#fuck man i wish i could at least talk to him properly

[lunarflare64]

Patricide is looking so tempting right now

[berryzxx]

Jealousy

Summary: Your forced to spend the weekend with Azriel the bane of your existence but little do you realise he doesn't completely hate you

did i think of the title before writing the actual fic? Yes i did. ENJOY LOVELIES <3 (ignore mistakes it's midnight😭)

I crossed my arms, wishing and hoping for my sake Rhys was playing some sort of prank and he didn't really mean I had to spend the next three days with the bane of my existence.

"It's last minute I know but you two are the ones I trust to be able to carry this out without gathering much suspicion" Rhys explained looking between the two of us. His expression was slightly apologetic when he looked toward me and it rightfully should have been. He was forcing me to spend 3 days with Azriel. The most arrogant fucking man in the whole of Prythian.

Azriel stood next to me his brows furrowed and his eyes sending daggers at Rhys "I wouldn't want y/n to tire herself out too much. I'll do the mission myself" I grit my teeth together at his words and the annoying belittling tone he used.

"I'm right fucking here. It's better if I go myself, they'll be able to spot a brooding bat from miles away" I replied not even bothering to look at the moody asshole. His wings twitched slightly but he gave no other indication that he had been affected by my words.

Rhys let out a sigh and stood up, walking around his desk and reaching for a folded parchment. "Your both going. End of story" He extended his hand and before Azriel could reach for it I all but snatched it out of Rhys's hand. Rhys looks slightly amused but Azriel didn't. He turned to me, his glare rooting me to the spot. I gave him a pleasant smile back trying to get him even more annoyed. I could hear his teeth grinding together even from the distance between us.

"Go fuck yourself" He muttered to me before storming out the room, his shadows trailing behind as if scared of their master too.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed" I commented, opening the parchment and noting the details Rhys had written, the population of the village, the number of cabins, weapons stores etc. I looked up to see Rhys looking at me, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he found this all amusing "At least try to get along. It'll make things easier"

I let out a sigh. Rhys was right. But annoying Azriel was always so fun. "I'll think about it" I finally let out, leaving his study and going to prepare my weapons.

***

I walked around the cabin, running a finger along the book case. Not a speck of dust in sight, the magic keeping the cabin clean for any guests. There was a double bed on one side of the room, matching side tables on both sides, opposite them were two armchairs and a fireplace which was currently filled with logs as the fire danced away the cold.

Gods I hated this place. Well not the cabin. It was cosy. What I hated was the village itself. It was always so dreary and grey. Not to mention the smell of misogynistic males who thought themselves too high up to talk to a female. Fucking pricks.

I sat down on the bed and unlaced my boots, finally being able to feel my feet properly. The day had been a long and annoying one. Meeting with village heads to discuss why there was disruptions amongst the Illyrians. Making sure females were still allowed to train and their wings were kept safe. The whole lot of them were stubborn, not a word going through their thick skulls. And to add to the growing list of annoyances Azriel had been an asshole the entire day. More than usual.

Before I could think more about how draining my day had been I heard a sharp knock at my door. I readied myself. If it was that fucking Illyrian who had called me a whore I was going to give him a piece of my mind. I walked over to the front door my socks gliding across the wooden floorboards, reminding me of when me and Rhys used to ice skate on the Sidra. I opened the door my frown already in place. Good thing it was because it was Azriel darkening up my door with his gloom.

"What is it Shadowsinger? Miss me?" I crossed my arms and waited for him to say something. Common courtesy would be to invite him into the guest house but I wasn't in the mood of playing nice. He didn't look like he wanted to play nice either. His shadows were moving slowly over his wings and around his body, their colour darker than the night itself.

"I'm staying here for the night" He finally said before moving past me and into the cabin. My mouth fell open as I slammed the front door so the cold wouldn't come in. "What do you mean your staying here? Go to your own cabin..... I was here first!" I admit I sounded like a child but what was he doing here? We had made sure two guest cabins were empty before coming here.

"You were here first? Well that's fucking unfortunate" He replied sending me a glare before sitting on the edge of my bed and removing his belt containing his daggers, bending down to take off his boots too. Why was he looking at me like it was my fault?

I stomped over to him and stopped in front of him "Go to your own cabin! What are you even doing here?" I asked. Gods he was being irritating. Why wasn't he answering me with the truth instead of wasting my time?

He finally turned to look at me, having taken his boots off. His amber eyes looked deadly in this light and with his eyebrows furrowed like that I wouldn't be surprised if he was thinking of killing me on the spot "I can't go to my cabin because it doesn't fucking exist. Understand? Or do you want me to show you a visual representation?" Gods I hated it when he was sarcastic. His head was tilted slightly waiting for my reaction.

I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes, anger would get me no where "What do you mean it doesn't exist? It was there in the morning so how has it just disappeared?"

He took a deep breath as well as if he were tired of talking to me, he ran a hand through his hair. Gods he was hot......I shook my head. Was my head screwed on straight?

"There was a fight. The cabin was....demolished during it" He explained. I raised an eyebrow "Who fought? Was it you?....Don't tell me it was you"

Azriel shrugged "It wasn't". I rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping a big enough distance between us so I wouldn't start thinking about his looks or the way his hair was so pullable or the way his lips...

"Who did you fight with? Didn't Rhys send us with orders of keeping on the down. fucking. low?"

I could see his jaw clench as he refused to look at me "It doesn't matter who I fought with. Your just going to have suck it up and share the bed"

It took me great will power to not roll my eyes again. I took another deep breath "Go back to Velaris for the night"

He turned to me his eyebrows raised as if I had mentioned something stupid "What and leave you here with all those males who would love to fuck you and then slit your throat?"

I narrowed my eyes "First of all, who do you think you are telling me I can't handle a bunch of pricks. Second of all don't you dare underestimate me. Third of all-" I moved closer to him, a grin spreading as I looked at his slightly surprised expression "-are you jealous?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes "In your dreams, sweetheart" He replied, his eyes flicking down to where our legs touched and then back up to my face. I swallowed. This wasn't where I thought this conversation would go.

Luckily, the sound of the door banging gave me the opportunity to escape his hazel eyes. I opened the door to find that same Illyrian who had called me a whore. His expression however was different this time, as if he was forced to stand here and it was taking all his energy to not walk away. His face was also different. A black eye and what seemed to be a broken nose. He was also clutching his side rather strangely...as if he had broken a rib of some sort.

"What? Here to call me a whore again? Say it again. I fucking dare you" I could feel my blood rushing around my body, my fists clenched ready to punch the shit out of this asshole but unfortunately it looked like he had learnt moral decency.

He shifted from one foot to another, his wings folding and opening again before he cleared his throat "I uh...wanted to apologise for what I said earlier"

I raised an eyebrow "You do?"

He nodded his head but I could tell he meant the complete opposite "I shouldn't have called you a whore...I'm-" He cleared his throat again before wincing in pain, his hand clutching his side again. "I'm sorry" He rushed out quickly. I crossed my arms. I was tired. If I wasn't I would have asked him to repeat it.

"Okay well I don't accept your apology, you can go fuck yourself now" I closed the door in his face, locked the door and turned to Azriel eyeing him suspiciously.

"Did you know that guy?" I asked moving over to the bathroom and stopping outside the door to wait for his answer.

Azriel shook his head from where he was sitting on the bed "Nope. Never seen him. Looked pretty messed up didn't he?"

"Hmm" I replied not knowing what to say. I had a feeling Azriel had something to do with it. I went into the bathroom, changed out of my leathers and into my night clothes before stepping out. I wished and wished and wished I hadn't packed shorts for the night. It was already so cold the fire only doing so much if I sat in front of it. While I had been in the bathroom Azriel had changed too, having already laid down on his back, his arm over his eyes. I let out a sigh "So your not going back to Velaris?"

I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs while I tied my hair back. Azriel didn't look at me "No"

I let out another sigh "And your sure there's no other cabins free?". Azriel finally looked at me his lips pressed tightly together "I don't bite"

I rolled my eyes and layed down, the lights dimmed to it being almost pitch black except the silvery moonlight coming in from the window. I pulled the blanket over me and curled up so I had as much heat as possible. Gods it was cold.

After a few minutes of me trying to sleep but failing Azriel turned to his side and faced me. He didn't even have a blanket on "Your shaking the bed" He pointed out.

"It's cold" I turned onto my other side so I didn't have to look at his piercing gaze, just his one look making butterflies erupt in my stomach.

"Your so dramatic" He muttered before I felt his arm wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him, until my back met his chest and I was engulfed in his warmth. I froze for a second not knowing what to do "Is this alright?" He whispered in my ear, his voice softer than I was used to. I bit back a smile and nodded my head, settling into his hold. This was so nice. So damn nice. I shouldn't have been enjoying it but I was. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep and I couldn't help but realise that maybe being in Azriel's arms wasn't so bad.

-> Masterlist <-

part 2?? yes? no?? idk😭

tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @artists-ally @minnieoo

@fieldofdaisiies @thehighladywrites @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @kennedy-brooke

@claireswritingcorner @milswrites @throneofsmut @sweetorangeblossom

[stargirlo]

somber fem!reader

i just can imagine how much ur boyfie misses you after u two break up :(

he'll go to a seedy bar and drink up until he feels numb on his body, his musky colgone is now replaced with a reeking scent of jack daniels whiskey as he looks completely wasted. holding the whole bottle lazily on his hand before he pours himself another cup of the brown liquid onto the well designed glass cup.

he even babbles about you to the bartender, showing him a picture of yourself that he keeps in his wallet everyday. "you see this- *hic* fine babe? yeah- *hic* i-i lost her two days ago..." he slurred out, eyes dropping low as he looks like he was about to throw up. the only response the bartender could make is either awkwardly chuckling or just saying a small "aw..." because really, he doesn't have the time to have a therapy session with a drunkard.

"s-she like uh-... broke up with me for i don't know what reason, uhmmm- ugh, i miss her s'much..." he whines, acting like he was about to cry. he misses you, he really does. numbing all his pain away from endless amount of shots from the whiskey cup and just slurring out incoherent words that clearly don't make sense. someone comfort this man :(

but as he tips over the barstool, he finally manages to leave the bar and head over his car. murmuring incoherent words and stumbling over the pavement flooring before he finally slams his body against the car door. he struggles a little bit, letting out a strained groan as he sits down at the drivers seat. poor man is tired, and he feels so lonely without your presence beside the passenger seat. you were his passenger princess, and he can't seem to get over you.

he's acting like a total loser right now.

he takes out his wallet again, flipping it open to reveal the picture of you. you were peacefully sleeping on his bed, hair tousled around the plush pillows, and a little puddle of drool seeping into the pillow covers. he chuckles at the picture before it was replaced with silent cries, tears dripping down his cheeks as a few droplets drip down to his jeans. he can't believe he lost you, over god knows what argument you two had both had.

he misses you so much that while he was crying he could feel his cock throbbing against his jeans. he was craving your touch, the way your hand palms his cock and stroke him so deliberately and deliciously with such delicate hands. god he misses it.

so without further ado his cock already sprung free from its confines, one hand holding the wallet while the other worked its way down to stroke his cock. he felt so desperate that he spits on his cock as a use of a lubricant, letting out a throaty groan and string of whispers, talking to himself and praising himself as if you were still there with him. pathetic whimpers fill in the spacious car, the windows slightly fogging up as his vision was already at haze.

all that his mind was clouded of was with images of you.

he still feels empty, even if he's bringing himself close to an orgasm. but he tried, he really tried to think that you're the one stroking his cock instead of he himself. "g-god i... ugh- i miss you s'much baby, holy fuck- please come back..." he murmurs under his breath, jaw clenching as his eyebrows pinch together, letting go of his orgasm. it wasn't particularly the best he could've had but... at least it was something he could do while thinking about you.

but honestly, he just wishes you were there with him. he wishes he could go back in time and fix things properly instead of being put up into this situation. but i guess time will tell, and it's how god had written its story between you and him.

💌: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento (who would break up with him?), hiromi higuruma, toji fushiguro (hear me out...), dazai osamu, odasaku, chuuya nakahara, manjiro sano, draken, rafe cameron, jj maybank, shinichiro sano, ++ your favs!!

[astermath]

 “So? Whatever.” pt.3

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: you and dave grow closer and you both share stories and secrets. one faithful night, when he’s got nowhere else to go, he reveals his biggest one.

word count: 1.7K

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

notes: this is probably the final one in this series, but I’ll definitely be writing some blurbs and whatnot using the popular!reader. any requests or things you want to see between these two, or just dave, are welcome in my asks!! thank you for the sweet comments and reblogs, they mean the world to me, hope you enjoy!! <3

Meeting Dave at your house had now become a weekly occurrence.

Every Saturday he’d stop by for a “tutoring session”, backpack filled with new comics and sometimes collectibles, usually bought with the money you gave him for his time. You’d started enjoying your time together so much that you started bailing on party plans or shopping trips, raising some suspicions from your friends as to what you were up to. You simply said you were focusing more on school to finish the year off properly. Which would be a decent excuse if your grades were actually improving, which they weren’t exactly. 

Your Saturdays were usually spent on the carpeted floor of your room, pages spread as excited voices filled the space, talking about your favorite arcs and discussing who the best supervillain really was. 

You had easily become one of Dave’s favorite people to spend time with outside of his vigilante duties, and the feeling was mutual. A crush had started brewing between you two, but neither of you wanted to admit to it. Not just because your worlds outside the safe space of your bedroom were so vastly different, but because you didn’t want to ruin this perfectly good thing you had going on with each other. Even if it meant suppressing the urge to ask him to stay the night, or him pushing away thoughts of kissing you before he’d leave, it was for the best.

Dave had grown so fond of you, you’d shared so much about yourself. You’d opened up about your insecurities, about how competitive cheerleading had affected your mental health, how you hated how your father was away so much for work, how you felt trapped by your reputation... All these things you could never talk about before, they were safe with him.

That’s why Dave felt so ridden with guilt any time you would share things like that with him. Because he was essentially just... Lying to you. You had no idea he was Kickass, at least that’s what he hoped, and the thought of you resenting him for it was eating away at him. If you knew what he was doing when you weren’t there, if you found out about this entire other persona, there was no way you’d still want to spend time with him. At best, you’d turn him in to the police, and he’d never see you again.

But something inside his head, something really stupid and naïve was telling him you’d accept him.

That really stupid part was also in love with you.

Dave’s text messages had been less frequent lately, further adding to your worries about what he’d been up to. He’d cancelled multiple times in the past few weeks, something he’d never done before, and when you asked what he was doing he got so nervous. He’d usually just give some strange excuse or said his dad needed him to be home with all the crime that’s been going on. But that wouldn’t explain the bruises you’d notice on his arms when he took his jacket off, which he’d quickly try to cover by pulling down his sleeves. You’d asked your brother if him or any of his friends had been messing with him, threatening to light his jerseys on fire if he lied about it.

“The fuck would I know about what your boyfriend’s been up to?” He spat, upset that you were bothering him with this at all.

“He’s not my boyfriend, shithead!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his head.

But damn, did you wish he was.

You sat in your room, flipping through the pages of the collector’s edition Spider-man comic Dave had gifted you months ago. Your fingers traced across the lines of the damaged paper, wondering if he really bought it like this or some asshole at school did this to it. For someone so secretly strong he sure let a lot of people fuck with him.

You thought back at all your years in high school where you deliberately ignored him or even allowed your friends to make fun of him. You wished you could turn back time and give him a chance earlier on, maybe be able to spend more time with him now that he seemed too busy for you now. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock against your window. You didn’t respond at first, thinking you imagined it, but when the sound returned a bit louder you got up. You squinted, finding it a bit hard to see who or what was outside your window when it was so dark outside. You approached and realized it was Dave, looking a bit panicked. You didn’t even think much about it, sliding your window up so you could talk to him. “Dave! Where the fuck have you--” 

“Can I please come in?” He interrupted, his breath ragged, looking like a mess. It was only now you noticed the bruises and the cut across his cheek. You nodded, moving aside so he could come in. He struggled, limping a little, and you turned back around to close the window, hearing him take off his jacket and drop his bag.

“What the hell were you even--” Your own sentence was cut short when you were met with a sight you had not expected. Your eyes widened and your expression changed into one of shock and worry.

There he was, full Kickass attire, no mask. 

And everything clicked.

The random bruises, the comic book obsession, his secret strength, his sudden disappearances...

A heavy silence filled the room, the only sounds present his rough breathing as he put a hand against your bedpost to keep standing. 

“Is... Is this why you’ve been so busy?” Your voice sounded hurt, betrayed even. “You’ve been fighting people?”

Dave struggled to get any words out. He’d hoped he’d never have to do this, but he had nowhere else to go, and you deserved to know the truth. He looked to the side in shame, sighing. “I’ve... Been meaning to tell you. For a while now, I promise, I just... It all escalated so much, I never meant for it to become such a big lie.”

You looked at each other, and Dave’s heart literally ached at the sight of your teary eyes. Or maybe it was the cracked rib that was doing that, who knows honestly.

“Sit down.” You said, pointing at your bed.

“W-What? I don’t--”

“Sit. Down.” Your voice demanded, eyes meeting his with a look he’d never experienced from anyone before, not even when he was getting his life threatened by criminals.

He gently sat down on your bed, groaning slightly at the movement straining his injuries. You silently walked to your bathroom and took out the first aid kit from below the sink. You sat down next to him on the bed as Dave kept his head down in shame. He was certain he’d cry if he saw the expression on your face right now. 

“Take it off. The top part.”

He didn’t say anything, reaching behind him and unzipping the back, peeling the layer of clothing off his body and revealing a wide array of injuries. Normally you’d be excited to see him shirtless, his toned body surprising you, but right now all you felt was hurt. You put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and gently patted the cut on his shoulder. Despite your anger, your grip on his arm was soft. 

He winced slightly at the burning feeling, looking at you and seeing a few tears roll down your cheeks. “Hey, I’m... I’m really sorry.” He spoke softly as you prepared a bandage. He said your name so gently, so sweetly, that you almost wanted to kiss him, if you weren’t so upset. “Everything got so real, and I met other vigilantes, other people like me... It started taking up so much time, I felt bad, and I couldn’t just abandon it, so...”

“So you abandoned me instead?” You finally looked up to face him. You were still holding his arm, and even like this, crying and upset, he thought you looked so beautiful.

“I...” He felt his own eyes start watering. “I would never abandon you...” His hand reached out to rest over your back. “No matter what, I swear, I would never give up what we have...” He gently pulled you in, hugging you so softly, a bit hesitant.

You leaned in closer, head against his bare chest as you started calming down. He didn’t hate you, he didn’t leave, he was there, right there. You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat as he reached down to rest his face against the top of your head, the gentle scent of your shampoo calming him as well. You stayed just like that for a few minutes, holding each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, everything you wanted was right there in the room with you.

You gently pulled back, and Dave was certain he’d be met with either a slap or a finger pointing to the window to get out.

Both of those guesses were wrong.

You leaned in, lips meeting his in the softest, gentlest most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. No lust, no intentions other than to just feel closer to him. Your mouth opened slightly and Dave leaned in more, a hand reaching out to rest on your cheek as yours sneaked into his brown curls. A warmth had spread through your body, mind running blank, until you gently pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” You whispered against his lips.

“Yeah...” He whispered back. “Me too...” The both of you leaned back in, passion growing as your breathing became heavier and the kiss became more intense. His arms snaked around your waist and you moved onto his lap, straddling him. He didn’t care if it hurt, all he wanted was to be even closer to you, to never let you go. 

You pulled away and looked into his eyes, before a soft smile appeared on your face. “You know I’d never hate you, Dave...” You reach out to gently touch his cheek, and he melts into your hand, tilting his head slightly to lean into it.

“I really thought you would...” He smiled. That adorable, nerdy, slightly nervous smile that you’d grown to love.

“Of course not...” You grin. “In fact...” You leaned in closer to his ear. “I always thought Kickass was kinda hot...”

Heat rises to his face, and his grip on your waist strengthens just a bit at your lustful tone. 

He gained another ally that night. His most valuable one, for sure.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme  @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson   @reneehillary69  

[feelbokkie]

Sorry, Right Number | Chapter 14

pairing: idol!Chan x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff,strangers to lovers, pen pals/hidden identity, forbidden love, celebrity romance

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food and eating, minor violence, slightly suggestive (that is not Topher talking, that is Chris)

summary: Being an idol can be lonely and isolating. After one fun and adventurous night at a bar, Chan decides to text the girl he met the night before. Except, she gave him the the wrong number?

word count: 2,125

screenshot count: 7

taglist: closed

previous | masterlist | next

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

When Chan came to pick you up from the bus stop, you were careful to just nod to signal that you acknowledged each other. Over the past few months of you two hanging out, and the past couple of weeks of you dating, you've been careful when in public. More so when you're in Seoul. Back when you were in Gyeongju-si, you didn't have to be as careful. The odds of people being aware that Chan was out there were slim and you could at least comfortably hold hands for the rest of your three-day trip without worry. It's harder in the city where fangirls are hyper-aware that their favorite idol can be lurking around somewhere.

