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violetrainbow412-blog · 2 years

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Queen [E. M]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Eddie hates the sudden crush you're having for a celebrity and when you find out why it turns out to be the cutest thing in the world

A/N: okay I have to confess that this one shot it's pure self-indulgence because I have been so obsessed with Queen lately

I liked them a lot when I was a teenager and I think this love had only been dormant in me, lmao

Anyways this is short but I hope you like it!

Eddie walked around the cafeteria, looking around at you. When he found you, you were holding a magazine in your hands and as he walked towards you, he swore he heard a sigh of love.

"Hey, girl," he exclaimed as he plopped down next to you, watching you jump startled.

“Hi,” you said excitedly, as you closed the magazine and put it aside. Eddie took the opportunity to glance sideways and he couldn't contain an annoyed groan when he saw the cover. It had Queen, the group you've been obsessed with lately.

"Seeing that band again?"

"Yes!" you replied, not noticing the annoyed tone your friend had used "I found this magazine at Mitch's stand near my house, can you believe it?" you exclaimed, as you opened it to a certain page. Eddie rolled his eyes when he saw the photograph on it.

"That blond again?"

Roger Taylor.

Eddie vaguely knew the group, he had seen them on television and he didn't dislike them, he could even say that he liked some songs. But now it was different, because your fascination was directly proportional to the hatred he had for them. He didn't even have a valid reason, he just felt extremely angry that you liked them so much. It was difficult to understand and much more difficult to explain. But of all, the one he hated the most was Roger.

“He's not just a blonde, he's the most handsome man on earth. Just look at it!” you screeched, showing him the photo. "I'm in something like a fan club and they just sent me these pictures of them in Brazil, look at them," you continued, handing him three small polaroids. There were two groups and one with just the bassist and drummer “He looks so handsome in white. And he just looks at her hair and her smile and her eyes…”

"Isn't this guy like 40 years old?"

“36!” you corrected him, completely offended.

"Which means he could be your father."

"And what does that matter?" you insisted “If he were here right now, I would let him do with me what he wanted”

“Y/N!” Eddie exclaimed, suddenly modest, but you giggled.

“I could literally melt from how hot he is, have you seen him as a young man? With that long hair that looks so soft. I swear I could…”

"Hello!" Dustin greeted, arriving just in time to prevent you from saying another obscenity out loud. Eddie felt completely ashamed of your thoughts. Sure he knew what sex was and he had a couple of dirty magazines in his bedroom, but it felt so weird to hear you saying those things.

The matter faded as lunch progressed, but he still felt strange looking at the magazine and photos lying next to you, a feeling he tried to ignore.

The days passed, then the weeks, and Eddie felt calmer when you hardly even talked about the rock band. Only an occasional mention or when you took off your headphones and because of the volume so high he managed to hear a little of one of their songs.

Until one day he was waiting for you outside your house to go for a walk and you approached with the biggest smile you've ever had. Eddie thought you were excited to see him until he saw a cassette in your hand and he was oddly disappointed.

"Check out what I just bought!" you exclaimed euphorically, without even greeting him, while you showed him the little plastic box that had The Works written on it accompanied by an image of four men "I'm going to put it on your stereo"

“Hello to you too, how are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking,” he said wryly, but you just laughed softly. The first song started playing when Eddie was already driving down the street; It was something disco.

"Oh, this song was written by Roger," you told him excitedly. It was catchy and good, but Eddie wasn't going to admit it and decided to say something impolite instead.

"Didn't he also write a super weird fuck-a-car song?"

"What? Nope!" you laughed "It's called I'm in love with my car and it's like, huh, a metaphor"

"I repeat, it's weird and that guy is weird too," he snorted, but you didn't register his angry tone because you were too busy nodding your head to the beat of the music.

You had decided that you would go for ice cream and so you did. For most of the afternoon you were talking and talking, while Eddie just ate his ice cream and answered in monosyllables. You thought it was just a passing thing but he kept silent even on the way to your house, which if he was out of the ordinary.

"Why are you so quiet, Ed?" you asked, genuinely interested.

“It's nothing” he lied, even though you knew it wasn't. He reached for you and you thought he would hug you, but instead he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a cassette which he reluctantly tossed into your lap. “I recorded that song for you. I hope you still want to hear that kind of stuff now that you're a Queen fan,” he muttered without much encouragement. But you smiled when you realized what was happening.

“Is this why you are mad? Is it because I like Queen now?”

"I'm not mad," he defended himself, but his crossed arms and the pout on his lips said something else.

When you looked more closely at the cassette you realized that it was covered in purple foil and had both your name and his written in that boy's ragged handwriting.

So in a second everything seemed to click and you understood why Eddie was upset every time you listened to the band or talked about your crush. He wasn't angry, he was jealous.

"God, it can't be, are you worried that I'll stop listening to your music because I like Queen?" you said, trying not to sound mocking, but with a smile you couldn't hide.

"Again I don't know what you're talking about, please go now, it's late and your parents are going to be angry"

"Ed, you can't be serious," you insisted. The whole thing was so silly "Or is it that you're mad because I like Roger?"

“I already told you it's nothing! OK?" he muttered. He really looked upset and you felt bad for a moment, until you heard him speak again “I don't even understand what you see in that guy. He just plays drums and he's white, it's not a big deal” he said grumbling “And lately you just talk and talk about him and how handsome he is and all that shit and he's like 20 years older than you!”

If it had been someone else, you probably would have laughed and told him to go to hell. But it turns out that the one who was sick with jealousy at your crush on a rockstar was your best friend, the same guy who was trying to be a rockstar himself and didn't want to share the job with anyone else. That's why you found the whole thing totally cute.

“Eddie, what the hell are you talking about? I like him, yes, but it's not like he's my next-door neighbor to run away with. He's thousands of miles away from here because he's a fucking Brit who has a huge bunch of fans just like me. And besides, he's married and has kids,” you laughed, punctuating this last part.

And suddenly Eddie felt so dumb. He was being an idiot being jealous of someone you didn't even know and wouldn't know anytime soon and all because he had a bit of a crush on you and hated it when someone else stole your attention. He wanted you at band rehearsals, hearing and complimenting their songs, but that need for attention had gone too far. So he continued to fold his arms and fled from your gaze, but this time out of sheer embarrassment.

"Eddie, could you at least look at me?" said. You were very persistent and he knew it, so he had no choice but to turn to see you. You weren't the least bit upset, on the contrary, you looked the most amused "Does that calm your jealousy a bit?"

"I'm not jealous" he spat, as if you had just done him the worst offense in the world, but you kept talking with that smile on your face.

“Well, in case you were jealous, I have to tell you that you have nothing to worry about. I prefer guitarists, before drummers”

"Really?" he asked, oddly hopeful, but still feeling like an idiot.

"Of course! There is one in particular with very nice curls and brown eyes” you exclaimed. Eddie let go of that angry frown and smiled at this, almost blushing, “His name is Brian May, do you know him? He is part of the band Queen”

"Okay, now get out of the car and go home," he said suddenly, returning to that frown that made you laugh out loud.

"I'm kidding! Obviously I mean you” you exclaimed, approaching him and putting one of your hands on his arm to ease the tension “Corroded coffin will always be my favorite band and I'll be at every concert. And you will always be my favorite musician, I promise you,” you said sweetly, as you closed the distance further and hugged him. That's when he relented and wrapped both hands around you as he breathed in the scent of your hair. Even though it was already clear that it was nonsense, he felt calmer now “What do you say we listen to that song together, huh? I want to know what my pretty boy wrote,” you continued. Eddie wanted to die because you had called him yours and pretty in the same sentence.

Without waiting for an answer you took the cassette and placed it delicately in the player, still with your body leaning against his to assure him that you were serious.

TAG LIST: @sweetdayme4427 @smol-book-nerd @ilikewomendealwithit @harringt8ns @katsukis1wife @ilovereadingfanfics @tvserie-s-world

It wasn't metal, it was just Eddie playing the acoustic guitar from his room as he sang in a soft, husky voice. The song spoke of friendship, love, and joy. From a person who was lucky to have another and didn't want to lose them. As the words echoed through the car, your head rested on the boy's chest, and your arm wrapped around his body, a tender smile spread across your face. And so you stayed for a long time, just enjoying the warmth and affection that Eddie emanated.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #queen #roger taylor #freddie mercury #john deacon #brian may

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magickcandie · 4 months

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John Deacon x Fem!Reader

In the rising fame of Queen, many journalists were often there to talk. More often than naught, the band found themselves repeating things before sending the reporter away. That was until Y/N L/N.

When she was there, she found a way to make herself like able. Speaking about the art of performing with Freddie. Roger’s song writing. Brian’s understanding of writing music. And most of all, she got John to talk and smile and laugh. None of the others could.

She was the one they sent whenever they needed information of Queen. And that became the only time John was excited for an interview.

“You guys have another interview.” Miami said, walking into the studio. “It’s with Y/N.”

“Oh, that’s great!” John said, his tone of voice revealing how he really felt about said reporter.

Roger turned to look at the bassist. “That’s the most excited I’ve ever seen you for an interview.”

“Yeah, John, what is it?” Brian asked, just as curious.

“Nothing, just… interested in the… interview topics?”

“I think our lovely John is definitely interested in something, but not the interview.” Freddie said, coming to sit next to Roger and Brian.

Roger leaned forward to tease. “My my, Deaky, do you fancy Y/N?”

John raised his brows with a mischievous grin but shook his head anyway.

“You should totally take her out. It could be so romantic,” Brian said.

“No, I could never talk to Y/N.”

“You’re distaste towards human interaction is becoming… well, quite distasteful,” Freddie said with a pout. “What if we were to do something?”

Roger jumped to his feet in excitement. “Yeah, we could talk to Y/N for you!”

“No, we won’t be doing any of that, thank you. I’m willing to let things happen on their own.”

“John, dear, if we let you deal with it like that, nothing will happen.”

Freddie didn’t give John the luxury of arguing back. Said a simple “tut tut” and walked off, taking Brian and Roger with him. Which was fine because that’s when you walked in.

“Hello, John.” You smiled at him. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Elsewhere. How have you been, Y/N?”

“Fine, fine. And you?”

“Quite alright. So what’s the plan for today?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m to ride with you to the venue while you all do sound checks and the like. In between those is when I’ll start individual interviews.”

In many ways you were found of John as well. You felt his answers were truthful in a way that the others didn’t quite have. But that was on the professional level. He made you happy, and laugh. He was very open, which you found out was actually a rare thing.

On many occasions, you tricked yourself into thinking he was just being courteous.

Much to John’s dismay, you got Freddie first.

“Hello, Fred. You can have a seat, I just need to get a new pen. Seems that I have lost mine.”

“Oh you won’t need that. Come, let’s talk.” He hooked arms with you. “Shall I interview you?”

“Me? Whatever for?”

“What, can’t I speak with my darling friend Y/N?”

You shrugged but went along with it. “What’s bothering you?”

Freddie waved his hands in dismissal. “You shan’t be my therapist either. This is about you, my dear. What do you look for in a lifelong partner?”

“Oh, that’s a bit forward." Freddie shrugged as if it wasn't "Well I don't know. Someone who's honest, I guess."

"John is very honest. Ever think about things short term?"

"No. I see no desire in that."

Freddie crossed his legs, then uncrossed them and stood. "Well that's all I have for you, darling. I'll send Roger in."

You didn't acknowledge him as he left the room, then Roger was walking in. He took Freddie's spot on the couch.

"How have you been, Y/N."

"Fine, fine. Now, I we see that you wrote a song on the album. What influences -"

"Oh, hush up about the album. Let's talk."

Okay....

"Roger, what are you and Freddie doing?"

"Oh, he got started? Good. Are you doing anything this coming week?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Neither is John." Roger left it at that and leaves the room, leaving you completely shocked.

Brian walked in with a smile. He would be easy to ask. He'd reveal himself if you asked.

"Brian May, what are you guys doing?"

"What do you mean?" He started to play with his hands. He was already nervous.

"You, Roger, and Freddie. What are you doing?" You crossed your arms, hoping that you could weasel the answer out of Brian.

"Y/N, we're not -"

"Were you coming in here to talk about John? Now tell me, what are you doing?"

Brian sighed and deflected in defeat. "John likes you, but he wouldn't do anything. We decided that we would try to push you into it instead." He stood up. "I'll leave now."

It was the greatest news you could've heard! You couldn't wait for him to say something, because you knew John. He wouldn't on any occasion!

John coming into the room took you out of your head. He smiled at you, sitting down at the couch.

"Hello, Y/N. What questions do you have about the album?"

At least he didn't set them up, you reasoned with yourself.

"John, I don't want to talk about the album." Everything was set up, and there was no better time to admit your feelings than here. "I really like you. And unfortunately, Brian did said you did liked me too?"

He went quiet and red in the face. "Y/N, I'm sorry you had to hear it from them."

"It's fine, John, really, but is it true?"

"Yes, Y/N, I really do. You're really beautiful, insanely smart, and just so... perfect. Can I take you out?"

You embraced him. "Of course, John!"

Freddie, Brian, Roger stood standing, peaking through the door. They froze when they saw John glare at them over your shoulder. The boys laughed before shutting the door.

Freddie sighed, dropping his hand to his hip. "Well that didn't take long."

#john deacon x reader #queen band #brian may #freddie mercury #roger taylor #request #ask #female reader

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itrytowritefanfiction · 1 month

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Fanfic that i have yet to name

Chapter One

Brian's pov

Brian sighed. What an exhausting day he thought to himself. All he needed was a hug. From her, he thought. Grace Robinson, the love of his life.

Not that she new.

He was so in love with her. But he could never admit it to her. Not without ruining their friendship. He could never do that.

He secretly loved her hugs. The way she had to stand on her tippy toes put her arms around his neck. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating to him.

But she wouldn't know. Not if he wanted their friendship to last.

Graces pov

As I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, I thought back on the last 12 months. I'd moved from my tiny hometown in Australia to the city of London. I'd started my new job as a waitress. I'd made new friends. Judith, my best friend. Freddie and Roger, who I'd met at Kensington when I went to the market there, who in turn had introduced me to Brian, my other best friend. The only thing we had in common were Freddie, Roger, and a similar taste in music.

Then I thought back to this very afternoon when Judith had been teasing me about Brian being in love with me. I had laughed, saying it was impossible.

But what if she was right.

Let me know your thoughts.

Give me some constructive criticism.

Give me writing advice.

Give me some websites or something. And yes, I already know about schoolofplot.com.

#queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #brian may x original female character #brian may x reader #writers on tumblr

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justagalwhowrites · 2 months

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Stitches: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Joel comes into the clinic after getting hurt on the job. A non-canon one shot set in the Lavender universe.

^Gif not representative of reader's appearance, just here for the vibes.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author to be paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender, QZ era

Warnings: Brief description of injury. Angst. Smut (P in V sex). No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4k

A/N: Sooooo this one got a little away from me (shocking, I know.) I can't promise all of this collection will be this long but apparently I really missed Joel and Doc. Written for @suzmagine after she requested QZ era Joel and Doc with angst and smut :)

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sunday, September 20, 2015

“I’ve got one more for you,” Marta hovered outside the patient room, a file folder in her hands.

You groaned.

“Another one?” You asked. “Shouldn’t we be done for the day by now? Shouldn’t we have been done for the day an hour ago?”

“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” she replied. “I’m the one who’s been pulling double duty all day because Andrew’s out…”

“And I’m the one who’s had twice the patient load because the entire QZ has the flu,” you sighed before you pinched the bridge of your nose. This wasn’t helping either of you. “Alright, just… Please tell me this is the last one.”

“Last one,” she said. “Doors are locked.”

“Speakeasy after this?” You asked, opening the folder.

“I would but Brian and I are going to a friend’s place tonight,” she smiled, almost sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed. “I just need to get a life….” You glanced down at the intake notes. Just stitches and antibiotics, on order from FEDRA. “This looks basic, why don’t you head on out. I can finish up here.”

“Really?” She asked. You just nodded and she squealed a little. “Thank you so much!”

You tried to not be jealous of the fact that she had a life to go home to. In all reality, you shouldn’t be upset about staying late at work. It’s not like you had anything else going on. Once Tommy left the QZ and Andrew and Jess started spending more time just the two of them while she was down for the count because of her pregnancy, you pretty much spent your time not at work at home, doing a lot of nothing.

“I need a hobby,” you muttered to yourself before making your way down to the exam room where your last patient was waiting for you.

You knocked once on the door and gave the patient a moment to answer before you opened it, reviewing the intake notes as you did.

“Hi there,” you said, looking up from the file. “I’m….”

Your voice trailed off. Joel was sitting there, perched on the end of the exam table, his eyes ranging over you.

“Don’t think you need to introduce yourself, Kid,” he said, giving you a wry half smile.

You looked back at the file. In the name field was just J.M. - FEDRA. You frowned and looked back at him.

“FEDRA sent you in?” You set the file down on the counter before going to wash your hands. “Why, did you pick a fight with a guard?”

“No,” he quirked his jaw. “Just some equipment on sewer duty.”

“Lucky you,” you said, pulling your chair up beside the table. You sat down, closer to him than you’d been since you’d been almost blown up before Tommy left the QZ. “Well, I’m sure you’d rather see anybody else but I’m afraid there’s something going around and I’m the only doctor who’s here right now. Since you’re here on FEDRA orders, I can’t really let you leave and come back another time…”

“S’fine,” he cut you off. “It’s not… I don’t mind. That it’s you, I mean.”

“Oh,” you said, a little taken aback. You tried to hide it as you pulled on your gloves. “Well that’s… good. Why don’t take off your shirt, looks like the injury is on your stomach?”

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning his top. “They put a bandage on me there but said I’d need stitches and shit to keep it from gettin’ infected.”

“Yeah, I feel like dying from an infection that doesn’t turn people into monsters in this day and age is a bit of a raw deal.”

Joel snorted and shrugged out of the shirt. You saw a bandage, stained with blood, near his belly button. You winced a little, even though you’d seen so much of Joel’s blood at this point you thought you should be used to it. But it never got any easier, knowing he was putting himself at risk, knowing he was in pain.

Blood was a good distraction, though, when you thought about it. Joel without his shirt had always been a weak spot for you. Blood was one way to keep you from focusing on things you shouldn’t. Like the fact that his chest was broad and firm and you knew just what it would be to rest your head against him there and listen to the steady thrum of his heart as you fell asleep.

“I’m going to remove the bandage, OK?” You said, looking up at him through your eyelashes. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He just gave you a single nod and you pulled down the bundle of gauze and tape to expose a jagged cut that dipped into the muscle of his abdomen. You hissed a little in sympathetic pain. “What’d you do, Joel?”

“Had to jump to dodge an out of control truck,” he said. “Ended up landin’ on something sharp. Hurt like a bitch but… had worse.”

“Had worse is a damn low bar for you,” you said, gingerly examining the wound. “Good news is, this is even cleaner than I expected. Actually, you’re cleaner than I expected, you don’t smell like you were on sewer duty.”

“Yeah, well, figured patchin’ me up wouldn’t do much if I was covered in shit,” he said, voice beaten down by the misery that was QZ life. It was a tone you knew well. “Showered before I came.”

You nodded slowly.

“I’ll numb you up and get this all closed,” you said, sitting back from him. “Go ahead and lie back for me while I get set up.”

You gathered what you needed and came back to find Joel flat on the table, his hands folded over the base of his chest. The cracked face of the watch glinted in the florescent light and you tried not to think about how his arms looked bare. You hadn’t seen his arms bare in so long.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair back up alongside him and changed gloves.

“Small poke,” you said as you injected the local anesthetic. He grunted but stayed still. You gave it a few minutes to kick in before you gently prodded the wound. “Feel that?”

“No,” he said.

You nodded and set to work, flushing out the wound and aligning his damaged skin to stitch it closed.

“So,” you said after the silence was heavy in the room. “How’ve you been since Tommy left?”

His body tensed a little.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “Just a bit quiet around the apartment.”

You nodded slowly, focusing on your stitching.

“I hope you’re not just sitting in there all alone,” you said, half teasing half serious. “Even you need social contact now and then.”

“M’fine.”

There was something in his tone that made you feel like he was not, in fact, fine. As much as you tried to forget, you carried so much of the intimacies of Joel Miller within you. How he looked when his face was relaxed in sleep, how he felt when he held you like you were the only thing he had left in the world, how he sounded when he was in pain. He sounded that way now.

“Are you?” You asked, lifting your eyes from his stomach to look up his body to his face. His head was raised just enough to look back at you.

“Not your damn business what I am or what I’m not,” he snapped, lowering his head back to the exam table. “Leave it.”

“I’m just…” you paused as you finished the last stitch. “I worry about you sometimes is all. I know you don’t have a lot of people, Joel, and…”

“I’m not your fuckin’ problem,” he bit out, sitting up so fast that you shocked back from him. “I don’t need you pokin’ around my life and fuckin’ it up anymore than you already have so just leave it, alright!”

“Alright,” you said quietly, tears pinching at the back of your throat.

“You done sewin’ me shut?” He snapped. You nodded, still trying to resist the urge to cry. “Good.”

He snatched his shirt up and stalked out of the room, not even stopping to put it on.

You took a deep, shaky breath, staring at the place where Joel had just been. You tried not to think about how, for just a few minutes, there had been a quiet intimacy there like there had been with him before. How he felt comfortable and safe beside you, where you could run your fingers over his skin and see where his hair was starting to gray.

You gave yourself a few minutes to calm down before you started cleaning up, trying to focus on getting home so you could curl up in a ball in your bed where you were warm and safe, even if you were alone. You were starting to clear the tray of tools when you realized the syringe of penicillin was still there, shiny and full.

