jason shifts slightly, shuffling one step away, trying not to make it obvious. Nightwing and Barbara look on in shock, even Batman has to take a deep breath.

"But aren't they just a fairytale? Constantine had mentioned them, but also said that they come from old folklore. Medieval times, when Christianity wasn't even that known. And aren't they supposed to have anti-supernatural properties?" Barbara questioned and it's true. John told Batman about them, but added that he didn't exactly know if it wasn't just some old folklore and not to put his bets on it. He knew of the infinite realms, sure. But Ghosts explicitly? Not that much..

Danny nodded. "They are as old as humanity and they have been used in countless traps and banishment rituals. It's just that..." He grabs his neck, thinking of which words to use and letting his usual self finally slip through. He's been practicing explaining things, this definitely put it to the test. "Hmmm... Okay, uhm... It was said that they have anti-supernatural properties, because quite a few ghosts were mistaken as other supernatural creatures. For example... Yetis!" He snapped his fingers, smiling proudly to himself, that he came up with it that fast.

"Yetis...?" Nightwing asked completely flabbergasted. "Pfff... Bigfoot also a ghost? Ow-" He couldn't help himself, but got a slap on his arm from Barbs, who glarred daggers at him.

"Yes and no, Bigfoot is actually a spirit of sorts, but not really. He just wants to be left alone, man. And yes, Yetis. They are ghosts of the far frozen and spirits of ice, the cold and healing. Because they're technically ghosts, they'd be affected, but they don't exactly look like your conventional, stereotypical ghost. So people just forgot about them due to monotheistic religions, because instead of blaming vengeful, violent and malevolent spirits, they became demons. Which lasted not that long after exorcisms and prayers became a thing." Danny explained.

"I see... So that's why Constantine didn't know for sure." Batman nodded. Hood got a stool and sat down a little further away- was this what kryptonite felt like to the supers? He made a mental note to never tease them about it again... In the back of his mind and in his chest, he can hear- no... Sense a chirping. It's Danny sensing Hood's tense unease. The smaller ones core calling out, //it's okay//will protect//save//. It did help a bit though and Hood's grateful for that.

"And this one?" Nightwing pointed at the slimmer suitcase, intrigued now.

"Those are regular ecto-blasters. They just shoot ecto infused lasers- completely harmless to anything living. The only thing it does is to inconvenience or harm a ghost, but they're mostly non-lethal." Batman nodded again, opening the case and inspecting the guns. "If you need more, just say so. I used to use them constantly, so I still got quite a few on the shelf." He crosses his arms, for comfort. But Hood's attention was drawn more to the 'used to use them'. Danny wheelded harmful 'mostly non-lethal' weapons for a while, so that also implies that he knows how to turn them lethal... Why?

"If that is possible, I would be most grateful." Batman said, holding eye contact with Danny, who in turn nodded.

"I'll drop them off tomorrow, then. You'll need to recharge them with both electricity and ectoplasm. Don't ever let them run low, tho or it will back fire on you. Not pretty. When you aim to stun: hit wherever besides the chest, it regenerates. But when you aim to harm and injure: aim for the core. It's, you guessed it, in the middle of the chest. Even if ghosts can regenerate, just empty the thing and keep firing; the amount of ecto we lose, is too much to heal against. Especially because we need said ecto to heal in the first place. And don't be surprised: ghosts melt. We don't turn to ashes, get sucked away to who knows. We melt into ecto." Danny answered almost immediately, stunning the birds and Oracle. But the bat only nodded, containing his own curiosity, as he closed the case and readied them to carry away.

- - - - -

"Danny! Talk?" He turns his head towards Hood; both sit on their bikes, standing next to each other. The traffic light glowing red, when the taller man calls. Then after a few seconds of silence, Danny looks around and motions for Hood to follow.

After some more explanations in the cave, on how to most effectively use each weapon and tool against his very own life and leaving the two birds as well as Oracle stunned silent, Hood decided to ride along. Since he has to go in that direction anyway, might as well ride with Danny and spend more time. As the light turns green, Danny nods and leads the way. After another 10-15 minutes of silent driving they get to a quiet viewpoint in a more abandoned area of the neighborhood. They come to a halt and the taller is the first to speak,

"Just... Just out of curiosity. How come or well, why were you so, I wouldn't say eager but, so... fast to respond? Not even the League members reacted this... How to put it, ready? Collected? Hell knows, they didn't nerd out about their weaknesses. So-"

"Jay, tell me: how much do you trust yourself?" The smaller man takes off his helmet and hangs it up on the handlebars again. Hood sighs and does similar, leaving only his domino mask on, as he leans against the railing, next to his king. He shrugs.

"I guess... talking about confidence in my skills and how to use them? Yes. Yes, I do." But the electric blues only look over the city skylines, he nods.

"No, I mean in yourself." So naturally Jayson's breath hitches, when these eyes suddenly stared into his. "Your ability to control your emotions, when the worst happens and push comes to shove." He takes a deep breath, his gaze flicking from the other up to the sky. Surprisingly it's a clear view of the stars. And again Jason decides that a) this man has so many more secrets, than he already thought and b) it just adds to his enchanting mystique and liminal beauty. Oh damn, he fell hard and deep.

"I mean... The pit-rages stopped, when we began training, but..." That's when realisation hit him. "...I don't know. No."

"...and I do know, that I won't." Jason looks at Danny almost immediately. His small, growing and healing core rumbling with //confused//what?//. Danny sighs heavily: "the last time it happened, I developed new powers again and apparently declared war to the conspiratorial wing of the government, leaving nothing but death, destruction and a crater the size of Wayne Manor's property line behind. I wasn't even at full health. I've also seen what happens, when I let my anger win and that was from a point where I was about 10 years weaker than I am today. It was a wasteland of a world, didn't even see the justice league there, so..." Danny's hands slip from the railing to hug himself, Jason just stares stunned and in shock, trying to buffer the words and sounds the other one makes. Said one smiles weakly his gaze never leaves the stars, as if they're giving him some form of comfort or answers only he can read. "...emotions are more than natural for ghosts, we're literally made by them. The will to survive, the need to protect and help or ... The boiling rage to avenge." He finally gave Jason a small glance and encouraging smile. "Really it's only natural. But that's also why I'm so hellbend on teaching you to control yourself. The more your core heals,..." He reaches out touching Jason's chest and his heart skips a beat. Gods he hopes the other doesn't notice, but he doesn't react so that's good? "The more you will feel and the harder it becomes to regulate. But... I got the feeling, you'll manage." He smiles and pats Jason's chest, then he turns back to the stars. His smile slowly fading. "...but if things happen, that'll make me lose it for good? I'd prefer to be taken out clean before another 'reign of terror' Happens."

They're silent, Jason has to process what he just heard. Danny more so as it still looks like he's listening to the stars sing, however that's possible. But hey, that's the Nightingale's ever since they showed up: anything but normal. The bigger one finally huffs, "So... You're really a big f*cking fish, huh... Your siblings that powerful too?" The other shrugs, yes and no. "Damn... Well, I definitely hope that it'll never happen. ...would absolutely suck to lose you." He glances at the other, just barely to try and get a sneak peak at him. But Danny just smiles softly, eyes closed. That's when Jason can sense the chirping from Danny's core again, //appreciate//you too//love//.

...wait. Wait, hold on!-

"Welp, was nice but I gotta go now. Jazz is probably done with dinner by now and they're waiting for me." The smaller turns to walk towards his bike, patting Jason on the shoulder and back again. "I'll see around, Red Guy. You know where to find me." He winks cheeky and puts on his helmet and like a phantom into the night, is gone. Jason still stands there...

Did he... Did he really just understand... Love? No, wait again! Danny and his siblings too always say, that ghosts are very sensitive to emotions and can read them off of- ...

...did Danny knew from the very beginning...?

[hai7ani]

Despite getting into a relationship, Haitani Rindou's insane drinking habits do not change. It does not leave him as easy as you think.

He still comes home smelling like the alcohol you tend to shy away from. He still comes home drunk (not as often, but it does happen occasionally) and he would still collapse on you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that you could only ever hear from him with alcohol's aid.

The sour feeling in your chest still remains when he tells you tonight that he is yours, he is all yours, and he's peppering such sweet kisses all over the expanse of your neck, your chin, but you're scrunching your brows, pouting, as you cover his mouth and turn your head away.

He does keep quiet after that. He does stop talking. He buries his head in your chest while you rub a hand all over his back to soothe his headache and he's just like a boy when you usher him to go wash up.

But he pukes all over you in the toilet that he even finds himself getting frustrated with, because this doesn't happen often, not at all, and yet, you do not get angry.

Half-lidded eyes peer at you from the toilet seat while you peel your shirt away to throw it in the bin. It is your favourite shirt, covered in his puke, and you're throwing it away. His expression does not change, face so red with bloodshot eyes boring holes into your figure, watching you move in the small toilet.

There's not an ounce of anger shown on your face when you wipe drool off his chin. You're still gentle as ever when handling him. He is rough around the edges and he isn't used to being treated so nicely. He thinks you're an angel for still helping him.

But he does see the disappointment in your eyes with every blink. He can still feel the pain bubbling in your chest when you grit your teeth to try and hide it away.

You have always never liked it when he drank.

The next morning, Rindou does not say he is sorry. He does not speak of last night, does not repeat all the sweet things he's whispered in your ear before.

But he does stop coming home drunk the next week, the week after, and the many more weeks to come.

You wonder why.

[kokokoula]

it's alright

TW: smut in the second section, but i make it as fluffy as possible i swear

a/n: um in my defence i just really wanted soft and cute smut and i couldn't find much. it is my first time writing nsfw ok, it will probably be a bit cringy. i'm not planning to write any more smut in the future, just spare me this one 😔🙏

---

it's well late into the night, but it's only now that both you and your coworker, tsukishima, finally end work at the sendai museum. as you take the lift down together, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud grumble. tsukishima doesn't bother to hide his laugh.

"shut up, i haven't eaten dinner yet." you scold him, your face hot.

"right."

at the sight of his amused face, your heart does a little flutter.

you're close enough to your reserved colleague, sharing the same shifts and all. not to the point of contacting outside of work, but there is still some kind of weird connection that you can't imagine having with anybody else. it gives you butterflies and uncontrollable smiles, makes you look forward to work, even. despite that, you shove it down. maintaining professionalism is a strict rule here.

the two of you are close enough.

"damn, i'm craving for good ramen right now." you lament as the lift doors open. he lets out a noise of acknowledgment and walks out. you're used to his nonchalance, and simply leave the building with him. you're about to part ways, till he calls out from behind.

"aren't you coming?" you stand there dumbly, not understanding his words.

"you want ramen, don't you? i know a place still open." tsukishima nods to the opposite direction. you widen your eyes. you know he isn't one to initiate these kind of things, and you've never hung out after work together before. you don't want anything to happen between you two... but one supper can't do any harm, right?

you grin and catch up to him.

---

you were dead wrong. incredibly wrong. you blame him for getting yourself in this mess.

because now you have the one you swore not to get too close to on top of you, in your bed, kissing you senseless.

it's your first time seeing him like this: his hair dishevelled, his lips swollen, and his golden flecked eyes without the lenses; he's even more beautiful. okay, if this is a mess, a mistake, it's a perfect one.

tsukishima sinks his cock into you. it stings a bit at first, but the feeling is quickly replaced by something else entirely better.

"fuck, you're so…" he groans and you bite your lip. you run your fingers through the strands on his nape in adoration and his hips snaps into you, eliciting a moan.

"hah, your fault." he starts thrusting, hard, and you give a cry out. all the while, he's cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away your stray tears lightly. it's a funny contrast. he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing, nibbling, panting, moaning… shit, you can feel it coming.

"tsuki--"

"kei."

"huh?"

"my first name. kei." it's sacred.

"kei," you experimentally let the word roll off your tongue. you've never said it before, but it feels right. he takes in a sharp breath.

"good girl." he pushes your legs further apart to reach the spot that makes you see stars.

"kei!" his name comes to you so easily now, and you won't mind saying it a thousand times over. he rewards you with a rough, albeit sloppy, kiss. pinning one of your hands to the soft mattress, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gripping tightly. it's a small action, but it's an affectionate one.

you think you might actually be falling for him. it's probably a terrible idea, but maybe it's worth taking the risk.

---

the sun is rising on the horizon, and you'd just fallen asleep. meanwhile, tsukishima lies awake next to you, studying your face and listening to your steady breaths.

it must be creepy of him, he thinks, but he can't bring himself to look away. he has known you for over a year now ever since you joined the museum, and spent half of it pining for you. to end up here with you, is something he believed he could only dream of. kei brings his hand up to brush away the stray strands of hair covering your face, but stops himself before he does.

is he allowed to do this? to be this intimate? it sounds stupid, given that you two have just fucked. however, he has always made it a point to keep to corporate's rules, and now that he had just broken an important one, he doesn't know what to do.

tsukishima's mind runs in circles, but everything halts when you snuggle closer to his chest, a cute little frown on your sleeping face. he melts immediately, his face flushing red.

fuck it, he won't be able to not love you from this point forwards. he carefully puts an arm around your sleeping figure and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

right now, he'll just enjoy being with you, and that should be alright.

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi has been missing for a month after a scouting mission, when he finally, unexpectedly returns to you and the two of you reunite...

♡ NSFW, minors DNI ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ One shot, passionate, reunion sex ♡ Word count: 1800 ♡ Summary: Levi had been missing for a month after a scouting mission gone horribly wrong. No one knew what had happened or where he was, but the other scouts assumed he was dead. You and Levi had finally began your romantic relationship, and you were devastated by every passing moment without him. You're standing in your bedroom by the window, another sleepless, heartbroken night, when...

“Y/N.”

Levi’s voice. You recognized it immediately, and it was enough to send a frigid chill shooting up your spine. Your grip faltered on the windowsill and your breath trapped itself in your throat.

Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was this a part of grief no one had told you about? Was this what happened to a person after being so heartbroken and sleep-deprived?

It couldn’t possibly have been Levi. He’d been missing for nearly a month after a scouting mission gone horribly wrong and while no one around you dared to say it to you, everyone was sure Levi was dead.

You were nearly too afraid to turn around — that once you did, he wouldn’t be there, and your faint glimmer of hope would be taken from your desperate hands.

But, you had to. You turned around, your eyes moving first, your heart beating for the slim chance that Levi was really there, that he’d finally returned to you.

When your eyes finally landed on him, standing there in your doorway, he looked like an apparition. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent in the moonlight; his weary eyes were cradled by purple circles. Fresh scars trailed over his skin — it was too unnerving to think of how he might have acquired them.

“Levi.” The word came out as a single, shuddering breath. Without another thought, you rushed over to him, your knees wobbling slightly with each step.

Your trembling hands reached up to his face, and during the split second your skin made contact with his, it felt like you were touching a ghost. Your fingers molded to the contours of his jaw and cheeks, a shape they’d memorized long ago. Your eyes darted between his, searching for confirmation that he was, really, alive in front of you, and not just a wraith of the man you love. His steely eyes caught in the moonlight, shining and burning, fervid emotions stirring in their depths.

A single ragged, sharp breath released from your parted lips. Tears welled in your eyes uncontrollably, blurring your vision as they hung precariously on your eyelashes before pouring down your face, shimmering in the soft light. For the past month, you’d gotten used to the feeling of hot tears rolling down your face; they’d trail down your neck or drop to the floor, no one to wipe them away for you.

Levi’s hands instinctively flew up to your face, his calloused fingers brushing away each tear with a tender firmness and a subtle urgency. Seeing you cry made him feel like his gut was being twisted and wrung out.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was a gentle, gravelly whisper. “I’m back. I’m here. I’m okay.”

“Levi,” you managed to say, the word caught between shallow, pleading breaths. It was the only word you seemed able to muster.

His hands firmly cradling your face, he leaned in and gently kissed your cheeks, his lips absorbing the tears that continued to fall. It was seldom that he’d ever initiate something so intimate — he never really had before — but this was the time for it. He needed you. There was no denying it anymore. And he would do anything, at all, to stop you from crying.

His lips, which were always so unexpectedly soft and pillowy, swept across your cheeks before landing against your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. Your lips melded onto his, a feeling you had missed so tremendously and hopelessly over the past month.

The kiss became more desperate, more wanting. Your breathing harmonized with his heavy breaths that escaped between hungry kisses, your tongues found each other. Your fingers curled into his soft hair, grasping at the strands. His hands slipped from your face to your waist then your hips, grazing underneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing against your bare skin.

His grip on your hips tightened slightly as he walked you backwards to the bed, his lips still moving urgently against yours. He laid you back onto the bed, hovering over you for a moment to simply look at you, lying there before him. As you gazed up at him, your eyes shining with longing and adoration, his hand reached down and cupped your face, his touch reverent.

As he lowered himself down onto the bed above you, his lips parted with a soft, admiring sigh, and his hands shifted to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head, your bare skin left glowing in the moonlight.

His hands worshipped your body, his palms roaming against the curves of your skin. His thumbs brushed against your nipples as his mouth found the slope of your neck, placing devoted kisses below your ear.