In all that time, you've never been to either one of the dorms. And honestly, you weren't exactly ready for that. But when Chan came up to you last week about officially meeting the rest of the boys at the cuties' dorm, you saw the look in his eyes that made you melt. And so you caved. You're meeting his family. He's comfortable enough to have you meet his best friends, and maybe that means one day soon you'll be able to bring him to meet yours.

"Why are we meeting at the other dorm and not yours?" You asked. You were about a foot away from Chan. You desperately wished you could hold his hand for comfort as you walked. Even if you could, Chan is also holding the cake you made for the boys and you know he would just end up dropping it if you two held hands right now.

"The other dorm is bigger." He answers simply.

It's not until you're inside the safety of the cuties' dorm that Chan pulls down his mask and quickly kisses you to properly greet you.

"My eyes!" You hear someone scream. You turn your head to see I.N covering his eyes.

"I'm guessing they're here and kissing?" You hear Hyunjin call from somewhere in the dorm.

"H-hello," You stutter, embarrassed to have been caught kissing Chan.

"In, you can open your eyes. We weren't even making out." Chan laughs. He's not wrong, it was a quick peck at best.

"I think I'm scarred for life." He cries out. You see Felix pop out from the side of the entranceway.

"What's in the box?" He asks, coming closer to you and Chan. His eyes travel over to you, "Oh, hi! What's in the box?" He asks, quickly wrapping you in a hug. You know Felix is big on skinship, but it surprises you how true it is.

"Where's Hyunjin?" You whisper, eyes looking out for the dramatic boy.

"The other room, why?" Felix scrunches his nose in confusion. You slightly tiptoe to reach Lix's ear.

"It's a carrot cake," You whisper into his ear. You pull away and watch as Felix's mouth drops open.

"What did you tell him?" Chan asks, watching Felix's expression.

"She's a fucking evil genius and I'm in love." He breathes, making you laugh. If this had happened before you met Chan, you would have folded just hearing Felix saying he's in love with you.

"Not in a serious way, right Lix?" You ask.

"Come back to me on that," He teases.

"Felix," Chan warns.

"Nobody is going to try to steal your girlfriend from you old man. Especially not Felix, even though he's probably the only one of us who has the guts to do so and can get away with it." Seungmin says after pushing In safely into the other room.

"See, old man? You have nothing to worry about. Now stop pouting and put my cake in the fridge or something. Please?" You kiss his cheek and send him on his way.

Felix loops his arm into yours and pulls you in the opposite direction of where Chan went, leading you to the living room where the rest of the kids are.

"I see Yongbokkie has already started causing trouble." Changbin sighs, putting his phone in his pocket.

"I'm not the one causing trouble today so shut the fuck up." He whines as he drags you to one of the couches and forces you to sit down.

"You're the only one here who would. Maybe except Hannie," Minho mutters the last part under his breath.

The atmosphere is tense, almost like how it was during the meet and greet. You feel like you're interrupting something. You're not entirely sure what, but the vibes are completely off.

"Hey, I heard that and that's not fair." Jisung whines, shaking his shoulders in the same way he does when he doesn't get his way. You've only seen it in videos, but good to know he does it in real life.

"It's nice to meet you all," You quickly say, to avoid whatever fight is bound to happen, causing all attention to be on you.

"But we've already met, Y/n." Hyunjin points out.

"Yeah, but the context was different. Back then I was a fan meeting her idols and now, I'm a girl meeting her boyfriend's brothers."

"Wow, you really won the lottery, huh? From fan to girlfriend." Jisung says sarcastically.

"Jisung," Minho warns.

"No, it's fine. I know he doesn't necessarily like me. I know all of you are wary of me. You guys are worried about Chan and his well-being and that’s good. I’m glad he has friends who care for him so much. My friends are the same way. But I promise you that my intentions are pure. If I was a sasaeng, wouldn’t it make more sense if I went after Felix? Plus, since I am a fan of yours, if I was a stalker, I’d just mold my personality to be someone that you all would like. Or at the very least make all of your favorite desserts to bribe you.” You say simply.

“She’s feisty. I like her. She’s going to make this group so interesting.” Hyunjin says excitedly, sitting up from his spot on the couch.

“Hyung, you just live for drama,” In adds.

“Not enough drama in my life,” Hyunjin mutters.

You feel arms wrap around you and a big wet kiss being pressed against your cheek. You can't help but blush.

"Topher, we talked about this," You warned, taking Chan's hands off of you. He lets go and climbs over the couch to sit next to you, forcing you and Felix to scoot closer together.

"Topher?" Changbin asks, a devilish smirk across his face as he now leans in.

"Did he never tell you about Topher torture time?" You ask, amused you turn to Chan who has a pleading look on his face.

"What's Topher torture time?" Seungmin asks, slightly interested in the conversation now.

"Before Channie and I were good friends I would refer to him as Topher because he introduced himself as Chris. You know Chris...Topher? So I would bug him every day and call it Topher torture time."

"She could give Bin a run for his money with how annoying she can get." Chan sighs.

"It made you fall in love with me so I don't know why you're complaining. And that wasn't even the plan. The plan was to teach you a lesson in text numbers of girls you meet in bars."

"I lucked out in the end either way," Chan says, pulling you into a hug and putting his face next to yours, kissing your cheek. You scrunch your face and wiggle out of his grip.

"Oh, he's doing what he does with us," In points out.

"Do you not like skinship, Y/n?" Minho asks.

"She does," Chan leans back into the couch and drapes his arm around your shoulder, "But she knows that some of you don't and are a bit uncomfortable with PDA so she asked me to dial it down a bit. But I can't help it, she's so cute--"

"If you pinch my cheeks, I'm going home." You say, putting your hands up. That's the one place where you draw the line. Chan's hands are constantly on your face and it is starting to get a bit much, so you have to remind him to leave your face alone.

"Oh, she's going to be fine in this group," Felix hums.

"Y/n, can I ask you something?" Minho asks you from the oven. He sets the temperature and turns around to face you.

Minho excused himself to start cooking dinner in the middle of a game. Still feeling awkward around everyone and feeling overwhelmed by all of their energy, you offered to help him cook. Chan, knowing that all eight of them could be much, understood that you probably needed a break and how cooking relaxes you.

"Sure," You say softly. You're still intimidated by being alone in the same room as him. On one hand, he's one of your boyfriend's best friends. On the other, he's fucking Lee Minho from Stray Kids.

"You and your roommates, have you guys been to one of our concerts or any of our events before?" He asks leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

"No, that was our first concert. We were never able to get tickets before and anytime you guys had an event we would be working. And like you guys, we're pretty codependent so we wouldn't just go without the two. Why?" You ask as you cut up the vegetables for dinner.

"Your roommate looks really familiar and it's kind of bothering me." He sighs.

“Which one?”

"The raven-haired one," He answers quickly.

"Hana? She grew up in the city so maybe you say he in passing? I think she lived near the old JYPE building. So maybe you saw her in passing?" You're kind of sad that it was Hana and not Sun Hee that stood out to him. Not that you have anything against Hana, you just knew that Sun Hee would have been over the moon to know that she stood out to one of her biases. Not that you could tell her anyway if she did. File that under one of the many secrets you're keeping from your best friends.

"Hm, maybe," He hums before going to the fridge to get something,

"Anyway, let's get to cooking, Changbin is going to start screaming about how hungry he is any minute."

***

You watch quietly as the boys devour the cake. You mostly watch Hyunjin, who is eating the cake like it's nothing. Chan, Seungmin, and Minho looked at Hyunjin and then you the second they realized what type of cake it was. You just shook your head no, you wanted to tell Hyunjin after he ate a bit more of the cake.

"Y/n," Felix turns to you with a smirk as Hyunjin cuts himself a small second slice of cake, "This cake is really good. What kind is it?"

"Carrot cake," You say simply, everyone turning their attention to Hyunjin, who is now frozen in place processing what you just said.

"What?" He asks, mouth still full from his first slice.

"Hm, this is the best carrot cake I've had Y/n," Seungmin joins in on teasing Hyunjin.

"There is carrot in this cake? Seriously?" Hyunjin's mouth is still full like he refuses to swallow what he is eating.

"No, a carrot made this cake," You reply, earning a snort from both Changbin and Jisung.

"I don't like carrots," Hyunjin mumbles, finally swallowing the food in his mouth, "But I love this cake. Can you make something like this with like eggplant or onion?"

"No, because that would be gross and I'm pretty sure the baking gods would strike me down for crimes against humanity."

"She's funny," IN, laughs.

"See, Jinnie, this is why you shouldn't judge food just because they're made with the things you don't like." Chan chimes in.

You watch as Felix gets up from his seat and kneels in front of you. You scoop the last bit of cake in your mouth and turn your body towards him. he takes your hands in his and looks you deep in the eyes.

"Y/n, leave Chan hyung and marry me. Your baked goods and wicked ways would be wasted on him. Be with a real--"

Smack

You watch as Felix drops to the floor clutching his head.

"Ow, he hit me. He really hit me. Y/n, did you see that? Your boyfriend is a monster!" Felix cries from the floor. You look up at Chan who resumed eating his cake like it's nothing.

"He's fine," He sighs. You look at the rest of the boys who look just as shocked as you do.

"Looks like Lix finally found Chan hyung's breaking point," Jisung says happily.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist; closed

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@ventusnonexpectat @kibs-and-bits @sanriiolino @majorlymismanaged @s00buwu @badgergirlsblog @rag-iii @lanatheawesome @143lix @jaiuneamesolitaiire @veedoesntknaur @brain-empty-only-draken @jaydebow @allaboutyej8 @skz-streamer @weird-bookworm @spearb-99 @marked-unknown @thesassy-mia @kalopsian-thoughts @gruszkasmierci @aslou @chlodavids @greyyeti @thepeopleintheback @hanjiies @jihanniee @skzhoes @imsiriuslyreal @amyysfics

[lavendertales]

dark times || Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: the night you find Joel in a questionable state, to say the least, is the night a confession leaves your lips. A confession that both uplifts and shocks Joel.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: use of alcohol & pills (as depicted in the show); mentions of depression, loss, suicide; established relationship and a lot of fluff for all intents and purposes.

A/N: comments & reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

It’s not unusual for Joel’s house to be this somber: lights almost turned off completely and utter silence. On nights when he’s perkier he might play around with his guitar, but tonight it seems it’s not the case.

You haven’t seen him almost all day.

The fugitive glimpses you’ve caught of him throughout the day have not been enough. Since you haven’t gotten the chance to talk to him, you simply assumed he was having an off day. On those days, you came to understand that, more often than not, he needed space.

But it’s well past midnight and you have an annoying pit in your stomach, an ugly feeling that won’t cease pestering you. It can’t hurt checking up on him, right?

You let yourself into the house, gently closing the door behind you. The wooden floor screeches beneath you ever so slightly, indirectly announcing your presence there.

“Joel?” you say, barely loud enough to be heard. “It’s me, I let myself in. Are you still awake?”

You see the light coming from the bedroom as you reach the end of the stairs, so you figure he’s either sleeping or just wallowing in self-pity. Again, not unusual. You peep through the door, noticing Joel curled up on the bed, still in his day clothes. As you approach, you notice how disheveled he looks in his green flannel and jeans and big, dirty boots.

“Joel, hey,” you say, gently nudging his arm. “It’s me, hi.”

You keep nudging him, but no response from his side. Perhaps he had one too many glasses of whiskey and he’s finally sleeping properly.

“Joel?”

You start to lose some of your patience and nudge him harder, but still no response. You call out his name, a rush of panic spreading throughout your body. Something tells you to check his pulse; he barely has one.

“Joel, come on, don’t do this,” you quip. “Joel, I swear to God—get up. Now.”

Soon, all words flee from your mind and the only one you can say, on a desperate loop as you try to bring some life into the body by shaking it, is Joel.

Joel. The only man you’ve ever loved.

You fail to realize when tears began to stream down your cheeks, hot and filled with an impossible ache, but you couldn’t care less, not now. You cup his face with your palms, examining every freckle, every eyelash, every portion of skin you can register.

“Joel, don’t you fucking dare do this,” you whisper. “Don’t—don’t you fucking do this to us, I swear I’m—Joel!”

Then suddenly, a mumble makes your eyes shoot wide open, staring down at the face beneath. Joel opens his eyes, trying to get a hold of the surroundings. Then he stammers your name, and you sigh in relief.

“I thought—what the hell happened?”

“Uh—“

He’s clearly not fully awake yet, so you finally scan the bedroom and notice the empty whiskey bottle on the nightstand, as well as a small plate. Then it dawns on you.

“What did you take?”

“Some—pills. And whiskey.”

“I gathered as much. I meant, what pills did you take?”

Joel rubs his temples. “Dunno. Didn’t ask.”

That’s when you finally lose whatever shred of patience you had. The anger you feel is searing hot and white, and you are unable to control it, seeing as how you swiftly stand up, eager to get as far away from Joel as possible.

“So what was the plan?” you whisper through gritted teeth. “Mix alcohol and pills and just… never wake up?”

Joel barely blinks, avoiding your eyes, and the answer becomes crystal clear. It awakens a rage inside of you that you weren’t even aware you could feel.

“You know what? Fuck you, Miller. Fuck you and your selfish, self-destructive wishes. I don’t need this.”

Joel calls out your name, coarse and yet soft, but you pay no attention.

“I don’t need to be adding your death to my list of concerns!” you snap. “I really don’t! I’ve got enough shit to deal with as it is, and worrying whether you’re still breathing or not is not there, it should not—it shouldn’t be there! So fuck you! Fuck you for making me fall in love with you and then making me worry about you! You and Ellie… how the fuck can you think to do this?!”

“You—you what?”

“How can you think to do such a thing when you’ve got people around you who care about you?! Ellie, Tommy, Maria… me! Fucking—me, loving you day after day, night after night, and never getting easier because—“

Your chest is heaving, filled with heavy breaths. Your eyes are teary and your heart—oh, how it aches at the thought of losing this troubled man. It aches for him, incessantly so, and tonight is nothing if not a testimony to your accidentally spilled feelings.

It is now, in the aftermath of your anger, that you come to acknowledge you haven’t said the L word before, and that this is a huge deal for someone like Joel.

But he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you; you simply stare at each other, hearts breaking and aching for each other simultaneously. You’re the one who decides to break the silence.

“Do what you want, Joel.” There’s defeat in your voice, as well as in your eyes. It breaks Joel too in unexpected ways, but he finds his body too heavy to react properly. He can only look at you regretfully. “I can’t tell you what to do. But I thought…”

You pause simply to catch your breath, only now realizing how hard you’ve been breathing and how much this scenario has been weighing on you.

“I just thought the life we get to start over here in Jackson would provide some sort of comfort,” you finish saying, wiping your cheeks. “I really thought you might be okay, or if you weren’t, that you’d talk to me or Tommy.”

Joel coos your name, struggling to stand from the bed, but you put your hands up in some sort of defense.

“Do what you want, Joel.”

You do feel some form of regret as you exit the house, still crying. Guilt slowly overwhelms you for not asking what was wrong instead of lashing out like that, but the truth of the matter is, you panicked. The thought of losing Joel like that was too much to bear, and seeing him in that awful state, probably drowning in his own thoughts and pain, it was shocking and debilitating.

For both of you, yet in different ways.

You hear your name being called out in the distance, yet you do not turn around. Although you want to see him, to look at him and admire the liveliness in his face, you also don’t want to see the pain residing behind his eyes, the hollowness of them.

“It’s her birthday today.”

You stop, the information sinking in.

“Was,” Joel corrects himself as he approaches you, clearing his throat. “Today was her birthday. Every year, it fucking sucks. I always try to forget, to leave it behind. It never works. I always wake up somehow… and I always remember.”

Your face softens, turning to meet with this face. When you do, you see the devastation smeared all over it, the troubling ache and the desperate need to fix the situation, and you sigh involuntarily. You know Joel used to be a contractor in his former life, and so he’s used to building and fixing with his own hands.

The inability to fix the worst pain of his life must be the most troublesome feeling.

“I’m sorry,” it’s all you can muster. “It must be unbearable.”

“It wasn’t intentional. I just thought I’d… numb myself, and then I’d wake up. Guess I did.”

You fear you sense regret in his voice, but you don’t express your concern. Joel, however, inches even closer and shyly reaches for your hand, lightly stroking the back of your hand.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m ungrateful for the life I have now,” he mumbles apologetically. “You and Tommy and Ellie, and even Maria… you’ve given me a new purpose.”

“I’m sorry I was so harsh. I—I panicked.”

Tears threaten to flood your eyes again and you take a big breath in while Joel holds both your hands now.

“I saw you there unconscious and… I just…”

He pulls you in for a hug, and you finally exhale, buried in his chest.

“I just want you around for as long as possible,” you whisper. “It’s selfish, I know, but—“

“Love is selfish, I guess. That makes me selfish too.”

Eyes widened, you remove yourself from his chest to stare incredulously at him. But Joel’s face no longer seems wrecked—not to that extreme degree, at least. He seems confident in his words, whereas you probably look like you’re doubting everything you’ve ever heard.

“Did you just say—?”

Joel’s lips stretch in the slightest, revealing the beginning of a shy, small smile, and your heart flutters.

“Maybe I should’ve said something sooner,” he coos. “Thought it was obvious.”

You scoff, still unable to believe. “I do,” Joel continues. “I really do. It’s not… easy for me to say, not always. Never thought I’d say the words, ever again, but… here you are.”

“I don’t want you saying anything just because I accidentally said them.”

“Accidentally?”

“Well… I didn’t plan on saying that I love you under these circumstances or that I’d blurt them out like that, but… here you are.”

Joel chuckles, the sound so easygoing and saccharine it weakens your knees.

“That’s okay,” he replies, his mouth curling softly into a smile. “I have a better memory now for this day.”

[kingconia]

If you don't mind, can i request headcannon. Malleus play a mind game on female reader. Like malleus talk about a girl (which didn't even exist) she seem interesting and she also like him back he told reader in hope that reader get jealous and confess her feelings to him. But it backfired and reader was like "oh, congrats..." (Even though she felt hurt inside but decided to act mature and support). So at the end it was mess, as they argue, confess and cuddle...(you can make changes or do yan mal if you feel like. I hope you having a loney day/night)

A/N: I hope you are having a good time! Just as much as I hope that I delivered your idea properly.

•

Malleus Draconia was quite inexperienced when it came to romantic relationships—platonic as well—and that, indeed, was a common fact that everyone could gather simply by speaking with him at least once.

More to say, he was quite nervous about his feelings being mutual. As he wasn't so sure, he decided to ask an advice from people with experience. Some of ideas was ridiculous—Lilia told him to put you on the life and death situation, so, you could be honest with each other, and Azul Ashengrotto suggested him another of his ridiculous contracts—but in the end, Malleus's attention was caught by a quiet curious one.

That is how he found himself here, telling you a deceiving story of a girl, who caught his attention, and stole his heart.

”Oh,” you sighed, when he finished finally. ”From the sound of it, she is perfect.”

”I think the same,” Malleus nodded, determined. ”This woman is very special to me, and I really hope to ask her out soon.”

”Oh,” you repeated once again, tugging your hair slightly. ”That is nice, Malleus. I wish you a good luck.”

And that was it? Shouldn't be you jealous of him?

Malleus had been told—by the same person, who gave him this tip—that if anything helps lovers to be bluntly honest, it would be a simple jealousy. No one could control it, especially, in situation like this.

”Since you are my best friend,” Malleus tried again, ”I came to ask for your approval.”

”Do you want my blessing or something?” You scoffed at him.

”Perhaps, I do.”

Only a indifferent person would be fine with that.

”Oh, Malleus,” you grip his hand tightly, lips curling in smile. ”My only wish for you to be happy. So, of course, go and ask her out.”

He stared at you for a solid minute. Waiting. Waiting for you to show at least some kind of emotion. But it never came. Seemed, like you were really just his friend and nothing more.

Malleus smiled brokenly.

”Thank you, child of man. I appreciate that.”

That was just...

•

”...Unfair!” You tried to sob quieter, but these tries were useless, and so you just hid your face in your knees. ”I... I really thought he likes me, Grim. You know? I thought that we are... I thought he was flirting with me, and I thought my feelings were mutual, but...”