You’d never given him the antibiotics.

“Shit,” you muttered, voice wet.

You set it aside and finished cleaning up before grabbing a bottle of pain killers and an oral course of antibiotics and setting out to Joel’s place.

He answered quickly, all but ripping the door open and looking surprised to find you there when he did.

“What do you want,” he snapped.

“You still need antibiotics,” you said quietly, fighting to not flinch back from him. You held up the small bag with the syringe, bandages and pills inside. “You left before I could give them to you.”

He quirked his jaw but stepped aside, opening the door wide enough for you to come in. You set the bag down on the table and started taking off your coat.

“Didn’t say you could fuckin’ stay,” Joel said, voice still sharp.

“I figured you’d want me having full range of motion with my arms when I’m sticking you with a needle,” you said harshly before closing your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to calm down. “I need to get at the wound again so… shirt off.”

He ground his teeth but obeyed, pulling the shirt off. You sat down at the table and got the syringe ready and he stood beside you there and you had the strangest urge to kiss his stomach. You pressed your lips together instead.

“If you didn’t run off this would probably hurt less,” you said. “But the anesthetic might be wearing off already so… small pinch.”

You pressed the syringe into his skin and pushed down on the plunger. He flinched once and that was it.

“Just going to bandage you up,” you said, not waiting for a response.

“Why’d you come here,” Joel asked as you taped the bandage over his damaged skin. You looked up at him, frowning. His eyes were on yours, deep and warm and chocolate brown.

“You needed…”

“Don’t give me that,” he cut you off. “You could have fuckin’ left it, told you enough times that I don’t want shit to do with you now so why are you really here? Not like FEDRA was gonna come and check and make sure I was on their ordered drugs so what is it?”

“Do you really think I’d just let something happen to you?” You asked quietly. “You might not care if I live or die anymore but I care about you. I’m always going to care about you.”

You didn’t wait for.a response. You looked back to his stomach and finished taping the bandage in place before taking the pills out and setting them on table before getting up and pulling your jacket back on.

“Instructions are on the bottles,” you said. “Take all the antibiotics, every last one, I don’t care if you’re feeling well and your cut is magically healed, still take them. Change out the bandages every 24 hours for the first few days, come by the clinic if there’s a lot of blood or discomfort. Pain medication as needed. I’m sure you’ll just sell whatever’s left…”

You grabbed the now empty bag off the table and turned to go to the door but Joel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back around. You frowned, looking at where he was touching you before looking back to him.

“Joel…”

“You really think I don’t care about you?” He asked, voice heated. “You really think I don’t give a shit? Hm?”

You shrank back from him as much as you could while he held you in place, his grip on you tight.

“Joel…” you said again but he cut you off.

“You think I don’t care if you live or die?” It took you a moment to realize that he didn’t sound angry. He sounded… hurt? Offended? Both? “Jesus…”

“You’re hurting me, Joel.”

He scowled but dropped your wrist.

“After everything I’ve done,” he snapped. “After everything we’ve been through, you think I don’t fuckin’ care?”

“Why would I think you care?” You tried to sound mad but you just sounded hurt, your voice quivering. “All you’ve done for years now is tell me how I hurt you, how you wish you’d never met me, how you don’t want to see me again! Even when you’ve done something that you say is for me or because of me you act like your obligated to me in some way but you’re not and I wish you’d just leave me alone! I can’t keep doing this with you, I’m so tired of being your burden, Joel!”

You tried to turn to go but his hands were on you again but on your shoulders this time, his fingers digging into your flesh there. His eyes searched yours for half a moment before he pulled you sharply to him, his hands flying from your shoulders to your face to tilt your head to just the right angle, gripping you tight and desperate, before his lips crashed into your own.

It took you a second to fully understand what was happening but your body responded before your mind. It might have been years since you last kissed Joel but your lips knew his. They conformed to his like the familiar ground they were, giving to the hot press of him as he licked into your mouth.

You moaned and wrapped your arms around his waist, forgetting, for a moment, that he was injured. He hissed in pain and you tried to pull back but his grip on you grew tighter, fingertips pressing into your skull. Your body curved against his and you were suddenly acutely aware that he was shirtless, that you could feel his skin on yours if you could just take your own shirt off, too.

His hold on you eventually loosened and he pulled back from you, the brown of his iris almost entirely swallowed by his pupil now as he panted for breath. His thumbs traced the arch of your cheekbones.

“I care,” he said, voice hungry and low. “I care more about you than about any other person left on this godforsaken planet…”

“Joel…” you were breathless, heat and tension pooling at your core.

“And I’m tired of tryin’ to stay away from you.”

He pulled you back against him, gently that time. His lips were soft on yours, his tongue tracing the seam of you until you opened for him. You could properly taste him now, the mint of his toothpaste and the bitter tang of liquor and the familiar flavor of his skin. You drank it up, needing it like water. His hands left your face, sliding down your body to your waist. He pulled at your shirt, separating from you just enough to pull it up and over your head, taking a moment to look down at your body, an expression of almost reverence on his face as he panted for breath.

Joel tugged you toward him again, his mouth quickly finding yours, as he unhooked your bra. He slid that off your body, too, and cradled you to him.

You moaned into his mouth, you couldn’t help it, as your arms went around his neck. His skin was everywhere, so soft and so warm and just like you remembered. He felt so good against you, like home, and the ache of missing him flared to life inside your chest, sharp and cruel.

Part of you knew you should put a stop to this now, before it went any further. He was only going to push you away again, just like he had after Boston. It was only going to hollow you out and leave you feeling more desperately alone than ever.

But you couldn’t resist him. You’d missed him too much over the years, he was too much a part of you to ever dream of pushing him away. You needed this. You needed him.

You let him guide you toward the couch, his fingers prying at the button of your jeans before pushing those and your underwear down your body, too. You stepped out of them and your shoes together before Joel gently lowered you, completely bared to him, to the rough, aging fabric of the couch. You watched as he stood over you, your eyes wide, as he opened his own pants, freeing his cock and swiping his thumb over his leaking tip before stroking himself in long, slow strokes.

“Tell me you want this,” his voice trembled. “We can stop right now…”

“I need you,” you cut him off with a needy whisper. “Please.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. He shoved his pants and underwear down before he nudged your legs apart and settled between them. He gripped the root of his thick, heavy cock and trailed his tip over your leaking slit, moaning as he did.

“Missed this wet little pussy,” he notched his head at your entrance before thrusting halfway inside you with a short, sharp stroke. You gasped at the stretch of him, your back arching and fingers scrambling at the tattered upholstery. “Fuck, still so fuckin’ tight. Gotta be fuckin’ dripping for me or I’d never get inside you…”

He pulled back just a little, his thumb finding your clit and pressing into you there, working you in a slow circle. He thrust back into you, a little further this time.

“You get this soft and hot and wet for anyone else?” He asked, a possessive edge to his voice as his eyes ranged over your naked body. “Or you save that just for me?”

“Just for you,” you didn’t care that you sounded desperate and pathetic. You just needed him inside of you, filling you totally. “It’s all for you, I’ve always been all for you.”

“You all mine, Baby?” He asked, pulling back and thrusting deeper. “This little pussy all mine?”

“Yes,” you rocked your hips up against him but he pressed down on you, holding you in place and making you whimper. “Fuck, please…”

“How about the rest of you?” He asked, his hand leaving your clit as he lowered himself onto you. His skin was on yours, the plush swell of his stomach against you, his chest tight to your own. His hand came up to brush your hair back and cradle the crown of your head, his thumb tracing over you there. His eyes searched yours and, for the first time in years, you saw the Joel you’d fallen in love with so long ago. The quiet strength of him, the gentle care, the fierce love, the raw and aching whole of him there with nothing holding him back. “Want all of you, want that so much more than your perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

“Joel…”

“Say you’re mine,” he thrust deeper and you keened at the feel of him inside you, so close to having all of him within you where you’d known he belonged from the first time you’d taken him into yourself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you breathed. “I promise, you can’t lose me.”

He pulled back a little and you whimpered at the loss.

“Say you’ll let me protect you,” he thrust in, almost to the root this time, and held himself there. Your channel tightened around him.��

“Joel,” you were having a hard time remembering how to say anything but his name, that single word the most vital one you’d ever known. “Please…”

“Tell me,” he ground himself against you, his skin on your clit, his cock pressing into your most sensitive places. “Let me take care of you, protect you. Say it.”

“You can protect me,” your hands found their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin there. “You can take care of me, I promise…”

“Let me love you,” he pulled back again but it was his words and not how he was moving inside you that made you gasp. “Say it. Tell me I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.”

You reached up and gently traced his hairline before threading your fingers through his curls, your eyes on his.

“I haven’t been the one stopping you from loving me,” you whispered.

“I never stopped,” he rocked himself part way into you again before pulling back. “Always loved you, always. But I need it to be safe, I can’t love you without it destroyin’ me if it’s not. Please, baby. Tell me. Tell me I can love you.”

“You can love me, Joel,” you said softly. “It’s safe. I’m safe.”

He kissed you, his mouth claiming yours and he pressed all the way inside you then, making your back arch and legs go tight around his hips. You moaned against his lips as he held himself deep within you for a moment before pulling back again.

It might have been years but your body knew Joel’s. You knew just how to take him and he knew just how to make you come, his hips grinding down into you when he was fully seated inside of your tight channel, making his cock tease your most tender places while his hips worked your clit. He fucked you deep and hard and greedy, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he wanted to lay claim to all of you.

The tight band of pleasure inside of you wound tighter and tighter until it snapped when he was pressed deep, your walls fluttering over him. He moaned against your lips and fucked you through it, never slowing, never letting up, making it so your orgasm never really subsided. It just rolled into building the next one until he pulled his desperate and needy mouth from yours.

“Not gonna last, Baby,” he ground himself deeper, as if to make his point. “Where -”

“Inside me,” you panted. “I need to feel you, please don’t leave, please, inside me, please…”

He kissed you again, fucking you a little harder and faster, driving the band of pleasure tighter and higher until you felt him press deep and pulse inside you, triggering your next orgasm.

You came with him, your pussy rippling over him as he throbbed, emptying himself into you.

His body went slack for a moment before he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes returning to their normal color. They looked over your face for a moment before locking onto your own and you had a moment of fear that the walls would go up again. That the cold, disconnected Joel who had taken over since he’d come to the QZ would be back. But his eyes stayed soft and open and warm, his large palm still cradling the top of your head.

“Tell me you meant all that,” you whispered even though you were afraid of what the answer was.

“Oh, Baby.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead before trailing his nose over your own. “I meant every word. I promise.”

You smiled, looking into Joel’s eyes and realizing that, even though you were still stuck inside the QZ, you were right where you belonged.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #lavender #smut fic #For You

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creepzkilla · 11 months

Text

[BRIAN THOMAS, TOBY ROGERS, TIMOTHY WRIGHT x FEM! READER]

chapter warning. gore, death, mutilation, maggots, talk of killing an animal, gutting an animal.

wc. 7860

authors note. this fic gonna be long asf so buckle up. sorry its lowkey boring up yk its building suspense. any questions about the fic or concerns please submit an ask!

important, read. even though this is implied to be a female reader that has she/her pronouns, I suggest downloading this extension for Microsoft edge to replace [Y/N] as your name and to replace she/her with your preferred pronouns to make you feel more comfortable if you do not identify as a female.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏: 𝐇𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐑𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄

meaning. a mushroom that grows over decaying bodies

As the sun rose above the eastern horizon, casting its golden hues across the land, a lone car ventured forth on the winding roads leading to Grove, Oklahoma. The engine purred softly, its rhythmic hum blending harmoniously with the melody of nature. With the sounds of soft rock and country preoccupying the silence that the car held in its void. The silence was filled with the songs of Linda Ronstadt, and Deana Carter; two maestros of musical storytelling, graced the airwaves, serenading the passenger with a poignant repertoire of cherished memories. The tunes resounded with the recollections of sun-drenched summers spent in the Western fields, where her mother's berry farm unfurled its emerald charm.

[Y/N]’s mind wandered back to the days when the weathered white barn stood as a sentinel, and the family's nearly antique truck nestled alongside, an endearing relic from bygone eras. Each note carried her back to the sight of verdant paint curling and surrendering to the passage of time, revealing glimpses of raw metal beneath. She vividly recalled the delicate act of running her nails over the lifted layers of paint, peeling them away one by one, as if uncovering the hidden stories embedded within the truck's weathered facade.

In nothing but her nightgown, [Y/N] ventured out, her bare feet delicately dangling just beyond the worn-out Ford logo adorning the truck bed. Wandering through the fields, she traversed the rough terrain, her feet bearing the brunt of her barefoot journey. The berry saplings, a recurring sight in spring and summer, had now blossomed, displaying their succulent fruits as late summer approached. Yet before their transformation, the bushes stood tall, their leaves pointed and vigorous. Her path, confined to the Western fields, beckoned her toward the barn. Basking in abundant sunlight, the western expanse fostered accelerated growth, causing the saplings there to sprout thorns at a rapid pace. As a consequence, the girl’s feet endured the accumulation of mud and crusty blood, an undeniable testament to her traversing the formidable fields.

With dirtied feet and a stained nightgown, she embarked on her ritual every morning, just before the sun's radiant glow graced the sky. Ascending the antique truck, she found her perch, eagerly awaiting the mesmerizing spectacle of the sun's rays stretching across the vast expanse of land. Yet, amidst this ethereal beauty, her heart danced with anticipation for a different kind of awakening.

As the first glimmers of light began to peek over the horizon, a familiar melody filled the airwaves, heralding the start of a brand new day. Soft country tunes, like those sung by Tanya Tucker and The Judds, tenderly embraced her senses. However, her ears strained for one particular tune, a treasure she yearned for each morning at 8 AM.

And then it happened—John Denver's timeless classic, "Take Me Home, Country Roads," resounded through the airwaves, soothing her soul with its heartfelt lyrics. Sitting atop her vantage point, she became a symphony of joy, her voice bursting forth despite its imperfections. With every note, she poured her heart into the song, her little lungs valiantly attempting to reach every high and low.

Though [Y/N]’s singing may have lacked finesse, it mattered not, for her spirit soared with unbridled enthusiasm. Without pausing for breath, she sang the entire composition, as if on a sacred mission to carry its melody across the rolling hills and valleys. In those precious moments, the world was her stage, and she, the star of her own enchanting performance.

Queens ensemble of trumpets and brass instruments harmoniously faded into a gentle hum, merging with the engine's subtle vibrations. With every turn of the wheel, a captivating journey unfolded, transporting her to an enchanting realm where time lost its urgency, and the world transformed into a vibrant symphony of colors.

[Y/N]’s grip on the steering wheel remained relaxed, a testament to her confidence in navigating the road ahead. However, the weight of exhaustion was evident beneath her eyes, concealed by bags that hung like heavy burdens. Her gaze alternated between the winding road and the small, blaring red text of the clock on her car monitor: 7:59 A.M.

Anxiously, her fingers drummed against the supple leather steering wheel, mirroring the racing beat of her heart. Her eyes darted back and forth, desperately seeking confirmation of the fleeting minutes. As the hum of the engine threatened to engulf her senses, its dominance was suddenly overpowered by the opening notes of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads."

In that moment, her attention was captivated by the red letters once more, and they revealed the time: 8:00 A.M. A gentle hum escaped her lips, akin to a sigh of relief, as she muttered along with the song's lyrics, embracing them with unwavering devotion. Without pausing to catch her breath, she sang along, infusing her voice with the song's nostalgic melodies.

The road stretched out like an asphalt ribbon, carving its way through sprawling meadows and rolling hills. Fields of emerald green extended as far as the eye could see, adorned with delicate wildflowers that danced in the gentle breeze. The air, crisp and invigorating, carried with it the scent of earth and the promise of new beginnings.

As the car glided forward, the scenery unfolded like pages in a vivid tapestry.Towering trees lined the roadside, their branches stretching toward the heavens like ancient sentinels. Leaves shimmered with a kaleidoscope of autumnal shades, painting the landscape with fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. The trees seemed to whisper secrets to one another, their rustling leaves creating a symphony of nature's own design.

The road wound its way up and down gentle slopes, revealing panoramic vistas that stole the breath away. Mountain ranges stood majestically in the distance, their peaks kissed by the wisps of ethereal clouds. They stood as guardians of the landscape, their stony faces etched with the stories of ages gone by. But nothing could compare to Grand Lake.

The bridge, spanning what felt like endless miles, gracefully arched over the water, its reflection shimmering in the gentle waves. As if in a dance, a multitude of boats navigated the water's expanse, trailing wakes that glistened in the crystalline depths, mirroring the celestial azure above and the passing cars on the bridge. The radiant spectacle transformed the water into an irrefutably luminous spectacle. It seemed as though liquid silver veins intricately intertwined with the land, carrying the harmonious melodies of life and the captivating tales of the creatures that resided within its mysterious depths. Geese gracefully etched invisible patterns against the vast canvas of the heavens, casting a mesmerizing spell on the onlookers below.

The scratching of gears wound up, blending into the symphony of sound, as the window glass slowly rolled down. The mechanical protest produced a terrible screeching sound, reminiscent of an animal's anguished cry, piercing the air and capturing her attention. Her eyes widened, captivated by the scene that unfolded before her.

Inhaling deeply, she savored the dewy summer air that gracefully entered her lungs, infusing her with an ardent fervor. Each breath became an embrace of life itself. The atmosphere, cool and revitalizing, carried a tangible energy, blending the essence of earth with the promise of new beginnings. The aroma of raindrops and freshly cut grass intermingled, filling her senses with a harmonious fragrance that evoked a sense of contentment. As she exhaled, a sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips, releasing any lingering tension—contentment.

The car engine purred in agreement at the sight of landscape, the tranquility of and complete beauty was simply enchanting.

In a graceful display of poise and determination, she effortlessly steered the sleek vehicle away from the confines of the bustling main road, opting instead for a captivating detour onto a secluded single-lane path. As the tires glided over the uneven terrain, the verdant canopy of lush green forests enveloped the winding road.

Along this path, a humble dirt road emerged, veering away from the well-trodden route. Its weathered surface, pockmarked and rough, dictated a slower pace, Each jolt and tremor sent ripples of anticipation coursing through her veins, heightening her senses as she pressed on with unwavering resolve.

Gradually, the path unveiled a breathtaking vista, an opening that seemed to materialize from the very fabric of a storybook. A small pond, its crystalline waters shimmering under the gentle caress of the sunlight, beckoned with an irresistible allure. Nestled harmoniously by its side, a resplendent cabin emerged, a captivating testament to rustic beauty.

The cabin, although once a haven of tranquility, now appeared as a relic of forgotten memories, as if time itself had woven a shroud of neglect around its weathered exterior. Weeds triumphantly sprawled across the surroundings, their emerald tendrils dancing in the wind, while determined vines conquered the cabin's weathered facade, gracefully ascending its walls in a seemingly eternal embrace with nature itself.

In this serene tableau, the intrepid traveler found herself drawn to the essence of this forgotten refuge. Its dilapidated state only served to enhance the mystique, inviting her to uncover the tales that lay dormant within its timeworn walls. She sensed that beneath the encroaching foliage and the fading echoes of life, whispers of untold stories and echoes of forgotten laughter still resonated within, yearning for someone to listen, to breathe new life into their cherished existence.

As the shadows danced amidst the rustling leaves, she stepped out of her vehicle, her footsteps cautious yet filled with reverence as the gravel beneath her crunched. The air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, as if the surroundings acknowledged her arrival, recognizing the significance of this encounter.

As her boots pressed against the gravel roadway, their crunch merged seamlessly with the harmonious of natural sounds that enveloped the picturesque surroundings. Advancing towards the cabin, each step resonated through the ancient floorboards of the front porch, releasing a melancholic creak as if the timeworn planks were exhaling with a subtle sigh. Weathered by countless footsteps, the wooden planks bore the indelible marks of their enduring journey, their once vibrant hue now transformed into a rich, dark oak shade. Inhaling deeply, she absorbed the essence of the place, her hand gravitating toward the doorknob of the screen door. For a fleeting moment, her gaze caught the old rocking chair, swaying gently in response to the playful caress of the breeze that meandered through the air. Finally, [Y/N]’s turned the the doorknob as the screen door creaked open—exhaling.

She inhaled, the sharp fragrance of pine and bleach wove its way into her senses, its pungency tugging at her nostrils. Their potent combination was not without consequence, for it provoked a reaction within her, eliciting a gentle scrunching of her nose.

The house exuded an eerie aura of both familiarity and enigma. She found herself standing in an expansive, open area cabin, devoid of hallways, which seemed to beckon her further inside. With each step, the immaculate cleanliness of the interior revealed itself, creating an almost surreal ambiance.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the second floor, with its single set of stairs ascending like a mysterious gateway to another realm. On the ground floor, to her right, lay a quaint and compact kitchen, an intimate space that appeared to have witnessed the preparation of countless meals and conversations with its worn down appliances.

To her left, the living room stretched before her like a tapestry of memories. A comfortable couch adorned the space, an inviting haven where the occupants must have spent many hours engrossed in captivating tales or deep contemplation. In front of the couch, the heart of the room resided—a grand fireplace. Its flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, seemingly whispering forgotten secrets.

Perched atop the fireplace, an old flat screen TV served as a window to the past, where characters from era that might have come alive came alive, momentarily escaping their scripted confines. The juxtaposition of the antiquated screen and the modernity it once represented painted a vivid portrait of the house's intriguing history.

Yet, despite all the intriguing elements that adorned the room, her gaze eventually shifted downward to the very foundation of the space. The wooden floor bore the weight of countless footsteps and stories, its grainy texture inviting her to feel the past as she walked upon it.