“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands covering over every inch of your skin. “Thank you for waiting. For not giving up.”

Your head tilted back as his lips explored your neck.

“Levi,” you whispered between heavy breaths. “I’d have waited forever…”

His back heaved slightly at the admission of your undying commitment for him. His hands moved down to the waistband of your skirt, slowly sliding it down your legs, his hands rested on the softness of your thighs.

His hands gripped deeper onto your thighs as his lips moved down your body, slowly kissing a path from your neck down to your hips. After placing a soft kiss against your hip bone, he lifted his head, positioning himself squarely between your legs, taking in the sight of you swollen and slick for him.

His jaw clenched slightly as his fingers reached out to separate your folds, revealing the depths of your neediness to him completely. He dipped his head closer, his tongue swiping from your entrance to your clit.

“So sweet,” he murmured, as he went in for more, his mouth covering you entirely. “Always so sweet.”

His tongue lapped at you, savoring the taste of you, his eyes remaining on your face to see your every reaction. You reached down and slid a hand into his hair, pressing his face further against you as you released a loud whimper.

“Yes,” he moaned against you, his tongue teasing you, coaxing out pretty moans. His nose pressed and rubbed against your clit as his tongue slid inside of you, in and out, repeatedly. As you began to writhe and squirm beneath his mouth, his hands clasped onto your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you.

His tongue slipped out of you and up to your clit, sucking and teasing it relentlessly, earning urgent and strained moans from you.

He looked up at you again, his lips and nose glistening wet from your juices, as he reveled in the sight of you, pleasured by him. Before he could continue, your hand tugged at his hair, lifting his head up.

“I need you, Levi,” you whispered, your eyes locking onto his, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Now. I need to feel you close to me.”

You were desperate; you’d missed him too much, been too scared that you’d never get to be with him again.

His pupils constricted and he drew in a sharp breath. He nodded slowly and began to strip his own clothes off, his shirt falling to the floor and his pants pulling down to reveal his cock, throbbing and twitching with anticipation. He positioned himself over you, his eyes studying every inch of your face and body.

“God,” he groaned as his tip felt your entrance, pausing for a moment before pushing inside you completely, surrounding him with tight, wet warmth.

“Oh, Levi,” you moaned breathlessly, your cheeks flushing as his cock stretched your walls.

As you adjusted to his size, he lowered himself down onto you, his body pressed against yours, your legs wrapping around him. His hand found yours, your fingers intertwining tightly as he nipped and kissed your neck and drove into you with slow, deep motions, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You whimpered and moaned softly, sweetly into his ear with every movement, drawing a needy groan from him. His free hand tightened around your hip, holding you in place.

“I missed you,” he whispered, muffled against the skin of your neck. He quickened his pace, the tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot inside of you with every needy thrust, the room filling with sounds of your skin slapping against each other and your moans blending together. “I missed you so much.” He repeated, his voice raw and husky.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, struggling to get the words out between your moans. “You’re my everything.”

Your body began to tremble beneath his, and he knew that you were getting close. He lifted his head from your neck to hover above yours, his eyes locking into yours with unbridled passionate intensity. His hand slipped from your hip to your clit, his thumb rubbing circles into it as he drove into you. Your body arched up into his, your face turning hot, and an unfiltered moan escaping your lips.

His eyes drank in the sight of you like this — seeing you overcome with pleasure was all he ever wanted or needed.

“That’s it,” he whispered between slightly gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his thumb moving quicker, “cum for me.”

As if on command, your hips began to buckle wildly beneath him, your hand gripping onto his until your knuckles turned white. Your eyes shut tightly, the pleasure too overwhelming.

“Levi,” you cried out, so intense it was practically soundless, as your legs tightened their grip around his back, your walls clenching rapidly around him. The feeling was enough to drive him over the edge and with one final thrust, he spilled himself into you with a jagged, primal groan, his eyes remaining locked onto your sweet, flushed face.

As your breathing leveled out, you opened your eyes, gazing up at him once again. His body, spent and satiated, settled down onto yours, his hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. He tilted his head down to press a soft, gentle kiss against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips. The words hardly audible, as if he was trying to keep it a secret between the two of you, fearing that the world would conspire against you again and take you away from him.

Your hand trailed to his jaw, clasping around it softly, your eyes looking into his. “I love you too, Levi. And we won’t be apart again. I promise.”

His eyes closed with a single nod, and his head found the crook of your neck, his breath soft and gentle against your skin. His chest rested against yours, his heart beating solely for you.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by anonymous

[innorality]

could you do satoru coming home with a huge scar on his stomach after not contacting his gf for weeks and then reassuring her with intimacy please?

HEAVEN CAN WAIT — G. SATORU

cw : sad in the beginning, afab reader, unprotected, p in v, honestly very cute sex nothing too kinky

a/n : tysm nonnie you gave me the opportunity to use this song as a title finally 🥹 also this idea is so cute like yes pls soft vanilla "I missed you sex" with satoru #needthat !!! also #satoruisalive I believe in it 💔 oh and I'm so sorry this feels very rushed and is not proofread :(

wc : 1335 words 😼

empty. cold. that’s how his side of the bed felt at the moment. it had been weeks since you last saw him, and days since his last message. your eyes stayed glued to your screen, rereading his final words over and over again.

"i luv youuu"

cold tears slipped down your cheeks. you weren’t even sure if they were from grief or from your irritated eyes after staring at the screen for so long without blinking. deep down, you knew the truth—you weren’t dumb. this was bound to happen one day. but you weren’t ready to accept it yet. you wanted to stay in denial just a little longer.

satoru was supposed to be the strongest. so why hadn’t he come home?

with a shaky breath, you shut your phone off and set it aside. hugging his pillow tightly, you buried your face into it—only to realize it didn’t even smell like him anymore.

silent sobs wracked your body as exhaustion finally overtook you.

but in the dead of night, a noise startled you awake.

footsteps.

first near the front door. then in the living room. the kitchen.

and now… heading toward your bedroom.

afraid, you hid under your blanket like a child. you didn’t know if it was reflex or true fear—because honestly, after losing the man you loved, life had lost all meaning.

the door slid open, and you held your breath.

then, a voice.

"baby?"

satoru.

your heart stopped, then raced. it was him. the way he said your name, the way his voice carried through the room—you had missed it more than words could express. before you could think, you jumped out of bed and ran straight into his arms, clutching him as if he might disappear again.

he hugged you back just as tightly.

"where… where the hell were you?! you don’t know how worried i was, how much i cried! i thought you were—"

his lips met yours, silencing your frantic words with a soft peck.

"now, now," he murmured against you, his tone laced with that familiar teasing warmth. "i’m here, and that’s all that matters, pretty."

you pouted, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest, holding him closer. but then your fingers brushed against something different—a rougher patch of skin around his stomach.

a scar.

your breath hitched. "how did you..."

he turned away slightly, avoiding your gaze. guilty. he didn’t want to talk about it.

so you didn’t push.

instead, he gently eased you back onto the bed, his lips finding yours again, slow and deliberate.

"i was this close to dying," he murmured between kisses, trailing from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck. "but i remembered you were waiting at home for me..." his words sent a shiver down your spine as his kisses grew deeper, needier.

"and i decided that heaven could wait."

you let out a breathless giggle, threading your fingers through his white locs."you think you’re going to heaven?" you teased, tugging playfully at his hair. "what a joke."

swiftly, he unbuttoned the blouse you had on and grabbed a handful of your breast, massaging it gently while sucking and nibbling on your neck to create a colorful bruise. sweet moans of his name slid out of between your lips against your will and he simply smirked at them.

"I know you cried, and I know you were cold," his eyes bored into yours, "but now that I'm here, I promise I won't ever leave again." and this time, you're the one that closed the space between your lips. you knew that his promise wasn't true at all, but you decided to ignore that fact and let yourself believe it for the span of a single night. in the heat of the moment, your hand slid down his chest and onto his pelvis, before sneaking its way into his pants, stroking his erection sensually.

satoru moaned into your mouth before taking this bold action of yours as a sign to give you pleasure aswell, his hand rubbing your pussy through your thin panties. "Oh shit- yeah, just like that, 'toru.." your head fell to the side as his hand slid into your panties, rubbing up and down your slit to collect some of your wetness before rubbing tight and quick circles onto your clit, making you needily clench around nothing.

meanwhile, your hand was still skillfully rubbing his cock, thumb rubbing on his tip making him jolt up from the sudden intense pleasure. satoru bit his lip before penetrating you with two of his digits, making you gasp in utter shock and awe. your breath followed the rhythm of his fingers that he pumped in and out of you, as you sped up the speed of your own hand.

as expected, you felt orgasm build up pretty quickly, and as you were of the edge of climaxing, you stopped him. "stop, stop! 'toru, stop it," and he quickly halted his movements, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort or pain. "I'm sorry baby, did I hurt you? I'm so fucking sorry, fuck-" you interrupted him, "no honey, I just..." you bit the inside of your cheek, "after all this time, I wanna cum on your dick, not your fingers..." and you felt his cock twitch at your words. he stared at you in shock before his expression turned into a lustful smile.

and before you even realized it, he had taken your hand out of his pants, before taking said pants off along with your panties in a span of a second. impressive.

"you know baby," he rubbed up and down your slit with the tip of his cock, "even though I won't go to heaven, I'll make sure you do," he aligned his tip with your entrance. "what do you mean?" he pressed a quick kiss against your lips. "I'll take you there myself." and with that, he bottomed out inside you in one swift motion.

your jaw dropped and you instinctively closed your eyes to embrace the familiar sensation of him inside you, but he tapped your cheek with his finger to get your attention. "eyes on me love." and so you obliged, opening your eyes to be met with an expression that seemed to be the results of a love and lust mix.

the sound of his hops meeting yours over and over again made you delirious along with the sensation of his cock claiming your insides and the intense eye contact you held with satoru. at some point, satoru can't hold in anymore—he whines and moans into your ear, whispering confessions such as "fuck– I love you too much, baby-" and "I missed this so bad... holy shit, yeah- I need this- oh fuck, yeah.." which did nothing but turn you on even more.

your hand went straight to your clit to rub it when you felt your orgasm building up again. satoru chased your high as much as you did, using his six eyes to hit all those gummy spots that made you see stars. "fuck- m'cumming, m'cumming!" you couldn't hold back your voice as your orgasm crashed over you without a warning. you struggled to keep your eyes on him as you twitched and shook with the intensity of the orgasm, as it had been weeks since you deemed yourself worthy enough to feel pleasure.

satoru's orgasm followed suit, shooting long ropes of cum into your womb, as your tight grip pulled strings of moans of your name out of his mouth.

as you both calmed down, satoru pulled his cock out and flopped on his back next to you.

a comfortable silence fell upon the both of you before you broke it, "you know," he hummed in acknowledgement, "you were right." his head whips to the side to look at you, who was already turned towards him. "what about?", you smiled, looking at the ceiling, "you did take me to heaven, after all."

you crawled on top of him to kiss his scar, making him feel a bit tingly. he patted your head, "and I'd do it all over again just for you, love."

[oscinhaslandito]

Bloody Chaos

Warning: ik some of the parts are a little out of touch and unrealistic but it's all in good fun for chaos please don't send hate

Y/N wakes up feeling a little off, but she assumes it's just morning hunger. She slowly pulls the covers off, trying not to wake Oscar, when she sees it— a huge bloodstain pooling underneath her on his crisp white sheets.

Panic sets in. Her eyes widen in horror, her breath catches in her throat, and before she can think, a small, accidental shriek escapes her lips.

Oscar, still half-asleep, grumbles and shifts next to her. "What? Who died?"

"ME. I JUST DIED. LOOK AT THE SHEETS."

Oscar cracks one eye open, blinking in the dim morning light. His gaze drops to the stain, then drifts lazily back to Y/N. "Oh. Okay. No big deal."

"NO BIG DEAL??" Y/N screeches, face heating up in mortification. "I JUST BLED ALL OVER YOUR BED, OSCAR."

He rubs his face, sitting up, looking frustratingly unbothered. "Babe, it's fine. Happens, right? At least we know we don’t need Plan B pills after last night, now."

Y/N gasps, launching a pillow at his face. "I AM GOING TO END YOU, PIASTRI."

Oscar catches the pillow mid-air, smirking, before suddenly reaching over and scooping Y/N into his arms.

"Oscar! Put me down!"

"Nope. You’re going straight to the shower. I’ll handle the bed."

Y/N kicks and squirms, but he carries her effortlessly, striding into the bathroom. He places her down inside the shower, steps back, and before she can react—he shuts the door and locks it with a chair under the handle.

"Oscar, what the hell?!"

"You’re not escaping until you shower," he calls out. "I got this covered."

Y/N bangs on the door, mortified beyond belief. "OSCAR, WAIT—I DON’T HAVE ANY HYGIENE PRODUCTS."

Silence.

Then, the distant sound of music turning on from the speakers outside the bathroom.

Y/N groans. "You have got to be kidding me."

Thirty minutes later…

Oscar finally realizes his mistake, sheepishly jogging up the stairs.

"Oh shit, you're right, you need hygiene products."

Y/N, still trapped in the bathroom, is one second away from combusting. "YA THINK?!"

He sprints out of the house, drives thirty minutes to the store, and returns looking way too pleased with himself as he holds up a pack of… cotton balls.

Y/N blinks at him. "Oscar. What is that?"

"Tampons," he declares proudly.

She stares at him, then at the literal pack of cotton balls in his hands. "Oscar, those are cotton balls."

"Yeah! That’s what tampons are, right? Like, little cotton things? You just… y'know… use them?" He gestures vaguely.

Y/N buries her face in her hands. "Oh my god."

Oscar tilts his head. "What? My mum told me once they’re just cotton you put in there when you’re bleeding."

Y/N groans. "Oscar. No. No, no, no. That is not how it works."

A pause.

"Oh."

Another pause.

"In my defense," Oscar adds, scratching the back of his head, "I moved to a different country super early, and I went to an all-boys boarding school. How was I supposed to know? No one ever taught me tampon science."

Y/N gapes at him. "Tampon science?"

Oscar nods solemnly. "I feel like this should’ve been in the curriculum."

Y/N sighs. "Just… go back and get the right thing. And for the love of god, get pads."

Another trip to the store later…

The moment he returns with actual pads—albeit the smallest size possible—Y/N finally emerges from the bathroom, exhausted and grumpy. She snatches the bag from his hands and rifles through it, her irritation bubbling over when she sees the tiny pads.

"Oscar, why are these so small?"

He shrugs. "I thought it was like clothes sizing."

Y/N exhales sharply, staring at him in sheer disbelief. "Oscar. That is not how this works."

Oscar scratches the back of his head. "Should I go back again?"

Y/N crosses her arms. "What do you think?"

Cue another thirty-minute round trip, and this time, Oscar returns with an assortment of pads in every possible size. The cashier had apparently given him a knowing look, and he'd fled the store in mild humiliation.

The rest of the day…

Oscar spends every second trying to make Y/N laugh, but she’s not having it.

Determined to make her feel better, he insists on making her tea, only to immediately burn himself on the kettle. Y/N watches, unimpressed, as he yelps and shakes his hand dramatically.

"Are you okay?" she deadpans.

"I need a hospital," he groans, clutching his wrist like he’s just lost a battle.

"You need common sense."

Later, as a final attempt at redemption, he announces that he’s going to bake her a cake.

"Do you even know how to bake?" she asks, still skeptical.

"No," he says with a confident grin, "but how hard can it be?"

Famous last words.

By the time he’s done, the kitchen looks like a war zone, flour is in his hair, and the cake is…questionable. The batter somehow ended up on the ceiling, and the frosting is a runny mess, but Oscar beams at his masterpiece like he’s just won a Michelin star.

"Tada!" he says proudly, presenting the lopsided cake to Y/N.

She raises an eyebrow. "Oscar… is it supposed to look like that?"

"Absolutely," he lies.

Y/N sighs, gives in, and takes a bite. It's terrible. But when she looks up at Oscar, who's watching her expectantly, his face full of hope, she swallows it down.

"Good, right?" he grins.

"Mmm," she hums, forcing a smile.

He narrows his eyes. "You hate it."

"I love it," she corrects, even as she struggles to chew. "Best cake ever."

Oscar leans forward, smirking. "You’re lying to spare my feelings."

"Duh."

With a laugh, he pulls her into his arms, ignoring her protests. "Well, too bad, because you’re stuck with me forever. Period stains, terrible cake, and all."

Y/N groans but doesn’t push him away. Because at the end of the day, despite all the chaos, she’s maybe—just maybe—falling in love with this sweet menace of a man.