Grim sighed tiredly, pushing even more napkins in your hands.

You tried to be fine and contained about Malleus finding someone to himself—probably another pretty fae, who deserves to be his Queen—but failed miserably.

As soon as he left your company, after gaining some strange blessing from you, you simply stormed out from the Diasomnia dorm, ignoring Lilia's questions completely.

You wanted Malleus to be happy. You really did.

But... Ah, why couldn't he be happy with you?

Why couldn't he be happy with you?

Was it about immortality? Or wasn't you beautiful enough? Not smart? Was it about lacking magic?

You felt hopeless.

”Malleus is so cruel,” you chuckled. ”Asking all of this, making me hear all his lovingly stupid stories, and—”

"Wait, Y/n.”

’Not now, Grim. I just can't understand why he thought it is going to be a good idea.”

”And why it is not?”

You almost answered, but the voice died in your throat as you realised that it was not Grim's voice.

You raised your head slowly, glaring at your panicked little cat first, before turning around completely.

Fuck.

Malleus was standing right behind your couch.

”Oh, come on...”

As if this day couldn't be even worse.

”You know what,” Grim giggled nervously. ”I am out. Goodbye.”

You hissed in your hastily leaving familiar's back. What a traitor.

”So?” Malleus asked, leaning over the couch. ”Why it wasn't a good idea to share something good with you?”

His face wasn't showing any kind of emotions. He seemed slightly curious, and that was it.

Not willing to be hovered over, you stood up slowly.

”I... Malleus, listen...”

You didn't want to sadden him. You really didn't. But, ah...

You didn't want to lie him either. You know Malleus didn't like to be lied.

”I am listening.”

”Because...”

To be or not to be?

”Fine, because I like you, and... And I hate the idea of you, having a girlfriend. Yes, I am petty, yes, I am delusional for thinking that you were into me all this—”

He cut you through suddenly.

”You like me?”

A silence fell upon both of you, as his face turned out in a very confused one. His mouth was slightly open, eyes widened as you said something really confusing.

”...Of course, I do.”

”Why didn't you tell me it earlier?”

What he expected you to do? To play a role of envious wife, who keeps her man to herself solely? Right when he admitted something so important? And what would it change, even?

”What kind of person confesses in the middle of conversation like this?” You asked, genuinely frustrated by his obliviousness.

Malleus blinked.

”A jealous one?”

Was he mocking you?

”Yeah, I am aware of what I am, but I don't need you to be aware of that!”

Your patience finally ended, and you couldn't help but take a pillow from the couch, throwing it on him. Of course, he dodged it easily.

”I don't have anyone,” Malleus said suddenly.

”What—”

”I was taught that a jealousy would make you more honest, and therefore, if my feelings are, they would be returned,” he murmured, and you could feel how actually ashamed he seemed to be.

But even the redness of his cheek, couldn't save him from your rage.

Another pillow was taken, and this time, you hit him with mercilessly, not giving time to dodge that.

”Are you kidding with me?! I thought you don't like me!”

”Child of man, how could I not? I even described your appearance when I spoke about this woman...” Another hit. ”In fact, it was you, who seemed indifferent!”

Three more hits—two across the chest, and another on his face—and you stopped, breathing coming as hissing. Your eyes shut closed, and you threw pillow away, gripping the collar of his shirt, instead.

”Malleus. I really. Really. Like you,” your voice was loud and clear. ”But this idea of confession was just awful.”

You felt him relaxing. His cold hands were put on your cheeks, and his lips moved closer to your ear, brushing the tip of it slightly.

”I apologise, my love. I really do,” you shivered, but only pressed yourself closer to him. ”I must admit, my original plan of confession was completely different. I never planned to play with you like this.”

”Then why you did that?” You sighed, surrendering completely as your arms locked around his waist.

”Just as I said, it was a method that I was taught to.”

You frowned again.

”Who it was?”

”Hm?”

”Whose idea it was, to do this?”

”Oh... I think, it was Kingscholar.”

You gripped Malleus in the hug crushingly. Just as you thought that you calmed down...

”This fucking—”

[backtothefanfiction]

The Dishwasher | tasm!peter imagine

Summery: sure he dresses up in a costume and goes and fights crime in the city, but god forbid your boyfriend actually loads the dishwasher.

A/N: there has been a lot of rage in our house over dishwashers and clean dishes lately.

“PETER PARKER!!! I SWEAR TO GOD, I AM GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FUCKING FACE!”

“What have I done now.” He innocently says as he comes to stand in the kitchen doorway. He’s already in his suit, his mask scrunched up in his hand.

“Uh uh. No.” You say, stepping forward to meet him, a face like thunder. “You have one job,” you say holding your finger up to him, “ONE JOB! In this house. I cook you dinner. I do your laundry for you. I clean the bathroom. Hoover the -entire- apartment. And all I ask in return is for you to do THE FUCKING DISHES BEFORE YOU GO OUT- IN YOUR STUPID SUIT-“

“It’s not stupid-“ he throws out but you cut him off and continue to talk over him.

“It’s one job Peter. ONE JOB. We even got you a fucking dishwasher so you wouldn’t have to spend ages washing up by hand and could go out on patrol sooner. I mean- COME ON!”

“Fine. FINE! I’ll do it!” He says, hands up placating you, just wishing you’d stop shouting at him.

You barely move as he gingerly steps around you, placing his mask on the kitchen side as he begins to reach for the days worth of dirty dishes stacked in the sink.

“Oh my god.” You sigh, your hands flying into your hair exasperatedly. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m loading the dishwasher.” He groans, annoyed at your micro managing.

“Peter, glasses do not go on the bottom!” He grumbles as he begins to move the glass onto the top rack instead. “When you put the glasses on the bottom, all the left over little bits of food on the plates end up sticking to the glasses and they don’t actually get clean.”

“Alright.” He huffs.

You watch as he then reaches for a small saucepan, also placing it onto the top tray. “Woah woah woah! What are you doing?!? Pans go on the bottom. Fuck Pete, no wonder half the glasses and bowls in the cupboard have crap dried to them. Did no one ever teach you how to load a dishwasher properly?”

“No, Aunt May always did the-“

“Nope. Nah uh. Don’t tell me you actually let that saint of a woman do everything for you when you have been more than capable to help out since you were 12 years old.”

He shied away from you guiltily. “She insisted.” He shrugged.

“No. No. That poor woman. Come here. Let me show you how to load a dishwasher properly so that you can do it every time we have dinner at her house for the rest of her life.”

You wish you could say that that was the very last time you nagged Peter about the dishwasher or how he loaded it. But unfortunately things with that man were never that simple. But no matter how hard he struggled with the simple task in his own home, he at least did do it at Aunt May’s house whenever you ate there, for the rest of her life.

[bummie4dummies]

i personally think eddie's decision to take kim on a date makes so much sense for his character. this is a heavily traumatized man who has not properly processed the grief of losing his wife and mother of his child. this is a man who has been seeking to recreate the fantasy family he'd built with christopher and shannon in his mind - even though shannon herself was ready to divorce him before she died. this is a man who wants nothing but a second chance, an opportunity to try again, to make it work, make it better.

and then he sees kim, and his good conscience is clouded by potential. she looks exactly like shannon. she laughs like shannon. she's quick-witted, charismatic, magnetic. she's absolutely gorgeous. she feels so easy and natural to talk to. she isn't shannon, she just feels like shannon - eddie doesn't even know her at all. but to him, she might as well be a carbon copy. she is someone that is so easy for him to project all of his wants and desires onto. she is someone who could be just like shannon, maybe, at least for now. eddie wants to find out for himself.

this is a decision eddie is making purely out of his own wishes, and he is not thinking about it clearly; he is being straight-up delusional. this is one of the first decisions we've ever really seen eddie make that is so blatantly self-serving and selfish, even more so than leaving for the army. this isn't a self-defense mechanism, this is a self-sabotage. some sort of fucked-up penance, or maybe a willing step into purgatory.

for maybe the first time in his life, eddie isn't thinking about anyone else. he esepcially isn't thinking about christopher - imagine what chris would think if he found out his dad's dating a dead ringer for his dead mom (let alone that it's on top of dating marisol)? even if eddie's somehow justifying it in his mind - maybe chris would be happy about it too - he knows this is a terrible choice and he's doing it anyway.

he is desperate to recreate what he thinks he could've had with shannon, he is very much hurting and still in deep mourning, and he is still not being honest with himself about what he truly wants or needs to be happy with himself. he's also realizing that whatever he wants, it probably isn't with marisol. but instead of breaking up with her, he's making the choice to complicate things for himself even further. it feels like some sort of subconscious self-flagellation. very ex-catholic of him.

it's so interesting that eddie is doing this without considering the true repercussions. he is blinded by the fact that he has a chance to date 'shannon' again and isn't thinking about literally anything else. it's going to cause suuuch a mess and i am so excited to watch how everything unfolds. i think eddie needs a bit of a reckoning to be able to get fully real with himself, and i really hope this is the first domino that tips to knock over his entire carefully-constructed illusions, the streak of sun that burns through the clouds in his mind so he can find some meaningful clarity.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Anytime | Kensei Muguruma x Reader |

author's note: this hurt a little bit to write lmao and i apologize in advance if it hurts you too

pairing: kensei muguruma x fem!reader

warnings: reader and kensei are divorced, a little bit of angst and jealousy

"I'm on my way."

It rings in your head, over and over, as you sit on the side of the road and wait for your ex-husband to come save you. Stomach a pit and each and every nerve wired and frayed, tears nearly brim in your eyes at the anticipation of his arrival. Being stuck on the side of a road you're sure hasn't seen a single driver on it in at least a week is one thing, and it's another when you've got three flats and an ex-husband with a hefty I told you so locked and loaded.

Your divorce with Kensei was finalized over two years ago, but the sad fact remains that he's the most important person in your life, and vice versa— which is why you informed him of this last-minute road trip, only to be warned against it.

"I don't think your car can handle that trip. Put it off until I can make sure everything is functioning properly."

And like a fool, you neglected to take it seriously and off you went to the festival. Perhaps it's why you had as great of a time as you did— karma was evidently waiting with a dish best served cold.

Your heart jumps at the sight of a black Silverado truck pulling up. He hates that damn truck, much preferring his fuel-efficient Elantra, but you've left him with no choice today. You're so distraught you can't even take much time to appreciate those long legs of his as he steps out of the truck; sometimes you wonder how you could be divorced from the most handsome man you've ever known.

Dressed in jeans with the platinum chain you'd gotten him many moons ago attached, boots and a black button down shirt, your gut tells you he was busy when you called. Looking so fine… He was on a date, wasn't he?

It burns.

With a resounding sigh, you meet him in the halfway distance between your cars. Kensei's never been particularly talkative and mouthy unless angry, and though there's certainly some simmering beneath the surface, he's calmer than you initially expected. He passes you a bottle of water and a protein bar before going to inspect the damage, subsequently sighing and rubbing his temples with his long fingers. "I'm amazed that your luck is so shit that you only got three flats so your goddamn insurance wouldn't cover it."

"I'm still trying to figure out how I only got three."

"Divine intervention." Kensei mutters bitterly and starts to roll up his sleeves past the delicious forearms that once would hold you up against the inferno that is the rest of his body at night. "When's the last time you even got these rotated, let alone changed?"

"I don't even know what having them rotated means."

Kensei sucks in a sharp, irritated breath and steels himself; it'll do no good to get upset this early into the project. He just… Wishes you fucking listened to him. About anything, at this point. "New rule. Get it done every time you get an oil change." And thank God your car is one that will bug the hell out of you about your service interval— he doesn't want to consider what your oil and other fluids would be like otherwise.

"Okay." You mumble and crack open the water, taking a long pull from the cold drink. It's refreshing and perfect, pulling your spirits up just a tad as you start to feel a little bit better physically.

"Eat that protein bar." Your ex-husband demands, heading for the bed of his truck and lowering the tailgate. He's got everything he needs for the swap— including time. "I know you, you little shit. You're running on a refresher from six hours ago and had a hearty helping of hopes and dreams to eat, didn't you?"

You scowl as you chew the protein bar. It's terrible, like every protein bar you've ever tried, but at least he got one that doesn't make you want to vomit. "I didn't call you here so you could lay into me about my eating habits."

Kensei's brown eyes cut to you as he lowers a tire to the ground. "You rather me go off about the rest of the shit you got yourself into now, then? 'Cause I was saving it for later."

Rolling your eyes, you look away from the man you married six years ago. He huffs and resumes himself, setting up a workstation and prepping your car to start swapping the new tires on. You find a spot nearby him, settling down onto the lawn chair you took to the festival as he begins cracking off lugnuts. Sparing a glance your way, Kensei feels a bit of a tug at his heart despite his rage. You may be his ex-wife, but you've never been bad to him a day in his life. "How long did you sit here before you called me?"

"About two hours." You sigh, finishing the water after forcing the protein bar down. "I tried to get my insurance to help me. They wanted to charge even more because it's a Sunday and I just don't have the money for all that. I considered just camping out for a night and having them come out tomorrow, but…"

Kensei shakes his head. He was waiting for your call or text announcing you were back home; that plan would never fly as long as he's in your life. "We gotta get you a new insurance policy, babe. You're done paying for one that would leave a woman stranded like that."

"Yes sir."

Silence settles in for a while as you watch Kensei work. A light bead of sweat trickles from his temple to his neck, and then he tosses his tools down to carefully slip the buttons open and take off his shirt. If it's somehow possible, his biceps are bigger than they used to be. Leaving himself in a white tank top, he tosses the shirt your way. "Keep that clean for me, yeah?"

"Mhm." You slip into the oversized shirt, his handsome smelling cologne flooding your senses. He's not slick at all; it's chilly out in this wasteland, and rather than simply ask if you're cold, he'd rather ensure you won't be.

His unstoppable air of authority wraps you up, even now.

"Were you busy?" Tumbles out of your mouth after the beat of silence lasts too long. He's finished one tire already and it's really hit you how much you relied on him during your marriage.

It's no wonder he didn't fight to salvage it.

"No." He lies through his teeth and it's easy. Just a little too easy.

It's no wonder you served him divorce papers.

Huffing softly, your brow draws together. "Yeah, right. You got dressed all nice just to come bail me out? Bullshit. I'm smarter than you give me credit for, Ken."

"And yet, you went on this trip without getting your car checked out." Kensei snaps right back, irritation creeping up and warming his neck and ears. "If you didn't wanna wait for me, fine! Why not take it to Abarai's place?" He's got a point— You've known Renji for years now, and he'd always make time for a friend, his business needs be damned. He'd have it done in a day, easy.

Still, the embarrassment of being scolded like this lights your temper. "I told you, Ken, this trip was not planned. I had a friend up north mention the festival and we decided to go to it and meet up."

"Even if I accept that answer, which I don't, there's no reason for you to let your car get this bad! I don't even wanna look under the hood! Why do I always have to take care of your shit for you?? Time and time again, you fuck up and then you call me to bail you out!"

Your eyes widen with a series of blinks. He doesn't sound pissed as much as he's simply… Tired. Upset. Kensei being angry or frustrated is not foreign to you— on his surface, it's the only emotion he knows. But as his wife, you saw the softer side of his feelings. He does get sad, he does cry and he does have bad days like anyone else. And as you take in his tirade… The realization hits that those glimpses of his belly showing were almost entirely gone by the time of your separation.

That marriage was already doomed by the time you attempted to save it. Serving the papers to him wasn't supposed to do anything but show his true colors— he'd fight for you, or he'd give up. And Kensei chose the latter.

"Ken." You murmur carefully. "What were you doing when I called you?"

Kensei throws the tools down, rubbing his hands over his face. "I was on a date."

You'd rather have been left on the road to die than hear him say those words to you. The sinking feeling in your stomach threatens to send that protein bar back up just at the thought of him sitting at a restaurant with another woman, treating her in the same ways he'd treated you way back when. Kensei dating isn't unusual, per se. He's a single man, attractive and still quite young…

But he's yours.

"And you came for me?"

Kensei's hands drop to his lap. "For better or worse, babe: that's the promise I made you."

"The wedding vows don't particularly mean shit after the divorce." Tears of shock and hurt fill your eyes, though you refuse to blink and let them fall. He will not make you cry again, ever, but… The turn of your head to look away from him sure does accidentally force them out.

Kensei drops his head— he hates it when you cry, and hates himself for being the reason. He should've just lied again, brushed it off and moved onto the next flat. It wouldn't have worked though; the guilt he shoulders when he lies to you eats him alive, and it triples due to the look on your face when he does lie. You know he's not telling the truth, every time he tries it.

"I don't know why you think I'm the type of man to leave any woman stranded, much less you. You're the exception to every rule I have, always have been."

Your lip wobbles. It's true, you've always been the one to break Kensei's rules. He said he didn't date coworkers. But he dated you. He said he wasn't after a serious relationship. He married you. He said you shouldn't see each other after the divorce. Yet, he was calling and asking how you were doing not even a week later.

He's always loved you.

It's quiet for a while, and eventually Kensei gets back to the entire reason he's here. Clouds are rolling in, and he'll be damned if he gets caught in the middle of a rainstorm right now. His chest cavity feels empty and he wants nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep these horrible feelings away.

"Why?" You ask after a while, your few tears mostly faded now.

Stop, stop, stop! Stop asking questions, stop crying over your ex-husband moving on!!

"Why what?" Kensei mutters as he torques the lugnuts on the second tire.

You sigh to yourself, a beat of silence taking over again. Kensei's amber eyes flick over to you, snuggled into his shirt and avoiding his gaze as you curl into your chair. You're at war with yourself, that mental battle clear as day on what he can see of your face. His heartstrings tug, and next thing he knows he's wiping his hands and kneeling in front of you, cupping your cheek in his hand so you'll look at him.

His thumb swipes away a small tear. "Babe. Talk to me. You're not gonna feel better otherwise."

Your chest heaves at his touch, at his sincere eyes and warmth that keeps you so in love with him even now as a shudder wracks your entire body. "You keep your promises to me. You're always there when I need you. But why didn't you fight for our marriage?"

Kensei's silver brows raise before knitting together. "You wanted to leave. I wouldn't force you to stay if you weren't happy."

"I wanted you to care! I wanted my husband to tell me he still loved me and that we could work it out, but you didn't! You let me leave without so much as asking why!"

Kensei withdraws his hand. "Of course I cared! Does this—" He gestures back to your car. "Look like I don't care?? You had my whole heart in your palm, and you broke it! But I still come for you! All I want is for you to be safe and happy, and if it's not with me, so be it! You matter more to me than I ever have!"

"I've never wanted anybody else." Your eyes burn with fresh tears. You've never so much as entertained another guy for a potential date, let alone go out with someone after the divorce. There's nothing but your love for Kensei stopping you, but foolishly you hoped he would do the same; how unrealistic and unfair of you.

How many dates has he been on with this woman? Has he kissed her yet? The entire idea makes you want to scream and cry and cuss an innocent woman out for banging your husband. Ex or not, he's still so much of your heart that to lose him would ruin you.

"Then why divorce me?" He murmurs, standing and stepping back. The clouds are darkening, and he feels a hefty drop on his shoulder. "Why put me through a divorce if you wanted to stay together?!"

Anger boils inside your stomach, blood churning at an incredible pace as you rocket out of the lawn chair and fill the space he's created between you. "Why not fight?! If you love me as much as you keep saying, why didn't you fucking try?!"

"I already told you!" Kensei yells right back. "You wanted to go! So I let you go, because it's what you fucking said you wanted! You ended our marriage over a goddamn test, like the six years we spent together were some kinda fucking joke to you. You can't accuse me of not caring when you ended a four year marriage over petty shit!"

"I gave you a choice, Ken! I served the papers, but you signed them." You poke his chest harshly as two raindrops bounce against your forehead.

"I'm not having this argument with you; the shit's been said and done with for almost three years." Kensei turns his back to you as the rain starts a steady fall to swap out the last tire and get the hell away from you.

"Is she pretty?" It's beyond petty, so stupid and childish but you've got to know. If he likes this woman, or God forbid loves her, you'll never call him again. You'll die cold and alone before even considering reaching out to him, as an ex-wife to an ex-husband should.

Kensei stops in his tracks. "Yeah."

"Do you love her?"

"Never."

"Why?"

Kensei looks up at the sky, the gray clouds swirling as the rain descends. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and it's the same as always every time he's left to gaze at the back of his eyelids— you and him on the night of your wedding, laying together in bed and giggling like teenagers at the prospect of your happy life together starting.

He turns, white tank top half soaked as he comes back to you and holds your face like porcelain. This beautiful face drives me crazy… "Nobody's ever gonna be able to be you."