In the realm of her consciousness, she possessed an intimate knowledge of the house's history. In the era preceding her own, her beloved grandparents had entrusted its care to a man of enigmatic nature, one by the name of Willard Tucker. The townsfolk, adorned with tales and whispers, had deemed him a peculiar figure, cloaked in the shadows of perceived insanity. Yet, the precise details eluded her, veiled behind a shroud of uncertainty. All that remained were fragments of narratives whispered through the winds of time—stories suggesting that the man, his heart shattered by the loss of his wife, had departed for the fertile lands of West Virginia, seeking solace within the embrace of family ties, all while taking up farming.

She had guessed that Willard was the reason for the foul smell of cleaning products. Cleaning and scrubbing off residue so as to not leave it behind for the next tenant. That being her—a girl from small town Kansas in the depths of the west. However, she secretly cursed Willard for using so much of the cleaning product.

Upstairs and to the left, In the midst of simplicity, her bedroom exuded a quiet charm. Nestled against the wall, a regal queen-sized bed commanded the center stage, flanked by two modest nightstands. On the left, a generous window framed the wall, revealing a glimpse of the wooden sanctuary beyond.

As she gazed through the window's translucent pane, a tingle of anticipation caressed her being. It was as if the wistful tendrils of nature, woven into the fabric of the scene, beckoned her. The sheer simplicity of the room was deceptive, for within its unassuming boundaries. A shiver traced its delicate fingers along her spine, electrifying the air with a gentle chill.

She shook it off as paranoia.

As she ventured into the confines of the bathroom, her delicate fingers gently placed the small pills of respite into the trinity of mirrors ensconced within the cabinet. Ambien, a faithful companion in her torment against insomnia, found solace in this sanctuary. The affliction had haunted her since the early years of her high school debut when a merciless onslaught of ghastly nightmares infiltrated her slumber. Rarely, she could sleep without nightmares, rarely she could sleep at all. Not through a full night at least. In a valiant attempt to retain her grasp on reality, she adorned her abode with vibrant beacons of guidance, neon yellow sticky notes that served as simple reminders.

Before she placed the pills in their place, with meticulous care, she tenderly appraised the contents of each vial, her discerning gaze fixed upon the pills nested within. Twelve, she confirms. Retrieving a vibrant yellow sticky note from her pocket from her linen jacket, her blue pen danced across the note, etching the numbers upon the labels of both bottles with blue ink.

Nestled gently beside the cabin lies a quaint garden, albeit a modest one, marred by a profusion of resilient weeds. Throughout her family’s lineage, they had cultivated a bounteous farm teeming with an abundance of blossoms, nourishing produce, and succulent fruits. This trio, her mother, father, and herself, helmed a "berry utopia"—an expanse of verdant fields, stretching across countless acres, brimming with an assortment of fruit: blueberries, blackberries, vibrant raspberries, strawberries, and cranberries—each variety harvested with unyielding dedication.

As her gaze fell upon the garden, now overrun and wild, a surge of nostalgia washed over her like a familiar melody from a song. The sight evoked memories of her home, where there were fields upon fields of saplings of fresh berries. Determination welled up within her, fueled by a profound sense of connection. With resolute certainty, she understood that this hallowed ground deserved to be restored to its former glory. And then this became her mission.

With a hum, she nestled into the plush embrace into the seat of her car, releasing a wearied sigh that spoke volumes about her exhaustion. The weight of countless sleepless nights seemed to settle beneath her eyes, casting shadowy hues that deepened with each passing moment. Her gaze drifted toward the console, where a vibrant neon yellow sticky note had found a temporary perch upon the sleek gear shift. Delicately scripted upon its surface were two simple yet poignant words: "Call Mom."

A flicker of recollection sparked within her. Reminding her of the promise she had made to her worry-laden mother. A call was expected, an assurance of her safe arrival. Jane, her mother, possessed a peculiar knack for turning fret into an art form, yet in her own idiosyncratic way, her daughter desired nothing more than the act of vanishing without a trace.

In the tender embrace of Jane’s watchful care, her protective nature has forever been her daughters steadfast companion. Jane ardently desired for [Y/N] to remain by her side, nestled within the sanctuary of her love, tending to the bountiful fields of the farm until the end of days. Undoubtedly, affection for her only child knows no bounds, yet an undeniable sense of confinement subtly gnawed at her being.

Since the untimely demise of [Y/N]’s beloved father, a transformative shift enveloped her mother's being. Like a shadow cast by the moon's gentle glow, she became an ever-watchful sentinel, closely monitoring her daughter's every step with unwavering dedication. Her love took on an armor of protection, shielding [Y/N] from the world's perils with an intensity that left her in awe. The mere notion of forging friendships seemed inconceivable, friends were near to few, yet she made it through.

As she embarked on her journey to the store, a fleeting thought of reaching out to her beloved mother danced in her mind, promising to materialize into a heartfelt conversation once she fulfilled her immediate errands. Before delving into the realm of garden essentials, a trusty blue ballpoint pen found its place in her hand, etching a list: a delightful assortment of blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries. A sudden mishap tainted the pristine clarity of the yellow paper, as her thumb inadvertently collided with the wet ink, obfuscating the very last word with an smudge, rendering it a mere blur, without her noticing

The jingle reverberating through the air above the door was no delightful melody, but rather a haunting creak that sent shivers down one's spine. As the door swung shut, it unleashed a piercing screech, its brass hinges groaning under the weight of accumulated rust. In that moment, it seemed as though a flurry of white paint chips had erupted into the air, propelled by the force with which the door had slammed shut. She was consumed by a wave of embarrassment, cast her gaze around, desperately seeking an opportunity to offer a timid apology to the cashier. Regrettably, the name tag affixed to the cashier's uniform bore the name "Ranae Reeds," yet the older woman remained oblivious to the commotion, deeply engrossed in the captivating narrative of her newspaper, so captivated that she spared not even a passing glance.

The quaint little store exuded an ambiance both intimate and grundgy. Its petite dimensions were adorned with luminous streams of yellow light, gently cascading overhead, a mesmerizing sight that lured a vibrant array of insects, their presence immortalized by a delicate layer of expired life at the base of the ceiling fixtures. Amidst this glow, a second source of illumination emerged from the rear of the store, emanating from the flickering glow of the freezers, whose contents contained nothing but dairy products.

Four rows stood in perfect formation, each aisle beckoning with an irresistible allure. Yet, it was the initial 3rd island that caught her attention. Like echoes from her college days, these rows overflowed with an abundance of budget-friendly delights, an ensemble of delectable junk food.

On the 4th and final row, she found what she needed; seeds. She picked up a variety of packets of seeds, holding the small packets between her fingers. Blueberry, Raspberries, and strawberries—She was missing one thing

She nestled her hands into the cozy refuge of her coat pocket, avidly searching for that elusive neon yellow sticky note. Days of inadequate slumber had exacted their toll, leaving her mental acuity adrift in a sea of drowsiness, a constant companion to her weary mind.

The yellow paper must have slipped out somewhere.

As she turned to retrace her steps, her gaze fell upon a figure standing a few feet away. Dressed in a dark hoodie that seemed to swallow his form, he was an enigmatic presence amidst the mundane shopping atmosphere. His face was partially concealed by a dark yellow hood, casting intriguing shadows upon his features.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach him. But something compelled her to step forward, her curiosity overpowering any apprehension she might have felt. With a nervous yet determined smile, she approached the figure.

"’scuse me," she began, her voice tentative but polite with a southern accent slipping through her lips. "I seem to have dropped something, and was wonderin if you happened to see a yellow sticky note?"

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers through the darkness of the hood. His gaze was intense, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden behind her words. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the stray yellow sticky note from the floor, holding it out to her.

Relief washed over her as she accepted the note, feeling a strange connection form in that brief exchange. "Thank you lots," she said, her gratitude evident in her voice. "I wouldve been lost without this."

As she looked up to thank him, her eyes widened in surprise. The hood that had previously obscured his face had fallen back, revealing his features in full. His brown hair was unkempt, falling across his forehead in a disheveled manner, matching the roughness of his beard. There was a weariness etched into his face, as if he carried the weight of a world unseen.

His eyes, though tired, possessed an unmistakable glimmer of something deep and complex. They held a mix of vulnerability and strength, as if he had seen things that most could never comprehend. The lines around his eyes spoke of experiences that had left their mark, making him seem older than his years.

He was quite handsome, [Y/N] thought.

A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as he nodded in response to her thanks, acknowledging her gratitude. “Ain't no trouble.," he replied, his voice a low rumble that held a hint of grave and southern twang. "Happy to lend a hand."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, as if both of them were caught in a suspended moment, each waiting for the other to break the spell. It seemed like the man found himself unable to tear his gaze away.

‘Dude, fucking break eye contact, this is getting weird’, She thought as an awkward frown formed on her face.

Her eyes flickered to the red gallon he held in his hand, the word gasoline emblazoned across it. Questions formed in her mind, but she hesitated, deciding against asking him directly. There was an unspoken understanding that some things were better left unsaid.

Instead, she mustered a smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, thanks again," she said, her voice warm with sincerity. "It was nice of ya to help me out."

His lips curled into a slightly deeper smile, a tooth gap evident, a hint of something genuine breaking through his stoic demeanor. "No worries," he replied, his voice tinged with a quiet appreciation, before going back to looking at the seeds.

The way his lips curled into a grin, sent shivers down the curve of her spine. Though his smile, expansive and brimming with teeth, held a peculiar detachment within the depths of his eyes, a dissonance that left her unsettled. His lips, etched into a smile, never reached his eyes. Like an emotionless facaque. He had something of a crooked grin, skewed in its authenticity, that just didn't seem right Deep within her core, an unsettling awareness resonated, silently cautioning her about the man before her. Still, an irresistible force tugged at her very being, pulling her closer to his presence.

She glanced down at her yellow sticky note for the last item, only for the blue writing to be smudged.

“Fuck.”

The man couldn’t help but notice the frustration on her face as she stared at the yellow sticky note in her hand. The item she had written on it was smudged, rendering it illegible. He cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between them in the garden aisle at the back of the store.

"Hey again, uh... , 'scuse me for interrupting but aah couldn't help but notice yer frustration. Do you still need a hand?" The man had asked, his voice gentle and concerned.

Startled by his sudden address, she looked up, her eyes meeting his. She blinked a few times, trying to regain her composure. "Oh, hey. uh... i was just trying to remember what i needed to buy," she stammered, a hint of embarrassment displayed on her face.

He nodded, understanding the struggle of forgetfulness. His gaze fell upon a rack of seed packets nearby. "Well, if yer open to suggestions, there's this type of berry seed that might do the trick. They're strong and grow plenty. Might just be what ya searchin for.”

She hummed, her eyes widening as she turned her attention to the seed packets he indicated. She scanned them, reading the descriptions and imagining the bountiful berries that could grow from them. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Imma give em’ a try," [Y/N] replied, grateful for the suggestion,"Thank you."

He reached out, plucked a seed packet from the rack, and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed briefly, a fleeting connection that sent a shiver down her spine. She accepted the packet, feeling the weight of the possibilities it held.

"Yer welcome," He had said with a genuine smile that still didn't reach his eyes. "Aah sure hope they bring you a fruitful harvest." he laughs.

As she held the seed packet in her hand, she couldn't help but be struck by a sudden curiosity. "Do you gotta a garden?" [Y/N] laughed, “You sure seemed to know lots bout’ plants and whatnot.”

His smile faltered slightly, and he glanced away for a moment. "Well, I used to have one," he replied softly. "But things shifted ‘round, and aah had to leave it behind… but ah’m fixin’ to start a new’un.” He drawled out with a smile.

Understanding flickered in her eyes, and she nodded in sympathy. Sometimes life forces people to leave behind things they hold dear. It reminded her of something, but she just couldnt put her finger on it. Before she could delve further into the subject, his phone buzzed loudly, interrupting their conversation.

He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. A serious expression settled on his face as he answered the call. His voice was barely audible, and he moved away from her, creating a physical distance between them.

She watched him, a mixture of caution and curiosity mingling within her. His hushed conversation gave away little, leaving her to wonder about the nature of the call.

As the call ended, He turned back to face her, his eyes filled with a mixture of apology and urgency. He didn't say a word but mouthed a goodbye, his hand waving gently in farewell. Without another word, he swiftly made his way out of the garden aisle, leaving her standing there, holding the seed packet in her hand.

“I wish i would’ve at least gotten his name.” [Y/N] hummed, rubbing the packet in her hand. She really hopes that the man was right about this seed packet.

She read the packet again, more carefully. The packet read Boysenberry. A cross between a raspberry, blackberry, dewberry, and loganberry. She could make this work. The picture showed something like a blackberry , yet it was enlongated and a deep red, almost black color. The description read that when freshly picked, it tasted like a sweet blueberry with a tangy aftertaste.

[Y/N] grabbed a few more more things: 2 bags of fertilizer, Top Soil, and Green gloves

She sighed, walking towards the front desk, flashing a soft smile towards the cashier, Ranae Reeds, she recalled. The woman’s name tag was worn around the edges, with her name partially faded. Much like the name tag, Ranae was a little worn around the edges. With her gray roots, her deep smile lines told tales of a younger, happier her.

Ranae Reeds delicately placed her magazine, adorned with the captivating headline, "Infamous Serial Killer, Jeffery Woods caught," on the polished surface before her. [Y/N]’s eyes beheld the image of a man whose countenance bore the unmistakable evidence of two hauntingly deep gashes etched into his cheeks, and a profound sensation seized her being. The spectacle unfolded before her like an eerie tableau—an unsettling tableau that seemed to suspend the very breath in her throat. Its sheer grotesqueness sent tremors coursing through her, causing the hairs on the nape of her neck to rise in response.

Ranae cashier merely looked at the younger girl, almost with sympathy.

The cashier took the seed packets with a shaky hand, her golden bracelet jingling as she scanned the packets of seeds with a ding of the scanner, “I ain’t neva seen ya round’ before.” Ranae spoke with assertiveness and confidence, surprisingly, as her stature was rather petite and she seemed to be soft-spoken. But that was in fact not the case.

[Y/N] was taken aback by her sudden curiosity, she blinked and said, “I just got ere’ this morning, moved in today.” She rocked back and forth on her toes and heels, eagerly wanting to leave already.

Ranae looked at her up and down with a bored expression on her face and asked, “Where yer from girl?” Her lips never moved from the straight line that almost seemed to be formed. Her freckled hands grabbed the fertilizer as she scraped the bag of pellets across the scanner, never taking her eyes off of [Y/N].

DING.

“Oh, aah’m from Kansas. Born n’ raised.” [Y/N] didn't have a Southern dialect—well, not anymore. It only slips out on occasion, particularly when talking to someone else with a southern twang. Her momma and daddy always had a thick southern voice, as they were both from Texas and moved to Kansas.

Kansasans don’t exactly have an accent, besides not pronouncing the “R” in words. Yet, they got a way of speaking that you can clearly tell their from somewhere in the West. If you went south, close to the Oklahoma border, the accent would get thicker as you went.

Ranae hummed, almost like she had something to say, yet she bit her tongue. She scanned the items slowly, like she was purposely taking her time.

[Y/N] shook her leg rapidly, impatience growing within her as she watched Ranae struggle to bag the items in a brown paper bag.

DING.

“My PawPaw and MawMaw died recently, so I inherited their cabin down by Grand Lake,” She said in attempt to fill the silence that annoyed her so much, in hope to pass the time. [Y/N] has always been rather extroverted, starting conversations with strangers she didn't mind, it was this silence that ate at her. The silence was bugs crawling underneath her skin, like roaches gnawing at her veins as they swam in her blood.

Ranae merely hummed again, scanning an item, completely uninterested in the conversation at hand, letting silence fall over the conversation once more. The silence was only broken by tapping of [Y/N]’s leather boots, which were worn out and needed replacement.

“A man named Willard Tucker used to live there—“

DING.

“Ya best be careful round that house,” Ranae suddenly spoke up, her brown eyes boring into the girls, a serious expression took over her features,“There been rumors bout’ some folks down by those parts doing god knows what.” The woman's veiny hands wandered through the bag of fertilizer in search of the bar code.

[Y/N] stiffened at her sudden demeanor. “I see,” She watched intensively as Ranae scanned the last item before bagging it into a brown bag and pushing it towards [Y/N].

Y/N smiles, “I’Il be sure to be careful—“

“And ya best be careful round that man that was in ere’ earlier. Aah’ve seen him do some suspicious things with those little friends of his.” Ranae cut her off once again, except her loud and apprehensive nature was no more; instead, it was quiet, and she was talking merely above a whisper.

“He’s up to no good, girl.” Ranae’s eyes once again, bore into [Y/N]’s with a sense of urgency and protection. Ranae reminded [Y/N] of her mother, Jane. From the way, she spoke with a protectiveness of a mother to her veiny freckled hands that trembled constantly.

DING.

[Y/N] hummed, taking the brown bags underneath her arms hastily, “I will don't worry.” She reassured Ranae with a tight-lipped smile, before pushing through the door that opened with a groan.

The smell of summer once again hit her, and she inhaled the sweet, tangy air. It was humid as well, the weather was hot and sticky. [Y/N] was used to it from being on a farm for all of her life, yet she never really enjoyed it. Her dad, Steve, enjoyed the heat, he loved it. He would always drag her out of the house when it was well into the 90’s.

She really misses her dad.

[Y/N] threw the brown bags in the tail bed of her 1995 Ford 150. She slid into the plush fabric of her seat, shutting the car door behind her as she slumped against the leather steering wheel.

“Why in the hell is it so damn hot?”

She peeled herself off of the steering wheel, her head heavy as drowsiness took over. partly from the lack of sleep, and the warm sun that scattered it’s light against her face.

She shoves the old, almost rusty, key into the ignition, turning it to start the car. The car sputtered, before failing to start. [Y/N] sighed, before trying again, turning the key in the ignition. Yet again, it groaned and sputtered with a metallic scratching noise that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

It was an old truck, a gift for her 16th birthday. Painted a dark red that rusted around its silver rims, the truck was a relic, almost like a family heirloom that her family passed down from one generation to the next. It was frequent that the truck wouldn't start, constantly breaking down from a plethora of problems. It wasn't just one problem with the truck, but everything. The engine, the ground cables, the filter, overheating-- the truck almost had every problem in the book.

“I swear to fucking god,” She turns it for the third time, Please, god, start.” She pleaded as the engine sputtered once more, before roaring to life with fever.

[Y/N] slumped her head on her steering wheel once more and said, “Thank you,” She kissed the leather steering wheel, thankful that the universe had answered her pleas.

With the roar of the engine [Y/N] peeled out of the small parking lot of the Grocery Store.

Within the forgotten garden, an eerie silence lingered, broken only by the faint rustle of weeds that thrived unchecked. Like rebellious tendrils, the vibrant greens stretched beyond the confines of the patch of tilled earth, entwining their wiry strands with the blades of grass and any unsuspecting object within reach. Mushrooms and fungi covered the garden like a blanket, growing in mass abundance. This unruly congregation of vegetation and fungi seemed to possess a will of its own, reclaiming its dominion over a forsaken realm. Amongst the overgrown foliage, unseen insects and arachnids sought refuge, their presence betrayed only by an occasional scuttle or a shimmer of silken threads. Camouflaged amidst the verdant chaos, they patiently awaited their next unsuspecting prey, ready to seize upon any who ventured too close.

As the sun descended in the western sky, its golden rays extended through the dense foliage of towering oak trees, painting a mesmerizing tapestry of light and shadow. The ethereal dance of illumination and obscurity enveloped the scene, amplifying the eeriness that permeated the air. The songs of robins and mourning doves serenaded the somber landscape, their delicate melodies contrasting with the ominous backdrop. Amidst the rustling leaves and trilling birds, She heard the distant grunt of a white-tailed deer. And as the final rays of sunlight retreated beyond the horizon, they bathed the discovery in a soft, eerie glow, accentuating the unsettling sight before the witness's eyes.

[Y/N] glanced at her phone, which glowed an illuminating white. She looked at the white numbers that read: 6:00 PM.

She stretched her limps as they ached from hours of being hunched over digging to completely remove the wild grass and herbs that grew. Her arms gave a satisfying crack, just as her back did in response. She had napped for a satisfying 7 hours,only waking a few times. [Y/N] was suprised that she was able to nap in general. She was content and fully recharged. On the downside, she probably won’t be able to get any rest tonight.

At least she'll be able to stay awake binging Netflix.

With a determined grip, she thrust her green gloves into the yielding earth, their fabric sinking into the damp soil as she uprooted the herbs with a swift, purposeful tug. As she pulled, the tips of her gloves absorbed the essence of the earth, their vibrant hue now tainted by the stubborn remnants of the earth's bounty. The once-pristine fingers of her gloves were adorned with a telltale shade of brown, evidence of their close association with the soil. And beneath the surface, her nails bore the weight of the garden's secrets, caked with a fine layer of dirt that clung tenaciously to the thin, porous material.

[Y/N]’s mind wandered as she aimlessly dug through the soil, ripping the herbs from their roots like tendrils. Until her hands gripped something that squished beneath her fingers.

She gazed down, her eyes widening in pure horror, as a gut-wrenching sight unfolded before her. In her trembling hands, a writhing mass of maggots squirmed with repulsive vigor, their pale bodies contorting and intertwining in an unsettling dance. The pungent stench of decay wafted through the air, assaulting her senses and threatening to overpower her resolve. As her grip tightened involuntarily, the soft flesh of the larvae ruptured, smearing her trembling hands with a sickening mixture of viscera and fluids. The once-innocent soil beneath her feet became a graveyard for crushed worms, their slimy remnants mingling with her fingers, an unholy stain that marked her as both witness and participant in this grotesque scene.