[ponyojujuu]

Hiii ☺️🤭I'm here to kindly ask for some quality content

So if you could share who do you think is mtl likely to get turned on the first time they see their partner in their clothes?? ( Legal line ofc)

If you're up for it I would love it for both enha and &team.thank you🥰

hii! this seems so fun!

not a drabble more of a list with thoughts lol, lmk if you want drabbles of their reactions in my request box! &team will be in part 2!

most to least likely to get turned on seeing reader in their clothes (enhypen pt. 1)

not smut, but not fluff

slightly suggestive mdni

you have been warned

ni-ki! he would love this omg. i can imagine him giving you some of his clothes actually just to see you wear them. he’d love seeing his giant hoodies engulf your body, even if you just napping in them or being comfortable around the house. if he comes home from work and sees you in his clothes he’ll probably instantly feel a bit turned on, or even after you guys have sex and he sees you in his clothes he’s gonna wanna do it all over again.

jake! jake seems like the type to beg you to wear his clothes. you’d just be minding your business, maybe sitting on the couch/bed or just getting out of the shower and jake would be biting his bottom lip. “baby can you wear my shirt? please” sometimes your even avoid wearing it just because you know turned on he can get. if you can’t find some pajamas/clothes of your own you wanted to wear he would offer again for you to wear his. not only this but he would love the scent you leave on all his hoodies, shirts etc. he’d be obsessed with it, and loving to wear it again when he goes to work or anyplace without you carrying your sweet scent.

heeseung! heeseung seems like the type of bf to seriously love and be obsessed with anything you do as long as you’re doing it. including you wearing his clothes. it wouldn’t be just about the sexual, similar to jake he’d love the scent you’d leave behind on his clothes, and would probably hesitate to wash them once you give it back. he’d probably also love you in it more than himself and end up giving you a lot of his clothes. but getting turned on would definitely happen with him. like i said, heeseung loves everything you do in both ways, if you surprise him wearing one of his long button downs first thing out of the shower he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you (i mean when does he ever). you’d probably apologize for taking it short notice but he’d end up thanking you for wearing it because he finds it so hot.

jay! i think jay would like this, but moreso in the sense where he likes to dress you up in his clothes so you guys are matching. he seems like he’d be into corny stuff like that lolz. he’ll specifically pick certain clothes from his wardrobe that he wants to see you in, and his little fashionista heart will explode seeing you in it. I don’t think he’ll be a huge turn on for him, but something more wholesome he enjoys. but if you steal an oversized shirt or hoodie to sleep in he might be picky as to which you’re allowed to use since he has his favorite clothing. also jay and his short temper.

jungwon! jungwon wouldn’t be upset about you taking his clothes. but he would definitely tease you about it, like all the time in front of family friends who ever. “y/n has so much clothes but still wants to wear my favorite hoodie!” it would be cute. but he actually really loves when you wear his clothes. i think jungwon would have a decent self control so he wouldn’t always get turned on when you wear his clothes. especially his favorite items, then he might get just a bit upset with you. but sometimes when your wearing his clothes it might be a little to hard to keep control. i think he’d be very subtle about bringing it up because he knows you’ll tease him right back. “i thought you hated when i wore your clothes?” which was a really a lie, it was a way to stop himself from getting horny when he saw you.

sunoo! sunoo kinda seems like he wouldn’t typically enjoy you snooping around his closet at first. so when he sees you wearing his clothes he might be a bit picky about it at first. but once he is used to it he’d probably really adore you in them. but i don’t think he’d get to turned on by the idea unless your just wearing a plain white tee that’s see through. but in most case scenarios it would be more of a fluff thing for him. cuddling you and snuggling you in his clothes, sometimes teasing you for stealing all his clothes like jungwon.

sunghoon! sunghoon seems like he’s not huge on sharing things with you, especially since he seems to adore his high end fashion. but if you ask nicely though i can see him lending you a few clothes that he���d let you wear. but he’d probably be a bit moody if you went through his clothes without his permission. i don’t see him getting that turned on that easily by this though, unless he was already in the mood, or you were purposely trying to seduce him. but of course since your his girlfriend he’d give into the temptation of you eventually.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Your posts about hair care always have me doing a double take on myself because it's always new information. And I'd wonder "am I whitewashing myself? Not connected to my roots enough?" But actually seeing as I am ten toes down in the soil of a West African country having never even visited even a different state.... It's actually just cause I hated getting my hair braided for most of my childhood and pathologically avoided anything about haircare until I had it trimmed. Which is funny but also concerning at this point I have too much dandruff to be acting like this, how does one go about properly caring for a high taper fade?

Also howw do black men get that almost starter-locs look on their head with only a brush and some Vaseline it doesn't work until I get the actual sponge tool and someone told me it's cause I used to relax my hair but I shaved it all off?? This brand new growth should be different no??

🤣🤣 I think you're good, friend! The traumas of Black hair care as a child with no autonomy really go unaddressed in our community. Once I got told I couldn't come back to a salon bc of my bad behavior. But the reason my behavior was "bad" is because I'd finally got fed up of my chronically late ass hair stylist showing up bc she had to get junk food for her spoiled rotten ass kids, leaving the perm in my head until my scalp seared numerous times, always walking away from me for hours, and then being rough with my tender scalp. So fuck her 🤣 to this DAY I don't respect her memory. to date I cannot STAND the culture of being late to hair appts but not getting discounts for said unprofessionalism. Being natural is the best thing that ever happened to my hair.

Second, shouldn't NOBODY be using any Vaseline in their head!! No!!!

Everyone's hair is gonna grow in differently. You might need to give your hair some time to breathe as it is, and then start attempting some styles. It took me six months to grow out my natural hair from the permed texture; ik you said it was only braided but it might be used to the weight (?)

What texture is your hair? Because it's easier to do certain styles with thicker hair. Is this the style you're talking about? If not let me know so I understand.

[daddy-dotcom]

Sports Car

Red!Clark x Female Reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, maybe like 1 swear word?

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

To say that Clark had been acting strange was an understatement. The once wholesome farm boy was now mouthing off to teachers and riding around on a motorcycle. It was almost as if his personality had done a complete 180 overnight. However, this sudden change had almost no effect on your massive crush on Clark. If anything, his new persona had only increased the amount of salacious thoughts that ran through your mind as you stared at him during class. You chalked up all of his typical chivalrous acts to him just being a nice guy. But his longing glances and lingering touches made you think that just maybe, he might feel the same way about you.

As the bell signaling the end of class rung, you were making your way out of the room until a familiar husky voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"You're looking nice today, Y/N."

You turned around to see none other than Clark Kent sitting nonchalantly on a desk, eyeing you up and down as if you were on display just for him. Was it delusional to think that he was checking you out?

"That skirt fits you real nice, Y/N." He rose from the desk and walked closer, almost too close, to where you were standing, frozen in place.

"You wear that just for me?" he asked, now inches from your face. Up close, you could see his blushy cheeks and perfect dimples. His pouty red lips that you had daydreamed about looking more kissable than ever. Stunned by his brazen attempts at flirting with you, you paused a minute to consider your response.

"Maybe I did," you reply, shy smile forming on your face. Clark, in turn, began to smile back. It wasn't his usual earnest grin. This time, a sly, knowing smile had overtaken him.

"I knew it," he began, "I always notice you glancing over at me during class when you think I'm not watching."

Your eyes widened as weight of Clark's revelation hit you. Maybe your secret crush wasn't such a secret after all.

"Relax, Y/N," he assured you before leaning in close, "I've been watching you too." He took both of your hands in his before continuing.

"Look, Y/N, I've had feelings for you for a long time, and I know you have feelings for me too. So I think we should stop pretending."

Unsure of what to make of his confession, you ask "so, what? Is this supposed to be some all new Clark Kent?"

"That depends, do you like him?" he quips before pressing his lips to yours. You let him kiss you, hoping that this is one dream that you'll never wake up from. He cups your cheek with one hand while using his other to steady you at the waist. His touch even more dizzying than before. Your hands press on his chest to confirm that this is all really happening before he pulls away.

"You wanna go for a ride?" he asks. While you'd assumed he meant a ride in his car, you fervently nodded in reply, down for whatever he had in mind.

Clark took your hand and led you through the hallways and out to the parking lot, only to find a red sports car with the letters LEX XIV spelled out on the license plate. Confused, you raised an eyebrow and asked Clark, "what happened to the big red pickup?"

"Figured I needed an upgrade if I was going to be driving around with the prettiest girl in school."

Just then, you felt a surge of heat creep up to your cheeks and down to your core. He motions for you to get in the car and you oblige without a second thought. You barely had a moment to fasten your seatbelt before the engine revved and Clark took off. His driving was erratic which had you gripping the “oh shit” handle and squeezing your eyes shut. You could feel the car swerving and you just prayed to God you made it to wherever you were headed. Sensing your uneasiness, Clark's hand found its way from the steering wheel to your bare thigh. Between the new jacket, the car, his behavior, you didn’t know what to make of him. Is it bad that you liked this version of Clark? He was bold and daring and not afraid to make a move, which was exactly what you both needed.

As you made your way further and further down the backroads of Smallville, Clark's hand made its way further and further up your thigh. The tension in the car becoming unbearable as you spread your legs just enough to let him snake his hand up to your soaked panties. Delighted by the surprise, a wicked grin began to form on Clark's face.

"Wow baby, all this for me?" he teased. A breathy "mhmm" was all you could muster at this point because his fingers had pushed their way past your panties and into you. "Why don't we see how wet you can really get?"

He drove another mile or two before abruptly pulling off the road down a dirt path. When he finally parked the car, we were in an empty field just past a thick covering of trees. You moaned at the loss of contact from his fingers, but you could barely comprehend what was happening before his lips smashed into yours. His left hand tugged forcefully on your hair while his right hand went straight for your lips. Before he could even ask, you sucked your own juices off of his fingers.

"Such a good girl," he cooed as he removed his fingers. "Come here baby," he said, reaching for your waist with one hand and pulling you onto his lap with an insane amount of strength.

"We could share one seat,"

"Clark, who even are you right now? What is this" you giggled, pointing between the two of you.

He let out a chuckle of his own before replying, "I think you know what this is." And just like that, his lips were attacking you once more. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips down to your neck with his hands firmly gripping your ass. While his lips got to work on your neck, his hands pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist. You were both a mess of grunts and whines as your hips ground against each other in perfect sync. Inspired by Clark's bold actions, you took matters into your own hands and began unhooking his belt.

"Woah somebody's eager," he teased as his cock sprung free from his boxers. God it was even bigger than you’d imagined all those times you daydreamed about him during class.

"Shut up," you shot back before finally sinking down onto his length. It was at this moment that you lost all control in the situation. Your hips were bound by Clark's tight grasp and he drilled into you from underneath. He was fucking you with such fervor that you had grip onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Oh my god, Clark!" you practically screamed.

"Not so shy anymore are you, Y/N?"

Growing accustomed to his pace, you began to grind down on his cock as he railed you from below.

"Fuck, Clark, you're gonna make me cum," you groaned.

"I know baby, just let it out for me." His words were enough to send you over the edge, with his name tumbling out of your mouth and your juices completely soaking his lower half. But Clark was relentless. He kept pounding into you until finally you felt his cum coating your insides.

"Jesus, Y/N, I didn't know you had that in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Clark."

"We're gonna have a lot of fun together aren't we?" he slurred. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before replying, "definitely. . .but we should probably get the car cleaned up before returning it to Lex."

"I wouldn't worry about it, I don't think he'll be getting this car back for a while." ;)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘

AN: this is my first time writing for Smallville Clark Kent and it was inspired by a tate mcrae song that I’m currently obsessed with. lmk how I did <3

[bitesyoubitesyoubitesyoubitesyo]

CW; Gn reader, smut, yandere elements, noncon/dubcon (reader starts to enjoy it near the end), somnophilia, drugging, praise, a bit of blood, bad writing, yandere is also gn and is implied to have a dick but it can also be read as a strap, not proofread

Shy and perverted yan (degenerate loser) who spends their free time watching porn and playing ero visual novels with an Innocent and naive darling with no sense of personal space or social etiquette.

The two of you were paired up for a school assignment, despite yan's complaints to the teacher about doing a group assignment.

Your presence only heightens their reluctance. You're always finding some way to touch them, some way to compliment them- and they know it's entirely friendly but god. They already barely interact with people to begin with and then you... Sweet, pure, pretty you... All of a sudden decides they're deserving of your kind treatment? They can't help but get excited.

They really, really want to try and make a genuine friend but it's hard when every little touch and praise goes straight to their crotch.

Yan's intrusive thoughts get the better of them, so they invite you over to their house to work on your project together. Of course, you agreed, thinking their intentions were nothing more than wanting to get a good grade. You're glad your partner is passionate!

You're so, unbearably cute.

Once in their room, they offer to make you some hot chocolate. It's cold out, and everybody likes hot chocolate, right? What you didn't know was that they ground up a sedative pill and sprinkled it into your drink.

After about an hour of working together on your project and slowly sipping your hot chocolate, they were beginning to worry that the sedative didn't even work- until you started dozing off on their shoulder.

Yan was so excited, it was finally happening... They almost didn't want to follow through with their original plan because of how sweet you looked asleep on their shoulder, but eventually it just made them more horny.

They carefully lift you up onto their bed, laying you down and undressing you slowly before slipping some ropes out from under their bed. They hadn't expected to use them so soon, but you were just such an easy catch, it was laughable.

They tied the ropes tight around your body, tight enough to hurt if you struggled too much. Once they were finished, they stepped back to admire. Your vulnerable, untouched body, wrapped up all for them... Aah, they just couldn't take it! They had wanted to wait until you were awake, but you wouldn't mind if they just took you then, right?

Running their filthy hands all over your skin, they start humping your leg like a dog in heat. They've been so horny ever since you drank the hot chocolate, and they've been getting off to the thought of you like this since you were paired up together. It almost felt like this was a dream...

Yan really wanted to feel guilty about corrupting you like this, but when they were finally inside of you, they couldn't bring themself to care.

You woke up to the intrusion, crying out in pain as they shushed you. "Sshh, shh... It's okay..." They whispered to you, mouth to your ear, rutting into you with an uncharacteristic eagerness.

The stinging sensation was unbearable and you writhed beneath your ropes- and paired with the flustered confusion on your face, you couldn't look cuter to yan.

"This is normal... It hurts now, but you're gonna feel so good soon. Trust me, my angel..." Their hushed words make you uncomfortable, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know this isn't normal, but you can't help but trust them. They've been so nice to you! They wouldn't hurt you on purpose.

You look down and notice blood dripping from where the two of you are connected, pooling beneath your ass. The sight is overwhelming, but you don't get too much time to dwell on it before they thrust into you particularly harshly.

A pathetic sob escapes from your lips as tears roll down your face. Yan coos at you, kissing away your tears and reaching their hand down to rub at your sex. The thought of enjoying this feels wrong, but you can't deny the way the pain slowly morphs into pleasure.

Soon enough, more moans of ecstasy are escaping you rather than cries of pain. "Yeah... See? I told you, it feels good... Hah.. just lay there and take it, my love."

You don't know how long you're gonna be here for, but would it be so wrong for you to say that you hope this doesn't end?

[creeksandsocks]

Splash

Hi! Okay, so, this is my first time ever writing smut - please feel free to leave me constructive criticism, or requests! 

Paring: inexperienced!Eddie Munson x inexperienced!f!Reader, established relationship

Tags/warnings: 18+ Mature, Minors do not interact, 1980s, ST4!AU,  smut, first handjobs, tit sucking and groping, grinding, kiss, graphic description of sexual acts, bad writing, misuse of italics, author is a virgin  😅😮‍💨

[4.5k words]

Author's Note: First ever smut! This fic is placed in an AU where the events of ST4 haven't happened, a lot of the “accurate lore” about his character is from the Flight of Icarus book, and while i'm still debating if I consider it cannon - I did use it for some some period-accurate stories and interests :)

When Eddie came to visit you during your shift at Family Video, you pushed a VHS of Splash into his chest.

“We have to watch this tonight, it’s my guilty pleasure movie and I need you to see it” you inform him as he inspects the tape that was just jutted into his chest.

He agrees without any argument. It’s not the kind of movie he’d pick out to watch for himself, normally opting towards Star Wars or Fire Escape from New York, but he’s not against rom-coms. He likes Tom Hanks enough, and thinks that mermaids are cool. But, really, he would watch anything for you.

You’re both so new into your relationship that you’re still figuring things out about each other. You're glad to learn that he’s modern in a way, for not condemning things for being “chick flicks” or whatever, at least for a small midwestern town like Hawkins.

The real reason you picked Splash isn’t actually because you’re dying to have your new boyfriend watch it, it's really because the familiarity of the film will hopefully provide a crutch in calming your nerves as you try and make a move on your guy tonight. Deep down, you know he won’t reject your advances. He really likes you and finds you hot, too. Both times when you’ve been left alone you’ve acted predictably. Jumping onto each other and making out.

The first time you made out with Eddie was the second time you kissed him. He was dropping you off at your house after a very successful first date. He kills the ignition to his van and his cassette stops playing. He turns to look at you, “I really had fun” he stammers, “I was wondering, if you wanted to go out again sometime? And… maybe be my girlfriend?”