You whimper and a fresh set of tears mixes in with the rain as Kensei leans down and kisses you, his passion so pent up that he's picking you up and pressing you to his truck before you can make heads or tails of anything. His shirt is swiftly bunched into your hand as the surprise subsides and the gratification fills you to the brim, your lips and tongue sliding with Kensei's in a messy reunification. Too long, it's been too long since you had this, since you felt his warmth on you and reveled in it.

His silver hair is silky between your fingers and he groans as you massage his scalp with your nails. He's always been a bit like a cat in that sense. Your legs around him and his arms around you tighten as you urge your bodies closer, leaving no room for even Jesus now. The rain pours around you, leaving you drenched by the time you've got no choice but to pull back, lest you die making out with your ex-husband.

All in all, not the worst way to go.

Kensei kisses your cheek gently, his lips lingering as he maneuvers to open the door to the passenger seat and shield you from the onslaught of rain. Peppering small kisses while he wipes the rain from your face, he turns the truck on and sets the heater up to keep you from getting sick.

He strips himself of his tank top once he's left you safely in the truck, tossing it in the truck bed before running to finish up the last tire change with this lucky break in the rain. Your fingers come to touch your tingling, smiling lips and you close your eyes as the space of Kensei's truck encompasses you.

By the time Kensei's back, his tools and your old tires all loaded up, you're beyond sleepy. Scooping you into his arms, your husband walks slowly and kisses your temple as he carries you to your car. "C'mon. Time to go home."

You steal a kiss off his lips, and by the time you're back in town, you weigh every option as you sit at a red light behind Kensei. Taking the next turn leads you home, but going straight will bring you right to Kensei's apartment building.

The light turns green.

[lastoneout]

Okay I'm finally sitting down to properly watch the PJO series so here's an episode-by-episode live blog I guess. (Fair warning, I haven't read the books since I was a teenager, I am a smidge of an apologist for the films, and my favorite adaptation so far has been the musical.)

Episode One:

All of the actors are doing a really good job, I especially like Sally.

The costume design for both the monsters and the humans is pretty killer. I want Percy's sweater.

I also love the little seaside cabin and want to live there!!!

This is such a mild gripe BUT as someone with dyslexia I wish there was a better way to visually depict it without like, doing the swapping letters thing cuz that's just not what it's actually like at all.

Gabe maybe feels a little too funny. Like I'm supposed to hate him and think it's justified that he deserves to be turned into stone at the end, this version of him is really.....toned down, and his banter with Percy and Sally was fun to watch. I should hate him, but really he just came across as unpleasant. Less abusive asshole and more "old married couple who share interests but can't communicate without shouting" you know?

Loved Grover's little "I'm 24 actually" lmao that was great.

Not a fan of Percy immediately recognizing the Minotaur within a millisecond of it appearing before the audience even got a good look at it. Like, I just sat there thinking "how can he even see it?" rather than feeling scared of a big monster barreling at them.

The action is uh....fine? Feels a little lackluster. Or kinda....divorced from the rest of the show weirdly?? Idk it makes me feel like I'm watching a movie of a movie if that makes sense?? But we'll see where they go with it. (I know banter during a fight isn't realistic and people make fun of Marvel for it, but like...it helps to have at least a little talking. We don't wanna be Man of Steel.)

I feel like there's been a few "slightly out of sync ADR" moments but they weren't too distracting.

Pacing into Sally saying goodbye felt a little long, kinda took the shock of her dying out of the scene, but the actress REALLY sold all the emotional beats so I'll forgive it.

I LOVE the credits sequence!!! Reminds me of the designs on that one box set of the books in a really cool way.

Episode Two:

Oh yes the ugly ass neon orange shirts are here bless!

FUCK YES THAT'S DIONYSUS BAYBEEE!! My ONLY note is that he def could have turned up the energy a little, but that's probably just bcs I love how loud and unpleasant he is in the musical and I also know how unhinged this actor can be.

Chiron is such a delight <3

I like the cabins too, way better than how I imagined them as a kid reading the books lol

Oh, I can see why the new fans fell for Luke so hard.

Grover assuming a human being squished would be like an old banana is very funny. Felt very book-humor in a good way.

Clarisse!!

Oh damn actual disabled half-bloods, very cool!

Minor but I can't actually tell what Percy did wrong with the bow? Weird editing I guess.

Aside from that I actually love a good "fuck up" montage, I honestly wish it were a little longer.

Probably doesn't matter but I don't get having them burn the food after they've started eating? I thought that was a before you sit down type thing.

Percy burning the blue candy to try to talk to his mom was sweet tho T_T

"real friends" hahahaha.....yeah.......about Luke.......

yay! hazing!

Oh I love Annabeth already >:D

Thalia.....is pronounced differently than I thought....?

(I'm sorry I'm too much of a fan of 'Tree on the Hill' for this exposition dump. That shit hits harder when coming from Grover.)

Percy giving Annabeth the "actually I suck and my self esteem is riding on this so like pls don't ask me to do anything hard T_T" talk is just, so good lmao

ofc he doesn't know what's going on Annabeth you didn't tell him anything

Okay the action is a lot better when it's between the actual characters and doesn't involve a 3D monster, though I still had trouble following all the hits Percy was taking.

Oooh I can see why people did so much art of Percy being claimed that was a good shot.

FUCK YEAH TELL HIM YOU'RE SALLY JACKSON'S SON

(I hope they kept the Oracle in the attic...)

Okay I have to go do some things and then I'll be back for more!

[suzdin]

Jackson: Redemption (Part Two)

(Joel Miller x female reader)

Summary: The conclusion to part one here.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mean Joel, dom Joel, smut, edging, spitting, rough sex, mentions of weapons, unprotected sex, mentions of loss

——

Joel is back to ignoring you. And truth be told, it hurts.

Hurts a lot.

You had a pleasant enough dinner that night, after he’d fucked you, sitting with not only the two of them, but Tommy and Maria as well. It was nice to not sit alone. It was so nice, you looked forward to it again at breakfast the next day.

Only, it didn’t happen.

You sat with Ellie, Tommy and Maria, sure. But Joel wasn’t there. And he hadn’t been to a meal in the mess hall for days.

At least he didn’t seem to hate you any more. He no longer glowered at you when you saw him, didn’t make a point to make you feel uncomfortable in his wake. Didn’t fret over you talking to Ellie anymore, either. In fact, you were almost sure he appeared sad in the off chance you saw him looking at you.

But you wish he would go back to hating your guts because that was at least better than…whatever the fuck this was.

So you go on with your life. Taking care of the horses, feeding them daily, cleaning their stalls, working them so they don’t grow restless when they aren’t being ridden. Helping out in the kitchen a couple days a week.

Patricia, a rugged older widow from Montana whom you admire, shows you how to butcher a deer the day one of the scouting parties drags a massive, 8-point buck back to Jackson. It’s as gross as it is fascinating to you, Patricia’s worn hands expertly breaking down the still-warm animal as she discusses all the parts and techniques. You mentally log everything for later, should you ever need it.

You have venison and cornbread for dinner that night and it’s fantastic. You gab on about town life with everyone, since they’ve finally started to accept you. To trust you. It feels nice, but…

It’s empty without Joel. He has a way of filling a room with his presence alone.

You’re pretty sure Tommy and Maria know. Pretty sure they could tell that night when you’d come to dinner, the way you were both so mussed and flustered, Joel wiping the blood from his face instead of cleaning himself up properly like he normally would have. The way you’d smelled of each other.

Maria has tried to talk to you about it a few times. “Are you okay?” she’d asked. “Is something going on between the two of you?”

“Nothing is going on,” you responded, and it’s the truth. Because nothing is going on. He hasn’t wanted to be near you in days.

It doesn’t surprise you when Ellie also clues in that something is off. She’s too smart not to. She’s the only person who can really read Joel, aside from maybe Tommy. She’s taken up Joel’s place for glaring knives into you, but it’s less intimidating when she does it, because she isn’t a big and burly emotionless wall of muscle.

“You remember what you told me?” she’d asked you. “‘Bout that girl I like? You said, ‘Don’t be afraid to say hi. Just go talk to her.’ But you’re over here pussin’ out about talking to my dad when I know you want to! What the fuck?”

“It’s more complicated than that, kiddo,” you’d told her. But was it?

You start having nightmares about your grandparents again. They had stopped for a while. A stress response to everything you’ve been going through with Joel, no doubt. Not that you’re going through anything…the man has made it obvious he doesn’t want you.

So you whittle down the days, doing the best you can to keep your head up, to keep moving.

Because it’s all you can do.

——

Late night. Most everyone in town is settled in their homes or sleeping, except for you and a few other stragglers, as well as night patrol. You know Joel has been on night duty lately—probably took it up to skirt you as much as possible.

You’re sat at the bar and you’ve been nursing a glass of twenty year old wine for the last half hour, rolling the stem of the glass between your forefinger and thumb. You’ve already finished off half the bottle by yourself so it isn’t as though you aren’t already wasted.

It’s red wine which isn’t really your thing, but it’s the only option available other than whiskey, which most definitely isn’t your thing.

It’s quiet in here and you welcome the silence. There’s a low whine of wind outside and the hum of the ice machine, but everything else is serene. You close your eyes. Your head swims from the alcohol.

That’s when a familiar and haunting sound breaks the otherwise stillness of the bar: boots scraping against earth and then wood, the heaviness of the footfalls an unequivocal tell of who they belong to.

Your blood stills. You don’t turn around, hoping that if you make no sound or movement, he’ll be on his way. Like a T-Rex.

You listen as the boots slow and then stop in the doorway behind you, and you purse your lips into a hard line.

Here we fucking go.

“Hey.” Baritone, dripping with that sweet caramel southern charm.

You turn and press the small of your back against the bar, elbows propped up on the wood. You see Joel standing in the dark, dressed in jeans and a light blue shirt that barely fits his wide shoulders with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark hair disheveled.

He looks fucking good, but you’re still livid with him for ignoring you. You need to steady your resolve—gain the upper hand.

“Hey,” you say in a monotone drawl in response, downing the remainder of your glass of wine in one swallow.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Joel says, taking a few tentative steps toward you.

He stops under the lights, casting him in enough shadow to deepen the lines of his face. His brows are drawn upwards into an empathetic countenance, his eyes large and glossy, lending him a wounded puppy appearance.

It’s almost enough to break you. Almost.

“Why? You think I’m an alcoholic?” you laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

He hesitates. “‘Course not. Just see you here a lot, s’all.” His voice is cool and even. Almost soft.

He gives you a once over that makes you swallow. You’re dressed not dissimilarly to Joel, or to anyone else in town for that matter, since you all share the same work loads. You’re wearing dark blue jeans that hug your curves, a light green scoop neck tee that shows the slightest hint of cleavage, and weathered dark brown cowboy boots.

“I just wanted to say—“ he starts, but you whip a hand up to cut him off. Surprisingly, it works, when he stops and looks at you.

“Don’t,” you clip.

“Look,” he continues after a moment. “I’m—“

“Joel, there’s nothing that needs to be said. Because this…” You waggle a finger between the two of you. “This is nothing.” It sounds a lot meaner than you intend it to, but you’re still hurt and you never handled your alcohol well. Especially when you’ve downed half a bottle of it.

He recoils almost like you’ve injured him. “You think this is nothing?” he asks in an accusatory tone, placing his hands on his hips.

“Isn’t it? I mean, you’ve made that abundantly clear, yeah?” you question. You can feel your cheeks heat, but you feel surprisingly brazen, even under the hungering stare he’s currently pinning you with.

He says nothing, but takes another couple of steps forward. You’re so close to breaking—so close—as you imagine him bending you over and ripping your pants down, taking you here right up against the bar. The alcohol coupled with the sight of the surly man in front of you is enough to make your cunt clench tight at the thought.

But you’re angry and hurt and you want him to hurt too. So you hold up your hand again. You know if he actually reaches you, you’d never be able to control yourself; part of you hopes he won’t listen.

But he does. He stops, his arms swinging pendulously at his sides as he comes to an abrupt halt. His countenance twisting into a sneer.

“Fine,” he tuts in that dark, gravelly drawl. “‘F that’s what ya want, then so be it.” You see something in the lines of his face that resembles pain, and then he turns.

He balls his hands into fists and leaves you there, stalking out of the room like some twisted, angry thing, in so few strides that for a few moments you can’t actually believe that he’s there one instant and gone the next.

“Joel! Wait!” you call out, but it’s too late. He’s already gone—or maybe he’s lost interest.

And then you feel empty. Sad. Full of regret for lashing out, thinking maybe you’ve just ruined the only chance you had with Joel Miller. That maybe you should just leave Jackson and go find an abandoned cabin in the mountains and eke out some kind of existence on your own there, away from him.

You think that maybe that’s the right thing to do since being in such close proximity to Joel but not able to have him is madness and you’ve only made it worse.

You re-cork the wine bottle and leave it behind the bar for someone else to finish off, and you make a vow to never drink again.

——

A few more days go by, and Joel has reverted to his usual angry, sullen self. The Joel that hates you and by the way he looks at you, you guess still wants to kill you.

Yeah, that Joel.

You’re okay with it because at least it brings a sense of normalcy to your life, but the more it drags out, the more you begin to seriously consider leaving Jackson for good.

Would they let you? You hadn’t left the walls since you’d been filtered in, and hadn’t really shown any interest in doing so…until now.

It’s currently early morning. The sun isn’t even above the mountains yet, the air still sharp and chilly. You’re dressed unceremoniously in a black hoodie, light colored blue jeans and the same cowboy boots you always wear, because you’re on your way to start taking care of the horses with the help of Chen today.

You get to the stables and greet Chen, who has already begun shoveling hay into a wheel barrow to distribute around to the herd. Chen is about your age and decidedly handsome, and you think he might like you, but you aren’t too sure.

You’ve flirted casually with him and even thought about asking him out, to get your mind on someone other than Joel, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to actually do it.

“Hey,” he greets back. “Rats got into the grain again—we need to do something about that,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll talk to Maria or Tommy about it after we’re done today.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name alone, you hear a familiar voice chime from behind you. You jump.

“I’ll have Tommy put down poison again,” Maria says.

You turn to face Maria, who’s smiling the same bright smile she uses when she expects something of you, causing your skin to creep with worry. She says hello to Chen and then turns back to you.

“You’re needed elsewhere,” she says to you. “Patricia will help Chen out today.”

Your eyebrows lift, but you don’t question it. They normally tell you ahead of time when you aren’t doing stables, so it catches you a bit off guard, but you’re okay with that. Anything that gives you a break from routine.

“Pick out two horses and get them saddled up,” she says. “You’re going on patrol today.”

This time you do question things because you’ve never been sent out on patrol—much less beyond the walls—before. That usually wasn’t your thing.

“Patrol? With who?”

She only smiles. You know exactly who.

“Maria! No!” you protest.

“Chen, can you excuse us for a few minutes? Girl talk,” Maria says. He nods and exits the stables.

Once he’s out of earshot, she turns back to you. “You have to. Tommy’s under the weather today. Flu, I think.”

“Maria, there has to be someone else. Surely there’s someone else?” you question in earnest.

“Maybe. But Tommy and I think you two should spend the day together. You know. To chat.” She smiles innocently. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Joel hates my guts. You know that, right?”

“No, actually, because he doesn’t. I don’t know Joel the way Tommy or Ellie does, but I’ve come to know him well enough to see that when he’s angry and broody, it’s because he’s trying not to feel anything at all. And he’s been…weird, since the two of you came to dinner together the other night,” she says. “You’ve been weird, too.”

You laugh. “I’ve been weird?” you ask.

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve been distant. Distracted. Something on your mind?” she accuses.

No. Nope. Only a fifty six year old man who fucked you senseless and you’re pretty sure you already have feelings for. That’s all.

“Not really,” you answer.

“Right,” she replies, completely unconvinced. “Well, you’re still going on patrol today. Final decision.”

The barn suddenly grows a little darker and you look up to see Joel, the whole expansive frame of him blotting out what little bit of light has managed to spill in. He leans one arm on the doorframe and his eyes sweep over you, slowly.

You can’t help the way your heart skips when you see him.

——

Joel seems as nonplussed about the arrangement as you are.

It surprises you when he doesn’t put up much of a fight about it; however, he often tends to cow when it comes to Tommy’s orders, and by extension, Maria’s.

You’ve been riding in complete and utter silence for about an hour. The sun is peaking over the mountains now, warming the morning and you’ve already shucked off your hoodie, draping it across the neck of your horse. Joel’s eyes stare straight ahead, unmoving, as you remove the bothersome article of clothing.

You steal glimpses of him when you think he isn’t paying attention. He’s also discarded his black and gray flannel overshirt, leaving his torso adorned in only a snug fitting, dark gray tee.

Said shirt beautifully accentuates the curve of muscles beneath the threadbare fabric, and his arms…you don’t think you’ve seen them before, but his biceps are enormous and unbelievably toned for a man of his age. You squirm when you imagine them wrapping around you; pinning you.

He’s wearing black jeans that somehow grip the tree trunks he has for thighs like they’re hanging on for dear life, and on his feet are the same dark brown Elk Tracker boots he always has on. His hair is unbrushed as usual.

He had picked Amarillo, a handsome buckskin quarter horse; the same one he always takes on runs. You had to admit the two of them shared a bond, the young gelding often listening to Joel better than anyone else.

It annoyed you that a horse held more of a place in Joel’s heart than you did.

For yourself, you had taken out Dakota, a lovely and gentle appaloosa mare whom you’d ridden around town a few times. She snorts as she takes in the surroundings, her ears flicking this way and that as she listens to the songs of the early morning birds.

You grow sick of the silence after a while, so of course you’re the one to break it first. You’ve never been one to be super chatty, but Joel takes not talking like it’s some kind of religious vow.

He could probably go the rest of his life without speaking. You, on the other hand, need to be assured of things on occasion, so you speak up.

“So, what do we do on these patrols?” you ask him. He shoots you a look like you’re stupid, and you probably are, his eyebrows pinching together and his lips parting slightly.

“We patrol,” he answers flatly.

“That’s it? We just ride around all day?” you ask. He shoots you another look and sighs.

“We look for anythin’ that might be out of the ordinary. Signs’a life or tracks. Shoot anyone who seems like a threat,” he expounds.

“How often does that happen?” you ask.

“How often does what happen?”

“Shooting people.”

“Not often. Usually don’t see anyone ‘t’all.”

You recall the night he had returned to town covered in blood. Someone else’s blood. Your fingers curl into the reins, trying to shake the image—and associated feelings—from your mind. Not the time or the place.

You nod and ‘mmm’ softly in confirmation. His eyes return to the trail and you glance at the rifle slung across his torso.

“I don’t have a gun,” you say, as if it’s some big proclamation.

He looks at you again.

“Ain’t givin’ you a gun,” he says. “Said yourself you’re a shit shot.”

“Then how am I supposed to shoot people?” you ask. You’re just trying to get under his skin at this point.

“I’ll shoot ‘em,” he replies.

You hold a hand up in mock defeat. “Ooookay,” you say.

He glares at you. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he chides. “Should cut you loose.”

You know he’s being facetious—at least you think he is—but it doesn’t prevent the words from stinging deep in your gut when you hear them coming from Joel’s mouth. The same way your words most likely did to him a few nights before.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you remark. He tilts an eyebrow.

“Thinkin’ about what?” he asks, incredulous.

“Leaving,” you answer, intentionally keeping your response vague. He scoffs.

“You wouldn’t last the first winter on your own,” he replies. “Or even the first month. Can’t shoot, can’t hunt.”

You hate to admit it, but he’s right. You were young when outbreak happened, barely a teenager, and your grandparents coddled you; shielded you from the darkness the world had become.

Your grandfather did all of the hunting and gathering while your grandmother tended the garden, so you learned very little about survival during those formative years in the cabin. You had probably learned more in Jackson than you ever had with them.

Although they weren’t good men, you had been lucky at the time to be taken under the wing of the group who’d found you hapless and wandering the roads in Colorado, half-starved and dehydrated. You didn’t mind that they used your body. You welcomed it, in fact, because it meant you earned their protection, though you always knew they weren’t good people by any stretch of the imagination.

In spite of yourself, you decide to postulate with Joel anyway. “I would be just fine on my own,” you assert.

He smiles—like, actually smiles—to that. The first time you’ve ever seen anything from him that was more than just a sarcastic smirk. “Sure,” he drawls.

You’re trying to think of a good comeback when he pulls back on Amarillo’s reins. “Whoa, boy.” His dark brown eyes fix on a patch of soft, pock-marked mud.

You also stop Dakota, who shakes her head and lowers her muzzle to the earth, munching on the fresh spring grass.

“What?” you ask, oblivious. Joel points to what he’s seeing before dismounting to get a better look.