[Y/N] let out a blood churdling scream as she stumbled backwards from her squatting position, landing on her backside. She frantically swiped her hands together to get the maggots off as they fell into the grass beside her.

The squirming maggots, now a grotesque spectacle in the dew-kissed grass, seemed to writhe in agony. Their once pale, plump bodies were now stained crimson, their delicate flesh bearing the gruesome evidence of their fallen brethren. Each wriggling creature fought desperately, their tiny frames flayed violently as they were torn away from their decaying feast. The gore of destruction painted the once vibrant green blades of grass a haunting shade of red.

“What the actual fuck?”

Laying where [Y/N]’s gloved hand dug, was a mound of dirt that maggots swarmed, their white skin hiding beneath the dirt.

[Y/N]’s curiosity peaked exponentially as she moved closer to the mound, dirt staining her knees brown. Her gloves dug through the maggots filled mound, her stomach filling with uneasiness as they glided through the soil.

Suddenly, her hands struck a soft, pudgy, material. [Y/N] dug through the dirt to fully uncover the mound, and as maggots crawled anxiously around her hands, she recoiled in disgust. She was sure it must be a dead animal, and the land must have grown around it, right?

[Y/N] knew the stench of death, and didn't partially mind the sight of dead animals. Her father, Steve, was a frequent hunter of deer and other game, to which [Y/N] accompanied him. Steve had taught her from a young age how to field dress a deer. Hanging the deer up by its hooves to a tree, she remembers taking her father's hunting knife and running it down the belly of the animal-- very gently to not puncture the belly. Scooping the contents of the deer out, leaving the inside of the deer completely bare. That was the easy part. Now to field dress the deer, was a tedious and lengthy process, using the tip of her knife to slowly peel the hide off of the animal. Hours would pass in the blistering Kansas heat and wind. It was revolting, yet she grew accustomed to the sight.

For her 13th birthday, she was gifted an old 22. rifle from Steve—an old gun that needed to constantly be cleaned and scoped in. The bullets weren’t made for large game such as deer, but they did work on prairie dogs that plagued cow farmers' fields. Eventually, she got a .300 WIN MAG, which now sat below her bed.

She had guessed the rotting carcass of an anwinsle from the potent smell wafting through the air. An unmistakable and haunting odor tainted the air, suffusing every inhalation with a chilling foreboding. It was the stench of death, a macabre orchestra composed of decaying flesh and the ghostly remnants of blood.

As she slowly uncovered the mound, it became more and more apparent what the mound was. Her hands swiped away the last layer of dirt and maggots to reveal the form underneath the soil.

[Y/N]’s features contorted with sheer terror again, the lines of his face etched deep with despair. The pallor of her skin turned with goosebumps, a stark contrast to the clammy beads of perspiration that clung to her furrowed brow. Eyes wide, they became twin portals to the void, reflecting the depths of her fear—paralyzed.

A corpse, abandoned to the earth, lies in a state of advanced decomposition. Its once vibrant form is now a haunting testament to the inevitability of mortality. The body, stripped of life, is a pillar of grotesque transformations. The flesh has given way to a grotesque canvas, with patches of decomposed tissue revealing glimpses of bone beneath. The skin, mottled and discolored, hangs loosely, tattered and ravaged by relentless decay. Time etched deep crevices into the once-familiar countenance, obscuring any resemblance to the person it once was. Swarms of maggots and other scavengers feast upon the remains, their writhing presence further amplifying the scene's repulsive nature.

Bile crawled up through [Y/N]’s as she doubled over, vomiting into the grass next to her. Food chunks and liquid sprayed the green grass a vomit brown. A tremor coursed through her trembling frame, betraying her tenuous grasp on composure. It was in this harrowing moment that horror unfurled its chilling wings, casting an indelible veil upon her face—a blanket of anguish. The very air seemed to quiver in the presence of such raw, unadulterated fear, as if nature itself recoiled in silent reverence for the intensity of her terror.

She had torn off her gloves as she scrambled across the grass, grabbing her phone, in an attempt to distance herself as much as possible from the corpse. Her surroundings seemed to spin as the drum of her heart overtook her hearing as well as the sound of the dial tone. When did she call 911?

“This is 911, what’s your emergency?” A woman's voice came from the other side of the phone. Calm, and tender, her voice was comforting. Yet her voice was almost muffled as [Y/N]'s heartbeat filled her eardrums.

“I," [Y/N]'s breath was shaky, quiet as she spoke with a sense of urgency, "Would like to report a dead body."

tag, @rat-briccs-trauma, @strawberrie-fluff, @spookyravioli @darkovergrownforestnymph, @urmomisaqt420 @yipeeesstuff

.@qupiikaaa @fynnwolff

#⌗weeds #—*. * ·creepzytalks #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta art #ticci toby #marble hornets #ticci toby x reader #masky mh #masky x reader #masky marble hornets #creepypasta toby #mh hoody #hoody creepypasta #hoodie x reader #creepypasta hoodie #ticci toby creepypasta

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mvltisstuff · 1 year

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Eddie Diaz coma fic if possible? The reader gets shot like eddie in 4x14 and ends up in a coma. Lots of angst, heartbreak if possibly but also fluff too please. 🩶

hold on to me - e.d

summary: request :)

eddie diaz x reader

gif from @agentoutofdiaz

a/n: guys i def just ate my history final up and left no crumbs, enjoy this request 🤌🤌

the gunshot passed right through y/n’s stomach. the massive bang had ricocheted throughout the street and off the buildings, every crouching down as an instinct to the echoing noise. she immediately felt the impact it had right in the center of her abdomen. she brought her hand slowly down, pulling it away to see the overwhelming amount of blood on her fingers. she brought her head back up weakly, before falling onto the concrete.

eddie was held back by buck, who yanked him under a wall. he watched as his girlfriend was thrown to the stained ground, the blood pouring out of her. this couldn’t be a mistake, it was a perfect shot. she was saving someone’s life, and an evil person wanted to take hers. eddie thought he was dreaming. he thought he would be shaken awake by y/n and she would be next to him without a bullet inside of her.

eddie was screaming her name over and over again, and she heard every single time. she wanted to respond, but the blood gurgling in her mouth made it near impossible. she turned her head on the ground to look at her boyfriend. he was laying on the ground, looking directly at her.

he couldn’t contain himself anymore, he had to get out there and save her. “y/n!” he yelled. “hey, y/n?” he pulled her head up as her breathing slowed down. “come here, come help me!” he shouted at his coworkers, who came piling over and putting her into the truck. eddie sat by her head, cradling it gently. a part of him wanted her to pass out, to not have to feel this pain anymore. when she finally lost consciousness from the strain, he panicked as he still wanted to see her eyes, completely contradicting his earlier thought. buck had been applying pressure to the wound, switching out the cloths multiple times as they were drenched with y/n’s blood.

he carried her out of the truck, yelling at the doctors to help her. they took her and placed her on a gurney, turning her on her side. “y/n y/l/n, female, GSW to the abdomen, severe bleeding, may have hit a major organ but pulse is steady. wasn’t through and through, bullets still in here,” he spat out rapidly at the mob of nurses and doctors. as she was wheeled away, the tears in eddie’s eyes were reappearing, dripping down his face. buck had pulled him into an embrace, trying to erase the violent sight in front of him. the constant reminder was the her very own blood on their uniforms.

y/n woke up in her old apartment in her home city, still recalling the smell and feeling of her old rooms. she stretched out of bed, looking around. the confusion in her head was very abnormal. she moved to LA years ago, and her lease was up. she knew this place like the back of her hand, one of her first places that she was able to escape from home. her home life wasn’t bad, but certainly not memorable.

she heard a knock on her door, stepping out of the room to pull it open. in front of her stood her siblings behind her parents. “hi, sweetie!” her mother exclaims. y/n doesn’t recognize the change in attitude.

“hey, mom, what are you all doing here?”

“we had lunch plans, remember? it’s ok if you forgot, you’re under a lot of pressure.”

“w-we did? i mean since i’m visiting from LA?”

“visiting? from california! how hard did you hit your head?” her mom laughs, walking into the apartment, her brother and sister following in with her father.

she sat down on the couch slowly, feeling awkward at how kind her parents were being. she picked up the glass of water on the table next to her. “did something happen?”

“no, just coming to see you and brian, where is he?”

“brian?”

“your…fiancé?” y/n chokes on her water, wiping it off her face.

“my what?” she asks.

“honey, now you’re really scaring me.”

“i’m not engaged, who the hell is brian? where’s eddie?”

“y/n, eddie left, remember?” y/n remains silent. she knows eddie would never leave her. he’s been left before, and he could never put that weight on someone’s shoulders.

back in the hospital, eddie sits with a recovering y/n. her waist was wrapped with a bandage, several IV’s in her arms pumping the drugs into her system. the tube in her throat was forcing the air into her lungs, being unable to do it alone.

a coma. the state of deep unconsciousness. the state that lasts for an unknown amount of time. eddie has heard the words thousands of times being a paramedic. but it doesn’t feel the same when someone you love has been purposely separated from her body.

he wondered what she was thinking, or even if she knew he was there. “i, um,” he starts, stuttering. “i don’t know if you’re there, completely, but you are coming back. i know you are, because you have to. there are too many people relying on you, y/n. i need you to survive or i don’t know if i’ll be able to. so i’m begging you, for the sake of how much i love you, please wake up,” he looks back at her sleeping figure, figuring it’s no use. he just sits in the chair, staring at her condition and the monitors.

“no, eddie wouldn’t leave me, i live in los angeles and i am a firefighter,” y/n speaks harshly to her parents.

“c’mon, y/n. what kind of crazy dream did you have?” her brother says, shoving his face full of food. “i think you need to go back to bed.”

“shut up,” she tells him. “i am not where im supposed to be.” she didn’t say the one detail that gave it away. the one that she’s well aware of. her parents have never been that nice to her, at least not as much as they are in this reality. she kind of loves it, but certainly not as much as eddie. “i am a firefighter,” the memories of the previous day came back to her, the images flashing in her eyes before they faded away again. “i… i was hurt.”

suddenly, y/n has convinced her parents to take her to the psych ward. almost, but they bring her to the ER instead. she must’ve hit her head or something, but y/n knows she is not supposed to be here.

she sits on the bed, her mother in the chair next to her. she looks around, trying to figure out a way to escape. “mom, can you get me some water, please?”

“of course, sweetie. i’ll be back.” she leaves a kiss on her forehead and exiting to get her daughter a drink. y/n takes her opportunity to leave. not the hospital, but the ER is not where she can be. she sprints around, desperately looking for a sign of herself. she goes the the ORs, the regular rooms, and finally she stops in the ICU. she looks in each of the rooms, every single one being dark and empty until she comes across one in particular.

her frail body lay in the bed, with the muffled sounds of doctors speaking and beeping. she looked so weak, and watching herself not be able to fight back against the storm broke every part of her. she stands in front of the doors before hearing a voice behind her. the same voice she fell in love with years ago, and the one that saved her heart and stole it like a thief. y/n whips around at the quick sound of her name. “do you think you should be there?” the duplicate of eddie says.

“why am i here, and not there?”

“because that wound on your body is not the only thing that needs to be healed. you’ve imagined a perfect world. and this is death, y/n.”

“why are you here?”

“i’m your imagination. because if you go back, you don’t know what’s going to happen in a few years. that’s the point of this.”

“because i don’t know if you’ll be there?”

“because you want to be loved forever. and there’s a guarantee at this place,” eddie explains. y/n looks at him calmly, but confusion is written all over her face.

“you love me. i know you do. you said you would forever, and you don’t here. why are you even talking to me? why are there no dead people or something?”

eddie steps closer to her, looking down into her eyes as she stares back at herself. “you want to be loved by these people. why do you think i’m just showing up now?”

“don’t play this game with me, diaz. i do not know why i’m here or why you are here because nothing makes any sense!”

“you said the answer yourself. you know, you know,” he repeats. y/n is scared. she’s a fearless person, but dealing with this alternate life has shown her a whole new side. the world is an uncertain place and no one knows what’s on the other side until you get there. once you’re on that side, there is no going back. that’s it.

the repetition of something she knows runs through her frightened mind at a hundred miles an hour. from the moment she entered that fire station and saw his beautiful face looking at her. she knew she’d be loved. over and over again, he’d told her. and it was enough.

what felt like minutes to y/n was a week to eddie. a week of the prolonged unconsciousness from y/n with no signs of living other than her steady heartbeat. the doctors said it was a good sign, but until eddie saw her eyes again, he didn’t believe it. he’s not one to take something for granted, but if he’d known he would never see her mesmerizing irises again, he would’ve never looked away.

the team of surgeons and interns had piled back into the room, attempting to remove the tube. eddie’s stomach ached from the anxiety of this being her last shot. it was now or never, and he despised that he couldn’t control it. if the tube is removed and she takes a breath on her own, there is a high likelihood that she’ll wake up in the next few hours.

eddie prays to any god that might listen to him, begging, almost on his hands and knees that he will be able to hold her again. when the harsh rise of her chest puffs up, eddie’s own drops. he releases the breath and all his pain, sending it away with her coma.

after the dark clouds rolled over, the sun of y/n’s smile came out. she was giggling and happy, and no one would think that she was just in the condition she was in. the doctors have finally cleared her to go home, no longer needing medical supervision and observation. she was regaining strength at an impressive rate which was optimistic to eddie. several visits from christopher and carla, along with her co-workers had happened over the week of her spell. eddie helped her gather her stuff, still needing help to lift things and stand. the second she tries to stand on her own, eddie is there in the speed of light.

“hey, hey, don’t stand up yet,” he says, walking over to the straining woman on the hospital bed. “if you push yourself it’ll be worse.”

“i’ll be ok, eddie,” she says a little passive-aggressively. eddie knows how hard the recovery stage can be, especially when you have a lot of people nagging you about it. she loves to work more than anything. it’s her mission to save people and make the worst day of their life as easy as it can be. y/n’s clearly frustrated with herself and her situation, but she never wants to make eddie feel bad about his good intentions. “shit, i’m sorry.”

“amor, i told you not to apologize. this trauma is yours to carry, and it sucks. i just want to make this easier for you.”

“i just, i saw you and my whole family. in my… coma,” she cringes at the word. “they loved me, eddie. they really cared instead of putting on a face. i considered staying. but you had, um,” eddie places a reassuring arm around her shoulder, silently letting her know it’s ok to say what’s on her mind. “you left me and i had no clue.”

“god, you know i would never do that, right?”

“i do, it just felt so real. the way you looked at me in that reality and how couldn’t say you loved me hurt so bad and i had to come back to you.”

“i love you, so much,” eddie touches his forehead to hers. “i would never, ever leave you. i couldn’t imagine my life without you when you were sleeping.”

eddie looks into her eyes. he takes in every speck of color, and the movement of her pupils. his hands wander across her body before pulling her in, helping her get a sense that he is real. the knowledge that he is not going anywhere away from her until their last breath.

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wandamaxim0f · 8 months

Text

Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek one-shot — Peace

Words: 1.2k

Otis x Female reader

TW: the tiniest bit of angst and lots of fluff! Also: pregnancy, anxiety, mentions of panic attacks

A/N: finally dared to post this one! I really like how it ended up, but please keep in mind english is not my first language so there may be some mistakes. I wrote this one with Peace by Taylor Swift in mind, enjoy!

Taglist: @winchesterszvonecek

And you know that I'd (...) give you my wild, give you a child

Your hands were shaking as you went to grab your cup of freshly brewed tea, the chamomile smell soothing you before you could even take a sip. You did your best to focus on the way the tea tasted, and how the warmth went through your mouth and down your throat, really trying to keep yourself grounded and not give into the panic attack that you felt around the corner.

Silly panic attack. You felt the clink of your wedding band against the beige cup. Your wedding ring, of all things. You two were married, and had been for almost a full year. Turning your head, you found the fridge with all of its magnets and notes. Some were sweet and loving, both in your handwriting and his, knowing some days one left for shift without seeing the other.

“I love you”; “Stay safe”; “Come home to me” were some of the messages the both of you had left, a reminder you had someone waiting for you after your shift at the Intelligence Unit, and he had someone waiting for him after his shift at firehouse 51.

A photo from your wedding day caught your eye. You two were married. He wouldn't leave. He wouldn't step back. He had literally signed up for this. He had scribbled down his signature on a paper that was securely put away on a folder full of important documents, and he had vowed to love you until death do you part.

The door opening startled you, even when you had woken up early to talk to him. Not that you could really sleep, anxiety keeping you awake and turning and tossing in the bed sheets; the smell that came from his shirt that you were wearing doing nothing to calm down your mind.

“Baby” called Otis, as soon as he closed the door and saw you sitting down at the kitchen island. He knew something was going on. Usually, on your days off, he would just get home and find you asleep in bed, not drinking tea in the kitchen.

Immediately, he dropped his bag and his arms found your figure, pulling you into his warm embrace and stepping in between your legs, holding you to his chest as his hands caressed your back in the way only he knew how.

“Are you okay?” he asked, already knowing you weren’t, by the way you clung to him, embracing his body with your arms and legs, and let out a shaky breath against his chest. Still, he gave you the choice to not speak about what had you up on your day off, not until you were ready.

You split from his hug, knowing you wouldn't speak if you found refuge between his strong arms. “We need to talk” you said, finding his now worried brown eyes.

Otis swallowed audibly, and a neutral expression took over his face, trying to hide the fact he was terrified. Were you going to leave him? Was your marriage over? Or did it still stand a chance? Had he messed up? Forgotten a date? Forgotten your birthday? Valentine's? Anniversary? He quickly crossed those options, your anniversary was still a month away, he already had the reservations for the weekend getaway done, and your birthday had been three months ago, he had gotten you that necklace you liked. And February was still away, so there was no chance he had forgotten Valentine’s.

“I’m sorry” he blurted out, his heart shattering at the idea of letting you down, of disappointing you “I don’t know what I did, but I will make it up to you. Please don’t leave me” he was not above begging, not when it may make the difference between you staying in his life or giving up on your marriage. Not when you were the single best thing that had ever happened to him.

Your heart melted into your chest, and tears gathered in your eyes. His forced neutral expression switched into a worried one when a tear escaped your right eye, and his thumb was quick to catch it. Whatever it was, it could not be good if you were this distraught. He had seen you in some of your worst moments, and he could count on one hand the times he had witnessed such distress in your pretty eyes.

“Babe?” he called, preparing himself to beg you to talk to him if it came down to it. You were worried, and he wanted, he needed to help you out.

“I’m pregnant” you whispered, your voice so low, Otis thought he had misheard you.

“You... what?” He exhaled, trying as hard to not let his hand find your lower abdomen, since he wasn’t sure you were happy.

Sure, the two of you had discussed starting a family, but that conversation had been held ages ago, at the early stages of your relationship. He remembered you saying you wanted to have kids, and how that was a deal breaker to you; and he remembered getting home and pestering Joe about how he had found the one.

Had you not seen his small smile, you would've freaked out. But he was smiling, and his eyes were shining with tears, so that was a good sign, right?

“I’m pregnant” you repeated, louder this time, and allowing your own hand to find your nonexistent bump.

Otis let out a high pitched scream, before hugging you tightly. His arms pulled you closer and out of the kitchen stool, picking you up and spinning you around the living area, excitement washing over him. Finally, he put you down, and his hands cradled your face, whipping away any tears.

“We’re having a baby” he whispered, happiness dripping from his words, before he started peppering your face with kisses.

“We’re having a baby” you repeated, giggling at his affection, your hands now holding his biceps.

You couldn’t understand how you could’ve been that panicked, your husband wanted desperately to be a father, but only with you. Now you let yourself feel the happiness that you had put away on a cage in your heart, and the world felt more colorful than ever.

The next morning, as you untangled from your still asleep husband, you made your way to the kitchen to get some breakfast. A new note on the fridge caught your eye, and butterflies came alive in your stomach.

Last night, Otis and you had sat down and tried to guess an estimated date in which your baby would join you, a date he had scribbled down on a piece of paper before adding “Best day ever”. Next to it, a note he must've put up while you headed towards the bedroom “Get on desk duty”.

Years ago, the idea of desk duty would’ve killed you, hating the idea of being away from the action and the adrenaline it provided, but now you were beyond happy to spend your whole day at the district.

“You two were leaving without saying goodbye?” Otis’s sleepy voice called out as he walked into the kitchen. Without saying another word, he sank to his knees and kissed your abdomen “Leaving without saying goodbye to your dad is actually kind of rude. Guess your momma and I will have to teach you some manners once you’re out of there, bub” he spoke, his hands firm on your hips.

You laughed, a hand coming to caress his hair, and he looked at you with nothing but adoration and love shining in his eyes. How could you have been so worried? You would be okay. The three of you would be okay.

#brian zvonecek #one chicago #chicago fire #otis #otis x reader #brian zvonecek x reader #otis one shot #tw: pregnancy #otis x yn #tw: anxiety #tw: panic attack

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winchesterszvonecek · 8 months

Note

#9 “Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” “O-Okay.”

Brian Zvonecek x fem

From the “That’s how I want you to touch me” Prompt list (or something like that I kinda forgot the proper title sorry)

Inexperienced - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ] 18+

Prompt: “Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay? I want to make you feel as good as possible.” “O-Okay.”