He’s nervous, blushing and unblinking as he confesses to you. He takes his arm and rubs the back of his neck with it. You reply shortly after, but to Eddie, with his heart out on the line, it seemed to take eons. “Yes!” you try not to sound too eager, but youre ecstatic, “Yes to both I mean, being your girlfriend and a second date…”

You both stare at each other with soft accomplished smiles before instinctually meeting in the middle as you lean over his middle console and start feverishly kissing. You're practically earned it after all the pining going between the two of you. Your hands are in his hair, cupping his head and pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. He's holding your head with one boyish palm and gently pulling you closer by the waist with the other. 

Eventually, you get fed up with his center console keeping you separated and decide to be fearless. You clamber over it, barely disconnecting your lips as you do and fumble yourself into his lap. He seems very happy with your new position and wraps the hand around your waist even tighter, hugging you into him. You’re both switching the tilt of your heads constantly. You want to get at him from every angle possible. He eventually kisses your jowl, chin and jawline as he kisses down your neck. He mouths at your lats and leaves bruising love bites there. He's quick to move back to your mouth though, desperate to get a taste of all you. You feel him stiff in his pants the more you kiss him, you are very proud of yourself for being able to get him so worked up. He parts your lips to breathe and he tenderly cradles your face. 

You admire each other's spit-covered mouths before you run your tongue down his jawline and suckle a hickey onto the angle of his mandible. He moans at your tongue lathing over his skin and he swallows the drool out of his mouth. Once you've decided he’s got enough of a mark you kiss him more, slowly winding each other down. 

You eventually part for the final time. Before you separate, you leave one last sweet kiss on his cheek. You pry his left arm off you and angle it to see his watch. He lets you, he’s gone slack at the weight of you on his lap, feeling the pressure of you against his hard-on. You see you're 15 minutes past curfew. “Shit shit shit!” you panic, scanning the passenger seat to grab your bag.

“What?” he questions, scared he’d done something wrong and hurt you. You inform him “I’m fifteen past curfew, if i'm not home like now i'll be forbidden from ever seeing you again”. Eddie doesn’t want to leave you, but he wants to never see you again even less. You have one last soothing kiss before you clamber out of the driver's side door. You run up to your front door as fast as your legs will carry you and scramble through your bag for your keys. You shove them into the lock as you turn over your shoulder and sweetly wave at the boy who you just rocked the world of.

The second time you guys made out you started both laid out on your bed. A mixtape Robin gave you fills the silence as you lounge. You were sprawled out on your back, knees bent and arms folded over your ribs. He's on his back too, just next to you, and you’re both stealing glances at each other. Admiring the look of each other's side profiles. He’s telling you about how one time he found drugs in the principal's desk and used them to (for lack of a better word) blackmail him into supporting the hellfire club. 

You laugh and turn your head towards his smiling face. “No fucking way?!” you say, more shocked than in disbelief. He turns his body onto his side now and props his head up on his arm.

“I was pretty nervous, actually, I would have made a huge fool out of myself if it was just aspirin or something,” he confessed, “but I knew that bottle, and by the dumb look on his face I knew I'd caught him, too!”.

He mimics the dumb face the principal made which makes you laugh even harder. He chuckles too, proud of himself for making you laugh and he smiles as he admires your beautiful scrunched face. You both take a deep breath to recover from all your laughing. He moves a small face-framing strand of hair that has been tousled into covering your lips and decides that he should make a move.

You nervously stare at his dark eyes and he moves his head closer to yours; his eyes haven’t moved from your lips since he cleared them off. He’s giving you the chance to stop him if you don’t wanna kiss him. Given you allow him, it’ll be the third ever time you guys have kissed each other. You spare him the rest of the distance and bring your face up to meet his. You kiss once at first, soft and reassuring each other that you both want it. Knowing he has permission he gently pushes your face back into the bed with his lips as he kisses you again. He's got one arm, on the opposite side of you that he's laying on, supporting himself. He wants to be close to you but he’s scared of crushing you. His inner wrist is tightly pressed up against your waist where your shirt has risen up. You can actually feel his heartbeat through the delicate skin there, it’s beating quickly like a hummingbird and you're reassured that you’re not the only nervous one.

His other hand is nestled in the negative space between your neck and shoulder and he has a gentle fistful of your hair in it, your soft hair grounds him as he moves it though his fingers, careful not to pull on your scalp. Your kisses are getting hotter and you eventually slide the very tip of your tongue between his lips. He gratefully reciprocates with his own warm muscle and slides a good amount of it past your teeth. It's really nice, your tongues are swirling around each other and exploring the taste of eachothers mouths. You straighten your legs out on the bed and he takes it as a sign to adjust himself over you. He lets go of the handful of your hair and brackets his arm around your head. The hand that was previously supporting him is now placed under your shirt at the small of your waist. He gently squeezes you there, trying to get a feel for your soft skin and the musculature underneath while his thumb separates from the rest of his hand and is angled towards your belly button softly stroking the skin over your obliques. Your left leg is unintentionally pinned beneath his thighs, but your right one is free. You again bend it at the knee and use it to pull him closer. You both feel dreamy together, his hair has fallen around you and created a dark curtain around your faces, blocking out most of your room's light.

“You're a good kisser” he confesses in the chamber of his hair, intimately and softly he says it; he's never been vulnerable like this for a girl before.

“Thanks, you too” you respond awkwardly at his compliment. But his hazy mind only picks up on the fact that he's making you feel good.

You resume your depraved kissing and remove one of your hands from being perched on his broad shoulders to his waist. You too, take the time to massage and examine the flesh that is breached under your hand.

You continue on like that for a while before he decides to be really brave and slowly, gently, graze his denim-clad hard-on down the seam of your pants. He's in awe of how warm your core is and how good it feels to rub his most intimate parts against yours, you both amateurly moan at the friction he's created, relieving some of the boiling hot pressure between your respective legs. Your cheeks are warmed by your rapid blood flow, and the clutch between your legs feels liquid hot. You really feel the wetness in your panties as he cautiously drags his boner up the seam of your jeans for a second time. You're positive you've soaked through them but you don’t seem to care as you lift your hips to come meet the hard bulge in his jeans for a third time. You continue to gyrate your hips into each other. This novice bunny humping feels so good to you both and you continue to breathlessly whimper and moan into the protection of each other's mouths. 

Eddie’s fairly certain he's about 2 minutes from blowing his load into his boxers. He’s not complaining exactly, because, god, it feels good to dry hump onto you like this. But, he doesn’t want to disappoint you with his lack of stamina or unintentionally end the moment early. He dumbly tries to distract himself from the boiling throb between his legs by gently snaking his hand up your shirt (because feeling your tit will for sureeee hold him off. He’s just about to make anticipated contact with the very bottom of your bra before your bedroom door slams open.

It’s Hopper. Because of course it's him. The chief scrunches his face into his shoulder and turns quickly. Both you and Eddie are so embarrassed to be caught like that you both freeze and separate your mouths with a final suctioned click. Eddie (wrongly) assumes that you’d (ever) want him off you and presses up off of you. Both his arms are straight now and his cock is now hovering above where he was just grinding on you. You sit up, too, and stare scaredly at the intruder. You bend both of your legs at the knee now, and shield Eddie’s bulge from the man as Eddie works to pull your tshirt back down. Hopper's hand blindly reaches back towards your door handle and continuously misses.

He tells you both “AH JESUS- I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING. I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING” its silent for a second before he says smally “dinner’s ready if you guys can come down… you guys do realize you can't do that while other people are in the house, right? Jesus. I did not want to have this conversation today,” he corrects himself “ever, actually. Just be down it ten. And USE PROTECTION” he warns (mostly Eddie) before finally getting a handle on the door and slamming it.

Neither of you were able to correct him that “ugh no dude, were werent actually fucking FYI”... that it was just a depraved and needy makeout secession. Eddie and you both awkwardly laugh at each other and you both take a second to cool yourselves down. He slams his back on the bed and lays down. You can tell he's pleading to any higher power to just have his boner go softly into that goodnight. You decide your sweet man needs space and kick your legs off the edge of the bed. You both take regulating deep breaths for a few moments before sliding off the bed and creeping downstairs together. The entire gang seems to sense something off with you two as you are both especially quiet and sweaty while you eat.

But this time? This time is gonna be different. He’s invited you to his place after work, he made sure to tell you that you'll be both home alone till 3AM because his uncle is on the night shift. You will make sure there are no interruptions in your activities as you’re desperate to touch his cock. You’ve done your research, you want to make him feel good. You've snuck tapes from the ADULTS ONLY section of Family Video as you restocked, and done everything you can to prepare for this moment, watching the moves of the porn girls and they perform effortless hand jobs and you’re wearing cute undies. It seems entry level enough, jacking a guy off, but you really want to make this good for him.

Work seems to go by especially slowly today despite how busy it is, and 9PM seems like it will never come. It always seems like that when you're especially tired or looking forward to something. The second the “OPEN” sign is switched off, you're clocked out and running out the door. Telling your coworkers and closest friends, Steve and Robin, that you have to study for a killer test, thankfully, they seem to believe it. You’re driving fast to his trailer. But, the second you pull into Forest Hills your heart starts beating out of your chest and you feel less confident. Second guessing yourself, your body, your abilities, even how much Eddie even likes you. But, you're already pulling up to his plot before you're able to let the anxiety fully consume you. You take a deep breath, brace yourself and make your way to the front door.

He wantonly kisses you hello after opening the door and the warm light of the kitchen highlights his shape. For the first hour, it’s innocent, you two only giggle with each other and make popcorn. Finally situating yourselves on the couch by the time 10 rolls around. He shoves the VHS into the TV and thuds into the couch next to you. He snuggles his arm around you and you fawn into his chest and shovel the buttered popcorn into your mouth as the opening credits start. He eventually tells you he's liking the film so far, but you realize that you haven’t been paying attention and you're already twenty minutes in. Your mind wanders to if he has any plans for you later.

It's impressive, honestly, that you've both made it a whopping half-hour into the movie before your wants take over. From under his armpit you look up at him with your best bedroom eyes (if you practiced them in the mirror beforehand, is between you and god). You twist yourself up to face him, both of your knees touching the back couch cushions and your feet are pointed out. You lick your lips, but before you're able to lean in and kiss him, his mouth is already on yours. You immediately wrap wandering arms around each other and kiss feverishly. 

This time he's the first one to put his tongue into your mouth, it feels good, heavenly, even, to have him inside you like this. You can taste his recently brushed teeth and butter as it swirls around your mouth. You're both already whining by the time you straddle his lap. Your practically touching tonsils by the time he eventually uses his strength to twist you both on the couch and ease you onto your back. He’s laying above you once again, but this time there's nobody down the hall. Just him and you (and Splash). He leans down over you slowly and one again pushes his bulge against the cleft of your pussy. He goes again and you both moan as his unpracticed thrusts. 

He separates from you, barely an inch and asks you “can I take your shirt off? Please?”. You nod your head and grab the hemline of it. You ease it over your head, both tempting him expertly and delaying feeling so naked in front of him. It’s not like you don’t want him to see you naked, you want to see him naked, too. You're for the first time it’s pretty scary. He makes you feel safe, though. Held and warm, pushed into his worn couch. You throw your top onto his coffee table and allow him to take a look. He has to actively stop himself from drooling over your bra covered breasts. He’s just looking for a while, and you start to get nervous.

You interrupt his stare “is, um everything okay? Like I'm normal right?”. He looks up at you and nods.

He confesses “holy shit yeah this is actually awesome”. You warmly smile at the boyishly sweet comment and pry one of his hands off your waist. You place it on your breast and shyly nod, urging him on, telling him it's okay, I want you to touch me. He gently cups your tit and massages the flesh through the fabric of your bra. He moves his hand to the other one and gropes you there, too. More confident now that you grind yourself up into him as he touches you.

You push your chest up into him and tease “your turn”. He sits up and obediently slides his shirt off. You run your hand down the milky skin of his pec and toned stomach, you use your finger to trace the silhouettes of his chest tattoos. You glide your finger through his adonis belt before running your hand back over his soft and taught flesh. “Im likin’ what im seein’” you good-heartedly joke. He blows air out his nose and crashes back down onto you. You contine grinding and tongue-fucking eachothers mouthes, taking the time to feel your naked abdomens rub, before you breathlessly tell him to take off his pants.

What follows is a frenzy of stripping, both of you standing up from the couch and wrestling with belts, button flies and socks until you're both scantily clad in nothing but your underwear. You both finish undressing simultaneously and turn towards each other. You feel comfortable with Eddie, but definitely very exposed, you assume he feels the same way too. You each scan each other's bodies. You eye the prominent tent in the front of his blue gingham boxers and defined line of hair that leads from his belly button to under his waistband. You eventually get to his dark eyes, his pupils seem to be dilated, deep brown eyes turned near black with want. You see him scanning your body, too. Taking his time before complimenting you. “Baby, wow. Your body is perfect like, idk, like a pornstar. But better, even”. You blush and return the favor. Your horniness goes straight to your head and you cut to the chase. “You’re sexy, Eddie.” Your bluntness could actually be comical if you guys weren’t so thirsty for each other.

He pounces on you, again stroking his hands over your exposed skin, groping your ass and unconsciously pushing his hard cock into your stomach. He lays you back down on the couch and you kiss for a while. Both of you easing into the idea of how bare you each were. Eventually he rises above you again. He asks “can I?” and plucks at your bra strap. You tell him yes and he pulls both straps down your arms in tandem. Revealing your perked nipples to him. “... You’re beautiful, thank you” he says. You can't help but softly giggle at him for thanking you for letting him pull your tits out. But when he goes back to kneading your mounds of flesh between his hands you forget about anything funny. He's mouthing at your neck, collarbones and sternum before he lathes your tit in his mouth. Licking the revealed expanse of skin and sucking into the soft flesh, biting at your nipple. He provides the care to your other breast too, and uses his hand to grope at the one that is free from his suckling. “Feels good Eddie” you reassure him. He’s definitely liking this, too, pushing his throbbing cock into your thigh. And humping you like an animal. Eventually you work up enough courage and ask him for what you really want.

“Eddie?” you question, “can I uh- can I jack you off?”. His drooling mouth goes dry at that. God he wants you to, but he's never actually been touched like that before - he’s nervous but immediately responds. “God yes you can, you don’t even have to ask, baby”. You both sit up then, he tucks himself into the corner of the couch and welcomes you as you crawl over to him. Sitting with your knees jabbing into the side of his thigh. You confirm “you're sure you want me to, Eddie? It’s okay if you don’t want me to - I can stop”. “What no!” he assures you “I definitely want you to continue. I just ugh- i've never done this, " he gestures arm around his crotch and your naked body, “before, so i'm kinda nervous. I'm also totally gonna bust in like 30 seconds baby. I'm sorry but I just have to warn you-”. You kiss the nervous bumbles out of his mouth and fully unclip your own bra.

You admit to him “I’ve never done this either, so please tell me if you don't like it - or if I can do something better, okay?”. He nods again, though he thinks there's nothing you can do to him right now he wont like, and you meet him for a slow and warm kiss before you separate and get to work.

He admires your fully exposed tits as you slide your hand down his stomach. Your hands breach the elastic of his waistband and you two lock eyes once more, making sure you are both ready to commit. You peel the waistband from his hips and he lifts them from the couch. His boxers are just on his thighs now, fully revealing him to you. Your mouth is dry now, too, reveling in the look of him. From what you know, he's a little longer and thicker than average. You examine him in totality - the blushing dusky pink tip of his manhood leaking pre-cum and hairy patch at the base. He’s got some veins running down the sides of it that simply accentuate that fact that Eddies got a nice cock. Your eyes wander past the patch of his pubic hair and to his balls, they are unshockingly perfect, too.

“Eddie, it's big” you tell him, and he moans at that as his dick twitches with want.This is real, this is happening, you tell yourself as you kiss him once more for good luck before you get started.

You decide to go all in to start, wrapping your hand around the middle of his cock. You only grip him and he’s hissing and panting at the feeling of your hand. He’s already liking it, so you feel good enough to continue. Stroking your hand up and his entire abdomen flexes.

He nods and whines “feels good baby, feels really good”. You release him from your grip and swirl the palm of your hand around the head of his cock, collecting the precum that's been dripping out before you slide your hand down his entirety. He's clearly having a great time - hissing, and breathing deeply, moaning your name and lulling his head as you stroke him four more times solidly. You release him to spit on your own hand and he takes a deep breath, the separation of your pleasure how close you realize he is. “Baby, fuck-Y/N, im close, im close, im really close”. His cheeks are pinked and his eyebrows are pinched. He fills his cheeks with hair and blows it out before you kiss his bitten lips.

Though his vision is blurred, he makes eye contact with you. You candle his face in one hand and pause your stroking with the other, though you keep it on him. “Eddie, I want you to cum. It’s the point - I want you to”. Again, he shakily nods and licks his lips. 