You dismount as well when you see it. There are three sets of similar tracks, the first being heavy and deep; the other two are barely visible, hardly heavy enough to make an indent in the mud at all. Round and fat, with with four corresponding digits on each track.

“Puma?” you ask. Joel nods.

“Looks that way,” he answers, and there isn’t a hint of snarkiness to his tone this time. “Mama and two babies, by the looks of it.”

“Awww,” you can’t help but say. He looks at you and raises his eyebrows, causing his forehead to crinkle in an endearingly adorable manner.

“Ain’t cute,” he grunts. “This is a problem. This is the closest set of puma tracks we’ve found t’town.” He runs a finger along the inner wall of one of the mother cat’s prints. “Fresh tracks, too. Probably from last night.” He scans the area for any signs you’re being watched, particularly the trees.

“She’s just trying to live, like the rest of us,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“She’s a potential threat. Babies too, when they’re grown. To the horses, the livestock—us,” Joel retorts. “You think those walls can stop a puma?” he asks.

You shrug.

“Well, they can’t. She gets any closer, she’ll need t’be dealt with,” he says.

“That’s kinda fucked,” you say. He smirks—dry and mirthless—and shakes his head.

“I change my mind. You wouldn’t last a week on your own with that kinda mindset,” he says. “Don’t know how you survived this long already.”

Your chest swells with anger, but you have to admit that, once again, he’s right. You had only been on the road three days when those men found you, and you’d been lucky to find a fresh stream to drink from until then, which you’d stumbled upon by happenstance rather than skill.

Though you don’t know it yet, Joel admires your softness—your naïveté—for what it is. It had been a while since he’d known someone like you and it made him miss the old days. He wants to protect you. To teach you. He won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want you to leave, either. He thinks, if you left, he’d probably have to leave with you, if nothing else but to ensure your survival.

He stares down at you with a mixture of longing and annoyance in his eyes. All you happen to notice is the latter.

“Exactly. I have survived all these years. There’s a reason for that,” you say.

Yeah. Your grandparents. Those men. Tommy and Maria.

“‘F you say so,” he responds, rolling his eyes. That lights a fire in your belly and your skin heats at how flippant he’s being.

“Fuck off,” you snarl.

He laughs, pleased with himself that he’s managed to get under your skin finally, and the satisfaction of it goes straight to his cock. He wants to push your buttons a little more to see just how much he can get you worked up.

What he doesn’t know is that you also want to get under his skin even more than you already have. You aren’t sure how, since he’s seemed to trap you with his words, but you’ll figure something out.

He turns to clamber back up his horse and you see your opportunity. It’s childish. It’s stupid. It will most definitely piss him off, which is what you want. But you need to regain control, and swiftly.

He lifts his arms to grab the saddle horn in order to propel himself upwards, and in doing so, exposes about an inch of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans. You need to act fast, before he’s actually on the horse, lest he hurt himself—or you—in the process.

You slip your fingers under his shirt and skate your finger tips up his spine. His skin is surprisingly soft to the touch, and you want to hold them there in reverence of the warm, silken flesh, but he obviously doesn’t give you the opportunity.

He reacts like a spooked animal—which is not too far off once you stop to think about it—startling the horses in the process. He grabs your arm and twists you against him, pulling you close, contorting his lips into a gnarled sneer.

“Just what the hell you think you’re doin’?” he snarls in your face.

You should be satisfied with your victory since this is exactly how you wanted him to react, but you still feel a ripple of fear go through your chest, your breath hitching in your rib cage. His brow furrows into a dark line, his lips stretched thin in a frown.

“Well?” he asks, and his grasp on your arm loosens, but he pulls you closer with his other hand at the small of your back. “Manage t’finally shut you up?”

You shouldn’t be so turned on by this, but your core is rife with heat and your underwear already on the verge of soaking. What you don’t know is that Joel has been half hard in his jeans most of the morning, staring at the back of your head whenever you happen to glance away, thinking about that night.

That one night.

But he’s also been thinking about the night when he found you in the bar, and subsequently the pain you’d caused him by pushing him away. He was there to apologize, and you wouldn’t even give him half a chance.

You maintain eye contact as long as you can, but you’re forced to look away when his dark eyes overwhelm every sense in your body.

He uses his free hand to drag your face back to his. “Asked you a question, pretty girl,” he says, and that’s when you feel the hard line of his cock digging into your thigh. You swallow.

“Just um—just wanted to piss you off,” you answer meekly. “Couldn’t let you win.”

He smirks, keeping your gaze forced in his grip to look at him. “Well, it worked. Now what?” he asks you.

You attempt a shrug, but you’re barely able to hump your shoulders when his mouth is on you, ravenous, starting at the delicate dip of your collarbone and working his way up to your lips, bit by bit, until your mouths collide, teeth and tongues lashing.

You chirp with satisfaction—relief—that he’s finally touching you, kissing you, again, his hand that was at the small of your back moving up to tangle in your hair. He rumbles in his throat, baritone and needy.

He kisses you deeply, deft tongue working the inside of your mouth, latticing his tongue over yours as you suckle back with equal fervor.

Using the hand currently fisted in your hair, he drags your face away from his, your lips parting in a satisfactory smack, to stare into your eyes, while the other hand roves your body.

“This what you want?” he asks you, stopping at the swell of your breast to massage it against his palm, feeling the hard peak of your nipple. He digs his fingers firmly into the pillow soft flesh.

You can’t nod quickly enough, your desperation with which your body moves against his, with his, more than evident.

He sweeps his hand down your body, slow, slow—agonizingly slow—eventually settling between the soft apex of your thighs, hooking his middle finger against the seam of your pants.

“How ‘bout now?”

You nod even more desperately than before, a minuscule whimper sounding in your throat at the contact, even through the layers of material separating you.

“Use your fucking words. Talk to me,” he snaps, your name falling from his tongue.

“Yes, Joel,” you answer, your voice wavering with need. His expression is stoic, unreadable. It’s hard to know exactly what he’s thinking.

Both hands move to your front now, undoing your pants just enough to slip a single hand inside, his middle finger pressing against the sensitive bud between your folds, causing your hips to jerk into his hand at the sudden invasion.

He drags said finger down your seam, gathering your slick on the pad of his finger, and you grind against him, chasing the feel of his rough digit against your skin. Your breathing is erratic now; labored.

“Fuck, baby, already so worked up,” he says. “Bet you’d let me fuck you right here in the woods, wouldn’t you?”

There’s no use denying it. It probably isn’t the wisest choice with a mama lion running around and god knows what else in those woods, but you’d already let him take you in an alley between some buildings in Jackson—the least romantic place you can think of—with a high probability of being caught. There really isn’t much juxtaposition here.

Besides, he can already tell by the way your body bends to his touch that you would salaciously agree to any of his demands.

“Yes, Joel,” you admit, swallowing the lump cresting your throat.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he snarls. “Knew ya’d say yes. What else would you let me do t’you?”

He drags your jeans further down your hips, exposing your cunt to the cool spring air, your arousal so evident that you can actually smell yourself.

He fixes his hand in your hair again, screwing his fingers in deep until they tug at your scalp, jerking your gaze up to meet his glare.

“Asked ya a question, sweetheart.”

You blink, your mind misty as you struggle to recall what he’d just asked you, overburdened by every towering inch of him.

“Any—anything you want, Joel,” you answer when it finally hits you, and it’s the truth. Joel’s lips crook into a lopsided smirk.

“S’what I thought. Little slut, letting me take her an’way I see fit, in the middle of these woods.”

He notches two fingers at your entrance with his other hand, collecting your wetness on the pads of his middle and index fingers. Your eyes slide down to where he’s currently cupping your pussy, and he whips your head back up for the second time.

“Keep your eyes on me. Wanna see you,” he rumbles.

You obey. At least for a moment.

He glides both fingers through your opening, pushing deeper, slowly stretching you around thick, calloused digits. You keen and gyrate against his touch, eyelids fluttering shut.

“What did I just fuckin’ say?” he barks, feeling the heat of his breath on your face. Your eyelids fly back open.

“S-Sorry, Joel,” you reply.

“Sweet girl,” he praises, smirking. “All bark and no bite, ‘specially when I’m full fuckin’ knuckles deep inside of her.”

His words make you moan and you curl your body against him, craving more, more, your cunt clenching to pull his fingers deeper.

He obliges, crooking them against the soft, spongy material deep within your walls, sending you into a shuddering buck, your arm shooting out to steady yourself on his broad chest.

“So needy, baby. Do you think about me when you touch this cunt?” he asks, not giving you a chance to respond. “Or do ya think of your little boyfriend, Chen?”

Your brows knit together, and you shake your head fervently. “Don’t think about him, Joel. On— mmf— only y-you.”

His fingers fuck into you at a gingerly pace, palm brushing your swollen clit on every pass.

“Faster, Joel, please—“ you plead, chasing his fingers with your body. The hand in your hair moves down to your hips, keeping you firmly in place.

“Stop movin’.”

His lips find your neck, teeth biting sharp against your pulse point, causing you to yelp with pleasure at the small amount of pain. He grins against your flesh and soothes the mark with his tongue, nipping roughly up your jaw, uncaring that it’ll most likely leave marks, groaning deep in his chest when he feels you tightening around his fingers with every scrape of teeth on skin.

He finally picks up the pace and you keen, breathing hard in his ear.

“Who’s this pussy belong to?”

“Y-you, J-Joel—only you,” you say.

“S’right, angel. All mine. And you’re not gonna let him have my pussy, are ya?” he growls.

“No, never—just—fuck—just you,” you say.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your skin, snaking his free arm around to encircle your back, keeping you solidly in place against him as he continues his ministrations with his fingers, repeatedly nudging your g-spot. You feel the pressure building deep in the pit of your abdomen.

Your eyes move from Joel’s visage to his bicep, admiring the way it flexes as he’s pumping deep into you with his fingers, and you realize that Joel is still completely clothed, not even palming himself over his pants despite the ever present erection bearing down on your hip.

“Eyes up here, darlin’,” he says quietly, but there’s a hint of edge to it.

You suck in a breath and obediently shift your eyes back to his, unblinking, as your fingers wrap around the prominent outline of his cock through his jeans.

The arm that’s currently holding you in place moves so fast you don’t register the movement at first; not until his hand is already ensnaring your wrist, pulling you away, his dark eyes flashing with something as if he’s annoyed he doesn’t have enough limbs to keep you where he wants you.

“No. Not yet,” he commands lowly.

You swallow back a whimper.

Finally, his pace reaches the crescendo that you were so desperately needing, a single trickle of perspiration rolling down Joel’s forehead, the combined effort of pumping into you with his fingers and holding you in place making him break into a sweat. His lips part and his nose crinkles, dark eyes drilling holes through your skull as his gaze remains fixed on your face.

You’re so close.

The sound is obscene, slicked wet skin slapping against slicked wet skin, both of you nearly out of breath.

You keen, biting your lip, wrapping a hand around Joel’s sweat covered neck to steady yourself. He lets you.

“You ‘bout to come for me, sweet girl?” he asks. You whimper and seek out his mouth with your lips, but he denies you access.

You pout.

“Come on my fingers, darlin’,” he says, a dastardly grin widening his features.

He can feel you clamping around him, that familiar feeling of pleasure building in your core, the dam on the verge of breaking at any moment.

You’re about to come, your chest heaving in tandem with Joel’s, a loud, throaty moan escaping your lips.

You’re about to come and then Joel stops.

“Jo-Joel? What?” you ask, breathlessly, searching his face for answers. Your eyes dart around, thinking something is wrong. Your core throbs, aching for release. You try to move against him, but he stops you.

“W-why?”

He pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and actually licking them clean right in front of your face.

“Pull your pants up and get back on the horse, sweetheart,” he commands softly.

“But—“

“Do it,” he says, leaving no room for protest.

You pull your pants up and fasten them as you watch Joel. He has a triumphant look on his face, and that’s when it hits you.

Joel is denying you an orgasm because he is punishing you.

Punishing you for what? For taunting and poking the bear? For touching him? For pushing him away a few nights ago?

Maybe all of the above?

Angry tears threaten to breach the levy, your hands twisting into fists, nails digging so hard into the soft flesh of your palm you break skin.

Fury licks like hot embers at the backs of your eyes. You see red.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you snarl.

“Get back on the horse, or I’m leavin’ you here,” he threatens. “Ain’t gonna ask again.”

Your cheeks heat. You want to punch him. He stares you down, daring you to defy him, jaw clicking to one side as he plants his hands on his hips.

You want to. You want to defy him so badly, but you believe him when he says he’ll leave you behind.

With a deflated snarl, you turn and clamber back up your horse, refusing to look at Joel.

You finish the rest of the patrol in silence.

——

Despite being on a horse most of the day, your legs are surprisingly sore from keeping you balanced in the stirrups for hours. Not to mention your ass is numb and your back hurts like hell.

And Joel. Fucking Joel.

You can’t even look at him without wanting to strangle him.

You think you catch the occasional cocky smirk playing on his lips, but you can’t be sure; the man is so hard to read sometimes. Either way, you somehow maintain composure despite wanting to slam your fist into his jaw, and that alone deserves a medal.

You return to Jackson approximately six hours after you left. The rest of the ride was uneventful—boring even—and Chen is there to greet you at the gate.

“Welcome back,” he says, taking Dakota by the reins as you dismount. Your legs shake with the effort, causing you to groan.

“Hey,” you greet.

“You okay?” Chen asks, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The way Joel’s eyes clock the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Joel dismounts next to you, bumping Chen’s arm with his elbow in the process. You know it wasn’t an accident.

“Sorry,” Joel says. “Slipped.”

You glare at Joel. He pretends not to see.

Chen clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he just witnessed, reaching for Amarillo’s reins next. “I’ll just take the horses back to the barn, then.”

“Hang on. I’ll help you,” you announce, trailing after him. You’re barely able to make it a few steps before you feel a familiar hand surround your wrist.

Chen turns just in time to see Joel rooting you firmly in place.

“S’okay,” Joel says to you, but his eyes are currently burning holes through Chen. “Think he can handle it.”

You look up at Joel, your brows knitting together. You then turn to Chen, apologetically.

“Is everything alright?” he asks you.

“Everythin’s fine. She’s needed elsewhere,” Joel responds before you can. Chen passes the much larger man an incredulous glance, before sliding his gaze back to you.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” he asks you again, sensing the tension churning between the two of you.

You swallow, briefly toying with the idea of ripping your arm free of Joel’s grasp and telling him in no uncertain terms to fuck right off.

But you don’t, because you can’t help but feel a small amount of giddiness that Joel Miller is actually touching you in public. The way your body thrums under his spell doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel, either. You swear you see a ghost of a smirk gracing his naturally pouty lips.

You’re also more than a little curious what he could want with you.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just forgot that…Joel wanted me to help Ellie with her homework today,” you lie, hoping it sounds convincing enough to be be true. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nods, casting his gaze where Joel’s large hand still loosely encircles your wrist. His thumb skirts the meat of your palm.

“Yeah. Okay. See you tomorrow,” Chen says.

——

You walk in silence in the direction that you know leads to Joel and Ellie’s small cottage. Joel doesn’t move his hand from your wrist, and you get more than a few stares from the townspeople of Jackson who have probably never seen the two of you together aside from that one dinner several long nights ago. And even then, you had Ellie separating the two of you.

You imagine that from a distance it must look pretty intimate, as if you’re two lovers linked hand in hand. Your fingers brush over his, teasingly, but he doesn’t falter.

He’s a man on a mission, making a beeline straight to his house. You try not to let yourself get your hopes up, but it’s difficult not to. What does he want?

“Joel,” you say, and he looks at you with a frown. “Slow down, please.”

Surprisingly, he does.

“Why are we going to your house?” you ask. You think you know—maybe—based on prior events. But you don’t want to make assumptions.

“To talk,” he answers vaguely.

Well, that clears things right the fuck up.

“That doesn’t tell me anything, Joel,” you retort.

“Jesus,” he says, followed by your name. “Can’t wait five fucking minutes?”

You huff, but don’t press the issue further, falling into yet another palpable silence.

——

You’re standing in Joel’s living room.

You’ve never been in here before, with all the times you’ve seen the outside of the small cottage. It’s cozy. The furniture is a mix of new and old, rustic and mass produced. It’s decorated like a woman lived here once, long ago, the few feminine touches here and there making you smile. Making you remember your grandma.

Joel strides in from the kitchen, clutching a bottle of alcohol by the neck in one hand and two short, clear glasses between his fingers in the other. He perches them on the coffee table and leans into a sit on the couch, pouring the brown liquid into each glass.

“Sit down. Ain’t gonna bite,” he says.

“With you? I’m not so sure about that,” you joke, hesitantly scooting next to him on the couch. You intentionally leave about a foot of space between you.

He smirks.

He slides your glass closer to you on the table. You think by the color that it’s whiskey. Smells like it, too.

“Ellie?” you ask him. You don’t need to elaborate more than that; he knows what you’re getting at.

“Stayin’ over at Tommy and Maria’s place tonight,” he responds.

You swallow.

“Oh,” you say. Oh.

Your cheeks flush. You vowed not to drink alcohol again, but you find yourself reaching for the glass anyway. You definitely fucking need it now.

“Don’t have ice like at the bar. Sorry ‘f it’s warm,” he says.

You down the contents of the glass in one go. The heat blooms hot in your chest all the way up to your throat. You hiss at the way it burns.

Joel shakes his head at you. “Lightweight,” he criticizes, downing his glass without even making a face. He pours two more glasses; you wring your hands nervously, watching him.

The veins in his neck pulse as he leans over the coffee table; his biceps flex as his arms reach. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat.

“So you wanted to talk,” you say, attempting to stay focused.

“When you got here. To town, I mean. I didn’t like you,” he says like it’s some kind of revelation.

You purse your lips and hum lightly. “Yeah. I know. Everyone knows,” you reply. “You still don’t. Right?”

He scowls at you sidelong and rolls his eyes, bringing the whiskey to his lips and sucking down the second glass.

“Thought you were too soft. Didn’t think you’d ever integrate into the community.”

“So you brought me to your house to insult me? Real classy, Joel,” you berate, putting your hands on your knees as you stand to leave. A single hand—broad, thick, warm—wraps one of your legs.

“Sit down,” he says sternly. “Ain’t done.”

You flounder. Eventually, you sit back down, and you notice you’re considerably closer, this time.

“Didn’t think you could do it, but ya proved me wrong. Can’t deny you’re a quick learner and a hard worker,” he admits. You relax…a little.

“The reason I came to the bar the other night…” he begins, raking a hand through his stubble, “…is ‘cause I wanted to apologize for bein’ an asshole to you.” He looks at you directly this time, and you can see the barest hint of warmth in the dark pools of his brown eyes.

You peer back at him. You want to say something, but you aren’t sure what, exactly. You want to trust him, want to kiss him, fall into his arms, but you still have reservations. This isn’t a side of Joel you’ve ever seen before. This isn’t even the Joel from this morning.

“And I forgive you. For Diana. Know it wasn’t…your fault,” he continues. You hear him swallow, watching his adam’s apple make a pass along the line of his throat.

You feel your pulse quicken and you rip your gaze away, reaching for your glass on the table to swallow it in a single gulp. Somehow, it burns even more than the first.

“I’m sorry,” you manage, your voice cracking. “How did you know her?”

You don’t think it could have been a romantic connection; she seemed quite a bit older than Joel. Then again, who knows. It isn’t like Joel doesn’t have about twenty years on you.

“When I first came to Jackson, I was a nobody. Just some angry old man who happened to be related to Tommy. Ellie was having trouble adjustin’, too. People didn’t like us. But Diana took Ellie under her wing, same way Patricia has with you. Little by little, people started accepting us. I was forever grateful to her for that. For helpin’ Ellie.”

You nod slowly, taking in this new bit of information. You aren’t sure what to do with it, if you’re being honest.

Part of you wants to thank him for the booze and flee back to the safety of the barn or the mess hall. You can feel the alcohol working its way through your system already, heating you from the inside out. Your thoughts thrumming high like a fever pitch between your ears.

You want to flee. But an even larger part of you wants to stay.

You settle for placing a hand on his knee, consolingly, because you’re afraid to touch him any other way right now. He tracks the movement like you’ve just dropped a cobra into his lap. And then he’s on you.

The broad expanse of his hand wraps the back of your neck and his lips crash into yours, devouring you like a man starved. His other hand slithers around to the small of your back, tugging you into him.

You let out a moan while his tongue explores your mouth the moment your lips part. You moan a second time and he swallows it down, rumbling in a deep timbre as he tastes you.

Ellie’s stayin’ over at Tommy and Maria’s tonight.