Word Count: 1479

Warnings: female!reader, smut - [ oral - fem!receiving, inexperienced Brian ]

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

Brian always knew he wasn’t the most experienced when it came to women, not like Severide or Casey, or even Cruz for that matter. He knew there were things he hadn’t done yet, things he was yet to try and he was okay with that, he’d learned to live with his inexperience. That was until he met you.

Meeting you had been the best thing that ever happened to him. The luckiest moment of his life, one he still couldn’t believe had actually happened. Brian could already see a long and loving future with you, even after the short few weeks that you’d been together, which is why when the two of you decided to abandon your movie to have a little fun instead, he figured that now would be the best time to broaden his horizons.

You'd already made him feel better than he'd ever felt before, more attractive, more in the league of men a woman like you should be with. The way you touched him, nails digging so deep into his skin that you left more than just dents. The softness of your lips mixed with the hotness of your tongue as you kissed every single part of him you could reach, making all traces of any self consciousness he may have felt simply fade away under that hungry desperation you had for him.

He wanted to repay the favour, make you feel exactly as you’d made him feel. He could kiss you, touch you, compliment you as much as he could and sure that would more than likely be enough to make you reach that level of high he was currently on, but there was one other way he could think off to give back to you, to make you feel good, the only problem was, he'd never done it before.

"I want to taste you..." Brian began, his voice breathlessly hot against your kiss swollen lips as he lay above you on the couch, his body between your legs which wrapped tightly around his. "All of you... But I-I've never actually- I've never-"

"Gone down on a woman before?" You finished for him, watching as he flushed pink with embarrassment, more pink than he was from the mere hotness between you both. He nodded his head as you cupped his face, trailing your thumb over his equally kiss swollen lips, staring deep into his eyes and seeing the worry that rested behind the desire.

You didn't care that he was inexperienced, You actually found it to be quite a turn on and actually it didn't seem all that accurate given how he could make you feel. But to hear that he'd never tasted a woman before, that you would be his first and that he wanted you to be his first, well that was enough to make you weaker at the knees than you’d ever felt before.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." You whispered in assurance, running your thumb across his bottom lip.

"I do want to, God, I want to... I want to make you feel good."

"You're already doing that." You replied softly, trailing your hands up his muscular back to grip his shoulders whilst at the same time lifting your hips up from the couch, desperate to feel some kind of friction between your legs. "But if you want to try it... You can... Just don't think about it too much… Let your tongue do all the work."

The corners of Brian's lips rose a little as he leaned down brushing his lips lightly over yours before planting them firmly against them. The kiss was hot and heavy, the two of you all but devouring each other. Starving. Hungry. Begging for air yet never wanting to break apart.

Brian leaned his body deeper against you, the open fly on his jeans brushing lightly across you in a way that made your hips jerk beneath him and had you moan into his mouth in a way that gave him all the courage he needed to move things further south.

Trailing hot and fiery kisses across your jawline and down your neck, his mouth close enough to your body that he could feel the goosebumps he caused you against his tongue, he moved slowly downwards, lips brushing lightly over your breasts, making a sweet sounding gasp escape your lips.

"Keep going." You panted softly, glancing down at him just long enough to see him place one last kiss against each of your nipples before trailing his tongue down your stomach, his teeth grazing lightly over your hip bones, making them twitch just a little beneath him.

So much for being inexperienced, the man was practically an expert.

“Let me know if I’m doing anything wrong, okay?” Brian whispered, pacing firm yet sweet kisses along your inner thigh, allowing you to feel his facial hair against your skin. “I want to make you feel as good as possible.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded, already feeling out of breath and he hadn’t even started yet.

It's safe to say that the second Brian's tongue started lapping against the throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs, you were already a whining, shaking mess beneath him. Your body was sweating making you thankful for the blanket you’d laid out beneath you otherwise it wouldn't have been fun pulling yourself off your leather couch after you'd stuck to it.

Fingers gripping his dark curls, your back arched as soft, whimpering pants left your lips each time you felt the roughness of Brian's moustache against your sensitive skin. Each flick of his tongue as he devoured you like the hungriest of men, afraid that you’d be taken away from him and that every single second counted. Which for him it did as he didn’t want there to be a single moment where you weren’t feeling anything but pleasure.

"Fuck..." Your breathy moan as your body practically quivered was enough to make Brian smile against you, something you felt and something that only added to the pleasure in which you felt course through your body. “God… That feels so fucking good.”

He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head with each rhythmic motion of his tongue, your teeth biting hard against your lip that he was surprised you hadn't drawn blood yet. Even the pressure in which his fingers were digging into your thighs, holding you tight against him was enough to almost push you over the edge into complete and utter bliss.

“Fuck… Brian, fuck...” You gasped, gripping his hair tighter as he only started moving faster, swapping between flicking furiously against your swollen clit with his tongue and sucking eagerly on it. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

The lack of stopping from Brian made it clear to you that he wanted you to come while he was down there and the second your back began to arch off the couch as you were hit with that intense rush of pleasure, his tongue fell downwards, pushing through your soaking slit, wanting to taste the way you came. Or rather the way he’d made you come. His thumb landed on your clit, rubbing fast, yet gentle, circles against it in order to prolong your orgasm for as long as possible.

Your head grew fuzzy, your eyes clouding over as all you could do was moan his name in between whimpers as he continued to prolong your orgasm, the best orgasm you’d ever felt in your entire life. You couldn’t believe he’d never done this before, especially not since your body was practically levitating off the couch before you slowly fell back down, deep, ragged breaths escaping your lips as Brian pulled back, leaving you a literal mess below him.

He towered over you, his lips and facial hair glistening with both your arousal and your release. He watched as your eyelids fluttered, feeling your chest rising rapidly beneath him with each stuttered breath you took as you tried to regain some clarity. In that moment, as you came down from the high he couldn’t quite believe he’d brought you to, it was safe to say he’d never seen anything more attractive and in all honesty, he couldn’t wait to feel you again.

“Was that…”

“Incredible? Unlike anything I’d ever felt before? You’re damn right it was… ” You exhaled, watching as he smiled softly to himself before you continued. “Inexperienced you say?” A short, breathy chuckle followed suit as you raised your eyebrow towards him.

"Beginners luck, I guess." Brian shrugged lightly before you pulled him towards you, taking his lips in yours and humming softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

"It better not be." You whispered against his lips, placing another equally hungry kiss against them. "Because baby, you're doing that more often."

Prompt List

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storiesforallfandoms · 11 months

Text

history repeats itself ~ gwilym lee

word count: 2836

request?: yes!

“hey, i saw you wrote for Ben Hardy so I was wondering if you would write for Gwilym Lee? If not ignore this lol. I was thinking something like he meets the reader on set and they immediately hit it off, and the resemblance of her to Brian May’s wife is uncanny (let’s pretend he’s had just the one) and it’s kinda like a history repeats itself thing? idk if that made since. maybe Brian and Roger noticing and just being so amazed seeing that happening in front of them? thank you, and obviously since i have no explanation skills take complete control!”

description: when she gets cast to play the wife of a rock legend, everyone realizes how similar she and her on screen husband look to the originals

pairing: gwilym lee x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was such a small role, one that didn’t even have any lines. But to me, it was huge. It was a small role in a massive blockbuster movie: the Freddie Mercury biopic. It would be the biggest job of my career. Up until that point, I had only been an extra in a few sitcoms. Having a small, silent role as Brian May’s wife in a Freddie Mercury biopic may seem like a small step up from what I’m used to, but the scale of the movie made it a massive deal for me.

I wasn’t sure if I’d get the role. There were hundreds of other actresses just like me - desperate for even the smallest roles in such a big film - were lined up to meet the director and casting director. It was such a small chance of getting it I thought. Until I walked into the room and both of their eyes widened when they landed on me.

“Holy shit,” the casting director breathed. “She looks just like her.”

I was cast on the spot. I nearly sobbed in happiness. I managed to keep the tears in until I got to my car and could call my parents to give them the news.

A few months later, I was preparing for my day on set. It was a party scene that was taking place at Freddie’s mansion at the height of their career. The other band members - Brian, Roger, and John - were there with their wives/girlfriends. The scene mostly required us to sit by our assigned on-screen husbands while they conversed. It was an easy day, and it was only going to take one day of filming, but I was still nervous. I had already met up with the director and some of the cast involved in the scene, but today I was going to be meeting the main four actors and two members of Queen.

I was just finished with wardrobe and was on my way to hair and makeup when I came across one of the main actors, Gwilym. I had been told about him after being cast, since he was the one playing Brian May, but I hadn’t met him yet. I suddenly felt nervous as I approached the hair and makeup trailer, where Gwilym was stood outside the door also waiting. He looked up as he heard me approach and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Gwilym. Nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook my hand. I hoped he couldn’t feel how my hands were shaking. “You’re playing Brian’s wife, right? Well, my wife I guess.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m getting all dolled up for my one day on set to film my one, dialogue-less scene.”

“Hey, there’s no such thing as small parts remember.”

I made a face at him. “You sound like my old theater teachers.”

Gwilym cringed. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

I laughed. The door to the hair and makeup trailer opened and two other extras came out. The stylist greeted us and told us to come in. I sat in one chair while Gwilym sat in the one next to me. I watched the stylist grab a long, brunette wig and place it next to Gwilym.

“I’m gonna have to do Gwilym’s wig firs since that’ll take the longest,” she told me. “So, sit tight, and try not to mess up your wardrobe too much.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

I watched the process of applying Gwilym’s wig. It really did take a long time. First, a bald cap had to be applied to Gwilym’s head. Then, the wig was placed on his head in a few different ways to figure out the best placement. Once that was figured out, the wig had to be pinned down in a way that made it look natural on his head, and not like a wig.

“So,” Gwilym said, trying his best not to move his head. “Since we’re going to be here a while, and since we’re playing a married couple, I suppose we should get to know one another.”

“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Is this your first movie?”

“It is. Until now I was just an extra in a few sitcoms. I had one line once, that’s the extent of my career.”

“Well, extras are important. Without them, a scene would look so stupid if it was just the main characters.”

I shrugged. “I know that, and I know every actor has to start somewhere, but I’ve been doing this for roughly five years. Performing Arts schools are expensive and I sometimes worry I made a mistake persuing acting.”

I saw Gwilym’s eyes quickly look over at me before looking back at the mirror in front of him. “It’s never a mistake to chase your dreams. It just takes time. You have to play the small parts in order to get experience for the big ones.”

“You’re right. It’s just taking so long. But I’m here now, so that’s a step up.” I shook my head. “Anyways, away from my career insecurities. Tell me a bit about you.”

We talked throughout his wig applying process. We exchanged embarrassing childhood stories, talked about how we got into acting, general details about one another. I had forgotten about the fact that I was waiting to have my own hair and makeup done by the time Gwilym stood from his chair.

He looked at himself in the mirror before turning to me. “How do I look?”

I tilted my head as I looked up at him. “Scarily like Brian May.”

He chuckled. “That’s good, then. They won’t fire me anytime soon. I’ll see you on set?”

I nodded and watched him go. I felt a little disappointed by the fact that he was leaving. I had really enjoyed talking to him. The next time I’d see him would be on set for the scene, where we wouldn’t be able to talk, and then once that ended I’d never see him again.

The stylist started going my hair and makeup. She showed me a picture of Brian and his wife in the early 80s, which was when the scene was set, as the inspiration for my look in the scene. It was subtle, but it was clearly 80s. It didn’t take as long as Gwilym’s had, and soon enough, I was on my way again.

I stepped out of the trailer just as Gwilym was walking up again. He was now in his costume, looking so much like a young Brian May that it was scary.

“Right on time,” he said. “I was coming back to walk you to set.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said, but I was touched by the offer.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, so I am.” He offered an arm to me, like a gentleman. I took it and we started walking to set. “Besides, it’s a big scene with a lot of people. It might be nerve wracking to walk on set by yourself with all those people.”

“It is. Especially with meeting the rest of the main cast at the same time.”

“Oh, they’re all a bunch of wankers, you don’t have to worry about meeting them.”

I giggled. “You can’t say that about Brian May and Roger Taylor, though. And they’re going to be on set, too.”

“No, you’re right. But they are very kind. You don’t have to worry about meeting them. I’m sure everyone will like you. Even if they didn’t, who cares? You won’t have to see them again after today.”

He had a point, but it was still sad to hear out loud. I had been preparing for this day for so long, excited for my first big project. And now, within a matter of hours, it would all be over. I’d be sent back home, waiting for the next role to come up, hoping that maybe this movie could help with that role being a bigger one than just an extra. Back to my normal, boring life.

Saying goodbye to Gwilym.

I had managed to shock myself with that thought. I had only known Gwilym for maybe an hour and a half, but the thought of only having this day with him brought on a bit of sadness. He was so kind, and he seemed so genuine. I had never been on a set where the main actors even acknowledged that the extras existed, let alone be nice enough to walk one to set after talking to her for some time.

Not to mention he was extremely handsome. Especially when he smiled, like he was smiling at me now.

God, don’t develop a crush on the guy you’ll never see again after today.

My heart rate jumped the second we walked on to set. Gwilym wasn’t lying when he said there was going to be a lot of people in the scene. The mansion set was packed with people, so full that there was just barely enough room to move around. I was hoping this was the only amount of extras that were set to be in the scene, or else I think my nerves would go into over drive.

The director spotted Gwilym and I almost immediately and led us over to where we were set to be for the scene. Rami, Joseph, and Ben were already sat around having a laugh as we walked up. They happily greeted Gwilym, and he then introduced me to the lot of them. They were very nice and welcomed me in almost immediately, but it was still pretty surreal to be there with them. Especially Joseph, who I had seen in Jurassic Park when I was just a kid. I almost felt out of place there, but I could tell I wasn’t alone. I introduced myself to the other girls who were playing Ben and Joseph’s on screen love interests, who also looked just as out of place as I felt.

We were all sat around together when the buzz in the room suddenly turned into a hush. It wasn’t hard to know what had just happened: they had arrived.

Brian May and Roger Taylor themselves.

Rock and roll royalty.

I looked over and my heart leapt into my throat at the sight of them. It was hard to believe that they were actually real. I had been listening to Queen’s music all my life, but it wasn’t until this moment that I truly realized that these legends were actual real people.

Actual real people who were walking towards us.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my arm. I looked over to see that it was Gwilym’s hand. When I looked at him, he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back, the nervousness in my stomach being replaced with butterflies. His hand moved down my arm and squeezed my own. I squeezed his hand back.

“My God.”

I looked up to see Brian and Roger stood over us. I tried to put on my best smile, hoping it wasn’t as obvious as I felt it was that I was shaking. Brian was looking between Gwilym and I, a look in his eye that I couldn’t quite place. Reminiscent, maybe?

“They did a spot on job casting for this movie,” Brian commented. “It feels like I’m looking into a mirror with you two.”

“If there mirror were about 50 years younger,” Roger teased.

“You speak from experience, don’t you old man?” Brian retorted. I couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. Years of friendship and knowing one another, and they were still cracking jokes and poking fun. I hoped to be like them with my friends when I got older. “What’s your name, love?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. In fact, there was nothing going on in my head at all. It was like I had completely forgotten every little thing I had ever learned in my life. How does one continue to function after Brian May calls them “love”?

“This is (Y/N),” Gwilym said, saving me from my colossal choke.

“Yes,” I finally managed. “Sorry, my name is (Y/N). I’m a little nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling,” Brian said. “You already have the look of my wife down. And it seems you and young Gwilym here have already gotten quite acquainted.”

I didn’t realize that Gwilym and I were still holding hands. I expected him to let go at that moment, as if he were just realizing as well, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept hold of my hand, giving it another reassuring squeeze. I wondered if the blush on my face was noticeable under the makeup.

The director called for places, so Brian and Roger took their places off set. I let out a sigh of relief after they were gone and moved into place with Gwilym.

“See?” he whispered to me as we were passed glasses of fake champagne. “They’re not that bad.”

“Their presence alone is a little terrifying,” I whispered back.

“But you got through it. Seems Brian’s taken a liking to you. Although, that’s not surprisingly considering how lovely you are.”

I was convinced this was all some sort of very long, very detailed dream. I was going to wake up at any given moment.

The scene went by very smoothly. It wasn’t hard to just look between the boys as they spoke, smiling when I was supposed to smile, offering a sour look when Rami arrived, acting as a rather rude Freddie. It felt like Gwilym was moving closer to me with each take that we did. First we started off sitting in separate chairs, until the director asked if we would switch and sit in the couch that Joseph and his lady friend had been sat in. Gwilym had moved towards me at the start of that take, and by the final take of the day our bodies were touching and his arm was around me. I was glad I didn’t have any lines, or else I would’ve likely forgotten every single one of them.

When the director called cut and said it was a wrap on the scene, I tried not to let my sadness show. The extras started to file out of the room, going to get read for a different scene that they were filling for. Not me, though. I was going to wardrobe to get my outfit taken back, and then I was going home. If I was lucky, I would be invited to the premiere, otherwise I would never see any of these people again.

I wouldn’t see Gwilym again.

Ben, Joseph, and Rami were kind enough to give me a hug and tell me they were happy to have met me. I told them likewise and started my way back to the wardrobe trailer.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

I turned to see Gwilym rushing up towards me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your next scene?” I asked him.

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you before you left,” he said. “Look, I know this is a bit presumptive to ask because we only really spoke to one another for that time in hair and makeup, and I have no idea if you’re even single so maybe I’m about to make an ass out of myself, but I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out this evening once I’ve finished on set.”

Everything in my brain? Gone.

Every last bit of it.

Gone.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. It had to be a dream, right? There was no way it was real. I would’ve pinched myself if it wouldn’t have made me look like a total idiot in front of Gwilym.

“Yes,” I said. “ I mean, yeah, sure, I - I would love that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah? Okay. Here, let me give you my number.”

We both realized we didn’t have our phones, so we had to do it the old fashioned way - Gwilym found a pen and paper, and wrote down his number for me. I took the paper and shoved it into my pocket.

“I’ll text you once I’m no longer part of the 80s,” I said, gesturing towards my outfit.

He chuckled. “And I’ll do the same.”

We both stood, just looking at each other for a moment. It wasn’t until Gwilym was called back to set that we finally, reluctantly, broke away to go out separate ways. I put my hand in my pocket and closed it around the piece of paper containing Gwilym’s number. I smiled to myself, having to restrain myself from skipping happily towards wardrobe.

I guess history really does repeat itself, I thought with a laugh.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #imagine #one shot #request #bohemian rhapsody #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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socialredux · 3 months

Text

𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 (𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ)

The Proxies X Fem!Metalhead!Reader

Massive warning for graphic violence, self harm, and smut in ongoing chapters.

Hi teem, So this is gonna be a lengthy explanation. This story is loosely based on the black metal band Mayhem and some of the things the lead vocalist did. I HIGHLY recommend looking up both black metal and Mayhem this story will make more sense. ANYWAYS, there's mass controversy surrounding the band but idgaf. Black metal in the Creepypasta universe is fucking legendary, I saw an opportunity and ran with it. This series will be edgy, If you're triggered by self harm and dark subjects such as suicide this is not for you. Thank you for reading, you have been warned!

The proxies get sent by the operator to a black metal venue for a mission. The reader is the lead vocalist in a band called Funeral Terror Tim, Brian, and Toby are fascinated by the reader's profound performance. Never have they seen such a grotesque display put on for the public. They must take you to the operator.

??? Pov

“ What the fuck even is black metal? That sounds like some lame ass gimmick.”

The edges of Tim's vision still blurred with buzzing static. He had just finished conversing with the Operator.

“ Doesn’t matter, we have a job to do. We should be careful though this venue has a history of being incredibly lenient when it comes to its attendees.” brian said

“ Which m-means?”

Toby questioned leaning back in his chair.

“ Means these fuckers could be armed. Bet there’s drugs going around which would make our job even harder.” Tim said with a serious tone.

“ We have to have our guards up especially if we have to talk with those.. people.”

Tim’s pause was telling.

“ What’s the victim’s n–name?.”

Toby’s shoulder jerked. Looking towards Tim for an answer.

“ R/N R/L. The Operator told me she may be trouble, so all the more reason to keep our guards up.”

“ O–oo a girl! We haven’t had a female victim in ages!”

Toby spoke, whistling enthusiastically. Brian chuckled.

“ Don’t get too excited, he wants us to bring her to him alive. There’s a chance she may be a candidate for a new proxy.”

Tim got quiet

“ Pshhh what could be so special about her. Besides! The Operator hasn’t chosen a new proxy since Toby.”

brian said smirking

“ Yea–yeah and we do our jobs just fine. What could she do that we can't?”

Toby said with a roll of his eyes.

“ I don’t know but let’s get this over with.” Tim finished.

At the venue

Reader’s Pov

Staring in the mirror, my reflection staring back at me. I felt like a shit though not many could see it so plainly. My clammy palms gripped the porcelain sink that resided in the shitty dressing room bathroom. I donned a short sleeve fitted Bahtory t-shirt, ripped camo pants, black boots, and a bullet belt. Scars littered my wrists and shoulders from past mutilation. Finishing my corpse paint really solidified my reality.

Outside of the dressing room was bustling with staff making sure the stage equipment, lighting, and sound system were all in good condition. Some stopped and asked me questions while I fished a cigarette from my pocket. Basic annoying questions like-

“ Are you ready to perform?”

“ Are your bandmates ready?”

“ How many songs are you performing?”

Lighting my cigarette pushed past the small crowd of people finding my bandmates tuning their instruments and lounging on a small couch. Above the couch pinned to the wall was a set list and a calendar. 2014 June 21st. This was the 5th show our band Funeral Terror had played, I wouldn’t consider what we were doing as touring but it was to some degree.