You confidently return your hand and jack him off now, he's looking from the ceiling, to your bouncing tits, to your hand sliding down him as he tries to delay his orgasm. But, it's futile. With pathetic “ugh ugh ughs” he's cumming all over your hand and wrist. He's lost in the aftershocks of his orgasm and you kiss him again. His head is fully relaxed and he uses all his strength to kiss you back. You gently release his softening cock and you blush look at his release, splashed all over your hand. Eddie looses his mind and you lick his cum off your hand. Fuck - he could get hard at that alone.

You're back to kissing now, you cradle his face, snaking your fingers over the expanse of his flushed body. You tell him to lift his hips and you place his boxers back on his hips, (unfortunately) hiding his ruddy cock from you, again.

 He looks at you with big, wet eyes, you notice the tears glossing just under his bottom lashes, “baby, want me to do you now? Gimme five minutes and I’ve got you - I swear”. You kiss him again, grateful that your boyfriend cares so much about your own pleasure.

 You just set your sticky palm on his haunting chest tattoo and promise him, “next time, cowboy, I want you to - but tonight, just enjoy this” you cartoonishly wink at him and he nods dutifully. He’s tired and fucked out as you both snuggle under a well-loved quilt. Both excited for what next time may bring.

[27spoons]

Cologne | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Natalie shows up at your window. When was the last time she showed up without an agenda? You can't remember.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: smut(afab!reader), angst in my pants

wc: 2440

ao3

TAP

…

TAP TAP TAP

…

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP—

You throw the blinds of the window open, coming face-to-face with a drunken Natalie Scatorccio, her knuckles stilling against the glass pane of your window. 

"Heyyyyyy—" The blonde grins through the window, pulling her hand back to awkwardly wave, "Can I… uh…" She gestures to the window.

You stare blankly at her for a solid fifteen seconds.

"It's three in the morning, Natalie."

Nat makes a face and shrugs in response, "Please?"

With a heavy, reluctant sigh, you unlatch your window, and Nat immediately stumbles into your bedroom, falling face-first onto your carpet. "Really?" You ask flatly, staring down at her, "You reek of smoke and booze, by the way."

She grunts at that, pushing herself off the floor, "Don't I always?" Brushing imaginary dust off the lapel of her leather jacket, she takes stock of your room. "Room looks the same." 

You roll your eyes. "You were here a week ago, Natalie. Of course, it looks the same."

Nat shoots you a glare as she takes off her leather jacket, seemingly making herself at home despite you not offering. "Whatever. My room looks different every night." She throws her jacket onto a desk chair, "I like that yours is… stationary, or whatever." She pauses at the foot of your bed, and you already know what she's here for. You don't have to ask—it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. "It's nice, I guess."

But that catches you off-guard. "What? What do you mean… nice?"

She shrugs, hands in the pockets of her jeans as she glances around your room again, "I dunno. It's, like… nice to have something in my life that isn't constantly changing." The words come out so quietly that you aren't even sure if you've heard them, and you have to blink a few times to make sure you didn't hallucinate.

"Are you saying I'm something in your life that stays the same?"

Nat scowls at that and crosses her arms. "No. I-I'm saying your room stays the same. This is just… you're just…" She sighs, frown ever-present on her face. "Whatever."

"Whatever." You parrot with a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you sit back on the bed, "I'd ask why you were here, but I think I know the answer."

"What? You think I'm only here for the sex? Her lip twitches at the comment, but there's a lack of heat behind her words. Nat knows what this looks like. She isn't blind. She shows up, you two fuck, then she leaves. When you two interact at school, you never talk about what happens behind your bedroom door.

You don't comment on it.

She doesn't comment on it either when moving to stand before you, looking down with a tense jaw. "You still want this, yeah?" Nat asks softly, starkly contrasting how tense she appears right now. "Because we don't—"

You shake your head immediately, fisting your hands into her shirt, "No, no. I didn't say that. I just…" A sigh leaves your lips. You've never been good at saying no to Nat. "Yeah. I want this."

Nat doesn't hesitate at that, leaning down to kiss you, slotting her lips against yours as she moves to sit in your lap. Her mouth is warm, wet, and eager against yours. With her arms wrapping around your neck and fingers tangled into your hair, she grinds herself down against you, chest meeting yours with a sharp gasp.

Your tongue presses into her mouth when her lips part and battles for dominance, a struggle she quickly ends when she pulls back to remove her shirt, leaving her clad in a black sports bra. You'd open your mouth to say something, but she's pulling back completely to discard her pants, and you realise that she has no intention of taking things slow—not that she ever has.

Your clothes are discarded just as quickly as hers are, flying somewhere on your floor, and Nat is finding her way down to your bed and making herself comfortable. "C'mere." She asks breathlessly, reaching out to grab your face and pull it back to hers. 

There's a sense of familiarity behind the kiss, something that only comes with knowing someone as intimately as you know Nat, even if she'd deny it to her dying breath. 

Either way, the kiss is wet and messy, with strings of saliva connecting your lips every time the kiss breaks for a moment. Your knee finds its way between her thighs, pressing against her center, and she doesn't hesitate to grind down against the offering. 

It's a ritual as old as time, and it's a ritual that's become far too familiar the past few months. Your lips leave her mouth to press against her neck, leaving wet kisses across the pale skin as you slide your fingers under the waistband of her panties. Your lips pause in their frantic movement and break into a grin when you feel the slick that's collected in the damp heat. 

"Fuck, you're so wet already." You murmur as your fingers part her folds, exploring for a few moments before coming to circle her clit. "And you're already so sensitive, Nat."

"Just been a while." She grunts out, some sort of excuse for how desperate she seems for your touch, but both of you know she doesn't get this way with anyone else.

"Been a week." A kiss to the side of her neck as your fingers begin to find rhythm, "Not that long, really."

Nat doesn't give a reply to that, knowing her voice would come out far too uneven for a sharp comment. There's no denying how eager she seems for your touch, either. Not with the way her hips cant upwards, chasing the feeling your fingers give her as you begin to rock yourself against her thigh. 

Your lips resume their wet kisses, leaving dark marks that will fade come morning, occasionally stopping to whisper encouragements into her ear about how good she is for you or that she feels so good underneath your fingers. Nat whines with every word of praise you whisper into her ear, and her nails dig gently into your back as she relaxes under you.

Satisfied with yourself, you move the fingers that have been teasing her clit down, your middle finger teasing her entrance for a few moments before sinking into the wet heat.

Nat gasps, back arching off the bed and nails digging further into your back. "Yeah—" She breathes out, "More—"

You click your tongue at that, "Maybe I wanna hear you beg for it, Nat."

The blonde whines and slaps uselessly at your back, but she knows it's futile—you've always been this way with her. The teasing that turns her on to no end, even if she'd never admit it. "Fuck, don't be like this."

A low laugh leaves your lips as your finger sits idle inside her, "No. I think you like it when I act like this." A beat, "Beg."

Nat hesitates, pouting as she strongly debates not begging.

But, much like you, she always gives in. "Please." She whines into your ear, "Please. Please. Fuck, please. I'm begging, baby. Please."

Baby. That stupid fucking name that you never could show any resistance to.

You add your ring finger and begin moving your hand the way you've come to learn she loves. "See, there you go. You're such a good girl, you know that?"

While you might be weak to 'baby,' Nat is powerless to being called a 'good girl.' 

She keens at your praise, nodding rapidly as her breathing comes out in short pants. "Yeah, yeah, thank you—"

You hum, pressing a kiss to the side of her jaw as you grind your palm down against her clit, and your hips begin to rock against her thigh again. "You're welcome, baby."

"Baby." Nat nods, "Baby, baby, baby—" You don't need her to tell you that she's getting close; you can feel it in the way her pussy starts pulsing around your fingers, seemingly trying to draw them in deeper. "Please." She begs, past the point of caring about her humility. 

"No." You shake your head, moving your hips faster and harder against her thigh, "Wait. Wait. I'm… fuck, give me a minute."

The girl whimpers in turn, shaking her head vigorously, "Fuck, I-I can't—"

"You can." You cut her off, palm grinding against her clit again as your fingers brush against her g spot. "You have before, and you will now."

Nat is writhing under you, both pulling away and pushing towards your hand before some sort of fog lifts from her brain, and she realises that she can expedite this process.

Her hand moves to your slick cunt that's been rocking against her thigh and dives her fingers into your folds, fingers quickly finding and circling your clit with reckless abandon.

You groan at the added contact, and your eyes slip shut as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. "Fuck, yeah, Nat. Like that—"

Breathless gasps and pants fill the small room as your fingers continue to fuck in and out of her. Nat's nails bite into your back again, this time hard enough you worry that they'll draw blood. But that's fine—not like it would be the first time it's happened between the two of you.

When Nat's whimpers and whines reach a peak, you finally give her the words she's been seeking for the past two minutes, "Come for me."

And she does. With a whimpered sound you're pretty sure is supposed to be a 'thank you,' she clenches around your fingers and does just as you ask. The sound she makes would probably be called pathetic in any other circumstance, but right now? Well, right now, it might be the hottest thing you've ever heard. 

You follow not long after, hips stuttering against her thigh and a low groan spilling from your lips into the taut skin of her neck.

When both of you come down from that high, you retract your fingers from her and move off her thigh, flopping onto the bed beside her with a grunt.

Then, with some random thought in the back of your head, you press your fingers against her lips, "C'mon." You murmur, "Clean off my fingers for me."

Nat looks at you in shock, genuinely surprised you're asking this when you never have before, but her lips part all the same. Your fingers press against her tongue, and she grabs your wrist while keeping eye contact (despite the furious blush that colours her cheeks) as she proceeds to clean your fingers of the mess she made.

"Good fucking girl." You breathe out in approval, jaw falling slightly slack at the feeling of her tongue sliding between your fingers, cleaning each one thoroughly. 

At the praise, her eyes squeeze shut with a sound you swear is a whimper.

When you pull your hand back, her eyes flutter open, but not before you smear saliva down her neck and the top of her chest. 

"That's gross." She mumbles petulantly, unable to meet your eyes, face still coloured like a tomato. 

"Nah, it's hot." You grin down at her, gently turning her face to look into her eyes. Your expression softens as you see the look in them. "You're leaving." You say quietly, a statement rather than a question.

Nat exhales softly through her nose, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from her face, "I… I need to get back home." She lies, and she's never been a good liar. 

"Yeah." You say quietly, dropping your hand back on the bed. "You… you don't wanna even… stay for another round?" A tense laugh leaves your throat, and Nat frowns uncomfortably. "...you don't wanna stay the night?" You add on as an afterthought, disappointment lacing your tone. 

"You know that's not a good idea." Nat whispers in return, "I… I can't." 

"No." You say, "You won't, Nat. There's a difference."

The blonde's jaw tenses as she sits up on your bed, legs swinging over the edge as she looks for her clothes in the dark. "What does it matter if I won't? We aren't together."

Her words sting, even if they're true, and you watch her get dressed from where you lay on your bed, now feeling far too spacious for just one person. "I… I know." You murmur, "But it would just be nice if—"

"I'm not that type of person." She cuts you off as she pulls her pants up, "I thought you knew that when this started."

You shrink further into yourself, "I just thought that, as friends—"

"With benefits." She cuts you off, "Friends with benefits. Not dating, not 'seeing each other,' just fucking now and then." You swear you can see her walls going up the longer she speaks, "This is just sex, nothing more."

"Nothing more." You repeat, grabbing your own shirt from the floor next to the bed, "Yeah."

For a moment, you think you see her falter, actions slowing as she puts her leather jacket on. Some delusional part of you thinks she'll stay, that she'll leave more than just the scent of her fucking dollar store cologne on your pillows, but it's gone before you have the chance to ruminate on it.

"Yeah." She agrees with a grunt, walking back over to your window. "I'll… see you in class tomorrow." And then she's gone, like a ghost in the night, hopping through your window and onto the grass below with a soft thud, much more graceful than when she came in.

You walk over to your window, locking it shut as you watch Nat walk off into the night, digging her box of smokes from her pocket and bringing one to her lips just before she walks out of view. You tug your curtains shut, trying to block the memory of her leaving from your mind and fall back into your bed, pressing your nose into the pillow where she once resided.

Cigarette smoke, cheap booze, shitty cologne, and something that just smells like Nat.

You'll hate yourself in the morning for letting this happen again. Hell, you hate yourself right now for letting it happen again.

But her smell against your pillow brings you some weird sense of calm, and you know you'll let her in the next time she knocks at your window and every time that follows.

You've never had a backbone when it comes to Nat.

You doubt you ever will.

a/n: van x reader fic next. or crush. one of the two. either way, they will come out before anything else does

[peachglazewrites]

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚜 ⸙ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎

𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙵𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝙹𝚊𝚖

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: ellie/f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: tlou typical violence, blood & gore, PTSD, poor coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: angst, first meetings, ellie has PTSD, strangers to friends to lovers, SLOW burn 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: post tlou part II, no use of y/n or physical descriptions, dual POV, reader has (had) an older brother 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 8840k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: After the events of TLOU Part II, Ellie packs up her life in Austin, Texas to head to Boston with a single goal- finally giving Tess the burial she deserves.

You cross her path (she crosses yours, rescuing you) along the way, and you find that you're headed the same direction.

Ths rest is history.

a/n: hello!!! welcome to the fic! this was a request by a lovely anon, and what was meant to be a one shot has quickly devolved into a nine part story. please mind the tags with this one, as we hop into some pretty rough themes/mindsets!  I'm so excited to begin posting this, and I hope that you all enjoy ♡

link to the original request : ̗̀➛ masterpost

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ save/read this on ao3 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter One

APRIL

Ellie doesn’t realise it’s been a year until she’s sitting down on the porch of her little house in Austin, rifle spread out in front of her, disassembled.

The call of a bird in the trees above her, so close to a baby’s cry, makes her heart race as she looks into the yard, searching for JJ; searching for the danger.

But he’s not there. He’s in Jackson, with Dina.

It doesn’t happen often anymore, relapsing back and forgetting where she is, but sometimes when she’s calm and her brain is blessedly empty, sick and cruel memories will sink their feral teeth back into her—dragging her down and making her spiral all over again.

The barrel of the rifle tumbles from her trembling hand, the one two digits down that she swears she can still feel. It clatters to the floor, rolling and threatening to bounce down the steps.

“Fuck—” Her hands come up, gripping and pulling on the hair at the back of her head as she curls up on the porch, knees pressed to her chest, eyes wide and staring down at the swirls and knots of the wood beneath her.

A year. A whole year since the screen door of the farmhouse creaked and snapped closed behind her.

April. Spring. Welcoming the new lambs in, spending the days helping Dina with the garden, nights on the porch just like this, music drifting through the open window as she plays with JJ, shirt covered in drool as he teethes. Doing everything she can to forget—

To forget this time two years ago, when she was in Seattle. Forget Jesse, Abby, Joel.

And as she sits there, thinking and mourning and spiralling with her head in her hands, she realises that the hospital all those years ago was April too, wasn’t it?

April.

Why is it always fucking April? Ellie would give anything in the entire world to never live through another April ever again.

And she’s thought about it—what she would do. What she’d be willing to give up. It’s not like she has much left, like she has anyone waiting for her in this house so far away from where she dared call home. Anyone missing her or thinking about her while she’s gone--

But she can’t. Because too many people have died for her to be where she is now; and the guilt of that lies the heaviest, heavier than the one of existing in the first place.

So instead, she uses the heels of her palms to scrub roughly at her face, rubbing the tracks of silent tears off her scarred and freckled skin, telling herself to “get it together, Ellie.”

Ellie let’s herself have thirty more seconds. Half a minute to feel and mourn and crave what she’s lost before she straightens her back, picks up the rifle barrel and gets back to work.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind how she’s learned to.

⸙

They stick around this time, thoughts thick and dark and oozing along the back of her mind. Just like they used to before she figured out how to stop caring. To repress and forget, march forwards and never look back.

Like father like daughter, she supposes.

She blames it on the time of year, this cursed month that has haunted her for seven years, the majority of her teenage life and those of her twenties. It’s clinging to her back, and she just can’t stop thinking.

She thinks about people who she’s pushed so far down, it hurts to rip them back up again. People like her mom.

Her mom who she didn’t even know yet haunts her every day—in the way she looks through the window into the backyard of the house she’s claimed as her own, reflection ghosting back at her and making her think ‘Do I look like you? The way JJ looks like Jesse?’

Ellie sighs, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter as she forces herself to look away, into the worn and weathered dining room beyond.

She’s been here since December, a tiny house in some part of Austin, Texas; a ghost town that’s long been abandoned. She came here after everything, after Santa Barbara, having no other direction in her head than Texas.

It’s where Joel used to live-- before. She knew that from the times he spoke about it, the promises of showing her one day that he never kept.

She used to feel stupid coming here, like she didn’t have any reason to. She wasn’t part of his life back then, didn’t know him when he was Joel Miller, father and contractor.

But she knew him when he was Joel, the man who walked a country for her. Someone she could have called dad if she wanted to but never found the courage until after he died in front of her-- and this, Texas, is the closest she’ll be to him ever again.

She walked for five months, including a temporary stop in Salt Lake City. She didn’t know exactly where Joel lived, any details he might have divulged forgotten with time or thrown away when she barely held interest for him, so she finds somewhere quiet and stays.