Is that an open invitation for you to stay? You can’t even begin to imagine sharing a bed with Joel for an entire night. You can barely envision a bed at this point, after sleeping on that uncomfortable cot for so long. The idea makes your head swim. You can’t help the way your body begins trembling like a cornered mouse.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel. “You alright, darlin’?” he asks. “Shakin’ like a leaf.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. Truthfully, you’re still wrung tighter than a bow string after this morning, and you’re more than a little concerned that history will repeat itself.

You tell him in as many words.

“Won’t happen again if you’re a good girl this time,” he rumbles. It goes straight to your core.

Oh, fuck.

He stands, pulling you up with him in the process. “C’mon, darlin’,” he says. “Bedroom’s this way.”

——

You’re in Joel fucking Miller’s bedroom.

You’re in his room.

It’s sweltering in here. You aren’t sure if it’s because the room is already warm, or the alcohol, or both. You feel a bead of sweat roll down the plane of your back.

Joel’s already shucking off his jeans. You look at his face and that familiar scowl has returned, the distinct line of his visage darkening predatorily.

Won’t happen again if you’re a good girl this time.

His words buzz through you, making you shiver. Making you sweat harder.

“Take off your clothes, sweetheart,” he orders.

It would probably help with cooling you down. At least for a moment. You sit on the edge of the bed and pull off your boots, tossing them to the corner next to an unfolded pile of laundry. You remove your shirt and pants next, joining your boots on the floor.

“Can we open a window?” you ask, fanning yourself lazily.

Your back is still to him. Although you’ve already fucked once, and Joel has been face and fingers deep in your pussy, you’re still mostly afraid to turn around.

You haven’t seen each other fully naked yet.

“Neighbors are gonna hear us,” Joel replies lowly. You hear the window open soon after, and a cool breeze slips over your body. It’s exactly what you need.

“Thanks.”

You turn nervously to face him, heart fluttering like a caged bird in your chest. Your breath hitches when you take in the sight of the man before you—he’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, the long line of his cock straining against the thin fabric.

For his age, he’s fit. You could tell he was muscular before, but you didn’t realize the extent of it since he’s always covering himself up in flannels and jackets.

His shoulders are wide and square, easing down into the corded musculature of his chest and arms, sweeping to a barely pooched stomach marred by a healed over, ugly scar, and hips that are just slightly more narrow than his shoulders. A dark swathe of curly hair disappears into the waistband of his shorts, and you’re impervious to stop your eyes from fixating on the bulge there.

Your breath damn near stops when his gaze rakes over every inch of exposed skin. He looks at you like you’re the only person he’s ever bothered to see.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” he asks you.

“You, Joel. J-just you.”

“C’mere,” he says with an outstretched hand.

He meets you halfway and snakes an arm around your back, the other hand moving to loosely collar your neck. He bends his face to the hollow of your collarbone, swiping at a line of sweat on your skin with the flat of his tongue. You keen, feeling the vibrations of your throat against his palm.

“Y’gonna be a good girl for me?” he queries. You nod, your heart rate quickening at your pulse points still in his grip.

“Then prove it.” He pushes you into a sit on the edge of the bed in front of him, spreading your legs with one swift motion of his foot, slotting himself between them.

His face is hard and expressionless. He says nothing, but you already know exactly what he expects of you.

Your fingers are shaking. This is ridiculous—it’s not like you’re some wide-eyed, innocent virgin. But as you reach for the waistband of his shorts and pull them down his thick legs, large cock springing free right in front of your face, you can hardly prevent yourself from vibrating with need.

“S’okay, angel. You’re okay,” he soothes, cupping your cheek with a weathered hand.

It’s not like you haven’t seen his cock before. But not like this, inches from your face, the head an angry shade of pink and leaking precum.

You steady your nerves as you fist the base of the shaft in your hand and bring him to your lips, sliding the tip into the heat of your mouth and slowly inching yourself down onto him, your jaw gradually adjusting to the girth. He grips your shoulders and releases a ragged breath.

“That’s it, baby girl. Jus’ like that,” he praises.

You relax your throat muscles as you take him deeper, breathing through your nose, hollowing your cheeks.

“Doin’ so good. Takin’ this cock so well. Not even a single tear.” He moves a hand from your shoulder to your hair, brushing it aside so he can watch you. “So fuckin’ pretty with my cock buried in your face.”

The head of his cock bumps the back of your throat and he moans, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation, causing you to choke. He pulls out of you, letting you catch your breath.

“Doin’ so well. Know you can take it, though, can’t you?”

You hum in affirmation and take him back into your mouth when you feel you’re ready, better adjusted to his size on this go around, taking him almost all the way to the back of your throat in one go. He rumbles deep in the barrel of his chest and twists his fingers tightly in your hair.

You reach the end of his cock and hold there as long as you can, tasting the salty tang of sweat and precum on your tongue. You pull back off of him when you feel like it’s too much.

“One more time for me, baby. Prove to me what a good little slut you are,” he growls. “Be a good girl f’me.”

You slide him back into your mouth, the vein that runs the length of his cock pulsing against your tongue, the dark curls at his base tickling your nose when you reach the end and he bottoms out again. You take long, even breaths through your nose, holding him in your throat.

He doesn’t give you a chance to break away this time. He grips either side of your head and holds you in place as he begins to slowly fuck into your face.

“Mmmf— fuck yes, baby girl, doin’ so well…”

His pace quickens when you proffer no resistance, rutting at a heedy crescendo into you. Rivulets of drool dribble down your chin.

It doesn’t take long before it becomes too much, your throat tightening and jaw aching something fierce. You make a small sound of surrender as you tap his forearm, and he stops almost immediately, gazing down at you, his lips parted into an arc. He cups a hand under your chin and tilts your head back, eyes shifting from brown to black.

“Open up for me, baby. One more time.”

You oblige, his thumb and forefinger pressing gently into the hollow spaces between your upper and lower jaw. He runs the thumb of his free hand over your bottom lip, dragging it down, and spits directly into your mouth.

You blink up at him in surprise as he gently clasps your lips shut.

“Good girl. Think you’ve earned it now?” he asks you.

“Y-yes, Joel,” you answer as you swallow him down.

He moves away from you, grabbing a pillow from higher up on the bed and positioning it at your back.

He crouches in front of you, wrapping your hips with his muscled arms and dragging you to the edge of the bed, lifting and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, sweet girl. Fuckin’— fuckin’ soaked,” he growls.

If it’s possible, the attention makes you even wetter, causing you to cant your hips and clench around nothing. He chuckles.

“So needy, sweetheart. Get comfortable.”

You lean back onto the pillow and the way it smells like Joel makes you swoon. He pushes your legs together briefly to drag your panties down and off, tossing them onto the dresser pressed to the wall behind him.

“I’m keepin’ those,” he says. You don’t dare to question it.

He lifts himself slightly higher and reaches your breasts, gripping your bra in both hands, and before you can say anything, he rips it free from your body, leaving it in tatters on the bed next to you.

You want to say something. It’s not like bras are common nowadays, having to get them custom made most of the time, or be lucky enough to find one in a derelict store.

But, once again, you don’t question it. Your desperation for the release Joel is about to give you overrides the logical portions of your brain. You can worry about the scrap of fabric later.

He must read what you’re thinking on your face, because he says, “I’ll replace that for you. Panties, too.”

You nod. “Thanks.” You don’t know what else to say, but you forget about thinking soon enough anyway, because his mouth is on you in an instant, tongue parting your seam as he swipes up your slit.

You’re still so sensitive from the orgasm he denied you earlier, your back coming all the way off the bed when his tongue reaches your clit, your hand darting out to grip his hair for purchase; to ground you.

“Fuck!” you cry out.

He drags his teeth with the lightest pressure he can manage over the delicate bundle of nerves, keeping you spread open with his hand. Each pass has you mewling and writhing against him.

“You that desperate to come, sweetheart?” he asks, his lips glistening with your slick as he locks eyes with you.

“Yes, please,” you beg.

“Poor baby,” he jests, burying himself back into the hot apex of your thighs. He takes your clit between his lips, suckling it. You grind against his mouth, shamelessly chasing the high he denied you earlier as retribution.

He slips two fingers between your soaked folds, sinking them all the way to the hilt and crooking them against your g-spot, fucking into you with both fingers as his mouth showers your clit with much needed attention.

He can already feel you bearing down on his fingers, and he can’t help but grin as he fucks into you faster.

“Gonna come for me, angel?” he asks softly.

That’s all it takes; suddenly your orgasm is ripping through you, and you’re falling to pieces beneath him, the flood of your release dripping down and soaking the bed sheets below. He doesn’t pull away immediately, riding out your high as long as he can, murmuring at the taste of you on his tongue, his lips, until you indicate that the stimulation is too much. He stops, lifting his eyes to yours.

You’re a mess. An absolutely wrecked, fucked out mess.

He stands, motioning for you to move back. You do your best to climb up the bed at his behest, but truth be told, you’re absolutely weak from how hard you just came.

“Take your time,” he says, trailing a hand up your spine. It’s almost affectionate.

You eventually make it to the middle of the bed and he places the pillow behind your neck. You settle into it, situating yourself as best you can. He’s on you an instant later, caging you down into the sheets, his massive frame pressing you into the mattress as it groans under your combined weight.

The first time you fucked was not intimate, with you facing away from him in a dark alleyway as he railed into you from behind. You’re almost shy to be face to face with him like this.

He gnashes his teeth over your earlobe, bearing down on the soft flesh. “Gonna make you come again on my cock, darlin’,” he drawls in that sweet southern lilt in your ear. “Think you can take me all at once?”

You nod. “Yes, Joel. Know I can.”

“Know ya can too, sweetheart,” he agrees, shifting his weight on top of you as he lines his hips up with yours, slotting his head at your entrance. “Ready?”

You hardly have time to incline your head in a nod before he’s spearing into you, hips snapping roughly against yours as he enters you in one long, hard thrust. You cry out, arching beneath him at the intrusion.

“Fuck, baby. So goddamn tight,” he groans.

He angles your legs up, tilting them back so he can push himself further into you. He bottoms out, bumping your back wall with the head of his cock.

The stretch is almost too much. He’s almost filling you too much. But you’ve taken all of him before and know you can do it again.

He snaps into you one more time, making you keen. You’re both slippery with sweat, the breeze through the small window hardly providing any relief at all, but it doesn’t matter.

He props himself up on his elbows, hovering over you as he presses the flat of his hips into yours, rutting into you slowly. You shut your eyes and roll your head into the pillow.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me,” he growls. You don’t test him, your eyes flying open and making contact with his a second later, the ridge of his brow pinched in concentration. “Good girl,” he praises.

Every press into you, no matter how languid, is heavenly. No one has ever split you open like this before, made you ache like this before, and you don’t think anyone will compare ever again.

Not like you would ever want to be with anyone else after Joel.

“Joel…” you whimper, skating your fingers up his biceps. “Harder, fuck me harder,” you plead.

He smirks, twin dark eyes sparkling. “Not yet. Goin’ to enjoy you,” he replies, leaning back onto his calves so he can watch the way you swallow him. “Such a needy little cunt.” His words would make you drip if he wasn’t currently stuffing you full of him.

He lowers himself onto you, lips skirting your neck as he peppers the occasional kiss up the line that extends into your jaw. It’s surprisingly soft—for Joel, anyway—until he bears down with a sharp sting of teeth along the curve of your cheek, making you moan. He feels you clamp down on him in reverence to the small hurt.

“Such a dirty little slut,” he rumbles, soothing the area with his lips. “Only for me.”

You nod in agreement, shuddering beneath him, writhing with desire as he continues to pump steadily into you, nudging your clit with his lower belly on each pass. “Yours, only y-yours,” you agree.

He fists a handful of your hair and presses his lips into yours, your mouths merging in a clash of tongues and teeth, pausing on occasion to administer soft nips to your lips, making them puffy and swollen with use.

He’s marking you; claiming you. A stark contrast from only weeks ago.

You match the motions of his hips with your own, desirous to feel more of him, chasing the sensations of his cock driving into you, craving more. He’s still going so slow—agonizingly so.

He places a rough palm into your hip, preventing you from moving. “Tell me what you want,” he says.

“Need you to fuck me harder, Joel,” you beg.

“Only ‘f you ask nicely.”

“Please, please, fuck me harder,” you plead, slinking your fingers into his sweat-soaked hair. “Need to come again.”

“Okay, angel. Since ya asked so nice.” He grabs you just under your thighs, hiking your legs up above his hips, deepening the angle. You keen and buck against him at the added depth.

He begins slamming his hips into yours, your keening moans matching every wet and squelchy smack of his hips into yours, your combined utterances of pleasure filling the small space.

Each thrust threatens to knock every breath, every sense out of you; you feel the familiar pressure starting to flower deep in your core. His name becomes a chant on your tongue, which only spurs him on.

“Gonna come for me, angel?” he asks you, feeling your walls tightening around his length. You barely manage a nod, your head going swimmy at the thought.

His lips contort into a snarl, and he gives you everything he can, railing into you so hard the head board is slamming roughly into the wall. There’s a feral, hungry look in his eyes, seeing you and seeing through you all at the same time.

Suddenly, your vision turns to white stars and your head slumps back, hitting the pillow, crying out as a second orgasm crashes through you like a freight train.

“Fuck, Joel, yes—“

Joel isn’t far behind, his breaths becoming more ragged—more erratic—in the broad barrel of his chest, jaw going slack as he clamps his eyes shut in concentration. His hips stutter into you and stall out for a brief moment and then he’s pulling himself free of your soaked folds, gripping himself in his fist and pumping a few times before he’s spilling thick rivulets of cum across your stomach and mound, your name departing his lips multiple times as he milks out the last few drops.

He stays perched over you for just a moment, admiring his work; you’re both breathless and drenched in sweat, and he falls back onto the sheets next to you, his chest heaving as he sucks in as much oxygen as he can.

“That was—“ he begins, lungs shuddering in his chest. “Fuck, baby. Thank you.”

You smile, propping yourself up on your elbow next to him, leaning down to place a soft kiss to his temple.

“No, Joel. Thank you.”

He looks at you. There’s a gentleness in his eyes, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this soft and vulnerable before. It makes your heart sing.

You fall back onto the bed next to him, still in the process of catching your breath, a cool breeze spilling through the window just in time to fan over your sweat-slick bodies. And you lie there in silent worship for who knows how long, basking in the afterglow.

——

You shower together to conserve the limited usage of water. As soon as the last of the shampoo is rinsed from your hair, he reaches behind you and cuts it off.

You didn’t expect Joel to let you shower at his place. You had been showering daily at Tommy and Maria’s for so long—practically living there for the most part aside from sleeping arrangements—that you had half expected to do the walk of shame to their house afterward.

You’re relieved when Joel offers to let you use his instead.

You both step out of the shower in tandem, dripping onto the bath mat as you stand shoulder to shoulder in the small en suite. He passes you a towel, and you both dry yourselves in silence.

You aren’t talking as usual—Joel being a man of few words—but it isn’t tense as it usually is. It’s a peaceful, relaxed silence, one that doesn’t make you second guess your every minute gesture.

Together, you go back into his bedroom. When you’re done with the towel, he takes it from you, tossing it onto a second pile of laundry in the opposite corner.

“Classy,” you tease. He smirks, and you think you might hear a faint chuckle.

You don’t expect to take this as anything other than face value—just sex—so you aren’t going to assume that he’ll want you to stay. You wonder how long he’ll ignore you this time before wanting to fuck you again.

You bend to the floor to retrieve your pants and shirt, not exactly thrilled to be slipping back into soiled material that stinks of sweat and horses, but it’s all you have available. Joel stops you the moment your fingers graze your jeans.

“What’re you doin’?” he asks.

You arch a quizzical brow at him. “Getting dressed?”

“Not’n that. You can wear somethin’ of mine to sleep in.”

You lift both brows, this time. “Sleep in?”

“Didn’t figure you’d want to go back to that uncomfortable cot,” he says. You balk.

First he asks you to shower with him and now he’s asking you to stay?

For how long?

“Sure.”

He tosses you one of his shirts—Miller Contracting, Austin, TX, it reads, and you think to yourself that’s an odd coincidence, slipping it over your head and shrugging into it. It swallows you, falling about mid-thigh.

Joel strips off the soiled bedding and replaces it with freshly cleaned linens, which he pulls from the dresser, and to your surprise they’re actually folded neatly. Maria or Ellie must have done that for him.

You fix dinner for the two of you in his kitchen—which doesn’t consist of much—namely some leftover rabbit and root vegetables from the community garden, and some slices of unleavened bread.

You had done the bulk of the cooking at your grandparents’ cabin, and what had once felt like a chore now made your heart feel full as Joel cleans his plate in front of you.

You spend the rest of the evening sharing the bottle of whiskey, laughing and swapping stories, reminiscing about the days before outbreak.

When the night grows long and the inevitability of sleep settles like a fog over both of you, you climb into bed together, but not for sex this time.

The idea of actually getting to sleep in a real bed in as many months fills you with a type of elation you had forgotten exists.

Joel pulls the blanket up over you, kissing you between your eyes before dragging your arm across his torso as he rolls the opposite way, his back now facing your front. You’re confused for a moment until it dawns on you—it’s strategical positioning, placing himself between you and the door, should a need ever arise from it. Hopefully it never will.

It makes your heart thrum happily in your chest. You kiss his exposed shoulder blade, and he damn near purrs.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“G’night,” he repeats, saying your name sleepily. There’s a short pause. “Hey.”

“What?” you ask.

“Don’t want you to leave Jackson,” he states.

You smile, hugging him tighter, burying your face into the curly strands of hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

[eth-edwards-73]

Break up, make up pt 1

uhhh so this is kinda depressing and might be triggering for some people but idk how to really explain the warning so yeah

Luke Hughes x reader warnings: angst, child loss, break up, ...

She had lost everything or at least that’s how she felt. Her brother was in a coma in the hospital, Luke who had broken up with her right before leaving for New Jersey and her unborn child who Luke didn’t know about, she had planned to tell him the day he broke up with her but she didn’t have the time then and she didn’t know how to tell him after then. All the stress and pain had caused her to miscarry so she sat there on the floor of her dorm, wailing, tears streaming down her face rapidly. 

“I think it’s better if we break up.” He had announced, tears sprung into her eyes as she searched his face for any emotion or any indication this was some sick joke but she found none. 

“Why?” She had asked, her voice wavering but still her emotional state didn’t affect the youngest Hughes. 

“I need something new.” He had shrugged carelessly as her heart shattered to pieces, she had let out a little sniffle and wiped away a tear that was threatening to fall before nodding. 

“O-okay,” She paused: “I- i’ll drop your stuff off at the sophomore house.” That was her reply: she didn’t know why she didn’t fight for their relationship and just let him go away that quickly. She wished she’d reacted differently although she didn’t really know how she would’ve reacted otherwise. There was just this immense guilt weighing down on her.  

She felt numb but that was because it didn’t fully get through to her yet. It confused the other hockey players on the team why she had started avoiding them all of a sudden, since she had been friends with some of them before she had even met Luke. Truth to be told she couldn’t face anything that even remotely came close to hockey, it just hurt too much. 

A new found habit of hers was going to parties and drinking away the pain, tonight was one of those nights but even worse because the entire hockey team was there to celebrate a win. She had downed everything she could get. It didn't matter if it was a shot or just a bottle of beer, she consumed it. Ethan and Dylan had run into her multiple times that night but she’d ignored them when they tried to interact, they were worried after seeing how much she drank. 

She stumbled over the porch, barely conscious, oblivious to the hockey teams standing outside, when she was about to fall Dylan caught her. He sat down with her in his arms, he didn’t know what to do with the girl, he’d never seen her this drunk before. 

“What’s going on with you?” He whispered, it was more to himself than to her but she heard and she looked up to him, her eyes watery and droopy.

“I lost them.” She slurred, the boys around her frowned, they knew her and Luke were over but why had she said them and not just him. She crawled away from Dylan sitting down further away from him wrapping her arms around her stomach as the tears started flowing. 

“My baby.” She wailed, while sobbing and rocking herself: “I lost my baby.” It was heartbreaking for them to see her break down in front of them like this, so they could only imagine the pain she was going through even when they didn’t know who she was talking about. 

“It’s my fault, it’s all my fault …” She had started muttering her sentence fading into babbling they couldn’t hear properly nor understand. They started talking, questioning how to help her. 

“Maybe we should call Luke.” Nolan proposed and the others agreed so Ethan pulled out his phone dialing the boy, hoping he’d pick up which he did. 

“Hey man, I heard you guys won, good game.”