Today’s concert venue resides in a small town called Tuscaloosa Alabama. The reason my bandmates and I chose such a seemingly pointless place was because of its alarmingly dark history. This town was the perfect place to play black metal. Maybe I’d get to witness some paranormal shit first hand. It also gave you an excuse to do some wicked things tonight

“ There’s our deadgirl.”

Corpus greeted me with delight. He's my bassist, his real name wasn’t actually Corpus it was actually connor however, all of my bandmates had stage names. Mine being cadaverous.

Nodding at him with approval I took a long drag from my cigarette. Sighing in contentment.

“ What are our plans for after the show? I think we could go hit the local pub and get a few beers, heard their food fucks too.”

My guitarist said with a shrug. His stage name was blasphemy.

“ Hell yeah, I’m down, something tells me this night is gonna be long.”

I say flopping down next to blasphemy on the worn couch. My cigarette loosely hung from my lips

“ Are you guys ready to raise the dead with this show tonight?”

I say with a grin. My bandmates holler and whistle enthusiastically.

“ Fuck is that even a question. I haven't been this pumped for a show in forever.”

Blasphemy said, taking a sip of his beer.

“ How much longer do we have to wait for these openers to finish their sets.”

My drummer SKAG groaned. Almost as if right on queue the staff motioned for us to get on stage. We all stood up ready to take our places in front of the growing crowd.

Showtime.

??? pov

The four proxies stepped out of Tim’s sketchy toyota corolla into the summer night air. They observed the few people making their way into the concert building. Walking up to the door they were met with a tall lanky long haired man wearing some band tee Tim had never heard of.

“ That’ll be a 10 dollar admission.”

He spoke with a low tone. Great, we have to pay to get in too, Tim thought. Each proxy member handed over the money, getting not more than a casual nod to go in.

“ I stu-still have yet to see a girl with our victims descript–-shion.”

Toby said.

“ We haven’t even made it through the crowd.relax.”

Brian replied. The proxies continued to shove through the dense crowd. They settled on a row back from the stage. Keeping a close eye on the people around them and listening in on short yells of conversation. Finally a figure walked on the stage with brisk speed. The person was dressed similarly to the guy taking money at the door.

“ Now for the band you’ve all been waiting for.. raise your horns for Funeral Terror!”

The crowd erupted with screams raising their hands bumping into one another. The lights dimmed the beginnings of a guitar riff ripped through the speakers, the movements from the people around the proxies became more rapid. Brian and Tim stood still while Toby began to bump against the crowd. Of course he’d enjoy this kind of shit.

Finally the lights brightened casting a purple ghostly glow upon the lead singer who bellowed out scratchy growling vocals. It wasn’t a man as he had initially thought it was a woman. A woman that fit the exact description the operator had mentioned. Her S/C was painted a ghoulish white with black wisped around her eyes. Her lips painted into a black frown making her seem more corpse-like.

“ G-get a load of her!”

Toby yelled through the roaring bass of the crowd. Tim was stunned never had he heard such music. Each word she sang was drawn out in a growl and it rattled through the speakers in an ear piercing fashion.

Towards the crescendo of the song the proxies noticed her gripping something from her belt, it was a knife. It looked dull from the glint it gave off. She raised her wrist to the view of the crowd, dragging it along the thin flesh of her forearm. It was so dull the slits were shallow giving only slight beads of blood. The frustration was evident on her painted face. Throwing down the dull knife she searched the ground, grabbing an empty bottle close to the forefront of the stage. The crowd continued to roar, the guitar riffs at their highest peak. Smashing the bottle she took what was left of the shattered glass raising her arm once more. She cut deep gashes into her already mutilated flesh. Blood poured from the searing wounds splattering onto the people below her. A few opened their mouths, some just looked up with amazement. It was a grotesque sight to see.

All of it happened so quickly Tim, Brian, and Toby couldn’t help but stare in awe. This chick was fucking nuts. Toby could’ve sworn she caught his gaze just for a moment. The song ended, another one starting up the band finished a total of 6 songs before the concert ended. They pulled other insane stunts throughout the duration of their performance. The proxies shared looks as the band walked off the stage.

The crowd began to disperse loud chatter took place of the long gone music.

“ That was fucking in–sane!”

Toby said, still twitching with excitement.

“ No seriously, I have never seen someone do such a thing. Especially in front of a crowd.”

Brian said excitement also lacing his voice. Tim was in deep thought.

“ She’s our victim isn’t she, Tim”

Brian asked with a head tilt Tim nodded.

“ We have to go find the band before they leave or at least follow them to wherever they plan to go. “

The proxies nodded in agreement.

Reader’s Pov

The searing pain of my self inflicted wounds gave me such a rush on stage but now I’m left shaking. I felt dizzy. Everything felt far away as my bandmates helped me down the stairs backstage.

“ You’re fucking crazy R/N. We gotta get your arms bandaged before we go anywhere.”

Blasphemy said worry very evident in his voice but admiration seemed to also be behind his words. He was serious though, even using my real name but I barely noticed. Everything blurred together as they tended to my arms. I hissed in pain as they Wrapped it with gauze and duct tape to make it stay in place. I felt guilty resentment bubbling up in my gut. The adrenaline passed and I was left with a voided feeling of numbness. Looking down at my bandaged arms made bile rise in the back of my throat. This feeling pained me but god, was it addicting.

My bandmates huddled around me, staying silent as the staff finished patching me up. I still felt myself shaking. I must've lost a lot of blood. Grabbing my pack of cigarettes, I put one to my lips.

“ Can one of you give me a light?”

I request. SKAG nodded, fishing a lighter from his pocket. He put the lighter up to my cig, igniting it. I inhaled the smooth spiced tobacco sighing in relief. Honestly I could eat.

“ So… Pub time?”

Corpus said with a meek smile.

“You read my mind.”

??? Pov

“ I think only one of us should go in.”

Tim suggested. The others nodded in agreement.

“ Toby, I think you should go. You look like somebody they’d talk to.”

“ I don’t knu–know what you’re sugges–ting but fine.”

Toby rolled his eyes.

“Okay good, Brian and I will stay in here and keep watch. Maybe try to get her away from her friends. We'll figure out our next step then.”

The proxies followed the foursome to the local pub named Donner's. They watched the band walk into the pub waiting a few spare moments before sending Toby inside.The door chimed with his arrival, Toby quickly scanned the small place. It was quite busy and the patrons were happily chatting away. He spotted the group of four sitting at a table near the bar. He made his way to a seat closest to the table. Getting comfortable he ordered a drink.

“ One of the house beers on tap, ple-please.”

The bartender nodded, turning away to prepare his drink. Toby began to listen to the table next to him.

“ Holy fuck that reminds me of the time SKAG got so fucking drunk he fell in the bonfire then proceeded to yak in it too.”

One of the guys laughed maniacally.

“ I told you to never mention that again.”

One of the other guys said through gritted teeth.

“ Ay corp you can’t say shit. Weren’t you literally passed out NAKED next to a creek 3 miles from the cabin.”

R/N said with a raised brow. The table erupted into laughter. The guy just silently sipped his drink.

“ One house beer.”

The bartender set the drink in front of Toby. He gave a meek thank you sipping on the wheaty beverage. Then suddenly

“ Hey little lady, you’re too pretty to be doing all that to yourself.”

A drunk guy slurred. Toby turned towards the voice. The guy was referring to R/N’s healed wounds that ran up and down her exposed arms.

“ Oh yeah? How bout’ you kick rocks you fucking geezer.”

She bit back.

“ Just trying to give you advice sweetie. No man wants a girl with those kinds of problems. No need to be such a cunt.”

He drunkenly barked gripping onto her shoulder. Before he could even get out another word she smashed her beer glass against his head knocking him out cold. The pub went silent seconds later her bandmates cheered. Toby was shocked. This girl is something else.

“Hope you learned your lesson geezer.”

She spit on his unconscious body before stepping over it.

“ I’m gonna go smoke, I'll be back.”

Her bandmates acknowledged her before going back to chatting. She briskly walked out the door. Fuck Toby had to follow her this was his chance.

Toby followed out the door. Finding her not far from the pub entrance, lighting her cigarette.

“ H–Hey can I bum a cigarette from you?”

Toby asked. She gave him a look before nodding, handing over the pack.

“ Need a light too?”

R/N questioned.

“ Yeah, thanks.”

Toby took a drag from it; he couldn't deny it was pretty good. He’s used to Tim’s shitty ones. They stood in silence while nursing their cigarettes.

“ So u-uhh I saw what you did to that guy. That was pretty ha-hardcore.”

Toby began. She chuckled.

“ Yeah, when people comment on things like that I don’t usually care but tonight was different…Hey weren’t you in the crowd at my show tonight?”

R/N question.

“ I w–was, that was one hell of a concert. I didn’t know thin–gs like that were allowed.”

Toby said. She shrugged.

“ I appreciate it.”

The two stood in silence for a few moments.

“ This chat was cool in all but I should ge–-”

Before she could even finish Toby knocked her out. He quickly caught her unconscious body spotting Tim’s shitty car. He be-lined it to the car dragging her along.

The operator was hopefully going be pleased.

This took me so long bro , Let me know what you guys think! I should have the next chapter out in a month or so maybe sooner :D I didn't proof read the whole thing so I apologize if there's errors!

#marble hornets #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #slenderverse #the operator #dead dove #dark fic #Spotify

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bijouxcarys · 7 months

Text

Honey Bee / Part One (1)

Pairing: Robert Plant x fem!reader x Jimmy Page x original female character

Summary: You've been on the road with Led Zeppelin for over two months now, acting as Robert's convenient little companion. It's now the final night of the tour, and tension has been rising. With the addition of Jimmy's new pretty young thing, you find yourself in a situation that just might take the cake for best night of your life...

Warnings: Heavy drug and alcohol use, a bit of heavy petting, slight objectification, degradation kink if you squint really hard, voyeurism

Word count: 2,756

***I've decided to split this into multiple parts since it would be really long if not, and I wanted to post something. Also, keep in mind that I have quite literally NEVER written Robert or Jimmy before. This is my first time, so go easy on me. I'm used to writing Brian May, who is very different lol***

Tags: @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76 @keepcalmandcarryfire @the-may-queer @callmethehunter @jimmypage7 @whothefuckisanja @laysidel-dekie @jimmys-zeppelin @m-faithfull @lemongrablothbrok @willem-dafuq @ri0thouse

He just looked so good.

But so did he.

And so did she.

Maybe it was the coke, well and truly infiltrating my system by this point. Or maybe it was a result of my third whiskey. I didn’t care. All she knew was that I’d never been this high, in multiple senses of the word, as I was that performance at Madison Square Garden back in 1973.

Apparently, they rarely, if ever, brought along a girl from a different country to another. And I held onto that feeling. Knowing that Robert Plant saw something in me that was worth bringing along over an ocean was enough to convince me that I had made the right decision to drop everything at home and take off with Led Zeppelin at the height of their success.

Honestly, I was well accustomed to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle by this point. I’d had one or two encounters with smaller bands that toured within the UK by the time I was 17. But Zeppelin was a whole other ball game. An entirely different planet.

I didn’t care that this would one day end and that I’d go back to my dead job at a record shop. It couldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, if I hadn’t accepted that job in the first place, I would have never had the honour of being on this tour with the world’s greatest band at all.

Never underestimate a rockstar’s tendency to visit downtown music shops.

Robert and I had connected somewhat over our mutual interest in the blues. I slacked off my shift to take him to our storage space, just to let him rifle through the records we’d recently received. One thing led to another and I ended up accepting an open invitation to join him on tour.

19 and on the road with Led bloody Zeppelin.

It was their third and final night in New York, which also marked the last show of the tour. There was a subtle sense of anticipation that built throughout the whole tour, and it materialised progressively through the partying; the drinking, the drugs… the sex.

Everything seemed to get more and more intense every night. And, God, did that night take the win by a fleeting mile.

The fact that they had camera crews filming each move that night seemed to trigger something… feral… in the lads’ performance. I never got tired of watching Robert gyrate during Whole Lotta Love. The energy was potent. Like an intoxicating pheromone.

Usually by this point of the show, Robert would have already taken me somewhere backstage to get his fix–of both me and whatever he could get his hands on–during Moby Dick. But this time, I’d been given nothing but a small kiss and a cheeky smirk before he disappeared with Jimmy.

This left Lila and I dumbfounded.

Lila was a young girl who’d recently turned 18, and we met her the first night we were in New York. As per usual, she’d finessed her way backstage and caught Jimmy’s wandering gaze.

The air crackled with energy as Robert and Jimmy returned, wearing matching mischievous grins towards the end of Bonzo's solo. It was a sight suspicious even for those two.

I couldn't resist teasing Robert, smirking as I asked, "What are you up to?"

His dimple deepened, adding to his already endearing charm, even with a missing tooth. His hand caressed my head, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have no clue what you're talking about, darlin'," he purred, leaning in closer. "Just a bit of light conversation."

"Light conversation?" I chuckled, playfully tugging him closer by his belt. "Why would you need that?"

"Don't you worry, sweet girl," he replied, shrouding his words in mystery. This deviation from Robert's usual character intrigued me, but before I could dwell on it, his lips were on mine, trapping me between his body and the wall.

As he pulled back, his lips brushing my nose, I noticed Jimmy and Lila in a similar position down the corridor.

Robert mumbled, "Don't look at them, darlin'," using his finger to redirect my gaze back to his face. His touch grazed my lower lip, gently tugging it down. "You'll have plenty of time to look at them later."

Before I could question his cryptic words, he winked and withdrew, exchanging a knowing smile with Jimmy before they headed back onstage.

The incident lingered at the edge of my consciousness for the rest of the show, and I sensed that Lila was in the same perplexed state. We exchanged subtle, intense looks, an unspoken desire to ask each other what was happening, yet neither of us dared to voice it.

But in the end, I just wanted the show to finish so Robert could drag me wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to me. Watching him, those jeans clinging to him, the stage lights casting a shimmer over his exposed upper half, and his hair flawlessly bouncing with each thrust and jive, had me squeezing my thighs together from the side of the stage.

Being with the boys since the beginning of the tour gave me time to warm up to Jimmy as well as get to know Robert a little more. Jimmy was never on my radar of attraction, but something about the way he carried himself became more and more alluring. Ominous, almost.

Day by day, I became more and more interested in him.

That’s why, by the end of the last show, I didn’t know who to look at. Robert, Jimmy, and even Lila. It was like I’d just taken a hot oestrogen bath with Eros and Aphrodite.

If there was one thing I knew as clear as day, it was that I wanted them. All of them.

And that’s exactly what I ended up getting.

Within an hour, the customary Zeppelin afterparty was in full swing, taking over the entire ground floor of The Drake and spilling onto multiple floors, transforming the hotel into their own personal playground. The trademark mayhem ensued, marked by bleary-eyed revellers and a steady flow of alcohol that left nostrils white and throats raw from the endless libations.

The air was heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke and spilled liquor, punctuated by the echoing laughter and slurred conversational cheering of everyone in attendance. The room seemed to sway slightly, the dim hotel lighting dancing off the walls in a hazy, dreamlike aura. Amidst the chaos, I found myself settled on Robert’s lap on a worn, plush sofa, my limbs weightless.

Robert’s features softened under the influence, and he wore a lopsided grin as he leaned back against the cushions, hands sliding up my legs, one on each side of his hips. His eyes, glazed and partially unfocused, held a distant, dreamy look as he gazed out at the revelry around us. I traced my fingertips along the collar of his blouse, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the silky fabric.

Beside us, Jimmy and Lila were enveloped in their own intimate world. She exuded an irresistible allure as her dark, cascading hair spilled over the arm of the sofa. Her head, delicately poised on the cushiony surface, seemed to radiate nothing but pure admiration for the guitarist looming over her.

Draped over Jimmy’s lap, her supple body was a study in effortless grace, her bronzed skin glowing in the soft, amber light. Her slender, bare legs extended languorously along the expanse of the sofa. The subtle arch of her foot, adorned with a pair of sleek, platform heels, found a resting place on my thigh, the faint pressure a tangible reminder of her presence. One glance, and you could see right up her flowy mini skirt.

“What are you so smiley about?” I asked Robert with a hum, eyelids hooding as I made the cautious decision to shift my hips against his. The steady grip he had on the backs of my knees rose to the bare space between my knee-high socks and corduroy skirt, fingers gripping onto the flesh of my thighs.

“Hmm… you keep lookin’,” he remarked, his gaze momentarily flickering to Lila’s legs before returning to meet my eyes.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. “No, I don’t,” I protested weakly, attempting to convince him that I wasn’t doing anything of the sort.

His hands gently framed my face, drawing me down closer to him. “No, no, darlin’, you do,” he insisted, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “And that’s okay!” he added, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “In fact, it’s rather preferable.”

He kept his eyes trained on me as one hand guided my head to turn in the direction of Jimmy and Lila. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she, love?” Robert hummed into my ear. Before I could answer, his free hand slid under my skirt, his long fingers teasing my underwear. My breath hitched in my throat, managing to feast my eyes on Lila’s legs freely.

With a bite of my lips, I found myself grinding into Robert’s hand. We both watched with intent as Jimmy’s hand lowered to find comfort under Lila’s skirt. Her girlish giggle cut through the air, making Jimmy chuckle and shift his gaze down to where his hand was.

He caught our eyes, sending us a smirk, his eyes glazed over and face somewhat flushed. Lila was none the wiser as we observed the guitarist’s petting.

That was when Peter decided it would be a good idea to document the completion of yet another successful tour. Successful if you forget the money that had been nicked the day before, but this was a nice respite from that unfortunate incident.

A rather large video camera nestled on his shoulder, Peter sidled over to us, letting out a rambunctious cheer.

“Ayy! Percy and Pagey enjoying the victorious ending to a triumphant tour!” His speech was erratic, loud, and jumbled. But then again, so was everyone’s.

Lila craned her head back to peer up at Peter and his camera, giggling yet again.

“Nothin’ better than a couple of beautiful birds after a show, eh?” He came closer, switching the focus from me and Robert, to Jimmy and Lila, and then back again. “Look at these two cunts stealing away all the totty.”

“It’s the charisma,” Robert chimed, sending a swift middle finger to the camera.

“Is that so?” Jimmy jested from the side, earning a smack on the arm from Robert.

“Don’t be shy, doll, give us a smile!” Peter put the camera right by my face, where I confidently and playfully stuck out my tongue. “Ooh, she likes to put on a bit of a show, Perce.”

I barely registered that Robert's fingers had found their way inside my underwear, massaging diligently at my soaked arousal, but a gentle prod of his middle finger against my clit caused me to jump a little and a small squeak to fall from my lips. Robert let out a boastful laugh, his free hand pushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Ey, I’m not the one kicking my legs about so everyone can see my pants,” I retaliated in the haze of cocaine, pointing in Lila’s direction.

“Not like you haven’t been enjoying the view, Y/N,” Lila purred, lifting a leg up enthusiastically.

“Ayyyy!” Peter cheered, angling the camera just enough to catch Lila’s actions for the brief moment that she did it. “I’m gonna do my rounds, make sure I get everyone, and I’ll be back here in a few.”

I grinned down at Robert as Peter left, looking down at his hand between us.

“I’m not an expert, but something tells me that you quite like the prying eyes of others, darlin’,” Robert said, keeping up with the movements of his fingers.

“Hmm, and what if I do?” I prodded, tilting my head to the side.

I didn’t get a response, only a hand in my hair and a swift pull downwards, my lips crashing against Robert’s wantonly. I basked in the feeling, my hips grinding down yet again as his tongue rolled expertly into my mouth.

Letting out a moan against his lips, I felt a light stroke on my leg that wasn’t from Robert. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jimmy’s extended arm, his hand resting around Lila’s ankle and his fingers resting just above my socks. Smirking against Robert’s lips, I held onto his shoulders, deepening our kiss.

“D’ya want some more, darlin’?” Robert murmured, reaching down to retrieve the clear plastic bag from his pocket, the same one he had revealed earlier that night.

My response was a whispered, “Yes, accompanied by a mischievous smile.

He gently guided me off his lap, positioning me on the floor between him and the coffee table. With my back to him, I watched as he leaned over to empty the remaining contents of the bag onto the hand mirror that laid on the table, drawing the attention of those around us.

“Lila?” Robert called, turning his attention to the almond-eyed beauty. Her gaze met his, and her eyes lit up in response to his gesture, followed by a nod of acknowledgement. It didn’t take long for Lila to settle in beside me, with Jimmy sitting upright behind her.

“There you go, my sweet little honey bee,” Robert hummed into my ear, his lips pressing a tender kiss to the side of my neck.

Lila’s delicate fingers trailed over the powdered surface, deftly rearranging the lines into perfect, symmetrical rows. She glanced up at me with a secretive smile, her dark eyes glinting with a shared understanding. The faint scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of jasmine and musk, mingled with the heady aroma of the night.

With the two rockstars sitting protectively behind us, Lila and I leaned forward, each of us inhaling two lines with practised ease. A subtle thrill coursed through me as my back arched instinctively, responding to the tantalising touch of Robert’s hand settling on my hip, his thumb daring to explore closer to where desire truly lingered.

“We’ve certainly struck gold, haven’t we, Perce?” Jimmy’s voice drifted over, undoubtedly revelling in the captivating sight before him.

As Lila and I continued with our indulgence, the sounds of cheering and hollering filled the air around us, the realisation dawning upon us that we indeed had an audience.

And I relished every moment of it.

Still bent over, I looked over my shoulder, catching Jimmy’s lingering gaze. Our eyes met for a moment, and we sent each other a suggestive smirk before I pulled myself up to lean back against Robert.