Ellie’s barely done anything with it. She boarded up the worst of the damage and did her best to insulate during winter, but a majority of the house she’s left closed off and unused. She’s been camping out in the living room, having dragged furniture and mattresses into the space to make it her own.

She stopped when she found the bones under one of the beds, curled up and forgotten.

Ellie lets her eyes drift back to the window, forcing past her reflection and to the lawn of the backyard, the wild reclaiming it years ago. She doesn’t tend to it, not really, though she keeps that back corner somewhat clear. Out of respect, or a semblance of it.

Three crudely made crosses-- something she made when she couldn’t sleep one night during winter-- stick out of the ground there. Only one of them has a mound in front of it, the blank cross for the bones she found.

The other two are clustered together, rough carvings of names marking the wood.

Riley and Anna.

She would have made more, a memorial of all the people she’s forsaken, but it didn’t feel right to drag them here when they already have resting places of their own.

Jesse and Joel have beautiful graves out in Jackson, headstones she’ll probably never get to sit at ever again.

Sam and Henry are out in Pittsburgh, under a maple tree where her and Joel buried them all those years ago.

Marlene has a grave in Salt Lake City. Ellie saw it when she went back to the hospital, finding a whole bunch of them out in a courtyard she’d never seen before. (She spent a long time there, sitting next to Marlene. Afterwards she searched, not stopping until she found the grave for ‘Gerald ‘Jerry’ Anderson— Devoted father and our best hope’, and she spent a long time there too.)

And Tess…

Tess is still in Boston, in that building where they left her.

It makes her skin crawl thinking about it, and god does she think about it. Tess’s bones sprawled across the tiles where she lay after she was riddled with bullets.

Was she even still there? Did they get rid of her, take her and those Fireflies that were dead when they arrived out the back and burn them in a terrible heap? Did FEDRA care enough to bother?

Ellie’s regretted so many things in her life, has had so many people die because of her and what she used to represent—but at least they’ve been put to rest, even though they’re still so impossibly loud in her mind.

And she knows she can’t get to Riley, trapped in that fucking mall in the arcade where Ellie, sobbing and bleeding from the arm, dragged her best friend she killed twice— knowing she would have liked it a whole lot better in here than in that stupid Halloween store. She doesn’t know what happened to her mom or where she could possibly be, but Ellie knows enough to realise there’s nothing she can do about it.

It's why she made the crosses, giving them a place to rest knowing it’s impossible to do anything more.

But Tess—

Ellie hangs her head, fingernails splintering as she grips the counter tighter, eyes closed as she thinks of that domed building—Tess’s mausoleum.

She needs to go to Boston.

⸙

It doesn’t take Ellie long to pack her life up into the backpack she’s had since she was thirteen. She truly doesn’t have much, mostly just her clothes and weapons. She indulges herself and keeps a few items that aren’t tied to her survival; things she hasn’t been able to let go that sit in the bottom of her bag. Joel’s watch, Dina’s bracelet, a stack of trading cards, and her journal. They take up hardly any space, so she doesn’t feel bad about the room that could have been used for more important things, like food and ammunition.

She puts the house back the way she found it-- out of respect or something, she’s not too sure. The only thing she leaves behind are the locks of hair she cuts from her head, the ends choppy but now barely brushing the collar of Joel’s flannel.

It makes her a little emotional, leaving this place. A small tug in her heart, something pulling and pleading for her to just stay. This is the most she has, a place she can call her own. Something stable.

God, does she want stable, but she also needs to do this. This is one of the only things she has left that she can fix. The others feel far beyond her.

Ellie planned her route the night before, laying out a map on the wooden floor of the living room, pencil in hand and journal in her lap. She knew she wasn’t close to Boston, but being nearly two thousand miles away shocked her a little bit. That was the optimistic number too, assuming that roads would be clear, and she didn’t run into any detours. Knowing Ellie’s luck, she’d be lucky if she got there before winter, a good eight months away.

She writes down her plan in her journal, taking over one of the empty back pages. It’d be much more convenient to take her notes on the map itself, but she refuses to make that mistake twice.

Ellie hitches her backpack onto her back, freshly cleaned rifle strapped and sitting against her left shoulder, bow slung over the same one. Joel’s revolver, also recently cleaned, sits snug in a holster clinging to her thigh, switchblade in her back pocket.

She hasn’t fully kitted up like this in weeks, not needing to after finding that person’s bunker the next town over. She almost felt bad taking as much as she did, stuffing her bag and an old duffel with as many tins and cans as she could take. She doubted anyone had been there in years—but if they had?

Well, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, out here.

Ellie takes a breath, holds it until her lungs burn and her eyes water and savours the that moment of light-headedness then let’s go, stepping off the porch and letting the door shut behind her as she leaves; an all too familiar feeling.

She heads north, cutting up across the country.

First stop, Dallas.

⸙

It takes just over a week on the road before something inevitably goes wrong.

Ellie had been doing fine. She always does. She’s not new to this kind of travel-- hunting and scavenging, camping out under the stars or cramped into corners with her rifle in her hands. As much as she misses Jackson, the farm, and sometimes even her dorm in that shitty FEDRA school, there’s something about being out here that feels right to her.

It reminds her of that year with Joel. When she was fourteen and trusting this man who wanted nothing to do with her with her life, and then somewhere along the way he had taken her in as his own. It reminded her of learning how to shoot, of a thousand games of I Spy, serious nods as she explains the volume of Savage Starlight she just read and what she thinks happens in the gaps of the volumes she doesn’t own.

She realises that no amount of safety and security, high walls and locked doors, would ever make her feel as welcomed or soothed as these open roads.

It makes her sick to think about it.

Ellie was only a couple of days out of Dallas, standing in the last city she’d hit before then. The roads ahead of her were littered with traffic, hundreds of cars left abandoned to rust for the rest of eternity. Rubble from collapsed buildings block alleys and side streets, creating craters in the pavement below where they’ve fallen. Bodies, gaunt and skeletal, decorate the footpaths beneath her feet, tattered clothes bleached by the sun and fluttering in the wind.

The sun above her was low, sliding behind towering buildings and painting the sky in reds, pinks, and purples. Ellie would have to get inside before it gets too dark to see, her flashlight only making her a sitting duck in the middle of this unfamiliar road.

She can be reckless, but she’s not stupid.

So, she sticks to buildings, climbing through open windows and sneaking through propped open doors. There’s infected about, because when is there not, but they’re just stragglers—not worth the time or risk. Ellie is slippery, sneaky, her weathered converse that are worse for her feet than boots but infinitely quieter making no noise as she crawls.

The office building is where it all goes to shit.

To be fair, she didn’t realise what kind of building it was when she snuck in, stepping through the door to the fire escape and creeping up the stairwell. She only wanted to reach the top floor, make her way to the roof so she can get a better view of the city from above, but the top stairwell was blocked with desks, cabinets, and even part of the ceiling before she could get there.

Ellie retreats inside, through the door closest to her, pausing when she sees the rows of office cubicles moulding away in front of her.

“Oh, come on,” she curses, turning on her heels, trying to backtrack and leave the way she came, but the door slams shut before she can slip through, vibrations rattling the doorframe.

A low, metallic groaning muffles through the wood, Ellie cautiously stepping back. The groaning gets louder, reaching its peak before making a series of loud thuds, ending in one final crash against the door.

Ellie blinks, staring at the fire escape, her way out.

“No fucking way, dude…”

She tries the handle, and while it turns, it barely budges as she pushes on it. She tries over and over, shouldering the wood to try and get the thing open even just a little bit, enough for her slip through.

No luck.

“Shit,” she groans, pitching her head forward to hit against the wood a few times.

Ellie hates offices. Too many floors, too many places for things to hide. It’s practically a death sentence walking into one. She’s never had a good experience in one of these buildings, and she has a sneaking suspicion that her luck isn’t about to change.

Ellie pushes herself from the door, leaning down to unclip her revolver from the holster on her thigh. “Okay,” she breathes, turning around and assessing the room. “You’re good. Just gotta find a way out of here…”

Adjusting her grip on the gun, she begins a careful sweep of the room, watching every step she takes as she walks across the office floor with a precision that has been drilled into her.

There’s row after row of cubicles in the centre floor, private offices and meeting rooms shooting off to the side. She doesn’t bother with any of these, wanting to just get the fuck out of here before it gets too dark.

Thankfully, on the other side of the room is a stairwell, one for public use that is blessedly free from doors that will slam shut behind her and trap her inside.

Ellie sighs with relief, pressing onwards with her revolver held out in front of her, sticking close to the wall as she approaches the stairwell. She does a quick sweep before she enters, checking the floor above and below for anything before continuing.

She takes the steps one at a time, watching her feet. She barely makes it down the first flight when she hears it.

It’s faint, muffled, but echoes up through the empty stairwell. A thump, thumpthump, thump—like something hitting a wall, maybe a door. Ellie curses, a quiet “Fuck,” under her breath as she pauses to listen.

The sooner she can get out of here, the better.

The further down Ellie gets, the louder the noise becomes. The thumping is soon joined by low croaking, the familiar screeches and clicks of a clicker on high alert.

She holds her breath as she gets closer, clinging close to the wall, hoping to god that she can just keep going down these steps and—

“You’re kidding me,” she groans under her breath.

The stairway ahead of her, just as she rounds the corner, is blocked. Desks, chairs, cabinets, half the goddamn office. It’d almost be impressive if it wasn’t ruining her life right now.

The only way forwards is through the doorway to Ellie’s right which leads into another office, but it’s in here that the noises are the loudest; the banging, the clicking, the croaking cry of something else.

Ellie retreats until her back is pressed into the corner, crouching over her backpack to breathe and take stock of what she has. She’s not doing too bad on ammunition, both guns fully loaded for the time being. She’s also got a handful of arrows left—six to be exact—thanks to a resupply a few towns over.

From the noises alone she knows there’s two, maybe three infected in there. Most likely all clickers.

She can do this, if she’s careful.

Swinging her pack over her shoulders, she sticks low to the ground, creeping back to the doorway. Her fingertips graze the ground as she leans forward, peeking into the room.

The first thing she notices is how empty it is, the first row or so of cubicles missing their desks and chairs. Deep ridges rip the carpet, a series of drag marks marking the path of each piece of furniture as it was pushed down the stairs.

This was done recently, Ellie notes, the carpet where the desks once stood pristine and free of thirty years of dirt and grime.

The next thing she notices is the body.

It’s mildly fresh, a couple of days old at most, sprawled out on the carpet, a deep brown puddle of festering blood soaking beneath him. It’s a man, mouth agape and eyes open, foggy irises staring right at Ellie.

She stops breathing, throat closing as she stares back at him, his face swollen and horrifically bloodied, the side of his skull caved in, his greying hair plastered to his face, thick with blood and brain and—

She splutters, gulping in air as she retreats, pressing her back to the wall once more. Her eyes are wet yet impossibly dry, so she blinks and scrubs hard with her palm heels until she can’t see anymore, black spots blurring her vision.

“It’s not him. It’s not him,” she murmurs, hands shaking as she pulls them away from her face.

Ellie swallows, waiting for it to feel like she’s not going to throw up before she crawls back to the entryway, forcing herself to peer back inside.

The man on the carpet is young, older than her but not by much. The bullet hole in his cheek tears the skin open, a gnarly flap of it hanging down his face. The skin is mottled with blues and green, spidery veins that creep up from his neck and eyes, broken capillaries typical with the freshly turned.

He was barely infected before he was shot.

Question is, who the fuck shot him?

Ellie’s eyes flick up, desperately ignoring the way her breaths are still uneven, hitching softly in her throat. A remnant of her moment of weakness.

Across the room and right up the back, not one, but two clickers throw themselves at a door, some sort of supply closet. They’re agitated by something on the other side, screeching and snapping at the wood. Whatever it is has their full attention; they’re not stopping any time soon.

Opposite this door, settled on the other wall is the fire escape, a single desk piled high with chairs and wastebaskets and who knows what else barricading it to all hell.

What is going on?

Ellie holsters her revolver, reaching a trembling hand up to unhook the bow from her shoulder. She fumbles with it in her left hand, adjusting her grip a few times as she raises to stand to her full height, stepping slowly into the doorway.

She had to completely relearn how to handle the bow after she amputated her fingers. She had to relearn a lot, actually, more than she was expecting. She’s forever grateful that it was her left hand, and that it wasn’t any of the more important fingers like her index or thumb—but it impacted her life in ways she never even thought about.

She’s still figuring out the guitar.

Ellie takes a step closer, pulling an arrow from her pack and notching it on the bowstring. She pulls it back with one fluid movement, holding her hand up to her cheek as she aims, focusing on the back of one of the agitated clickers.

She knew that this was risky, that this would most likely alert the other, and that she’d need to act fast. Drop the bow, take out her revolver, and run. But there’s the smallest chance that whatever is in that closet is distracting enough that it won’t care, and she can take both down no problem.

She draws in a breath, letting it all out slow through barely parted lips as her fingers twitch around the notch of the arrow.

Multiple things happen at once.

Ellie let’s go, the arrow sailing smoothly through the air and burying in the back of the clicker’s head with a sickening crunch of fungus and cartilage. A strangled croak leaves the creatures throat as it falls, crumbling to its knees and slumping against the door. The arrow sticks right out the back of its skull, a perfect shot. She’ll be able to grab that, later.

The clicker next to it pauses, just for a fraction of a second before whatever the hell is on the other side of that door brings it attention back, continuing to gnash and slam against the wood.

At the same time, a gnarled croak and rapid footsteps from behind make Ellie spin on her heels, turning around just in time to hold her arms up to block the strike of a stalker that lunges right for her.

She falls back, dropping her bow and taking the stalker with her as she lands on her back, head knocking to the side as she grapples. The dead guy is next to her, and his cloudy eyes meet hers for just a moment before she has to pull herself away, bracing against the creature atop of her. It’s sat up enough to swipe at her, swinging it’s arms down to claw at her raised arms.

“Fucking—Get off me!”

Ellie grunts with effort, planting her feet on the ground and using the leverage from her pack to push, rolling both the stalker and her over. It’s still crying out, teeth gnashing as she straddles it, one hand pressing down on its concave chest as she fumbles around her thigh for her revolver. She has to keep ducking and shifting away from it’s gnarled hands, jagged nails split and yellow swiping up at her face and arms.

A screech, sharp and piercing from the other side of the room raises the hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck, eyes widening as she whips her head up. Her scuffle has alerted the clicker by the closet, and she can do nothing but watch as it twitches and lurches to face her.

“Oh fuck—”

Ellie finally gets a grip on her revolver, cocking the hammer and pressing the barrel right between the stalker’s eyes, firing. The sound is deafening up close, a high-pitched whine muffling her hearing. The creature under her shudders with a dying croak, and Ellie can’t get away from it quicker, pushing herself up until she falls back on her ass. Legs scramble in front of her, pushing and crawling until she backs up into the wall behind her.

The clicker is rapidly approaching, arms winding madly and head twitching from side to side.

The wooden handle of the revolver creaks under Ellie’s grip, hand clenched tight as she cocks the hammer and aims, shooting up at it. It misses the head, hitting it right in the middle of the throat in a spray of black and brown. The creature gasps, faltering just enough for Ellie to push herself up off the floor and run, sprinting to the other side of the room to give her space to breathe and think.

She can do this. She’s done this for years. She just needs to focus.

Focus, Ellie. Focus.

She unlatches the cylinder, taking note of how many shots she has left. Four. She could pull out the rifle if she needs, but the room is far too small and the clicker is far too close for it to be safe.

Better make each of these shots count, then.

The creature is persistent, having gotten over the shock of the bullet through its throat. It charges towards Ellie as she fires once more, breaths heaving her chest, a spray of chitinous fungus exploding from the side of its head.

She has no time to celebrate, pulling back the hammer once more as she stumbles back, putting a desk between her and the clicker. She aims, doesn’t hesitant for a second as she fires, hitter the fucker square between what used to be its eyes.

It screams, a chittering, croaking wail, and Ellie winces as she watches it spin, stumbling and falling to the ground in a heap.

“Yeah,” Ellie breathes out, chest rising and falling with her panting breaths. “That’s right.”

She collapses against the desk, pressing her hands to the surface, hanging her head down so her chin meets her chest. Her whole body hurts— the back of her head aches from where she knocked it, blood flows down her arms from the stalker scratches.

Too close.

A noise, a soft thump from nearby has Ellie tensing, grip tightening on the revolver as she whips her head up, scanning the room.

Nothing. Well, nothing alive at least. She’s the only breathing thing left in here, and with the stairs and fire escape blocked she doesn’t know where else—

She hears it again, a soft thump followed by a long, low sound, muffled and interrupting her thoughts. It sounds like it’s coming from nearby, through the wall.

Like the closet.

Shit, Ellie thinks, eyes dragging towards the door, dead clicker still slumped against the wood. Was this what was setting those clickers off?