“Um thanks, I actually called for something else…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, i- we don’t know, we’re at this party and Y/N is pretty fucking wasted and she’s crying. We don’t know what to do Luke.” At the mention of the brunet boy's name Y/N’s head perked up but she only started crying harder. 

“Uh, maybe it’s best if I just give you to her.” Ethan stated, Luke hummed on the other side of the phone giving Etan the green light to do that. The Canadian kneeled down in front of the girl and gave her the phone telling her Luke was on it. 

“Luke,” She sobbed: “I lost them, I'm sorry.” 

“Who did you lose love?” 

“I’m so sorry, Luke, please forgive me, I lost them, I lost our baby.” She cried, his heart fell and he almost dropped the phone. A wave of pain surged through him, as he realized what he had caused. The other boys were also in shock staring at the girl who kept on crying and rocking herself. She kept on saying sorry like everything had been her fault before falling asleep out of pure exhaustion, still crying to Luke. She would wake up the next morning and regret telling him on the phone and thereby also telling the other boys. 

Luke tried reaching out to her every day over the three weeks coming after their call but she didn’t reply. She was fed up with his messages so she just popped the question.

Why do you keep calling me?

Luke. I just want to talk

Well i don’t so please leave me alone

Luke. please Y/N we need to talk

no we don’t it’s over between us there’s nothing to talk about Luke

Luke. Yes there is

No there isn’t so please leave me alone

Luke. Y/N

no Luke we broke up you wanted something new and i want to move on so don’t contact me again

Y/N/N <3  has blocked you

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

this and the other posts have been very depressing and sad but i have a few happy ones coming up but in the meantime please send me requests if you have any :)

i posted part two :)

[dianaisnice]

A hairy problem (Yandere Werewolf X Reader)

“We have arrived at our destination. You must know that I don't come here often," the taxi driver talked to me, but he got no reply from me. A sad circumstance brought me back to my hometown. A small quiet village in the deepest forest. The village was surrounded by beautiful forests and mountains.

The driver stopped in front of my grandfather's house and kindly held the door open for me. I smiled at him gratefully, climbed out and immediately tucked a strand of hair behind my ear because a strong wind had blown through my hair and tangled my hair a bit. The taxi driver was a middle-aged man with black hair that had already started to gray. "What brings you here?" he asked me a question. Did he expect an honest answer from me?

With a sad expression I looked at the building in front of me and sighed deeply. The house wasn't very big, but it consisted of two floors and was mainly decorated in shades of brown. A small porch made the house visually cozier. There was even a rocking chair on the porch and next to it a small table and two chairs were placed neatly in front of it. The plants that were standing around here weren't in good shape. Either they were withered, or they grew out of the pots. Apparently, before his death, my grandfather had not found the strength to take care of his plants properly. He could at least have asked someone for help.

I didn't know what it looked like inside because I hadn't been to my grandfathers for several years. The last time it was during the summer holidays ten years ago.

“Unfortunately, my grandfather recently passed away. I inherited his fields and house,” I told the taxi driver, not taking my eyes off the house. The taxi driver heaved my two suitcases out of the trunk and placed them next to me. "My condolences," he announced, getting back in his car and pulling away from the driveway. I broke my sight of the house and turned to the driver. I handed him the requested amount and a tip. "I wish you a pleasant day," I wished the driver and watched him drive away.

 Then I grabbed one of the suitcases with both hands and pulled them behind me. I stopped in front of the entrance and rummaged around in my pocket looking for my house key. While I was searching, many thoughts spat around in my head. I thought a lot about my grandparents and parents. Of my beautiful childhood and my grandfather's funeral. After his death, I regretted not having come to visit him, or at least calling him regularly. For days I cried my eyes out, and as a result I neglected my work and lost my job because of an allegation.

After a while of searching, I finally found it and got it out. With a trembling finger it was not easy to get the key in the corresponding hole. Stupidly, the key fell out of my hand and landed on the floor with a loud thud. "Fucking shit," I swore out loud, stamping a foot on the wooden floor in annoyance. "It always has to happen to me," I grumbled to myself, not exactly in a good mood. Rolling my eyes, I bent down to pick up the key, but then another hand got there first and snatched my key from under my nose.

I looked up in surprise and saw warm brown eyes. He had a twinkle in his eyes that I just couldn't place. That pair of eyes belonged to a handsome man. He was at least two heads taller than me and had a muscular build. He also had brown shaggy hair, which looked like he had just gotten out of bed.

He stood up normally, as did I. "Well, new here?" he asked me curiously and handed me the key with a friendly smile. I smiled back and stared at him openly as I took the key from him. Now he looked at me with two raised eyebrows and waited for an answer from me. "Uh yeah... I sort of am," I replied and finally put the key in the keyhole.

The man has crossed his muscular arms across his broad chest and casually leaned his shoulder against the wall. His proximity made me nervous. I don't know if I should make it up as positive or negative. Nevertheless, I wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible because I finally wanted some peace and quiet after the exhausting journey. Also, I haven't really come to terms with the loss of my grandfather, so I'd like to hide inside. Hopefully I don't have to sleep on the floor because my stuff won't arrive until tomorrow. I paid the movers a little extra to get my things over here as soon as possible.

“My grandfather lived here until he died. As a small child, I loved spending my time here,” I told him, and go through the good memories in my eyes. I pushed my suitcase very close to me and looked at the stranger with a slightly tilted head. "What brings you here?" I asked and opened the door a bit, but far enough that I could push my suitcase in and the man couldn't see in. My eyes twitched briefly inside the house, but I couldn't make out anything because it was dark. The setting sun will not provide light for long, because a few weeks ago it was autumn.

The strange man put his hand on the back of his head and smiled crookedly at me. "I heard that Mr. (L/N) has died and that his granddaughter is coming... That got me curious." There was sometimes a short pause between his words. He clearly wanted to say something else, but I didn't want to ask more. After all, it's none of my business.

“Besides, before he died, I helped him a lot in the fields and I took care of the animals a lot. So if you have any questions, feel free to contact me”, he continued speaking and looked at me intensely. "Uh thanks for the offer, but I'm not sure yet if I'll keep the farm or sell it," I shared my concerns with him. I gave him a friendly smile and pushed my hair back into place because a strong gust of wind had swept over us. My hair was thrown over my face so that it draped over my face like a curtain. "Not again," I muttered, annoyed by the wind.

Once I had my hair under control again, I looked under my lashes at the stranger. My eyes widened in shock because for a second, I thought the stranger's eyes were glowing golden. I shook my head in confusion. The man stood frozen, staring at me non-stop. I was starting to get uncomfortable with his looks, which is why I shifted from one foot to the other.

"Anyway. I would like to lie down. The way was exhausting”, I told him my decision. A loud yawn followed. I opened the door and stepped inside. I hadn't completely disappeared into the house but was standing under the door frame. "I wish you a nice evening. Maybe we'll see each other again”, I said goodbye without answering. With a soft sigh, I closed the door behind me.

Then I pushed the bar in front of the door and switched on the light with the switch next to the door. I stood in front of the door for a few seconds and listened intently into the silence. Waiting to see if the stranger will leave the property or not. Luckily, I heard his heavy footsteps go away. To be sure that he was gone, I went to the window in the kitchen, which was not far from the front door, pushed the curtains aside a little and peered out. I didn't see anyone standing behind the window anymore. The stranger was gone. He had disappeared very quickly, although he had been standing behind the closed door a few seconds before. Was it rude of me to just brush him off? If that's how it felt to me, next time I'll apologize to him.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turned away from the window, grabbed my suitcase and rolled it behind me towards the stairs that lead to the first floor. The house consisted only of the ground floor and 1st floor. As I walked by, I saw that many items were no longer there because our relatives had snatched some away. Like some photos or precious objects like the piano in the corner of the living room, which my grandparents have had since my father's childhood. The rest was covered in dust, white paint was covering most of the furniture and spiders popped up here and there. Once again, I sighed deeply. Today was the day of the sigh, I realized. Surely it won't be the last time either, because later I'll have to do some cleaning. Disorder will surely await me at the top.

 Arriving at the top, I immediately entered the first room, which my father and then I used to live in. The bathroom is opposite and next to it is my grandfather's room. Today I won't be looking in grandpa's room, but rather want to focus on my room, the kitchen and the bathroom. In no case do I want to sleep in a dusty bed or eat in a dirty kitchen. Luckily, I brought a sleeping bag where I'm forced to spend my first night tonight. First thing in the morning I'll drive into town and do some errands. Shopping and breakfast are part of it.

I left my suitcase next to the door. Then I turned on the light, pulled the white sheets off the bed, closet, and shelf, and tossed them in a corner without hesitation. I don't want to get a fright in the dark and mistake the upholstered piece of furniture for a ghost. Knowing myself, I will run away in terror in the dark and bump into something. Dust swirled up and filled my nostrils. Coughing, I waved my hand in front of my nose and had to pinch my nose with my hand because I could feel a sneeze coming up.

As I let my eyes wander around the room, I noticed that very little has changed here since my last visit. The only thing that has changed here are the curtains and bed sheets. I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open as I wanted to open the window to let some fresh air in. I found the time to air out best in the evening. As soon as I opened the window, my eyes wandered to the forest.

My heart stopped for a moment as I saw golden eyes shining. A wolf's head poked out from between the bushes. Only because of the moon could I see the creatures. Without blinking, we engaged in a staring match. Who turned away first? - Of course, I do. "What am I thinking, staring a wolf in the eye?" I whispered to myself. My grandfather taught me one thing, and that is that you should never look a wild animal in the eye, because that would make you look provoke. I will stay away from the forest for now and if necessary, I will tell the hunter around here the existence of the wolf.

While airing the room, I left the room and ran into the bathroom. I tried to turn on the light, but unfortunately it didn't work. "Too bad," I muttered, pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning on the flashlight app. I put it on the sink cabinet and opened it. I rummaged around in the closet. Looking for cleaning supplies. I found what I was looking for. Unfortunately, there was no bucket here. It must have been in the shed outside, which I won't go to in the dark and because of the wolf. That's why I had no choice but to fill the sink. I was finally able to start cleaning. First I’ll do the bathroom and then my room. Only when the two rooms are clean will I go to bed.

 Two hours later I stood in my room and wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. I turned off Spotify, which I left on the whole time I was cleaning. I like listening to music or an audio book while cleaning or cooking.

Back in my room I pulled my suitcase to the bed, put it on the floor and opened it. I fished my pajamas and sleeping bag out of it and laid both on my bed. Before I change clothes, I drew the curtains back to be on the safe side. I have no idea what strange creatures were hanging around outside. I put my favorite book out, which I have read several times. Before going to bed, I like to read in bed. I quickly swapped my everyday clothes for my pajamas and slipped into my sleeping bag.

I was suddenly shocked when I realized I forgot my other suitcase outside. Crap. shit shit! I hope my suitcase is still outside!

Groaning, I shrugged out of my sleeping bag, grabbed my phone, and pulled on socks. Certainly, I will not set foot on the dirty ground. Who knows what I might step on.

Downstairs I realized I forgot to turn off the light. I slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand and shook my head at my own stupidity. I carefully crept to the front door and pulled it open very slowly. Just a crack. I peered out, looking in all directions. I wanted to make sure there was no outside threat. The wolf could look out the front door for easy prey and then ambush me at the nearest available one. Once I felt safe, I opened the door wide enough to squeeze through.

My eyes stopped at my suitcase, which luckily was still on the porch. Luckily the stranger didn't seem to care about my suitcase because he left it where it was. Relief spread through me.

Before I slipped through the door, to be on the safe side, I put my cell phone, keys and a small pocketknife in my pocket, which I saw on the dining table and grabbed as I walked past. Fortunately, I like to buy pajamas with pockets. In autumn, warm pajamas are the best choice anyway. When it comes to fight, I will fight back to the last breath.

As soon as I set foot in front of the front door, the cool air hit me immediately. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my body and looked around again. The darkness just seemed overwhelming to me. Here and there I heard a rustling, or an owl. Fast as I could, I rushed with a few steps, a suitcase over and whether it was off the ground. I didn't find it funny. The wind or some wild animal must have knocked my suitcase over.

 Suddenly, a loud growl sounds not far from me. The growl went through my marrow and leg. I remained frozen in my position and stared down at my suitcase. Immediately, my pulse quickened, and my heart pounded against my chest. I didn't dare lift my eyes for a second. After a few seconds I heard pounding footsteps coming towards me. Fear spread through me. Without wanting to, my body started shaking. I could hear my blood pounding behind my ears. My numbness didn't lessen but grew stronger as the animal approached. I didn't move my body an inch. I am far too afraid of an attack by the beast.

From the corner of my eye, I saw paws come to a stop in front of me. It stopped very close in front of me, the animal's warm breath hitting my head. Luckily my face was turned to the ground because I didn't want his breath in my face. I even held my breath in fear. I took a breath only after making sure I wouldn't startle it with a sudden movement and I would become its victim.

The animal growled again. This time I could practically feel it on my own body, as my body vibrated at its growl. Very slowly and silently, I lifted my head. If I'm going to die, I want to at least know what kind of animal it is. There was no way I wanted to leave the earth ignorant. My eyes got big as tennis balls. In front of me was the wolf from the forest earlier. Now that he was standing in front of me, I saw his full glory. The sight of him sent a shiver down my spine and my hair all over my body stood up. The wolf was as big as me! A wolf his size shouldn't exist! If he wanted to, he could kill me with one aimed bite or rip all my limbs off my body.

His head was getting closer and closer to mine, so I narrowed my eyes in fear and had to bite my lip to keep from sobbing. My hands got sweaty under the handle of the suitcase. I had to keep my hand around the handle so hard otherwise it would slip and hit the floor. This would then mean that the animal could see me as a danger and eliminate it. The animal's wet nose nudged my cheek lightly and let it slowly and painfully travel down my throat. He left a wet trail and only made my goosebumps even more noticeable. The cool night wind made contact with the wet skin.

The wolf stopped right at the hollow between my neck and shoulder. Surely, he could feel my pulse under his nose and smelling my fear. He sniffed it noisily. As if it couldn't get any worse, my throat was bombarded with the wolf's tongue. Tears rolled down my cheek and landed on the wolf's snout. My lips trembled under my teeth with the effort. I don’t want die. The wolf must have noticed, because he let go of me. He took a step away from me and looked me deep into my own (E/C) eyes with his golden eyes. Now I couldn't hold back my sobs and I started crying.

Once again, he approached me and licked my tear-stained cheek. I could even hear a faint whine. My eyes closed by themselves. "I-I don't want t-to die," I sobbed, looping through my head the whole time. I would have even found the leak action cute if it weren't for an oversized wolf. If I should get out of this situation alive, I will inform the responsible authorities about it. The hunters and the police should urgently do something about the animal. If not stopped, it will kill many people and animals.

As if sensing my fear of death, the animal took several steps away from me and the house and disappeared into the forest. It becomes one with the darkness.

I stayed like that for a few minutes, until I was sure that the wolf would not come back, I disappeared into the house with my suitcase. Inside, I locked all entrances and pulled the curtains so tight that the moon couldn't shine an inch. I then tiptoed to my room. This time I didn't use a light source to advance but used my hands to feel my surroundings. Rather, I only used one hand, with the other hand I pulled my suitcase behind me. Because of this, it took me a while to crawl into my sleeping bag.

 The rest of the night was pure hell. First I couldn't fall asleep and then I had terrible nightmares. In my dream, the wolf tore me into a thousand pieces or chased me through the dark forest until it caught me and brutally killed me. After that I had had enough of the sheep and preferred to lie awake in the sleeping bag.

My back was against the bedpost and I held the pocket knife very close to me. My cell phone had given up the ghost and I didn't want to get the charger because I was too afraid to make a noise because the wolf had returned and was now lurking in front of my house. I didn't know whether it was on my tail or another victim caught his eyes. Even behind the drawn curtains I could see the outline of the animal. Unfortunately, I was stupid enough not to close the curtains before bed. Now the wolf could pick up my every little noise. Because with every noise I made, whether I chose a different position or just pushed a strand behind my ear. It was quiet outside at first, until a loud howl broke the silence. As if the wolf was calling me.

 The next morning came very slowly, making the hours seem like an eternity. It's so hard for me to keep my eyes open. Even after the wolf disappeared a few hours ago, I didn't dare to close my eyes. The rising sun and the sounds of birds chirping didn't help me get tired. The fear that he could find a way into my room and tear my throat open with his sharp teeth was far too great.

Yawning, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and put the pocket knife, which I didn't put down for a second, to the side on the bed. After a nightcap, I peeled myself out of my sleeping bag, gathered some fresh laundry and lazily disappeared into the bathroom. Slower than usual, I needed time for my morning routine, which included a quick visit to the toilet. Actually, the first thing I do when I get up is to go to the toilet. Then I got into the shower for a moment, put on fresh clothes, which consisted of a white sweater that reached over my buttocks. I pulled on black leggings and matching white socks. Then I started brushing my teeth. In my routine, my stomach was constantly growling. Even as I entered my room and packed my bag for the upcoming shopping and plugged my phone into the charging cable, the growling of my stomach was a constant companion in the silence. I packed a pepper spray in my purse. To be on the safe side, of course.

Then I sat down at the dining table in the kitchen. With a sigh, I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed the number of a taxi company. I had to get to town somehow. When that was done, I threw on my thick jacket and put on my wool hat with a white bobble. Then I put my phone in my pocket and left the house. After leaving the house, I locked the door and turned around. I almost fell backwards from the shock because a carcass was lying on my porch. One can only guess what kind of animal it could be. At the sight, I slowly became aware of the stench of the animal, which was littered with flies and other vermin. I gagged and slapped my hand over my mouth and nose. The stench was unbearable!

I ran the house behind me as fast as I could. Once I put as much distance as possible between myself and the house, I lowered my hand. I took deep breaths through my mouth, held them in for a few seconds and then let them out through my nose. Unfortunately, the smell in my nose didn't go away quickly. Not even when I got into the taxi and he drove me towards the village. The driver didn't lose a note, which is why I was grateful to him. I didn't feel like talking. In the car, I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Some of them were from my friends or my parents. Tonight I will call them and discuss the next steps with them. My parents don't think much of country life and want to sell the house and the land. But the decision was not up to them, it was entirely up to me. After all, my grandfather inherited everything to ME. Either I stay here and take over the farm, or I go back to my old life in the city. Then I would have to start all over again from start.

 It took us half an hour to get to our destination. Luckily he stopped right in front of a small cafe. Before leaving the car, I handed the taxi driver some bills and wished him a nice day. Unfortunately, the taxi driver wasn't kind enough to wish me the same. He drove off without saying another word, leaving me standing in the dust that was thrown up. Having a bad day is normal, but at least you should be able to control yourself with customers. At least a little bit.

I turned around and entered the café. The shimmer of a bell above the door welcomed me. Inside I was greeted by warmth and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was in the air. As soon as I walked in, I could see the good vibes among the people. Some of them stopped their conversations and watched me curiously as I walked closer to the counter, which was filled with all kinds of pastries, cakes and sandwiches. At the attention, I lowered my gaze with red cheeks and got in line. Even then, I could feel the eyes of others on me. None of those present dared to speak to me.

After a while, curiosity died down and some of the people went back to their own conversations. While waiting for the line in front of me to get smaller, I took the moment to take a closer look at the café. I tried to hide the prying eyes as much as possible, which wasn't exactly easy. In a big city you tend to get lost in the crowd, but in a small town everyone knows everyone. And you can see and hear immediately whether someone has moved in.

The café was kept in a soft yellowish tone. Here and there are a few boards hanging on which were some potted plants. The furniture was kept in like and beige. The legs of the furniture were white and the surfaces were beige. Most tables seated up to four people. In my opinion, the seats in front of the shop window were the best seats. When eating and drinking you had a good view of the outside. You could watch the people passing by.

I looked outside spellbound. The sun hadn't quite risen, but a few people were already stumbling around on the streets. Not far from here I could see a small market, which was already well frequented. I couldn't see what they were selling there. I'll stop by later and get something when I get a chance. I have nothing against fresh fruit and vegetables. My grandfather's kitchen must have pots and pans somewhere and other things that I will need for cooking. Maybe I'll go shopping again tomorrow when I have to find out at home that not everything is there after all. Although I can hardly believe it since my grandfather was very fond of cooking. I can still clearly remember how we cooked at every evening together and spent the day playing cards by the crackling fireplace. With this warm memory, I couldn't suppress a pleasant sigh.