“Did you enjoy that, darlin’?” he asked with a knowing grin as I raised my arms behind me to rest them on his shoulders. His fingers trailed up my sides, his touch igniting a fire under the thin material of my skin-tight, long-sleeved top. “You think you could do me the honour and let me have some, too?” he asked again with a playful flare.

“Mhm,” I nodded with a hazy smile. But just as I was about to move out of his way, he stopped me.

“No. Stay,” he gently commanded. Smiling smugly down at my confused face, he grabbed a spoon from the table and scooped up some of the white powder, bringing it closer to me. “Head all the way back, sweetheart.” With a deep breath, I leaned backwards, finding myself half-laying across one of Robert’s thighs. “That’s a good girl…”

I gnawed my lip as I felt the cold edge of the spoon under my neck and across my exposed skin. It was difficult to stay in this pose, especially with Lila's hand on my leg. I was beginning to feel the effects of the fervent stares of the crowd, followed by Peter Grant's roaring laughter.

My eyes fluttered shut as Robert lowered his head and inhaled the cocaine straight off of my skin. He dragged his tongue along the residual powder, accompanying his actions with heated, open-mouthed kisses which he swiftly punctuated with a kiss to my lips.

Boisterous cheering and clapping erupted as Jimmy repeated the action on Lila, the intimacy of the moment intoxicating the four of us. With Robert’s hand on my neck, he continued to kiss me in front of the whole room.

“You ready to put on a proper show for the camera, sweetheart?”

#70s #1973 #led zeppelin #led zeppelin fanfictoin #robert plant #jimmy page #robert plant fanfiction #jimmy page fanfiction #classic rock #classic rock fanfiction #fanfiction #zeppelin

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jayfortheday · 2 years

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✧*。Masterlist And Gen Info ✧*。

This account has officially been abandoned. I’ll leave this gen list here for all who wish to still read any of my stuff. Love to you all!

One fic may be under multiple characters btw. Only Klitz + Eli gets its own category

Characters!

~Dwayne Hoover (Little Miss Sunshine, 2006)

---->Comforting You HCs

---->Still My Favorite

~Brian Wilcox (Fast Food Nation, 2006)

---->Stargazers

~Tim Klitz (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Nighttime Nostalgia

~Eli Brooks (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Eli Brooks Masterlist

~Eli Brooks + Tim Klitz (The Girl Next Door, 2004)

---->Smut HCs

---->Date Night

~Oswald Cobblepot (The Batman, 2022)

---->Cuddling HCs

---->Barely Holding On

~Alex Jones (Prisoners, 2013)

---->Rediscovery

~David Loki (Prisoners, 2013)

---->Rediscovery

---->One Short Moment

~Eddie Munson (Stranger Things Season 4, 2022)

---->Kiss The Pain Away

---->End All This Now

---->Review + Fix It

---->The Same Coin

---->Bleed For Me

---->Music Lessons (1) (2) (3)

~Vance Hopper (The Black Phone, 2022)

---->Vance Hopper Masterlist

~Robin Arellano (The Black Phone, 2022)

---->Got Your Back

---->Looks Like It Hurt

---->Ghost!Grabber Victim HCs

---->Left On My Own

---->Roller Boy

---->Confession + Dating HCs

---->In Your Arms Again

---->More Than Math

~Non __x Reader Fics

----> Untitled

---->Back To This Place Again

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

Hello! I will go by Jay here on Tumblr! My pronouns are He/Him and I identify as aroace. I really like writing "x reader" fanfic so that's mostly the stuff I'll be posting, maybe the occasional something else, but that's it really.

I can write both SFW and NSFW but I tend to prefer to write SFW. The characters under 18 I will write for are Dwayne Hoover, Vance Hopper, and Robin Arellano and I will not do anything sexual for them anymore. All other characters I write for will be 18 or over. Any requests for hard no’s will be deleted.

Hard no’s include sexual content involving minors, romantic or sexual content for Alex Jones from Prisoners, sexual noncon or dubcon including cnc, non-familial requests for characters 11 and under, hetero relationships for canonically gay characters, and pieces about real people.

Please feel free to send me prompts or anything, really. I love hearing from people, and I tend to run low on ideas so if there's something you think I should write then lmk. Please give me time to write them, I have a job and attend college and not as much free time as I would like. Whatever pronouns are used for the reader in your requests will be the ones in the fic, if there are no pronouns, I'll use they/them. For smut requests, please include the anatomy you would like. If it’s not specified, I will decide based on what I want to write that day. All drafts will be published in the order they are received/made unless I am experiencing writer's block, in which case I will work on whatever prompt inspires me the most. If y’all ever see that I answered a post but then can’t find it on my page/see it unfinished, I published it too early and deleted it. I’ll upload it with a screenshot of the prompt when it’s ready, very sorry.

In my posts, I will provide a word count, description (for stories), pairing (character x reader or character/reader), and pairing type (familial, platonic, romantic, sexual), and tags/warning. If there is a tag you believe I missed for a story you would like acknowledged, feel free to say something either in a direct message or a comment!

Most of my pieces will have a GN!reader and any NSFW will typically be female anatomy with some occasional male anatomy, but I can do something else on request.

I hope y'all enjoy what I write! :)

#masterlist #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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An Unambiguous Love [1/10]: First Day Out Front

:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 ::

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Your favourite customers really make it easier returning to the town you never went to school in. If only your friends at work would stop trying to play matchmaker between you.

Chapter 1 word count: 2428

A/N: Ahh, here it is! The thing I keep saying has been kicking my ass lately!! I really hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've ultimately enjoyed writing it. Also big big love to @denim-mixtapes for beta-ing/de-British-ing the things I write.

“Heads up!” You look up at the source of the command you just heard to witness a paper ball leave your colleague Jesse’s hand, swing through the air as though in slow motion, and collide directly with your forehead. You give him a stern look, and he smirks while shaking with laughter. “I mean, I did warn you.”

You flip him off, “Way to kick off my first day on the shop floor.”

“I am your mentor out here, I need to prepare you for anything. Be grateful it wasn’t a figurine, that would have hurt,” Jesse points out. “Nah, it’s easy enough out here. You’ll even be able to run shifts all by yourself in no time.”

You hold up your index finger this time, “Correction, you could in no time. You know how many dirty looks I get just from saying the word comic in front of most men?”

He pulls a face. “I’m sure most of our customers are just like me, and I’m one of those female-ists! I let you join my D&D campaign, remember? That was great!”

You think back to the group containing mostly your fellow employees, and a couple of other guys around your age from Jesse’s past, who may not have directly said anything against you, but who certainly treated his poorly-written female NPCs far worse than his mediocrely-written male ones, constantly trying to pursue them until Jesse would throw a tantrum and refuse to “flirt'' with his players. Instead of arguing, you simply opt to look down so he doesn’t see the resigned expression that so badly insists on creeping along your face.

As you’re looking down, you notice the crumpled up paper isn’t just plain, it’s a half-written Dungeons and Dragons character sheet. Curious as to why it was abandoned, you unfurl it and read the first box.

Name: Steve Harr Bashemall

You chuckle at a half-orc fighter being essentially called "bash them all". You never really made any lasting friends before you moved out of Hawkins in your elementary years, and you and your family moved back just after you graduated high school, but this town's small enough that you know who Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High is. He works at the Family Video right opposite your store, with the clumsy girl who you once literally bumped into on one of your trash runs after you had to deal with a delivery of misprints. She had at least helped you run around the blustery parking lot collecting them all back up again, and you'd sworn you could never show your face in front of him again after seeing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and swooping hair in the store window, clearly watching you run around like a headless chicken.

Jesse sees you reading the sheet and chuckles. "Ah, is that Harrington's garbage? Yeah, I was here when he came in with that, uh… Trailer boy. Munson."

"You say that like I'm just supposed to know them," you retort.

Jesse shrugs, "Anyway, Munson got his wires crossed, thought it was last week that we were launching D&D supplies. Brought in his own blank character sheet to, what was it he said? 'Keep Stevie busy', or something." You allow yourself a small laugh at the nickname. "But obviously that was pretty short-lived. He kept trying to name his character real boring names like Brian until -" Jesse makes some kind of unintelligible groan. "Until I said it might suit him to play an unassuming human rogue with a deadly secret, but he called that “pretentious” until he started yelling "Bash 'em! I wanna bash 'em all! That's my character!" so Munson told him to write it down. I don't think they got too much farther with it. I only found it 'cause I realised just now I hadn't thrown it away, it was just trash."

You fold it away and tuck it into a drawer in your desk. There's a very brief character description, if it gets quiet you could always use some extra drawing practice.

The morning goes by pretty smoothly, the register is easy enough to use, the clientele haven't been too harsh. Which means Jesse has “decided” to let you fly solo until someone else takes over. "I can’t stay anyway, I, uh… I’ve told Cam already that I’ve got a migraine coming on.” If he’s telling the truth, he’s weirdly unaffected for someone whose symptoms are so bad he apparently can’t work any longer. “It's not like you're on your own, Tiffany's just dealing with this week's delivery out back, you can call on her if you really need anything!" he calls over his shoulder as the door hits the bell that dangles just above it.

Sighing in resignation, you shout out, “Tiff?”

“One second, hun!” The other female player in Jesse’s D&D campaign calls out.

“Oh, it’s all good as long as you can hear me. Just thought I’d tell you Jesse’s gone for the day. Says it’s a migraine.”

You hear the clatter of something being dropped and soon after, Tiffany rushedly appears at the back room door. “What a jerk! You want me to put a word in with the big guy about him?”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. Cameron’s in the office today, and I don’t want him to think I need my hand held all the time. Just wanted to check that you were within shouting distance if I needed you for something.”

Tiffany pads over and reaches around behind your back to give you a quick squeeze of encouragement. “I’ll always have your back here! Especially over my lame-ass brother,” she pulls a face and you laugh. Fresh into high school, Tiffany has all the nerdy know-how Jesse does, and thankfully a far more palatable personality. “And don’t be scared of Cameron. He’s cool when he wants to be.”

“Yeah, I know. I just spent… So damn long in that back room. I don’t want to cause trouble on my first day out.” You sigh.

“I’m gonna miss having my behind-the-scenes sister with me!” Tiff pouts.

You grin, “Just makes us the dream team now, right?”

“The face and the brains!” She mirrors your expression, pointing at you and then herself, and runs off before she can see your borderline offended look.

A little while after noon hits, after a dull enough morning that you’ve been spending your time absent-mindely drawing, the doorbell tolls. You look up to see the familiar silhouette of a stocky man with perfect hair, but this time you can see his warm eyes and chiselled jaw. He at first goes straight for the comic section, thumbing through different boxes with his tongue poking his cheek out and looking confused.

“Need some help?” You offer, and he gets snapped out of his trance to look at you for the first time. His expression when he locks eyes with you is so much softer than you were expecting from the charismatic reputation that has preceded him.

“Uh, yeah, actually, sorry. Friend of mine wanted me to pick him up a… number 200 Lantern? Said I should get here nice and early in case it sells out fast. Apparently it’s a big one?” he asks, blowing air through his lips in a rasp and holding his arm out in a half-shrug.

For a moment, you understand the power trip that knowing more than someone else can have, but you’re no Jesse. Instead, you nod understandingly. “Got it, Green Lantern #200. Yeah, it’s literally a big one. Poor Tiff’s been fighting with them all day back there,” you gesture with your head to the back room door. “They came in this morning, but they don’t hit the shelves until tomorrow. Same day the D&D stuff gets out, too. Sorry.”

He groans, “Stupid Dustin, getting the date wrong… Sorry for wasting your time,” he states as he wanders up to your counter. He notices that you’re drawing something and leans over to look. “I’m Steve, by the - oh,” he stops suddenly when he recognises the crumpled up paper you’ve been using for reference. “Is that -”

You don’t usually embarrass easily, but your cheeks do tint pink. “Uh, yeah, one of my colleagues used this sheet as a missile and I figured since I haven’t had much practice drawing orcs - or half-orcs, in this case - I could give it a go.”

“So this is what Bashemall looks like, huh?” he asks, swivelling himself around to angle his point of view to look at it from your perspective. “That’s amazing.”

“Well, ultimately only you know that. I’m just going by what little is written here, and some reference of my own knowledge of orcs’ anatomy. Um, you haven’t really said anything about hair, though, so I’m not sure what would look best on him…” you study your sketchbook page, tilting your head from side to side as you try to imagine different hairstyles on him.

“Well, I mean, I put enough effort into my own hair that I’d like to think it would look good no matter what kind of face I had, so… Maybe he could have hair like mine?”

You look back up at him, eyes narrowing as you study the way his hair looks for a moment. “Sure, I could do that,” you nod. “Mind if I use you as reference, or do you gotta head back?”

“Ah, Robin can cope without me for a few minutes,” he waves off before snorting a quick chuckle out of a half-smile. “She, uh, she’s the one who helped you whip the parking lot back into shape a couple weeks back.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Wow, so you are the one who just stood watching in the window! How heroic,” you smile sarcastically and he laughs harder. “Alright, well, I’ve been drawing this guy at a ¾ view so if you could just move your head…” you try and gesture with your hands how you want his head positioned, but he doesn’t seem to be getting it. Instead, you opt for using the end of your pencil to push his jaw up slightly, then across slightly until it’s angled just right.

“You need me to make a face for you?” Steve asks, immediately cycling through an array of facial expressions.

You giggle, “Not for the drawing, but for my own entertainment, sure!” He continues pulling faces until you’ve sketched a full head of hair. You hold your sketchbook up and he finally breaks pose to look at it in full.

His face is filled with admiration. “This is so good! Almost makes me want to pick it up. Almost,” he points at you, eyes wide. “But not totally. It’s still very much Munson’s and the kids’ thing,” he shakes his head. “I can’t wrap my head around it all.”

“Well, then, I’m super honoured that you entertained the idea of me drawing a D&D character that’ll never see the light of day,” you smile, before having an idea. Holding a single finger up, you ask, “Please hold just a second,” before slinking back to the back room.

You open the door to find Tiff backing away, far closer than she should have been if she were at her post. “Is that the Steve Harrington out there I hear?!”

“Yeah… Yeah,” you nod, half-distractedly. Despite the fact he’s only a door away, part of you just wants him back in your field of vision as soon as possible. Looking over at the manager’s office’s closed door, trying to stay out of its earshot, you ask in a hushed tone, “Uh, hey, I don’t suppose you could slide me a copy of Green Lantern a day early? I’ll make sure it all gets paid for, I jus-”

“Say no more,” Tiffany singsongs as she presses a copy into your chest. “Just remember to ask me to be your maid of honour.”

You roll your eyes at her as you head back out to the shop floor. You toss the issue onto the counter and gesture to it. “There you go. For being such a good model. Don’t go telling anybody you got it a day early, though.”

Steve gasps deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna be Henderson’s favourite for this! Thanks, I seriously owe you!”

You narrow your eyes, “I literally just said this makes up for letting me draw your hair! You don’t owe me shit now.”

“Oh no, trust me, you have no idea what this is going to do to my reputation. I still owe you so hard,” Steve picks the issue up and tucks it beneath his jacket.

“Just… Maybe come back every once in a while? It’d be nice to have a friendly face around every now and again to chat to,” you suggest.

Steve salutes, “You got it…” He leans in to read your name badge and calls you by name. Huh, guess you forgot to introduce yourself. Maybe you should be doing that more.

He rushes out of the store, back to his own workplace, and you step back to rap your knuckles against the back room door. “You can come out now, Tiff,” you murmur just loud enough to be heard on the other side.

Sure enough, Tiffany opens the door just enough to poke her head through the gap. “Oh my god, he is so into you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Please, he’s just being friendly. There was nothing flirty about anything either of us said.”

“Exactly!” Tiffany hisses. “If I know anything about Steve Harrington, from what I’ve heard, he usually flirts so hard! You clearly make him nervous, he’s obviously intimidated by you. Trust me.”

“You want me to ‘trust’ what you’ve ‘heard’ about someone who graduated last year, before you were even at that school?” you ask in disbelief, shaking your head. “He just seemed like he was being nice. I dunno. It’d be cool to have a friend outside of here, too.”

“Well, I’m still gonna have hope,” Tiffany shrugs as she sneaks back to her work.

When your shift finally ends, as you get to your car you look up at Family Video one last time to see Steve at the window. He lifts his hand to just in front of his chest to give you a small wave goodbye with a soft smile to match. You wave back, feeling a sensation of warmth emanate all through your body.

#steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x you #steddie x you #steddie imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #fluff #aul #*myfics

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

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Tabula Rasa: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves. We must die to one life before we can enter another." - Anatole France

High school was such a weird era in most of the teams' lives. For Spencer, he was twelve, Pen looked too happy, JJ was the pretty popular jock, Derek wasn't half as muscular as he is now, you were too awkward, and Emily was growing into her goth phase.

Never have you been so excited to look at high school pictures than you are at this moment.

Penelope hacked the records from everyone's high school, with their permission, of course. Emily is sitting at her desk, listening to you, Spencer, and Penelope tease at the gothic look she sported in the 80s.

"It's remarkable. Something like this makes you question everything you thought you knew," Spencer says dramatically.

"Wait, there was a time when this was socially acceptable?" you giggle and snatch the picture away from Spencer.

"Oh, you two are young," Penelope says in a longing voice. "The eighties left a lot of people confused. This is especially sad, though."

"Alright, very funny," Emily rolls her eyes and snatches the picture from you. "What did you do to it? You obviously altered it in photoshop or something."

"Oh, no, pussycat. That's all you. Garfield High, class of '89," Penelope smirks.

"You really didn't change anything?" she mutters.

"Are you saying you don't remember looking like that?" you ask and lean back in your chair.

"Perhaps your lack of recognition stems from a dissociative fugue suffered in adolescence, say, at a Siouxsie and the Banshees concert?" Spencer grins.

Hotch comes out of his office with a distressed look on his face. He was on the phone the entire time, and you're worried about what he might have been talking about.

"What's going on?" you ask.

"Brian Matloff."

"Who is that?" you ask and look at Spencer since he remembers everyone.

"The Blue Ridge Strangler. There were three victims in the Blue Ridge Parkway four years ago. Allegedly, he killed them but he slipped into a coma before he could be tried."

"Looks like they're finally gonna get their chance. He just woke up. I'm going to the hospital."

Hotch hopes that this guy can remember what he did because four years is a long time to break from a case. You weren't part of this team four years ago, so you're not familiar with any of the details like some of your other coworkers.

You and Emily are the only ones in the dark about this.

However, when Hotch got to the hospital, he didn't receive good news. Brian Matloff may have woken up from a four-year-long coma, but he doesn't remember a thing. The doctor says he has focal retrograde amnesia. It's hard to recover your memories from that kind of amnesia, but you have no doubt that your team will try to get him to remember.

From what you read, Brian had a type: brunette, young, and physically fit women. All the victims were jogging alone in the early morning when he grabbed them... allegedly. The only key witness to place Brian at the scene of the crime is Marvin Leopold, but he died two years ago.

Marvin was able to place Brian at the park with Darci Corbett, the third victim. The warrant the police got and the indictment were made largely because of the witness. Everything else is circumstantial, so without a witness, then Brian could walk free.

While Hotch and Cece Hillenbrand, the prosecutor in Brian's case, prep and talk about the trial you know they are going to have, Rossi gathered the rest of the team to go over the case in more detail.

The last known victim, Darci Corbett, had ligature marks on her that seemed to match the last two victims before her. Brian uses a belt as his signature piece, and he takes trophies from each of the victims, which would explain why Darci's watch was missing from her person when they found her.

He'd always bury the victims face down, which is a sign of remorse as if he doesn't want to look them in the face. That doesn't necessarily mean that he knew them personally, just that he regretted killing them. Each of the victims were an opportunity. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, is all.

"After the raid on Matloff's apartment, we discovered he had another area of interest. Native American mythology. We realized our profile wasn't complete," Derek explains since he was there on the original case.

"There's a Native American belief that says burying a body face down traps the soul and prevents it from haunting the killer."

"Is that why he buried them like that?" you ask your boyfriend.

"That's the theory."

"Three women in shallow graves. I don't see any progression. There's no learning curve. Do you think there could have been earlier victims when he was honing his skills?"

"We considered it a possibility," Derek answers. "It turned out Matloff worked in Blue Ridge Parkway for the forest service. He had free reign over the entire park."

"It says here he was raised Polish Catholic. Any idea what led him to identify with Native American culture?" JJ wonders.

"We didn't get that far. Another thing we never got was any physical evidence at his apartment tying him to the crimes."

"What about the trophies he took? Surely they're somewhere," you say.

"We couldn't find them. Question is, what did he do with them?"

"If we didn't need the answer to that before, we do now," Hotch says when he enters the briefing room. "It turns out our star witness has been dead for two years."

"He was the only one who could put Matloff at the scene," Derek sighs.

"There might be another way," Spencer thinks. "He could undergo brain fingerprinting. Essentially, it's the recording and analysis of an individual's neurological responses to images and words flashed on a screen. If we show him pictures of the crime scenes, he could start to remember enough to get a proper trial."

"Only the judge can allow that, and let's hope that she does."

Cece is requesting Hotch to give his testimony in court, and of course, you're going to go. As soon as Brian woke up, the court wanted him in as soon as possible for trial. Cece is a damn good prosecutor from what you hear, and she will try her best to get him put in jail for the crimes he's committed.

Only you and Spencer are sitting in the gallery of people while Cece and Hotch are fighting in this trial.

"We'd like to request that the defendant undergo the process of brain fingerprinting. This procedure will show if the memories of the crimes are present in the mind of the defendant, regardless of whether or not he chooses to recall them," Cece requests.