She pushes herself off the desk, wrapping her other palm around the revolver as she drifts to the wall closest to her, covering her back. She only has two bullets left in the cylinder, so she takes the couple of seconds of approach to reload.

The closer she gets, the clearer the sound starts to become. It’s a low cry… human. Like a sob.

With a foot to the back, Ellie grabs the arrow from the back of the dead clickers head, the one keeled over against the door, and pulls. It dislodges with a sickening crunch and sucking noise, and she uses the momentum of her foot to shove the body out of the way of the door. It slumps, thudding to the ground and rolling over on itself.

The rhythmic heaving of choked sobs drifts through the wood, making Ellie’s gut twist uncomfortably.

She could just go. She’s dealt with the issue, done whoever was on the other side of this door a major solid. She doesn’t need to involve herself more, throw herself into danger. Infected are unpredictable and fast, bodies strong and jaws stronger.

Humans can plan, deceit and lie. Hold weapons. Shoot.

She cocks her revolver.

“Hey,” Ellie calls out. Shit, she’s rusty, voice crackling around the edges from disuse. She hasn’t spoken properly in weeks, speaking only in murmurs or yells and nowhere in between. She swallows, wetting her throat. “You can come out, now.”

The sobs on the other side cut off with a sharp gasp, replaces with the shuddering pants of someone in a panic. A hiccup.

“I-I don’t…”

The sobs begin again, clawing their way out of the person’s raw throat.

Ellie sighs, chewing the inside of her cheek as she glances at the clicker on the ground, black blood and remnant brain matter leaking from the hole in its head.

“They’re dead. I took care of it.”

Nothing. Just more crying.

She seriously should just leave. The fire escape is right there; all she needs to do is move the desk out of the way, then she’ll be free.

Her gaze flicks to the side, to her freedom, then back down to the handle of the door.

“Are you trapped in there? Is this thing locked?” A hesitant hand rests on the handle but doesn’t turn it.

Those shuddering breaths, the wracking sobs from within continue. Why is she still even here? This isn’t any of her business.

The noises stop.

Ellie pauses, a frown twitching the edge of her lips, scar tugging uncomfortably at the skin. Unease curdles in her twisting gut; she presses her ear against the wood.

Sharp inhales, a shuffling of feet against carpet, ragged wheezing as they try desperately to suck in air.

Fuck.

Ellie steps back, fingers of the clicker on the floor crunching under the heel of her converse. Her lip is pulled between her teeth, chewing on the already torn skin as she looks between the closet and her escape.

“Shit, okay.” Dragging a hand through her hair, pushing the greasy strands out from her face as she thinks. “Uh, I’m coming in,” she calls to the person inside, pressing down on the handle.

It’s unlocked. She can feel the way her heart thunders behind her ribs, the way it vibrates through her veins and makes her hand tremble. As much as she wants to believe it’s from the rush of the kill, the adrenaline, she can’t ignore the chill of fear that settles like a block of ice in the bottom of her stomach.

Ellie pushes the door open, revolver at the ready.

A shot rings out in the small space and Ellie ducks, covering her head with her bloodied arms. It goes wide, missing her by at least a foot as plaster from the ceiling rains down on her. She swears, pushing her back against the wall next to the doorway, quickly swiping debris from her eyes.

Ellie’s trembling hand clasps around the other over the handle of her revolver, arms extended and pointing at the floor. She can feel her breathing getting sharper, shallower, and forces herself to get it together, breathing in deep through her nose to be rid of her light-headedness.

The fire escape taunts her, lopsided barricade making it impossible for her to retreat. She should have just left. Why didn’t she just fucking leave?

She waits for just a few more seconds, waiting for whoever was inside to act first. Nothing. Nothing except for those choked, wheezing gasps that she’s more familiar with than she’d ever like to be.

Revolver out in front of her, Ellie turns round the doorway. Her finger ghosts the trigger, ready to fire at whatever she finds inside.

Fire at you.

“I-I’m sorry—” you wheeze, chest heaving and shuddering as Ellie blocks the light flooding into the closet, silhouetting her from behind. A pistol, black and sleek, trembles in your hand that lays fallen against the floor by your thigh. The other is clawing at your throat, where you’ve started to turn red from the strain of not breathing.

Ellie sweeps the closet from top to bottom, eyes flicking over shelves of copy paper and boxes of pencil before focusing back on you, trembling on the ground.

“Put the gun down,” she barks, her own unwavering of its aim at your head.

You listen, hand letting go of the pistol to come up to your shirt, gun clattering to the floor as you tug and pull at the fabric that feels too tight around your throat.

“I can’t—I had to, I-I’m so fucking sorry—”

Ellie knows this. She’s lived this. She can practically feel it as she watches you, clinging and clawing and begging. Maybe that’s why she does what she does next-- a weak moment of sympathy she’ll tell herself later.

She lowers her revolver and steps into the room.

“Breathe. You need to breathe.”

Okay, Captain Obvious. As if you didn’t already know that.

“Can’t—” you gasp, eyes red with the strain, glassy and looking so far into the distance, further than the walls of this room would allow.

“You have to.” She changes her grip on the gun, holding her left hand out, what’s left of her pinkie and ring finger twitching. “Just take a deep breath, as deep as you can, and hold it.”

She waits for you to do as she says, eyes focused on the hitching of your chest as you try so desperately. Your eyes flutter closed, fists clenched tight as you draw in an admittedly weak breath, but it’s the deepest one you’ve had in a while.

“Good. Slowly breathe out-- nice and easy.” Ellie steps closer, revolver pointed to the ground, hand out like she’s approaching a wounded animal.

Nodding, you hiss out the air in your lungs in one, long, stuttering breath. Your whole body is wound tight, and tears still stream down your dirty cheeks, but your sobs quiet as you breathe.

Ellie approaches as close as she dares, sticking a foot out to kick the pistol away from you, the gun clattering as it skids across the closet floor. With it out of the way, she slowly lowers to a crouch, forearms resting on her knees as she looks at you.

Frankly, you look like shit. Everyone these days does, but you especially so. Your clothes are caked in brown blood and dirt, the sleeve of your shirt ripped and dangling onto your shoulder by a thread.

Your cheeks have that sunken look to them, the one people get when they haven’t eaten in days, and your quivering lips are chapped and cracking, blood oozing from where it splits open.

A spray of blood has dried on your face, your silent tears running muddy tracks through the gore.

Ellie’s eyes linger on the deep red mark at your temple. A perfect circle, likely to bruise. She flicks a quick glance to the discarded gun, then back to you.

“What’s your name?” She asks when she thinks you can handle it, breaths evening out.

You don’t look up at her, haven’t since she’s walked in, focused too hard on something else, somewhere else. Your name tumbles from your lips, and Ellie nods.

“Ellie,” she offers, barely willing to give it up.

Hesitantly, she holsters the gun back on her thigh, fingers twitching. She’s careful not to take her eyes off you, watching those hands that have loosened around your shirt and throat.

Ellie carefully shoulders off her bag, unzipping and reaching for her canteen. Undoing the cap, she holds it out to you.

“Drink.”

You swallow, mouth thick with dehydration, looking up for the first time. Your eyes flick to the canteen, then drag slowly up to Ellie. The shadows of your face are deep, and there’s a broken blood vessel in the corner of your right eye.

She gestures out again, water sloshing in the container.

You look back down, trembling hands hesitantly reaching out and taking it, pressing the plastic to your bloodied lips. The moment a drop of water touches your tongue you start guzzling the whole thing, drinking quick.

“Hey—whoa!” Ellie reaches for you, grabbing your arm to pull it back. You flinch and stare at her with frightened eyes, gasping as you take a fresh breath, a trickle of water running down the corner of your mouth.

Ellie removes her hand.

“You’ll throw up if you’re not careful.”

You blink, looking back down at the canteen, pulling it up for another sip, this time a lot more careful.

You both sit there as you get your fill, drinking all her water. Ellie doesn’t mind. She’ll fill it again once she leaves.

“Your arms are bleeding.”

It startles her a bit, your voice clearer, yet still croaked through the strain, louder than she’s heard it yet.

She shrugs, dismissing you. “I’ll deal with it later.”

She watches as you polish off the canteen, tilting you head back as you wait for the last drops to coat your tongue.

“Were you the one who barricaded the stairs?” Ellie reaches for the canteen when you offer it, gripping onto the container until the last second as if you’ll never have another opportunity to drink after this. She buries it back in her pack.

“My brother.” You tone is flat—tired. The exhaustion has crept up on you, sapping all of your emotions away.

Ellie thinks to the man on the floor.

“Is he…” she trails off, not knowing how to ask, eyes falling to the doorway.

“Dead.”

Ellie nods. “Infected?”

Your head drops, gaze focused on the dirty nails of your hands cradled in your lap. “We were getting chased. He barricaded us in so we could hide, but we were so focused we didn’t realise—” your voice cracks, coming out quieter when you continue. “I shot him. In the head. I didn’t want to, I promise, but he started shaking and this stuff was coming out of his mouth and his eyes were all weird and he just started running towards me and I couldn’t—”

“Hey.” Your eyes snap up to hers, your panicked rambles dying on your tongue. Ellie swallows, thick and unsure as you hold contact, looking into your eyes. Eyes she’s seen so many times in herself, caught in flashes as she passes her reflection.

She can’t bring herself to tell you that what happened isn’t your fault, because if she’s being honest, she doesn’t know. She has no idea who you are or how you came to be here, and at the end of the day you pulled that trigger and your brother is rotting into the carpet just a few feet away. That guilt will haunt you forever, no matter how much you try to come to terms with it. So, she doesn’t say that.

“You did what you had to.”

You look away, back down to your hands, blood marring the skin.

Sympathy twinges within her like a plucked guitar string, vibrating along her skin. She tries to shove it away, to not let herself feel too much for a stranger who was about to end it all in a supply closet.

But she can’t help it, and she finds herself unzipping the largest pocket of her pack, taking out a protein bar and a tin of beans and placing them on the floor next to her.

There. She’ll leave these here, and that’ll be it. Guilt cured.

She stands, hauling her pack over her shoulders once more. Your eyes follow the action, the movement of her hands, but you make no move to say or do anything.

Ellie steps back, looking to the doorway then back to you, alone in the middle of the floor.

“I’m gonna unlock the fire escape. You’ll be able to get out that way, but I’d wait until sunup.”

She waits for a response, a nod or a murmur, and when she doesn’t get one she steps out, leaving you behind in the closet.

Your brother did a pretty decent job with the barricade. Ellie really has to push for the desk to move, legs catching on the carpet, everything stacked on top rattling as she pushes and shoves. She doesn’t bother with moving it completely out of the way, forearms stinging too much for her to try, so she does just enough for her and her pack to wriggle through.

“Ellie.”

Her body freezes, caught between the door as she’s stepping through the gap. Hearing her name spoken by another person for the first time in weeks… She doesn’t like how it makes her feel. That trickle of warmth, the intimacy that comes with knowing a name. It’s enough to make her stop and listen and she wants nothing more than to leave.

She turns her head, looking back at you.

You stand just past the doorway of the closet, crumbs stuck to your bottom lip and down the front of your shirt from the protein bar, tin of beans clutched tight to your chest. You cradle it as if it were your child, something precious. Your eyes meet Ellie’s, guilty and apprehensive and so fucking tired.

You swallow, tongue wetting your lips.

“ I can’t… I don’t have a can opener.”

𖧧

You can barely taste the beans with the way you’re shovelling them in your mouth, already scooping up the next spoonful before you swallow the first. You should feel ashamed or self-conscious for the way you’re eating, no doubt making some kind of mess, but you’re much too hungry to care.

The woman in front of you— Ellie— says nothing about your lack of manners, tending to the fire between you, instead.

Ellie has hardly said a word to since leading you out from the office building you were trapped in, telling you to keep quiet and follow her lead before exiting back out onto the road. The setting sun was blinding after so long in the dark, and you had to take a second and make her wait for you to adjust before you could continue on.

She’s quick on her feet, battered converse barely making a noise as she leads you out across the city, ducking in and out of side streets and over fences in backyards. She’s difficult to keep up with, though there’s some part of you that makes you think that this was her trying to be slow, giving you a chance to match pace.

You should maybe care more about being led away by a stranger into the dark, but at this point you can’t really find it within you to care. Besides, if she wanted to kill you, she would have done it there and then back in the closet, revolver in hand and pointed at your skull.

You end up settling in a park, deep within a crop of trees. Ellie works silently and independently, leaving you to stand and watch along the sidelines as she builds a small fire. She’s quick, practiced, and you find yourself sitting against a tree with an open tin of beans warming your tingling hands before you can let the doubts of being out here with her get to you.

“When was the last time you ate?”

The spoon hangs out of your mouth when she asks, low voice making you pause. You suck the sauce off the utensil and lick your lips, swallowing your mouthful. It’s the first proper thing she’s said to you since the office.

You should feel embarrassed, but you don’t care.

“A few days ago.” You dig back in, scraping the side of the tin to make sure you’re not missing a single drop.

Ellie makes a noise, something noncommittal in the back of her throat. She sits back on her knees with a sigh, dusting off her hands, brushing dirt from the bandages she’d applied after she’d given you something to eat.

“Is that how long you were stuck there?”

The food sours on your tongue, thick and fermenting. Your hand begins to tremble as you watch the red drip from your spoon, soaking and seeping into the ground below you, the clumps that decorate the carpet as he falls and—

“Yeah.” You swallow hard, throat clicking. You drop the spoon back in the tin, placing it shakily on the ground beside you. “The… The gunshot it—” You can’t find it within you to finish the sentence, to say out loud how you had to leave your brother there, twitching on the floor as those things tumbled down the steps, forcing you to lock yourself inside that room in the pitch black. You tried to keep track of the day/night cycles through the crack under the door, but all it did was confuse and upset you.

Ellie nods, planting her feet on the ground, resting her forearms on her knees. Her rifle sits across her lap, ready.

“I’m uh…” she starts, not looking at you. Her throat clears, easing some of the tension from her tone. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

It’s nice; a kind gesture. And you’re sure that under different circumstances that you would appreciate it more, thank her and let the sentiment comfort you… but you’re finding it difficult to.

“Me too.”

It’s silent for a while after that, the two of you sitting by the fire. She offers you another canteen of water, boiling and cooling down river water in the night air. You take it gladly, sipping at it much slower this time around, allowing yourself to savour it.

You spend this time observing Ellie, watching her scan her surroundings.

She’s littered in freckles and scars, not an inch of her skin untouched. There’s a noticeable silver scar slicing the tail off her right eyebrow, a similar one splitting her upper lip. It tugs at the skin when she talks, pulling it taught whenever she widens her mouth.

Blue-grey ink bleeds from underneath her bandaged arm, the tips of ferns peeking out as they curl around the back of her hand. You’ve seen people with tattoos before, but never anyone with something so delicate.

Her green eyes are constantly scanning the area around you, flicking from tree to tree, keeping watch like a dutiful soldier. She sniffs as she raises a hand, pushing back strands of her auburn hair from where they hang in her face.

“Where are you headed?”

The question has her snapping her eyes to you, calculating. Her lips twitch, jaw tensing as she thinks. She looks back down to her rifle.

“As far as I can get.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She says nothing, shuffling her converse into the dirt.

You draw your legs up to your chest, mimicking her body language as your hand fiddles with the sticks and leaves of the dirt beneath you.

“We’re headed to Massachusetts.” You pause, frowning. “I mean—We were heading there. I don’t uh… I don’t know what I’m doing now.” Your throat feels tight, eyes burning.

Ellie says nothing, watching you play in the dirt, picking up a stick and dragging it through the soil.

“Tom, my brother, he was taking me home to Grafton. I’ve never been there, but it’s where he was born. Where our parent’s lived, before everything.”

You don’t know why you’re telling her all this. Telling a stranger your life story. Maybe it just feels good to talk, to have someone breathing and alive acknowledge your presence. Not that this Ellie is much of a talker, just sitting there and listening.

You spear the stick in the ground. “He said he knew where the house was. That we could live there, like before.” The stick snaps, splintering in your hands; 35 Sinclair Street written into the dirt.

The wind picks up as the fire goes down, and you shiver, drawing your arms around your knees. Your shirt, ripped from where an infected had grabbed you, does barely anything to keep out the cold.

You don’t have anything but the clothes on your back. Your brother had the bag, the duffel full of your shared belongings, but he had to cut the strap off and dump it when he got caught by the infected that ambushed you, it tangling itself with him and the bag. That’s most likely when he got bit, that dreaded mark in the webbing between his thumb and pointer of his right hand.

You shiver again, but not from the cold.

You know you shouldn’t have, but you looked at him when Ellie led you out of that building. You’d felt him laying there the whole time you were trapped, festering and rotting into the carpet on the other side of the room, behind a wall of wood and monsters.

Was there any part of him left when you killed him? Was he stuck behind the haze of the infection, watching as you put that gun to his head and killed him? Did he forgive you? Know why you had to?

You’d begged for him to do the same for you, when things got bad and you were sure that it was going to be you who would leave him behind, not the other way around.