"What can I do for you?" I was promptly torn from my thoughts and memories. I winced, startled, and turned my head towards the source. Behind the counter stood a pretty woman who patiently looked at me with her dark blue eyes. "Um yeah, I'd like a coffee latte to go and a sandwich would be great," I placed my order with a friendly smile after glancing very briefly at the Inn side of the counter. I wanted to be sure whether I hadn't mistaken it from afar. Even if it wanted to be the case, I would have gotten something else instead... like a strawberry slice I see right now. I was just debating whether or not to include it. With a wry face, I decided against it because I didn't see paying almost four euros for a single piece.

The saleswoman got a tray and put a plate on it and got a cheese sandwich baguette out of the theses. She put it on the plate and looked over at me for a short time: "That would be seven euros together, please." I nodded and handed her the desired amount. Earlier, while the sales lady was busy serving my order on the tray, I rummaged in my pocket for my wallet. I grabbed my tray with the steaming cafe latte. My eyes roamed around the cafe searching for an empty seat and stopped at a seat that had just become vacant. It was a window seat. You didn't sit in front of the window, but next to it, so that you only had to turn your head to see out of the shop window.

I quickly strolled over and sat down on one of the chairs. Then I peeled off my jacket and took off my hat. So that I don't forget my hat later, I stuffed it into one of the sleeves of my jacket. I put my phone face down next to the tray. I took the cup and plate off the tray and put it in front of me and put the tray aside so it wouldn't disturb me while I was eating. Yawning, I took the cup and brought it to my mouth. With eyes closed, I literally sucked in the aromatic scent of the coffee. The smell of the coffee woke me up a little and eased some of the tension in my muscles. As tired as I was, I could have a black coffee just to wake myself up, but unfortunately I didn't particularly like coffee without milk. My grandfather, on the other hand, loved to drink black coffee. No matter what the time, the aroma of the coffee flowed through the house.

 "Is the seat still available?" I promptly blurted out from my memory of my grandfather, which made me smile the whole time. I didn't see it coming, being spoken to, so I couldn't help but flinch. At least I didn't utter a startled sound. But instead, a few drops from the cup landed on my shirt and on the surface of the table. At least the cup didn't slip off my hands and land on the floor and smash loudly. I would have been embarrassed if all eyes were on me again.

Cursing, I grabbed a napkin from the tray and wiped my top with it. Tempted to get rid of the big spots. Of course, this didn't work so well. The stains can be seen very quickly on white fabric.

"I am really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” the person immediately apologized and put his own tray on the table. He didn't even wait for an answer to his question. "It's okay. Make sure you go back out there," I grumbled, slightly pissed at the situation. Not a second did I waste my time raising my eyes and looking at the person. All I know is that it's a man and the voice sounds familiar.

I wiped the surface of the table with the dirty napkin. At least the table should be clean. I put the crumpled serviette on the tray and finally looked at my counterpart. It was the stranger from yesterday whose name I still didn't know. He smiled at me with a big grin. His white teeth gleamed in the morning light. As if it had sprung from a fashion magazine. A cup of black coffee was on the table in front of him. My gaze was focused on his cup for a moment and then I looked at him again. "Is it your hobby to scare people?" I asked, laughing at my own joke. Rather, I tried.

"Only with pretty women like you, (Y/N)", he replied with a wink. I picked up my cup again and took a long sip of my cup. I raised both my eyebrows questioningly. "How do you know my name?" I asked him about knowing my name. A chill ran down my spine because I found it creepy.

A smile still graced his lips. "Your grandfather often talked about you," he shared with me. Relief came over me immediately and I let my shoulders sag a little. I nodded in reply and took another sip from my cup. "If you already know my name, can you at least tell me yours?" It would only be fair,” I asked him for his name. I bit my lower lip while waiting for an answer. "My name is Jackson," he revealed to me after a short silence. He used the time to look at me, which made me blush and try to hide behind my cup. Under his gaze I felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

"Have you lived here long? How long have you known my grandfather?” I peppered him with more questions. Intrigued, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

We spent the rest of the morning talking about our lives, such as our childhood or our hobbies. I told him why I showed up at my grandfather's house. I also shared with him my plans for the day. He listened carefully to my every word. Every now and then he would ask me questions. Curiosity was clearly written on his face.

After a while our cups were empty and I finished my sandwich and cake. "If you want, I can help you with the renovation. I'm good with my hands," he offered his help without beating around the bush. Shaking my head violently, I raised my hands dismissively. "I can't ask that of you," I replied without thinking twice. I didn't plan on bothering him with my problems. Surely today was planned for him, or he had other things to do. "Oh no, I'd be happy to help you. Surely you need a car for your shopping… fortunately there is a car owner in front of you who kindly drives you around,” he trilled cheerfully while holding his arms outstretched. His grin always stayed on his face. The grin has changed a little bit.

A strange feeling came over me all of a sudden. Also, a shiver ran down my spine because I couldn't place his grin. I couldn't say at the time whether it was a good or bad feeling. However, that should change quickly as the day progresses.

 We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon shopping. For the renovation I got paint for the walls. I didn't want to paste new paint on the walls, I just wanted to reapply. For that we had to go to the next bigger city, which is about twenty minutes away from here. Jackson owned a black pickup truck that he lovingly cared for and cherished. I couldn't find a single flaw on the car.

At the hardware store, I picked out paint, a tub of paint, and several rollers of paint and put it in my shopping cart, which Jackson kindly pushed in front of him. When I stopped and asked an employee where I could get wood paint, the sight of Jackson scared him. You really didn't want to be long with Jackson's gaze. You'd think he was planning the next murder. I even thought I heard him growl for a moment. Surprised, I spoke to him about the noise, but he replied with a logical explanation. Namely, he showed in a corridor with a woman and her dog, who watched everyone passing by. For some reason the dog whimpered as soon as we passed and hid behind his owner when we saw him.

 After our shopping trip he drove me to my grandfather's house and helped me unload everything. "Thanks a lot for your help. If you want, you can leave the rest to me. Surely you have plans for this afternoon and evening. I don't want to keep you from it any longer”, I thanked him. Although he had already offered his help, I didn't want to take up his time anymore.

Over my shoulder I saw that the dead animal was still lying on the porch. It was still rotting away. As I approached the carcass, I saw some rats scurrying away. Later I will call the police or a hunter who will take the animal away from here and I will tell them about the wolf. I haven't told Jackson about the wolf yet, and I don't intend to. Who knows what he'll think of me then. Don't know if he would believe me or not.

He picked up several buckets at once and followed me close to the front door. Jackson followed me everywhere. I even imagined I could feel his breath on my neck. "Bullshit. Of course, I will help you with the renovation. Nobody is expecting me at home anyway”, I heard him say behind me. I looked at him over my shoulder and pointed to the dead animal in front of us. The animal's smell slapped me in the face. I pinched my nose in disgust. "I'm sorry about the dead animal on the doorstep. I haven't gotten around to reporting it to the police or the hunter," I informed him, embarrassed, that he had to put up with this sight. "Maybe I should get this over with now," I muttered to myself. I was about to pull my phone out of my pocket when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Leave that to me. I'll just take the boar to the forest. The animals in it will be happy about the animal. Especially the wolves around,” he told me after setting the buckets on the ground. I looked at him wide-eyed in surprise at his suggestion. "Are you sure?" I wanted to make sure. I didn't want to force anything on him. As I opened the front door, I looked over my shoulder at him. Even the slightest emotion should catch my eye from the look on his face. So far I haven't seen anything unusual about him.

He effortlessly tossed the animal over his broad shoulder. No efforts could look at him. Not even a bead of sweat adorned his forehead. If I were him, I'd be out of breath and my face bright red. It could certainly have been compared to an overripe tomato.

"Of course I'm sure. Otherwise I wouldn't have offered you my help”, he pulled me out of my thoughts. I opened the door wide open so I could carry our purchases in right away. On the way home we stopped at a grocery store. As a thank you, I wanted to cook Jackson something good to eat. "You know, sometimes I go hunting. I'm sure you know what happens to the animal afterwards. So I don't mind the smell,” he shared one of his passions with me. At first I just looked at him silently and then I burst out laughing. "Ahh, and I thought you were just a hermit," I giggled, stepping into the house. "Believe it or not, I hear that a lot," I heard him talking behind me.

I put the bag with the purchases on the table and then took off my shoes and jacket. Back in the kitchen, I looked out the window at Jackson. Just as he disappeared into the forest with the animal. I stared at the forest with my mouth open. How was Jackson able to move so quickly with the extra weight? The forest is about fifty meters from the house.

I don't know how long I stared at the forest, lost in thought, but anyway I decided to cook. I would like to have delicious lasagna again. With that in mind, I nodded to myself and rolled up my sleeves.

 An hour and a half later, I was drying the dishes when my cell phone buzzed and stopped me. Curious about who might be calling me at this time, I hung the tea towel over the back of a chair and then saw that my mother was calling me. I took my mother's call. "Hello mum. What is there? Are you okay?” I greeted my mother gently, but I couldn't suppress a worried undertone. I could hear my father talking in the background. My mother and father would have accompanied me and decided with me on how to proceed.

"Hello Darling. Me and your father are fine. We just got a call from your former boss. The misunderstanding has been cleared up and you can resume your old work. We received a good offer for the property and for the house. A young family is very keen to buy it,” they told me as I tucked the phone between my shoulder and chin. “Of course, the final decision is yours. After all, your grandfather left it to you,” she added after a short pause. I listened carefully to each word. A battle was going on in my head. Conflict had spread every second. A quick look in the oven told me it was still some time before the food was ready. "I told you from the start that I didn't steal from the company. I-I want so badly to go back, but I don't want to lose the memory of grandfather. I don't have anything else from him," he said in tears. Sniffling, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

"(Y/N), I can really understand you. It's not easy for me to lose my father, but he would have wanted us to live on and not die of grief. He has always wanted one thing for you, and that is for you to be happy and prosperous. Even though he is dead, he still lives on in our memories. He will always be in our hearts”, she tried to comfort me with these words, which also worked. A few breaths later I shared my decision with her: “I want to go back to you. I miss my work and my friends. The house and the country can surely make another family very happy. Please let the family know that they can sign a contract. I'll fix the house and travel back in a few days.” I wiped the tears from my face one more time. I'm sure it's going to be hard for me to let go of the house and the memory in here, but like my mother said, I have to look ahead.

"I will do it. Ahh (Y/N), your father and I will come to you tomorrow and help you with the renovation”, she informed me of her decision. At this news, I couldn't help but crack the smile. At least some good news for today. "That is nice. I'll prepare a room for you and cook something," I said, kneeling down to examine the lasagna. It was time to get it out and serve and eat. "Thanks very much. Your father and I love you. So see you tomorrow”, she said goodbye and was about to hang up. "I love you too. I'm looking forward to seeing you again tomorrow”, I replied and hung up. I sighed and put my phone down on the counter and ran my thumb and forefinger over the bridge of my nose.

 "You want to leave me?!" I heard a voice speak from very close behind me. I winced at Jackson's sudden appearance. I turned and unconsciously took a step back because he was standing very close to me. I bumped against the handle of a drawer with my lower back. I didn't expect him to come so close to me. To be honest, I didn't think it was nice that my personal distance was ignored. After all, I didn't know him enough to let him get close to me. "Don't sneak up on me like that," I hissed between my teeth in pain. The pain swept through my entire body. From the toes to the roots of the hair.

Jackson ran up to me so fast and grabbed my arm not exactly gently. His grip was strong and it hurt me. I tried to free myself from the iron grip, in vain. I tried to pull harder, but my arm wouldn't budge an inch. "Let me go. You're hurting me!” I defend myself desperately. Sheer fear overcame me. As inconspicuously as possible, I groped for my mobile phone, which fortunately I hadn't put far away from me beforehand. My fingertips touched the phone, but I wasn't fast enough as Jackson grabbed it and smashed it with his bare hand. Then he threw it to the ground and, to top it off, stepped on it with his foot.

"What are you doing?" I yelled at him. My patience was finally broken. I just got my cell phone a few months ago. As a small reward for climbing the career ladder of my job, which I had been fired from without notice three days earlier due to false suspicion. Allegedly I have resold company secrets to a competitor. Never in my life would I have mentioned this thought, or even put it into practice. I like my job too much for that and enjoy spending time with my colleagues and customers.

"You want to leave me here alone again, since I just found you!" he practically roared in my face, which was twisted with anger. The sight of him made my heart stop for a second. Golden eyes sparkled at me and long fangs bared in front of me. what was he "I won't let you go again!" he growled, pushing me against his hard body.

"Please let me go. I'm scared," I whimpered in fear and tugged at my arm so hard I feared my arm would tear off. Again I let my free hand wander for a suitable weapon. I didn't care what I got between my hands. The main thing was that I was able to defend myself and free myself from Jackson. Thank heavens my hand was gripping the handle of a pan, which I hit him in the head as hard as I could on the spot. It was so strong it reverberated throughout the house and a clearly visible dent has formed on the pan. Jackson let go. Not from pain, but more from surprise. Without further hesitation, I grabbed my legs and ran to the door and yanked it open. Although the cold immediately crept into every pore and made me shiver, I wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. I didn't even have time to put on my jacket and shoes.

 I panted in the darkness for a way. With every tenth step I dared to look over my shoulder. Occasionally I would get caught on branches or trip over exposed roots. My knees and hands were covered in abrasions, I was cold and my legs felt like jelly. My lungs won't last long. Since my escape, tears have been running down my cheeks non-stop. I didn't dare to sob. I was too afraid to make a telltale noise that would reveal my whereabouts to Jackson.

The cracking of branches under heavy weight made me stop abruptly. My pulse shot up. I crouched behind the nearest tree and listened to the darkness of the forest. Not wanting to make a telltale sound, I put both hands over my mouth. "(Y/N), I can smell your fear. I can hear your heart from miles away,” Jackson sang not too far from where I was hiding. A growl was heard afterwards. "Why do you want to leave me? Do you really want to leave your mate behind?” Jackson's voice followed closer to my hiding spot. He wasn't far away. At any time, he could discover me and otherwise I know everything to do with me. For a second there was silence.

The next moment, clawed hands grabbed my bare feet and dragged me across the floor. "I got you," Jackson barked with laughter. I fought like crazy and screamed my lungs out. His eyes glowed in the dark. "Please let me go. i just want to go home. To my family,” I shrieked, clutching a root. Kicking him did nothing. His inhuman strength was far too much for my weakened body. But I quickly pulled away because Jackson dug his claws into my feet. Warm blood flowed down my feet into my pant legs.

He released me, pressing me down painfully and half laying on my body. I lay frozen on the cold floor with fear, waiting for the next cruelty from him. His face came dangerously close to mine. He pressed his nose against my cold throat and sniffed it audibly. He moaned in satisfaction as his tongue ran down my throat.

“Your family is me and our future puppies. It's best if we start  making our little family right away," he growled in my ear and let his hand wander under my sweater. With that, my fate was sealed.

 -------------

Hello, it’s my first time here. Here can you see a Oneshot. Maybe I will write more stories likes this.

[attorneys-against-court-violence]

This may be a mess, and I could very well be viewing this wrong, but here it goes.

I'm not sure if how Apollo's character has been handled in not the best way comes down to the change in writers/gamerunners or not, but I can't think about it for too long without being frustrated.

In AJ:AA, he was at least allowed to be outright resentful towards Phoenix for the bloody ace debacle as well as jerking him around with no regard to his feelings on the matter, which is something Phoenix NEVER apologizes for. Then Phoenix gives that nice little promise to Thalassa on how he'll look after Apollo because he grew fond of him.

And then Dual Destinies happens, which is where the meat of my complaints take place.

Apollo's best friend has been murdered and all the evidence is pointing towards another friend of his. He had serious injuries from the courtroom bombing and then got assaulted not long after. On a way more minor note, everyone's dunking on him and roasting him constantly, and *tinfoil hat moment*, he sees how differently Phoenix treats Athena compared to him. And outside of lipservice comments about what all he's been through, no one outside of Athena and Trucy truly seems worried about him.

Apollo takes his leave of absence, and everyone's reaction is basically the Surprised Pikachu Face meme.

That made me want to hit my head against the wall, because what the fuck did they expect? He's still recovering from his injuries, his BEST FRIEND was murdered, and he doesn't trust Phoenix to help find the truth. What did they really expect him to do? Maybe it was just bad writing, but I'm not sure.

In a similar vein, when Apollo is confronted with Nahyuta and Dhurke coming back into his life, it's treated as yet another thing to make of him about, despite him clearly not wanting to talk about them and having trauma/negative feelings associated with them. He's left in the dark YET AGAIN when it comes to Maya's kidnapping (I do like that he called Athena out on this), Dhurke DIES and no one besides Nahyuta seems to care about how it affects Apollo. Then he decides to leave the WAA for good in SOJ, everyone's clamoring for him not to go, and I'm just like, are you fucking kidding me?

Then Phoenix comes out of fucking nowhere with his "I'm so proud of Apollo" platitude, RIGHT AFTER Apollo found out that Phoenix considered him to be untrustworthy and unreliable. This is coming from a man who has used him and hid so much from him.

I love Ace Attorney, and God knows I love Apollo and his trust issues/trauma, but I wished they were properly acknowledged.

Laid out like that, yeah - most people are major dicks to Apollo most of the time. Props to Beanix for taking that uppercut on the chin - he deserved it - but that's only the beginning.

I think I've complained about how the WAA - Phoenix and Athena mainly - treat Apollo when he announces his leave of abscence. The last case he was meant to be a part of, he was blown up badly enough to need full-body bandages, passed out because of his wounds, then got hit on the head by a rock that could have just as easily killed him... and they still chew him out for leaving. I get that their focus is on him straying from the path of unconditional trust that Phoenix set up. But the man has suffered physically and lost the one person in his life he could confidently say didn't have anything to hide from him (Clay); they should not be surprised or offended in the least!

The "Phoenix treats Athena very differently from Apollo" point I have seen and I do agree with it. I do think it comes from Phoenix seeing a bit of himself in both of them and reacted in opposite directions based on his current situation. Maybe he decided to be softer on Athena because he realised he made a huge mistake with Apollo, but it doesn't seem to translate to treating Apollo that much better until he sets his mind right about Clay's death.

I guess when you've survived falling off a burning bridge into a running river, you forget that people can still be grievously hurt and might need to take time off work to heal!

That could have been an easy way to keep their concern without making them look like dicks. Phoenix could be the one encouraging a leave of abscence for the sake of recovering from the physical and psychological damage Apollo has endured, only to find he's instead fueling his own paranoia while ignoring his injuries. It's the fact that Apollo is practically torturing himself for this that should be the main source of worry, not that he's taking time off from the office at all.

Not that they aren't concerned about his mental well-being, it just comes across that like they're treating "leave of abscence" as a resignation at best and a mutiny at worst (it's neither of those things, Apollo would still be an employee under a leave of abscence).

Yeah. Yeah. The WAA's attitude around Apollo's leave really does bug me.

[thedevilshardy]

What they think of Tinder - Tom Hardy Character Study

Alfie, Reggie & Ronny, Leo

Alfie Solomons

He's oldschool. He doesn't like to use his phone often, only for those important calls or to bark at someone who isn't in reach. Doesn't know how to properly use these "fuckin' apps", although he acts like he does.

"Am too old for that shit, dove, ain't I? If I wanna have some pussy I'm goin' simply fuckin' outside getting me some, don't I? A man like me doesn't need this shit." (he's right, tho)

Tends to through his phone away if something doesn't work out. Deletes Tinder cause he doesn't see any sense in it and doesn't want to wait for you to swipe him right.

His profile would be quite blank. "No words needed, love."

Reggie & Ronny Kray

Reggie

Isn't really attached to such a thing as he tends to stick in a relationship - but still likes to see who's matching him. Just in case.

The idea of casual sex to relief stress still catches him - thinks about it often, especially in long nights at the bar.

Uses it when he's bored. Very picky.

His profile would be interesting, full of photos, but never too much. Just enough to be seen. (Not that he could be invisible to anybody!)

Ronny

Thinks it's a good thing, loves the idea that he can choose between boys & girls, just whatever he favors.

Isn't even holding back with his wishes and wants - "better be up for sum' pain, ain't ya?"

Definitely has those Dom/Sub vibes and loves to live them. He's the boss, no fighting about that.

Profile full of pics of him and his different canes and sticks to make your butt glow red from the welts. You know what you get with him.

Leo Demidov

Leo doesn't like hunting a lot of women - so, he would be only up for one, and be patient enough for her to turn at least into an affair.

Doesn't need a lot of words. He knows - when he takes his shirt off in a real life meeting, she'll be just fine. Loves to fuck at second date, not first.

He doesn't have a lot in his profile - simple words, his rank, that's it. A sucker for dirty talk and a master in moving hips... shit, we're still about Tinder, aren't we?

"Nah, that's okay." He deletes Tinder for his girl, and even acts like it's no deal. Well, it isn't, at least for him.