Lester Sterling, Brian's defense attorney, stands up quicker than you can imagine.

"Your honor, where do I begin? The science on this type of testing is unproven, to say the least."

"In the state of Iowa vs. Terry Harrington, the results were ruled admissible as scientific evidence as defined in congress ruling 702 and in Daubert v. Merrell."

"This is a hail mary, your honor. They have no evidence and they know it. Beyond that, my client is in a very fragile mental state. I can't, in good conscience, let them go poking around in his brain."

"What about that? Is it safe?" the judge asks Cece, and Hotch stands up to answer.

"The test is non-invasive and completely safe. They'll simply be looking at images on a computer screen while an EEG monitors his brain activity."

"Subject him to graphic imagery to prompt some kind of reaction, which they can then point to as evidence of guilt? It's perverse," Lester fights for his client.

"I want to do it," Brain says.

"Just one moment, your honor," Lester chuckles.

He sits back down to talk to him, but Brian stands up to speak directly to the judge.

"Your honor, every day I wake up to this nightmare of not knowing who or what I am. If this test can really help me remember, then whatever the consequences, I want to do it. I have to."

With the client on board, the judge grants Hotch to let him do the tests. The trial is adjourned until tomorrow, so you can rest easy knowing that as of right now, everyone is safe from Brian. Whether he knows or not, you know he's guilty. Your ability runs much deeper than the surface, so you can see the blood on his hands whether or not his brain wants him to remember.

You and Spencer leave the courtroom while Brian is taken away. Cece and Hotch work with the court to get the test ready in the courthouse, and you're just waiting for them to start. You want to be present for this because you might get something that the other won't.

"Dr. Reid."

You and Spencer stop and turn to face the man who is the father of Darci Corbett. You've never met this man before, but Spencer was on the original case back then, so he's familiar with your boyfriend.

"Mr. Corbett. I didn't see you in there. How have you been?"

"Oh, not bad, considering. You aren't buying into this amnesia thing, are you?"

"We're trying to figure that out, sir," you say. "Sorry, I'm agent Y/N. I'm new to your daughter's case, but we're working as hard as we can."

"It's probably something the lawyer thought up. It won't work, will it?" Liam asks, looking back at Spencer.

"We have a pretty strong case."

"Good, that's good. You look different. Your hair is different."

You feel a sudden surge of proudness for your boyfriend. He's the most handsomest man you've ever laid your eyes on, and you're glad others are seeing that.

"It's been four years," Spencer chuckles.

"Right. I forget. Sometimes I feel like Darci's just... It messes with time, this thing. You know? You lose time. You always hear about closure, you know? But you never really know what that means. Maybe now I can get on with things, you know?"

"How is Mrs. Corbett doing?" you ask, remembering he had a wife when Darci died. "Is she here?"

"No, we split up. It was too hard to... It was my fault, really. I wasn't there for her. Everything is going to be okay now."

"Well, I am going to oversee the test with Hotch and Cece. I'll catch up with you later."

You lean up and kiss Spencer's cheek before leaving the duo. When you enter the room, Brain is getting set up with wires attached to the EEG machine. Cece is waiting in the hallway, and there is a police officer inside the room assigned to watch over Brian until he is either put in jail or released.

"You're with the FBI, right?" Brian asks as the doctor sets him up.

"You don't remember me? We met during the investigation."

"So, you don't have any doubts about me, right? About who and what I am?"

"No, I don't."

"We're ready here," the doctor says.

You and Hotch leave the room to join Cece in the hallway. The test begins, and pictures of the crime scene, of the victims, and anything related to the case are shown on TV. Brian watches with wide eyes, but you can't tell whether it's working or not. You're not a doctor, and you don't know how to read an EEG machine.

Picture after picture after picture is shown, but Brian doesn't change expressions.

"What do you see?" Hotch whispers to you.

Cece looks at you and is intrigued by his question, but doesn't say anything.

"I don't know Brian or exactly what he's done, but I get the feeling he doesn't remember any of it. I know he did it though. I can see the blood on his hands. He wants to remember, but his brain locked it away while he was in a coma. It's there, we just need to find a way to unlock that door."

Hotch's phone rings, and he steps off to the side when he sees JJ calling.

"Yeah, JJ?"

"I'm at the hospital. I may have something interesting. Matloff had a visitor that came about once every 6 months while he was here."

"Is it somebody we know?"

"It's not a name I recognize from the case file. The name on the visitor log is Nina Moore."

"Track her down. I gotta go."

Hotch hangs up just as the testing is done. The officer removes Brian from the room so you can talk to the doctor about his results.

"He tested no mermers across the board on each variable image."

"Mermers?" Cece asks.

"It's an acronym. Memory and Encoding Related Multi-faceted--"

"Is it good or bad?" Cece cuts her off, eager to move this along.

"That depends on how you look at it."

"What she means is that he showed no familiarity with the images. Either he really doesn't remember, or we got the wrong guy."

Cece groans in frustration, and you turn to Hotch with a determined look on your face.

"I know he did it, sir. I can see it. He doesn't want to remember."

"Well, the fact that you can see it isn't admissible in court, so we're going to have to prove it or he walks free."

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

Text

Jock - Peter Parker X (Tall) Female Reader

Title: Jock

Peter Parker X (Tall) Female Reader

Additional Characters: Ned, MJ, Tiffany (OC), Natalie (OC), Debbie (OC), Luella (OC), Brian Willcroft (OC), and May (Mentioned)

WC: 3,520

(Can you find the secret code?)

Warnings: Nervousness, annoying boys, Reader's slightly tomboyish, Reader wears dress, Reader wears heels, Reader plays basketball, Reader is tall (possibly 5'9" or taller), slight angst, and fluff

Tossing the basketball, you watched it in slow motion as it flew in the air. With bated breath, you watched as it hit the basket's rim, swirling and swirling... Until... It went in!

"YES!" You pumped your fist in triumph as your teammates cheered behind you. Rushing up to you, they hoisted you up and into their arms, chanting your name. You had just won the house game.

With a bright smile, you glanced toward the bleachers, spotting a brunette that had always caught your eye. Peter Parker. He was in three of your classes and has been for almost three years. His grades were always perfect, and he never missed an exam, so he easily got good grades. He was also very sweet. You didn't talk much, and when you did it never lasted longer than a couple of minutes. Peter was a very shy guy, you've noticed. He didn't really look you in the eye when you had spoken, but that didn't bother you. To you, he was adorable.

Your teammates dropped you back to the ground as they congratulated you and clapped you on the back. Your coach gave you a thumbs-up as you traveled back into the locker room. You let out a sigh, the adrenaline that was pumping in your veins draining.

"I can't believe we did it!" Tiffany cheered, opening her locker and grabbing her clothes.

Natalie nodded along, grabbing her lip gloss from her bag as she reapplied it, "I know, we beat those Thundercats." Her country accent was strong.

You opened your own locker, grabbing your own clothes, "I can't believe it either. I was worried for a moment there." You let out a breathy laugh.

"Girl? Worried? We had it in the bag since the moment we walked out onto the gym court." Debbie sassed, snapping her fingers in the air briefly before she walked off to the dressing rooms. As she passed you, she paused, "We won because of you, you know You're our new MVP."

Nodding again, you closed your locker, "Yeah, thanks, guys." Fixing your team hoodie, you waved goodbye to the other girls and left the locker room, heading to your actual school locker.

Peter fumbled with the lock on his locker as he quietly cursed under his breath. He had let the school's janitor know that his lock had been being a jerk lately, but it seemed like the guy hadn't been around to fix it yet. Finally, with an 'aha!' Peter got it open, scrambling to grab his notebooks for homework he'd have to do later. He then shut his locker, jumping back in surprise when he saw you, leaning up against the locker beside him staring at him.

"Hello, Peter." You greeted the shocked boy as you looked down at him, a small smirk on your face.

"Hey Y/N." Peter stuttered, blushing, unable to look you in the eyes completely.

"I saw you watched the game tonight..." You began crossing your arms.

"Hm?" Peter asked, looking over at you, confused, before his eyes widened, "Oh, yeah, I did."

You hummed, "If you don't mind me asking, why did you come to the game? I've been trying to get you to come to one for a while now." You laughed, biting your lip briefly, "You always said you had homework to get to."

Peter nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I did have homework to do most of those nights."

You let out a small laugh, "Peter Parker, always doing his homework. I bet you could go one day without studying or anything." You let out a sigh, "You're smarter than me." You looked down at him adoringly.

"You're smart too, Y/N." Peter proclaimed looking right at you, holding his notebooks close to his chest, "Your mark in math almost beat mine."

You couldn't help but blush as you shook your head, "Well, thank you, Peter. That's nice of you to say."

Peter smiled awkwardly as he glanced away, "But, uh, you did good. At the game. It was really impressive."

You bit your lip, "Thanks, Peter."

The two of you stood in silence for a while, not knowing what else to say. Peter cleared his throat softly, glancing over at you for a moment, "I guess I should be going now. Have a good night, Y/N."

Smiling gently, you nodded, "I should too, have a good night too, Peter.

-..

Peter nodded before walking off. The two of you made eye contact once more, before he turned away quickly, rushing out of the building. Stuffing your hands in your hoodie pockets, you sighed, glancing back at the doors walked through. You were usually good at talking to others, but with Peter, it was difficult. You felt incredibly nervous talking to him, worried you'd scare him off. You were a pretty tall girl, one of the tallest in the school. A lot of people were intimidated by you. And you even thought some guys would be too intimidated by you to talk to you or ask you out, but it was actually the exact opposite. A lot of other guys at the school tried to ask you out, even to the upcoming homecoming, but you declined. You didn't want to go with them... You wanted to go with Peter.

Walking down the sidewalk, Peter huffed as it started to rain. Hunching over slightly, Peter walked a bit faster as he made it to his apartment with Aunt May. The butterflies were flying everywhere in his stomach. That had to have been the longest conversation he had with you. He hoped to god that you couldn't hear his racing heart. Peter had known you since he was a freshman. You were in his math class and always raised your hand when the teacher asked a question. Thinking back, that was probably when he knew he had a crush on you. You had a bright smile on your face as your arm was raised persistently in the air. The sun flowing through the window cast you in a gold light. And when he found out that you played basketball and were the captain of the basketball team... Yeah, that's when he knew you were out of his league. Peter wasn't even really bothered by the fact that you were taller than him, he actually kind of liked it.

The next afternoon, Peter sat at his back table with Ned and MJ, picking around at his food as Ned nudged him on the shoulder. "You go to the game?" He asked, and Peter looked up at him, nodding. Ned smirked a little, "Ditching our video game night to see your crush dunk some hoops?" He teased and Peter sighed, wishing he'd never told Ned about his crush on you.

MJ smiled behind her milk as she drank, "You still on about that?" She asked, looking at Peter with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It didn't know that she was the one that you've been blabbering on and on about." She continued…

She did know, MJ knew everything.

"She is not some girl. Y/N is a woman." Peter remarked, pointing his plastic spork at MJ, before sighing down at his tray.

MJ's eyes widened slightly, "Wow, you're really into her. I mean... I get it. She's cute." She agreed, taking a bite of her lunch, "But, you haven't really spoken to her that much, have you?"

"And you've known her for what? Three years?" Ned added and Peter sighed.

"540 days... Plus when I ran into her at the grocery store with May."

Ned's eyes widened in excitement. "Oh! I remember you told me!"

MJ turned to the two, faking her own excitement, cause she really didn't care, "Oh, Peter, hiding secrets from me?"

Peter rolled his eyes, "I only hid it because I knew you'd make fun of me."

MJ gave him a deadpan stare, "Oh, and yet you told Ned? No offense." She added and Ned shrugged.

"None taken. Anyway! Basically, he was with May and they were getting food and stuff when Y/N said hi to Peter and May teased him.” Ned grinned wide, eating some of his mashed potatoes.

Peter groaned as he looked back down to his tray, pushing his own mashed potatoes around.

"Isn't that the boy you like? Peter Porter or something?" Debbie asked, and you quickly shushed her, glancing at the table Peter and his friends were sitting at.

"Debbie! Be quiet, he'll hear. I don't want him to know yet."

"Why?" Natalie asked as she french braided Tiffany's auburn hair. "The faster he knows the faster you'll get together." She spoke as if she knew that would happen.

"I don't even know if he likes me that way. I know he's shy and all but I don't want him to be scared of me."

Luella, the team's point guard quickly spoke, "Honey, I'd do it now, rather than later. Don't want another nerd to snatch him away." She spoke, taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

Before you could say anything more, a shadow loomed over you, making you sigh. For the past month, Brain, the school's quarterback, kept asking you to homecoming with him. For some reason, the guy didn't know what no, meant no.

"Hey, princess, how are you doing?" He asked, placing his hands on the table beside you, locking you in from behind.

You shuddered with disgust as you sneered, "Don't call me princess, Willcroft." You growled, jabbing back your elbow into his stomach, making him back away.

He raised his hands in defense, "Alright, alright, just wanted to tell you that you looked amazing in those basketball shorts during your game." He smirked as you turned around and stared up at him.

"Brain, do you want to know how amazing a black eye would look on you right now?" You asked, crossing your arms as slowly, as the girls of your team turned around, ready to team up with you if anything went too crazy.

Brain shrugged, "Just take the compliment. Anyway, homecoming is just around the-"

"Back off, Willcroft. The lady says no." A voice spoke up, turning you smiled up at the loner of the school.

Brain rolled his eyes, mumbling a 'whatever' before walking back to his table. You turned and smiled up at the protector.

"Thanks, MJ. Came just in time, I was just about to beat his face in."

MJ shrugged, crossing her arms, "Just doing my job."

You had been in two of MJ's classes in sophomore year, and during those two years, you'd become 'sort of' friends with her.

"Well, I'm gonna head back to my table. You girls have fun." She spoke before walking off.

You turned back to your team, and went back to your food. The conversation from before was gone.

-.-.

Peter watched as MJ sat back in her seat across from the two boys. "Well, I just saved your future girlfriend. I'd ask her to homecoming soon if I were you." MJ began, resuming her eating. "A lot of people have been asking her."

Peter's eyes widened, "How did you know I was planning to ask her?"

Ned sputtered a laugh, "Planning" He asked before shrugging. "So, are you going to ask her or what?" He questioned, leaning forward on his elbows as Peter nodded his head.

"I'm going to ask her. I will. I just- I just don't know how." Pete admitted, staring at his plate.

"You better do it soon. Homecoming is Saturday."

..---

Friday came quicker than Peter thought possible. For the past two days, he'd been planning, ( He'd practiced a million times in front of his mirror, but nothing seemed perfect enough. His palms were sweaty, his heart was beating a mile a minute, and his stomach was making him feel sick. Ned and MJ had made him a plan. The plan was just to outright ask her. The hard part, besides coming up with the right words to use, was actually doing it. Peter didn't know why'd you even say yes to him. He was a nerd and you were a jock. Normally in those rom-com movies, the two did get together, but this was real life. (Even though he did get bit by a radioactive spider).

Waiting by your locker this time, Peter looked at his calculator watch as he wanted for your practice to be over. He'd spent most of his time in the library, but he didn't want to miss you if you came out early, so Peter left half an hour before your practice let out. Replaying his small speech for you out in his head, he looked down at the small scratches, marks, and other imperfections on the ground as the locker doors opened up. Your team came shuffling out, a couple of the members noticing Peter and giggling amongst themselves. Lastly, you came out, stopping when you saw Peter at your locker, obviously waiting for you. You bit your lip as you wandered over, clearing your throat as you gained his attention.

"Hi..." You began, smiling down at him as Peter looked at you, the floor, and back.

"Hi." He greeted, scratching his cheek gently before he spoke again, "How was practice?" He asked and you leaned sideways against the locker beside yours, shrugging.

"It was alright. I uh, hope you weren't waiting for long?" You hesitantly asked, not knowing if Peter was waiting for you at all. Then again, he was standing at your locker.

Peter shook his head, "No, it's fine. I need time to think."

You tilted your head slightly, "Think about what?" You asked softly, stuffing your hands in your team hoodie's pocket.

"How-" Peter paused, pursing his lips as he narrowed his eyes, thinking to himself. You waited, letting him contain his thoughts. You just watched him, watching as his brown eyes flickered from you and to the floor. The way his hair was slightly a mess as if he'd run his hand through it over a hundred times already, his freckles standing out against his pale skin, the way his fingers curled slightly at the ends as h Your cheeks grew warm at the thought of how adorable he looked. And then there was his smile, so beautiful. You had never seen anyone so perfect as he was. Finally, Peter looked up at you, and you could see the hesitance in his eyes, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to homecoming with me?" You froze.

What did he just say?

You blinked once. Twice. Three times before you finally managed to speak, "What?"

"Um," Peter started, looking at his feet, his shoulders rising up slightly as if he was trying to shrug his anxiety off. "I wanted to know if you'd... If you would like to go to homecoming with me. If not that's totally fine, I get-"

"I would love to." You interrupted him, a bright, surprised smile on your face. "Sorry about the delayed answer, I just couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe you would want to go with me." You let out a happy laugh.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows slightly, "What do you mean?" He asked and you shrugged, feeling your face flush as you looked away from Peter, feeling shy.

"I mean, I just didn't believe that you, this smart, kind, handsome, talented guy, would ever want to go with me. I'm a basketball player, and I hate to use this word, jock. I'm pretty tall, which slightly intimidates others... Why would you wanna go with me?"

"Because you're you. You're different from everyone else here. You're sweet and thoughtful. And your smile is breathtaking... Why wouldn't I ask you?" Peter slightly ranted, unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

Your eyes widened, blushing lightly as you felt your cheeks heat up even more. "Do you mean that? You really want to go with me?" You asked, not sure if he was just saying it to make you feel better or if he was serious.

Peter smiled softly, shaking his head, "I do, Y/N."

You straightened, smirking lightly, "Well then," You began, leaning your hand against the locker at Peter's head, "I can't wait."

-----

Adjusting your dress, you double-checked yourself in the mirror before nodding at your reflection. The dress was a deep blue color, the material was soft under your touch and hugged you tightly, your body accentuating each dip and line of your curves. It was simple yet elegant, with the sleeves coming just above your elbows, the neckline high but not too high, and the skirt hugging your hips nicely as they flared out near the tops of your thighs. Lastly, was the high slit that went up your leg, showing just the slightest hint of your legs and a few inches of your upper thigh.

Hearing the doorbell, you rushed and grabbed your bag, quickly making your way down the stairs and grabbing your black heels. Your mother came into the entryway from the living room, smiling once she saw your outfit. "You look amazing, darling. Have fun, alright?" She spoke and you nodded, grabbing your bag and grabbing the door handle. Letting out a breath, you opened the door, finding a very nervous Peter at the front steps.

Shuffling his feet, Peter looked up as the door opened, eyes widening, Peter's jaw dropped "Wow." Was all that came out of his mouth as he watched your every move. The way you did your hair and everything else... Overall, you looked extremely beautiful. "Wow..." He said again breathily, "Wow..."

You blushed, giggling as you shut the door behind you. "Thank you, Peter. You look rather 'wow' too." You teased as you made it to May's car Peter was borrowing.

"You look more than 'wow', Y/N." Peter spoke as he helped you into the passenger seat.

From then on, the rest of the ride was peaceful, the soft sound of 'I Love Rock In' Roll' playing on the speakers.

Entering the dance, you looked around t, taking in the sights. It was a large room with the cafeteria seats, the lights dimmed, and only a small stage set up. At the end of the stage sat a DJ, jamming out at his set up.

Before either of you could say anything, Ned and MJ ran up to you.

"Y/N... Looking good." MJ complimented, as you nodded in thanks.

"MJ, loving the drip." You remarked back as Ned wiggled his eyebrows at Peter.

"You did it, buddy. Good job." Ned whispered and Peter smiled.

"Thanks, man."

"Well," You began, speaking loud enough for Peter to hear, "I was just about to steal Peter for a dance." You spoke, looping your arm with his.

MJ and Ned smirked and nodded, "Go have fun you two lovebirds." MJ spoke, shooing you off as you almost dragged Peter to the somewhat full dancefloor.

Slowly, a slow song began to play, you placed your arms around Peter's shoulder as he rested his hands on your waist. You stared down at Peter as the two of you danced, Peter looking up at you with his deep brown eyes His dark locks fell forward slightly, resting on both sides of his forehead. It was slightly messy, but you could tell that he tried to tame it. Slowly, you moved your hands to the back of Peter's neck, twirling the ends of his soft curly hair in between your fingers. Peter licked his lips as he stared up at you, his fingers on your waist gripping you as his heart raced faster and faster. You were looking down at him, his lips parting as he took in a shaky breath.

"You look so... Stunning, Y/N." He breathed, making you smile.

"Why thank you, Peter." You replied, biting your lips as you glanced from his eyes to his lips, and back. They looked so soft and so inviting. So close. So close…

Peter's eyes flicked towards your lips and then back up to your eyes once more before you realized what he was doing. You did notice, however, feeling your own heart race as you licked your lips, your chest rising rapidly. You slowly leaned forward, pausing with only centimeters between you two. You didn't want to kiss him if he didn't want to kiss you, so you waited and it wasn't long until Peter pressed his lips to yours. A soft sigh left your parted lips when his soft lips met yours. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, Peter standing on his toes a bit as his hand tangled into your ha You pulled away after a moment, gazing deeply into his eyes as you smiled up at him. He smiled back, tilting his head slightly as he brought your face back down to his. Kissing Peter was a complete and utter experience, nothing like any other. You couldn't describe how much you loved it, but it was absolutely incredible. As if nothing mattered, as if time had stopped. Nothing but you two.

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