“Here.”

A bundle of fabric is thrown at you from across the fire, a grey plaid falling to the dirt by your feet.

She makes eye contact with you when you don’t pick it up, face impassive.

“You’re cold. Take it.”

You blink, looking down at the cloth and picking it up, shaking out the bundle. It’s a flannel, big enough for a man much taller and wider than yourself. A ‘J’ is messily stitched into the inside of the collar in white thread, where the tag should be.

“… Thanks.”

You tug it on, the thick material already making the cool night much more bearable. You have to roll the sleeves up slightly over your hands, but otherwise you button it up and curl right into it. It smells nice, the specific way flannels do when they’re worn in and loved. There’s something else, a faint trace of gunpowder and something spicy, hard to place.

The events of the day, of the past week catch up to you as you curl into the borrowed shirt. You so tired. Exhausted. It feels like you’re using all of your strength to keep your head up, your eyes open, your brain from shutting off.

You shift, lowering yourself to the ground, moving an arm to cushion your head in the dirt. It’s not unfamiliar to you, roughing it like this. You’re used to having your brother with you, the two of you taking turns in keeping watch. And though he’s not here now and never will be again, Ellie’s intense gaze on the trees around you makes you feel a similar way.

Your eyes are half lidded, watching the dwindling flames of the fire, light and shadows flickering on the ground beside it. It’s soothing, and you try your hardest to focus on it and not the thoughts clawing away at the back of your head, the ones that will no doubt make themselves known the second you fall asleep.

Ellie shifts, crossing her legs under her, hands still settled on the rifle. They twitch as she curls around it.

“I’m headed to Massachusetts, too.” You hear, quiet in the night. “Boston.”

You don’t pick your head up, but your eyes flick to hers, opening slightly wider. She’s staring out in the trees.

“I’ll be leaving at dawn.” She looks at you, just for a moment, then back to her post.

You don’t know this woman. You’ve barely spoken, yet you can tell there’s a whole lot going on in those eyes of hers, so incredibly sad and haunted.

But that look is familiar, and you see yourself in it when she looks at you, and you know, despite it all, that what she’s offered is an invitation.

You close your eyes, nodding into your arm.

“Dawn.”

«« masterpost ꩜ next »»

[kittynugg]

pacifica joining the pines family is not slept on at all but i love thinking about like,, her and ford's dynamic and just the dynamics in general

their only interaction is in lost legends where she calls him hot so i think i'd like to play into that in a way that isn't weird like she'd make him try on all kinds of outfits or force him into a skin/haircare routine (i feel like she'd do shit like that for every member of the pines family-- buys dipper like really high-end deodorant ["The cheap stuff is NOT going to do anything for THAT," she says, pinching her nose] or throw stan a bottle of sunscreen citing that he should at least try to save what little of his face there is left) she would supply him with coconut-scented shampoo and threaten to sue anyone else in the family if she smells it on them because she specifically got it for *his* kind of hair (whatever that means. nobody in the pines family knows what shes talking about)

i don't think ford would mind it because pacifica knows how to get his hair to be nice and fluffy via this strange magic called.. "self care"? he's not too sure about it but it works!

she'd definitely start wearing more sweaters. her parents would be pissed about her wearing mabel-made clothes because "it's not even designer!" and "you're taking HANDOUTS!?" but she wouldnt give a shit. mabel sweaters are made with pure love and also mabel's shockingly good at making fashionable clothes

stan and ford would just take her under their wing and raise her as their own like dipper and mabel (did i ever say they move in with stan and ford in my brain. their parents get the divorce) and ford tries to murder preston after hearing about the bell thing (stan robs them)

honestly i used to ship dipcifica hardcore but nowadays ehh. its a great ship i love it but im just not as into shipping anymore im thinking more of a "dipper, mabel, your grunkle stan and i stole this child from its parents. you have a new sister now" situation. you know when that happens.

and she would INSIST on spending money on them at every opportunity she and ford would fight (almost physically) to foot the bill if the family eats at a restaurant

god forbid she catches one of them looking at something for a second too long in a store. they are walking out with that object if she has to glue it to them. (this is especially terrifying for ford who i can't imagine liking it when people spend money on him)

she'd force dipper and ford at credit-card-point to take a day off from whatever lab work or paranormal cryptid bullshit they're doing to have a spa day and ford hates everything about it

stan is determined to give her the working class experience so he takes her to mcdonalds and like normal people grocery stores and allow her to say "what the fuck" while trying to withdraw from an atm

dipper obviously gives her the paranormal investigator experience (drags her into the woods, gets lost for six hours, reveal that he actually knew the way back the whole time and was just testing what she'd do in the situation and she passed the test this was totally his intent)

anyway what the fuck am i talking about im done bye

[sensitivepluto]

I Do

Short & Sweet - Day 6: Arranged Marriage

Gojo Satoru x Femme! Reader // angst/semi-fluff

[CW]: arranged marriage, past abuse mention (not detailed), a lil angsty, femme presenting reader, pet names

This is @thewritingstar's prompt list - here's the link to the post!

You always thought that when you finally got married, it would be for love. There would finally be a day that you would be able to run away from the family you were bound to with blood. Many days of your childhood were spent dreaming of some strong knight whisking away from this house littered with chaos and hatred.

Unfortunately for you, born into a household meant to carry a male sorcerer, you were a female. The last born female at that. You pitied your poor brother who was all but left behind when it came to that he had no cursed abilities, not even able to see the curses that plagued the world. Your second sibling, another boy, carried the same ill fate.

When you were born, it was nothing short of the worst luck for your family. And when you were finally old enough to discover your talents, shame arose to your family's name. What good was another sorcerer if you couldn't even carry on your family's legacy? What a shame to have two perfectly good sons, but for talent to be bestowed upon the girl.

Your childhood was rough, to say in the least. So you spent a lot of your time hidden away as to not fan the flames of wrath coming from your parents. You read stories of fairytale maidens saved by heroes and loved by all. It was your dream to finally feel that compassion from another. It had to happen.

On your eighteenth birthday you had no celebration, just like every other year. Your parents sat you down and slapped a thick binder in front of you. When you looked up to the with question you were met with harsh eyes and even harsher scowls.

"A contract." Your father explained after many moments of silence. "This is an arranged contract for your marriage to the newly sworn head to the Gojo clan. Satoru Gojo." It made no sense to you. Why the hell would they be trying to arrange a marriage like this? And why does this clan want anything to do with your family?

"Don't look so glum." Your mother almost growled at you. "This way you're not as useless to us. Our family will prosper from this, do you understand." All you could do was nod. However, inside you screamed in agony. The one thing you thought you'd have control over was ripped from you in an instant. And thus began the preparations for your big happy day...

It was only a few weeks from that date when you were all but dragged to a chapel in the richest part of town. The days of being fitted into a dress with no input from you, set dressing with flowers and candles, and being dragged around like a puppet being repaired for a show were finally over.

You sat in a back room alone. Sat on a plush chair in your big white wedding dress. Tears threatened to stream down your face, and it took everything in you not to let them fall. After all, if you ruined your makeup they would have your head.

The door to your chamber creaked open and your mother waltzed in dressed in her finest garments. A bit gaudy for her status, but nevertheless she pranced like the peacock she so desperately desired to be. In her hands she held a piece of translucent fabric.

"We're hoping the groom doesn't think too ghastly of your...countenance." Your mother sighed, unraveling the fabric to reveal a very long veil. She motioned for you to sit up before pinning the veil into your carefully done hair. When covered, you could barely see your face and consequently you could barely see in front of you. "All better. Now come, it's time!" Your mother smiled. She smiled...

As she lead you through the chapel you wondered when the last time you saw her smile was. Had you ever seen her smile? The thought distracted you until you stood in front of giant wooden doors. Inside you heard the sound of hushed murmuring and piano filling the room.

You barely had time to compose yourself before the doors opened. The murmuring stopped, the music paused, and all eyes were turned toward you. You stood there, stunned for a moment. The veil helped conceal your nerves, but you could barely see anyone around you. Your mother gently pushed you forward, so you knew you had to start walking.

Slowly, you stepped forward. One step at a time. Maybe if you just focused on your feet you'd make it to the alter. One step...one step...almost there...How on earth can this aisle be so long. One step...come on you can tota-

Your feet snagged on your impossibly poofy dress and fell to the ground disgracefully. The wind nearly knocked out of you and gasps filled the room. Shame and terror filled your veins while you tried to fix yourself and get up, but the veil tangled around your arms and you still couldn't see. Panic started to settle in. They would have your head for this you knew it.

A hand found your back, gently; though you flinched nonetheless. You prepared yourself for whatever agony was awaiting you when a voice filled your ears.

"Are you alright?" It was a male's voice you certainly didn't recognize. Maybe a family member of the groom's? Surely he was still sat at the alter waiting for his stupid, clumsy bride to stop making a fool of him.

"I-I'm okay." You mumbled. The same hand on your back moved to help lift you onto your feet. You couldn't help but grab onto this person for guidance, and you heard a tongue click.

"They really have you walking an aisle not able to see, huh?" The mysterious stranger chuckled. "Let's get this off of you, shall we? Can't have my wife all damaged on the first day." Wife? The man moved before you could process his words. He hastily unclipped your veil and pulled it away, throwing it haphazardly to the people sitting in the pews.

You blinked your eyes and adjusted to the setting around you. Many people were sat in the pews gawking at the two of you. Your parents were sat in front with eyes that would cut you in two if you could. Yet your eyes were locked on the man in front of you. He was so tall. His snowy white hair was combed neatly and his eyes...His eyes were this icy blue that held your gaze infinitely. This was your husband-to-be? This was Satoru Gojo?

"Better?" Satoru questioned. You nodded, still mesmerized with his easygoing appearance. "Good. Come on we'll walk up together so you don't fall again." He smiled sweetly at you, holding his elbow out for you to hold onto. You quietly followed his instruction and let him lead you to the alter.

The two of you stood at the alter, and his grasped your hands in his. He still held the same easygoing expression. The priest, after giving the two of you quick glances, began the matrimonial ceremony....

You honestly don't remember much of the ceremony. Every action of yours felt robotic and forced. The kiss between you and your newly wed husband was short and sweet, and it was over before you knew it. When the reception came, held in a banquet room in the same chapel, it felt cold. Eyes were glued to you, though no one tried to speak with you. You heard gossip talking about how plain you looked. Others judged your family quietly.

"Would you like to dance?" The voice came softly. Satoru bent to speak into your ear. It startled you a little, but you nodded obediently. There was a glint of some kind in his eyes. Whether it was pity or simple embarrassment you did not know. Either way, he led you to the middle of the floor. "Follow my lead." He instructed quietly.

And so you did. You followed him step by step in an easy waltz between the two of you. The people around you watching intently, probably waiting for you to fall again. However the man holding you had you firmly against him, so there was no risk of that again.

After your dance the man bowed down to you again. "Nice to know you don't actually have two left feet." He jested. You smiled in faint amusement, but stayed silent. The same glint appeared in his eyes, and he looked around at all the people before eyeing you down again.

Everyone was settled into their niche little groups, drinking and muttering quietly amongst each other. It was a rigid and stiff atmosphere. The sight almost made you sad. There has not been an ounce of joy in this night you'd dreamed of for so long.

"Hey," your husband tried again, pulling you from your thoughts. "This is kinda boring, ya think?" You looked up at him with question, but nodded silently. He smiled mischievously. "I think you and I should blow this place, yeah?" He didn't wait for your answer. Quickly he grabbed you by the arm and ran.

You both dashed by the people around you and out into the parking lot. A few disgruntled family members tried shouting after you, but Satoru paid no mind to them as he helped you into a black sports car and sped off once he was buckled in himself.

Once you were freely on the road, he finally slowed down and let out a loud, boisterous laugh. "That was so much fun!" He cackled. When he spared a glance at you, though, he sighed and smiled softly. "I'm sorry about that."

"What?" you asked. Your eyebrows furrowed and your heart beat rapidly.

"Well I know this isn't exactly an ideal circumstance for you." His voice lowered. The crazed look in his eye suddenly overcome with a much calmer and serious expression.

"Me?!" You yelped, exasperated. "You're the one forced to marry lower." It wasn't false. The research you'd done on your husband further solidified it in your head that you were completely and utterly useless and unwanted. Yet the look on his face showed none of that. He glanced at you and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I wasn't going to have a choice either way, you know. You're the one who's being forced." It didn't make any sense to you. How could someone like him possibly not have the choice of anyone he wanted. Did it have something to do with sorcery? Lineage? You opened your mouth to ask, but he interrupted before you could.

"Don't think to much on it, sweetheart. Either way you and I are already married so it doesn't matter too much the reason. We'll have a long time to learn each other's dark secrets." The smile reappeared on his face while he reassured you. All you could do was nod timidly.

"This isn't how I thought I'd get married." You finally sighed out. It was the first time you'd said the thought aloud. Part of you wondered if, much like your family, he'd punish you for such rude thoughts. Instead, however, he hummed quietly.

"I know. I'm sorry for that. But I'll do whatever I can to make sure your safe and happy..." Satoru trailed off, glancing once again. "I promise you that." You sat there for a moment, pondering what that promise meant. Whatever it meant, you knew you felt safer than you had in a long long time.

"Thank you."

A/N - might be inclined do a Pt. 2. We'll have to see!!

Masterlist

[ysabelyaps]

Since you're taking asks, I got an idea ^^

maybe Sae byeok (could be an au where the game never happened or just post game) x fem!photographer reader that loves taking pictures of her, just some fluff with Sae byeok not being used to people giving her positive attention.

Thanks for reading, bye!

Guys I’m on a road trip, I have something to do now 🙏

Also this is my first fic and English isn’t my first language so forgive me 😓 and this is also like hella short. Like really short. I can try and make like, a part 2 if you guys want (*^ω^*)

⇠✧❀✧⇢

You’re sitting at your desk in your dorm, a pencil in hand, your notebook on your desk. You have a project for your photography class where you need to take pictures of something, any living thing.

You were scribbling down ideas until you eventually you got frustrated and ripped the page. You threw your pencil onto your desk and laid your head down.

That’s when Sae-Byeok walked in. She’s been your roommate for a the past year and a half, while you guys aren’t necessarily super close or anything, you guys do talk every now and then.

“..I’m back..” she mumbled. That’s it, that’s what you’re going to photograph. She’s pretty, she’s perfect, and you’ve always wanted to take pictures of her anyway, you just know she would likely never allow you. Especially since you weren’t exactly friends, but now you had a reason.

Although, somehow, even with the excuse you were too nervous to actually ask. So here you were, outside her room, the door cracked, sneaking photos of her with your camera while she remained completely unaware.

Or that’s what you thought, “..uhm.. what’re you doing?” She turned her head, putting her pencil down and staring at you.

“Huh? Oh uh- nothing- I was just- I was doing homework that’s all” you probably should’ve just asked her.

“..by taking pictures of me?” “It’s for photography class”

You guys kind of just stare at each other awkwardly for a few minutes.

“You could’ve just asked,” she sighed. “Why are you taking pictures of me anyway?”

Oh shit. Now what? You can’t lie, you’re terrible at that, but you’re also definitely not telling her it’s because she’s pretty. You can’t say it’s because you think she’s absolutely divine and gorgeous and magical and-

“You’re thinking aloud.”

“Oh..” You laughed awkwardly

⇠✧❀✧⇢

It’s been a few months since that, and now you constantly take pictures of her. How did you escape that situation you may ask? You didn’t. That was terribly awkward for you. However, now you and Sae-Byeok are at least friends, for now. I mean, what?

“I know you don’t have no projects right now, why are you still taking pictures of me?”

“You’re pretty, that’s why. Smile?”

She just sighed, a small little smile appeared on her face for your picture. It was weird, pretty? The last person to call her pretty was her mom. All of this attention from you was new. But, she didn’t hate it. No, she actually kind of liked it. It was nice for someone to pay attention to her.

“Sae-Byeok, I’m going to order dinner, what do you want?”

“Huh? Oh uh, anything is fine. Thanks”

This was new for both of you actually. It was new for you that someone wasn’t planning to run away and avoid you at all costs. It was new to her that someone paid this much attention to her.

“You’re pretty, that’s why”

Oh she’ll be thinking about that for ages.

When she went to bed that night, it’s just repeated through her head.

And now, she’s here thinking, at 2 am, if she’s gay. If she’s gay for you specifically.

I mean, yeah, she liked you, you were a good friend. You were a nice person in general. But.. the thought of being with you.. she kind of liked it. It made her feel something new, you made her feel butterflies. You paid attention to her and genuinely cared about her, she really likes that. She really likes you.

No one has ever been as nice as you to her, or made her feel like this. You didn’t make her feel like a freak of nature. Sure, maybe other people in the past might’ve thought she was pretty, but no one ever said it. It’s different when someone actually says it. It’s different when you say it. It’s different when it comes from you.

2:37 AM

Knock knock

“..huh? Sae-Byeok?.. It’s like.. midnight.. what is it-”

“I like you.”

⇠✧❀✧⇢